Read Online The Siamese Twin Mystery by Ellery Queen - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Ellery Queen
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children. Never remarried, though she’s still young. She’s only about thirty-seven.” He paused for sheer lack of breath and glared at his son.
“Bravo,” chuckled Ellery, flexing his arms. “There’s the complete woman for you! That old photographic memory of yours opening again. Well, what of it? To tell the truth, I’m immensely relieved. We’re beginning to dig into some tangible mysteries. This crowd had some reason, obviously, to conceal the fact that your precious Mrs. Carreau is among those present. Ergo, when they heard an automobile roaring up tonight they bundled your precious social ranee into her bedroom. All that stuff about being afraid of visitors this time of night was pure hogwash. What gave mine host and the rest the jitters was trying to keep us from suspecting she’s here. I wonder why.”
“I can tell you that,” said the Inspector quietly. “I saw it in the newspapers before we started out on our trip three weeks ago, and you would have seen it, too, if you paid the least attention to what’s going on in the world! Mrs. Carreau is supposed to be in Europe!”
“Oho,” said Ellery softly. He took a cigaret out of his case and went over to the night table to hunt for a match. “Interesting. But not necessarily inexplicable. We’ve a famous surgeon here—perhaps the little lady has something wrong with her blue blood, or her gold-plated innards, and doesn’t want to have the world know. … No, that doesn’t seem to wash. It’s more than that. … Very pretty problem. Crying, eh? Perhaps she’s been kidnapped,” he said hopefully. “By our excellent host. … Where in hell’s a match?”
The Inspector disdained to reply, tugging at his mustache and scowling at the floor.
Ellery opened the drawer of the night table, found a packet of matches, and whistled. “By George,” he drawled, “what a thoughtful gentleman our precious doctor is. Just look at the junk in this drawer.”
The Inspector snorted.
“There’s a man,” said Ellery admiringly, “with admirable singleness of purpose. Apparently gaming of the innocuous sort is a phobia with him, so that he can’t forbear inflicting his phobia on his guests. Here’s the complete solution to a dull weekend. A crisp new pack of cards, never opened, a book of crossword puzzles—actually virgin, by Vesta!—a checkerboard, one of those questions-and-answers books, and heaven knows what else. Even the pencil is sharpened. Well!” He sighed, closed the drawer, and lit his cigaret.
“Beautiful,” muttered the Inspector.
“Eh?”
The old gentleman started. “I was thinking out loud. The lady on the balcony, I mean. Really a gorgeous creature, El. And crying—” He shook his head. “Well, I suppose it’s all really none of our business. We’re a pair of the world’s nosiest louts.” Then he jerked his head up and some of the old wariness leapt into his gray eyes. “I forgot. Anything doing outside? Find out anything?”
Ellery deliberately lay down on the other side of the bed and crossed his feet on the footboard. He puffed smoke toward the ceiling. “Oh, you mean about the—ah—giant crab?” he said with a twinkle.
“You know damn well what I mean!” snarled the Inspector, blushing to his ears.
“Well,” drawled Ellery, “it’s problematical. Corridor was empty, and all the doors closed. No sounds. I crossed the landing noisily and went into the bathroom. Then I came out—without noise. Didn’t remain there long. … By the way, do you happen to know anything about the gastronomical predilections of crustaceans?”
“Well, well?” growled the Inspector. “What’s on your mind now? You always have to say it with trimmings!”
“The point is,” murmured Ellery, “that I heard footsteps on the stairs and had to dodge back into the darkness of the corridor near our door. Couldn’t cross the landing to get into the bathroom again, or whoever it was that was coming up would have spotted me.
“Bravo,” chuckled Ellery, flexing his arms. “There’s the complete woman for you! That old photographic memory of yours opening again. Well, what of it? To tell the truth, I’m immensely relieved. We’re beginning to dig into some tangible mysteries. This crowd had some reason, obviously, to conceal the fact that your precious Mrs. Carreau is among those present. Ergo, when they heard an automobile roaring up tonight they bundled your precious social ranee into her bedroom. All that stuff about being afraid of visitors this time of night was pure hogwash. What gave mine host and the rest the jitters was trying to keep us from suspecting she’s here. I wonder why.”
“I can tell you that,” said the Inspector quietly. “I saw it in the newspapers before we started out on our trip three weeks ago, and you would have seen it, too, if you paid the least attention to what’s going on in the world! Mrs. Carreau is supposed to be in Europe!”
“Oho,” said Ellery softly. He took a cigaret out of his case and went over to the night table to hunt for a match. “Interesting. But not necessarily inexplicable. We’ve a famous surgeon here—perhaps the little lady has something wrong with her blue blood, or her gold-plated innards, and doesn’t want to have the world know. … No, that doesn’t seem to wash. It’s more than that. … Very pretty problem. Crying, eh? Perhaps she’s been kidnapped,” he said hopefully. “By our excellent host. … Where in hell’s a match?”
The Inspector disdained to reply, tugging at his mustache and scowling at the floor.
Ellery opened the drawer of the night table, found a packet of matches, and whistled. “By George,” he drawled, “what a thoughtful gentleman our precious doctor is. Just look at the junk in this drawer.”
The Inspector snorted.
“There’s a man,” said Ellery admiringly, “with admirable singleness of purpose. Apparently gaming of the innocuous sort is a phobia with him, so that he can’t forbear inflicting his phobia on his guests. Here’s the complete solution to a dull weekend. A crisp new pack of cards, never opened, a book of crossword puzzles—actually virgin, by Vesta!—a checkerboard, one of those questions-and-answers books, and heaven knows what else. Even the pencil is sharpened. Well!” He sighed, closed the drawer, and lit his cigaret.
“Beautiful,” muttered the Inspector.
“Eh?”
The old gentleman started. “I was thinking out loud. The lady on the balcony, I mean. Really a gorgeous creature, El. And crying—” He shook his head. “Well, I suppose it’s all really none of our business. We’re a pair of the world’s nosiest louts.” Then he jerked his head up and some of the old wariness leapt into his gray eyes. “I forgot. Anything doing outside? Find out anything?”
Ellery deliberately lay down on the other side of the bed and crossed his feet on the footboard. He puffed smoke toward the ceiling. “Oh, you mean about the—ah—giant crab?” he said with a twinkle.
“You know damn well what I mean!” snarled the Inspector, blushing to his ears.
“Well,” drawled Ellery, “it’s problematical. Corridor was empty, and all the doors closed. No sounds. I crossed the landing noisily and went into the bathroom. Then I came out—without noise. Didn’t remain there long. … By the way, do you happen to know anything about the gastronomical predilections of crustaceans?”
“Well, well?” growled the Inspector. “What’s on your mind now? You always have to say it with trimmings!”
“The point is,” murmured Ellery, “that I heard footsteps on the stairs and had to dodge back into the darkness of the corridor near our door. Couldn’t cross the landing to get into the bathroom again, or whoever it was that was coming up would have spotted me.
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