Read Online The Tragedy of Z by Ellery Queen - Free Book Online

plan in line with our talk and your suggestion of yesterday.
    Sit tight and keep a stiff upper lip. We aren’t licked yet. And send Maizie around. Have a little idea for friend H.
    â€œFawcett’s fist?” asked father.
    â€œNo doubt about it. Now, what do you think of that, eh?”
    â€œC,” muttered Kenyon. “Cripes, he doesn’t mean this—?” He looked sidewise out of his fishy little eyes at Carmichael, who was standing across the room talking quietly to Jeremy Clay.
    â€œI shouldn’t be surprised,” murmured Hume. “Well, well! I thought there was something a little queer about friend secretary.” He jerked his head toward one of the detectives in the doorway. The man sauntered over, as bored as a duchess at her hundredth court. “Take some of the boys and go over the wiring in the house,” said Hume in a low voice. “Telephone wires. Right away.”
    The man nodded and sauntered away.
    â€œMr. Hume,” I demanded, “who is Maizie?”
    The corners of his mouth crinkled. “I have a definite idea that Maizie is a young lady of great talent in a certain field.”
    â€œI see. Why the dickens don’t you say what you mean, Mr. Hume? I’m of age. And by ‘friend H’ I suppose Senator Fawcett meant yourself?”
    He shrugged. “It would seem so. I imagine my generous opponent meant to demonstrate by what is popularly known as the ‘frame’ that John Hume isn’t the meticulous moralist he claims to be. Maizie undoubtedly was meant to be dished up for my delectation, to compromise me. Those things have been done before, you know, and I haven’t the faintest doubt that there would have been plenty of witnesses to testify to my—er—lechery.”
    â€œHow nicely you say that, Mr. Hume!” I retorted sweetly. “Are you married?”
    He smiled. “Why—are you applying for the position?”
    At this moment the detective who had been sent to investigate the telephone wires returned, sparing me the painful necessity of replying.
    â€œInstallation’s all right, Mr. Hume. Outside of this room, anyway. I’ll take a peek at the wires here——”
    â€œHold on,” said Hume hurriedly. He raised his voice. “Oh, Carmichael.” The man looked up. “That will be all for the moment. Please wait outside.”
    Imperturbably, Carmichael left the room. The detective at once examined the wires leading from the desk to the box, and tinkered with the box itself for a long time.
    â€œHard to say,” he reported, rising. “It looks all right, but if I were you, Mr. Hume, I’d get somebody from the telephone company down here to make an expert examination.”
    Hume nodded, and I said: “And another thing, Mr. Hume. Why not open these envelopes? It’s barely possible the letters don’t match the carbons.”
    He regarded me with his clear eyes, smiled, and picked up the envelopes again. But all the messages were identical with the carbons we had read. The district attorney seemed particularly interested in the enclosure of the letter to Algonquin Prison, attached to the original of the Senator’s message by a paper-clip. This enclosure listed a number of names as recommended for promotion. He studied the list with an embittered eye, and then tossed it aside.
    â€œNothing. So much for your hunch, Miss Thumm.” I was thoughtful as the district attorney picked up the telephone on the desk.
    â€œInformation? District Attorney Hume. Get me the house ’phone of Fanny Kaiser. Local.” He waited quietly. “Thanks,” he said, and called a number. He stood there waiting, and we could hear the steady buzz of the central operator’s ring. “No answer. Hmm!” He replaced the receiver on its hook. ‘That’s one of our first jobs—interrogating Miss Fanny Kaiser,” and he rubbed his hands