Jones’s walnut skin went gray. “My—car?” he said at last, moistening his lips. His empty eyes went to Andrea and jerked back. “I say, Queen, that’s not possible. I attended that charity jamboree at the Waldorf Saturday night with the Gimball party, and my car was parked on the Avenue all evening. Must be another car.”
“Oh, no doubt. And, of course, Miss Gimball can vouch for that.”
The girl’s lips barely moved. “Yes.”
“Oh,” said Ellery, “you do vouch for it, Miss Gimball?”
Her hands fluttered a little. “Yes,” she whispered. Jones was trying not to look at her. He seemed drawn in upon himself, his big shoulders a little hunched, as if he faced a struggle but did not quite know what course of action to take.
“In that case,” said Ellery gravely, “you leave me no choice, Miss Gimball, but to ask to see your engagement ring.”
Jones stiffened. His eyes darted from Ellery to Andrea’s left hand, and remained fixed there with horror. “Engagement ring?” he muttered. “What earthly reason could—”
“I imagine,” said Ellery, “Miss Gimball can answer that.”
From somewhere above came the sound of voices. Jones took a short step toward Andrea. “Well?” he said harshly. “Why don’t you show it to him?”
Her eyes closed. “Burke…”
“I said,” his voice became thick, “why don’t you show it to him? Andrea, where is it? Why is he asking? You never told me—”
A door banged on the balcony above; Mrs. Gimball and Grosvenor Finch appeared. “Andrea!” cried Mrs. Gimball. “What’s the matter?”
Andrea’s hands went to her face; the fourth finger of the left was still bare. And she began to sob.
Mrs. Gimball swooped down the stairs. “Stop that silly crying!” she said sharply. “Mr. Queen, I insist on an explanation.”
“I merely asked,” said Ellery patiently, “your daughter to show me her engagement ring, Mrs. Gimball.”
“Andrea,” rasped Jones, “if you’ve got me into a mess…”
“Andrea,” said Mrs. Gimball. “What—?” Her face was livid and old. Finch ran down the stairs; he was obviously distressed.
“Oh,” sobbed Andrea, “is everyone against me? Can’t you see I—I—?”
Mrs. Gimball said coldly, “If my daughter won’t answer your silly questions, Mr. Queen, she won’t. I don’t understand your motive, but I see now that you’re protecting that precious sister of that nauseating young man from Philadelphia. You’re not working with us. You
know
she murdered him!”
Ellery sighed and went to the door. “Oh, yes,” he said, disappointing the piscatorial flunky beside him. “Finch.”
“This is childish,” said Finch hastily. “Why not talk this over—”
“Words are women, deeds are men. I believe I shall revert to my natural masculinity.”
“I don’t—”
“Well, under the circumstances,” said Ellèry in a regretful tone, “it’s manifestly impossible for me to go to work on this case under the ægis of the National Life Insurance Company. No co-operation, you understand. Such a perfectly simple question! So I must refuse the assignment.”
“If the fee—” began the tall man helplessly.
“A fig for the fee.”
“Ellery,” said a low voice. Ellery turned. Bill Angell was standing in the doorway. The fish-faced man looked almost angry. Then he almost shrugged. Finally, with his nose in the air, he stepped aside and Bill came in.
“Well, Bill,” said Ellery slowly, his eyes narrowing. “So you’ve come at last. I thought you would.”
Bill looked unhappy, but his handsome chin was hard. “I’m sorry, El. I’ll explain some other time. Meanwhile,” he said, raising his voice and staring calmly about, “I should like to speak to Miss Gimball—alone.”
Andrea was on her feet, her hand on her throat. “Oh, you shouldn’t have come.”
“Andrea—” began Mrs. Gimball shrilly.
Jones said in a curt voice: “I’ve stood for about as much mystery as I intend to. Andrea, you’ve played me off long enough. I want an immediate explanation or, damn it all, it’s all off between us! Who is this fellow? Where’s your ring? What the devil did you do with my car Saturday night? If you’re mixed up in this murder…” For a moment Andrea’s eyes glittered. Then they fell, and a little color came into her cheeks.
Bill said blankly, “
Your
car?”
“Now you see,” murmured Ellery, “why candor is the better part of romance, Bill. I could have told you last night that Andrea Gimball doesn’t own or drive a cream-colored Cadillac roadster. Most elementary; a mere judicious inquiry in the right place. May I suggest the door be closed and that we all sit down and discuss this like sensible people?”
Finch muttered something to the flunky, who looked grieved, shut the door, and vanished. Mrs. Gimball sat down angrily, with pursed lips, as if she wanted to say something nasty but did not quite know what. Jones glowered at Andrea, and Andrea kept looking at the floor. She was no longer pale. As for Bill, he suddenly became conscious of his feet. He shuffled them about and looked miserable. “Just what,” asked Ellery quietly, “were you intending to discuss with Miss Gimball, Bill?”
Bill shook his head. “That’s up to Miss Gimball. I have nothing to say.” Andrea gave him a shy, queerly pained little glance.
“It seems to me,” observed Ellery after a moment of strained silence, “that I shall have to do the talking, after all. I should have preferred listening. You’ve both acted very oddly—you, Miss Gimball, and you, Bill. Childishly, when it comes to that.” Bill flushed. “Shall I tell you what happened? On Saturday night, while I was examining the rug in the shack, your eye happened to catch sight of something imbedded in the nap which glittered. You put your foot over it. When you thought no one was looking, you pretended to tie your shoelace and picked it up. I was watching, and I saw it. It was a large cut diamond of at least six carats.”
Bill stirred, and Andrea uttered a little gasp. Jones’s skin was gray again, his cheekbones tight with wrath. “I thought—” began Bill in a mutter.
“You thought you were unobserved. But, you see, Bill,” said Ellery gently, “it’s part of my training to see everything, and part of my creed not to permit friendship to stand in the way of the truth. You didn’t know whose diamond it was, but you were afraid to say anything about it to De Jong because you thought it might in some mysterious way involve Lucy. Then Miss Gimball came, and you saw a ring on her finger with the stone gone. It couldn’t have been coincidence. You realized she must have been in that shack. But, you see, Bill, I noticed it, too.”
Bill laughed a little glumly. “I’m a prize fool, of course. My abject apologies, Ellery.” His shoulders lifted in a secret sign to Andrea, as if to indicate his helplessness. Through her tension and pain she managed a ghost of a smile. Jones saw it, and his thin lips tightened.
“You drew her aside into a shadow,” continued Ellery as if nothing had happened, “and, since there was a convenient shadow adjacent, I exercised the prerogative of outraged friendship and eavesdropped. Shall I go on?”
Andrea made a little sound. Then she suddenly looked up; her eyes were clear. “No need for that any more, Mr. Queen,” she said steadily. “I see how futile it was. I’m not very good at—well, at that sort of thing, I suppose. Thank you, Bill Angell; you’ve been swell.” He flushed again and looked uncomfortable.
“You borrowed my car during the afternoon Saturday,” muttered Burke Jones. “Damn it, Andrea, you’ve got to clear me of that.”
Her eyes were scornful. “Don’t worry, Burke, I shall. Mr. Queen, on Saturday afternoon I received a telegram from—from Joe.”
“Andrea,” said Mrs. Gimball feebly.
“Don’t you think, Andrea,” began Finch in a low voice, “that it’s unwise to—”
Her lids veiled her eyes. “I’ve nothing to conceal, Ducky. I didn’t kill him, if that’s what you’re all thinking.” She paused. “The telegram asked me to meet him in that shack on an urgent matter. It gave me instructions for getting there. It set the time for nine.”
“I’ll bet it was a duplicate of mine,” muttered Bill.
“I borrowed Burke’s car—we were out during the afternoon and he couldn’t use it. I didn’t tell Burke where I was going.”
“Why don’t you tell them you drove?” growled Jones. “I couldn’t drive with this broken wing.”
“Please, Burke,” she said quietly. “I think Mr. Queen understands that. I got out there early. There was no one there, so I went for a spin, going off toward Camden. When I got back—”
“What time,” asked Ellery, “did you reach there the first time?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Eight, perhaps. When—”
“And what time did you reach there the second time?”
She hesitated. “Oh, I don’t remember. It was almost dark. I went inside—there was a light on—and…”
Ellery stirred. “Forgive me for interrupting, Miss Gimball. When you arrived at the shack the second time, you saw nothing suspicious?”
“No, no, nothing.” She said it so quickly that he repressed another question and lit a cigaret. “Nothing at all. I went in and there was Joe. He was on the floor. I thought he was dead. I—I didn’t touch him. I couldn’t. The blood… I suppose I screamed. Then I ran out. I saw another car near the house on the road and grew frightened. I jumped into the Cadillac and drove off. Of course, now I know it was Mr. Angell I almost ran down.” She paused. “That’s all.”
In the silence that followed Burke Jones cleared his throat. There was a new and embarrassed quality to his voice. “Well. Sorry, old girl. If you’d only told me… When you asked me Sunday not to say anything about having taken my car——”
“It was very sweet of you, Burke,” she said coldly. “I’ll always remember your generosity.”
Grosvenor Finch went to her and patted her shoulder. “You’ve been a foolish child, Andrea, as Mr. Queen has said. Why didn’t you confide in me, in your mother? You did nothing wrong. For that matter, Mr. Angell received a telegram and was there, too, without witnesses, and yet you see he had no hesitation…”
Andrea closed her eyes. “I’m very tired. I wonder if—”
“And the stone, Miss Gimball?” asked Ellery casually.
She opened her eyes. “I seem to remember banging my hand against the door as I went out. I suppose the stone was dislodged then. In my—well, I didn’t notice that it was missing until Mr. Angell called it to my attention later that night.”
“I see.” Ellery rose. “Thanks very much, Miss Gimball. If you took my advice you would tell your story to Pollinger—”
“Oh, no!” she cried in alarm. “Not that. Oh, please, you won’t tell him? To have to face those men…”
“It’s not really necessary, Ellery,” said Bill in a low voice. “Why complicate matters? It can’t do any good, and it will only get Miss Gimball a lot of unwelcome notoriety.”
“Angell’s right, Mr. Queen,” said Finch eagerly.
Ellery smiled a little. “Well, I seem to be overruled by sheer weight of numbers. Goodnight.”
He shook hands with Finch and Jones. Bill stood rather awkwardly by the door. His eyes met Andrea’s and came away. Then he followed Ellery out of the apartment with a despondent set to his shoulders.
Neither man spoke much on the journey to Trenton. Once, when they had left the General Pulaski Skyway and the lights of the Newark Airport behind, Bill muttered, “I’m sorry about not having told you, El. Somehow—”
“Forget it.”
The Pontiac rumbled along. “After all,” said Bill out of the darkness, “it’s so obvious she told the truth.”
“Oh, is it?”
Bill was silent for a moment. Then he said quickly: “What do you mean? Anyone can see that girl is the real stuff. You don’t think she—Why, that’s ridiculous! I’d no more consider her a murderess than I would my own sister.”
Ellery lit a cigaret. “It seems to me,” he remarked, “that you’ve undergone a startling change of heart in the past few days, my son.”
“I don’t get you,” mumbled Bill.
“Really? Now, now, Bill, you’re brighter than that. Really a smart young man. Only Saturday evening you were ranting against the rich, and rich young women in particular. Now, Andrea Gimball is so clearly a member of that parasitical class you detest, that I wonder at the consideration you’ve shown her.”
“She’s—” Bill paused lamely. “She’s—well, different.”
Ellery sighed. “If it does that to you…”
“If what does what to me?” glared Bill in the darkness.
“Peace, friend.” And Ellery smoked away. Bill stepped on the accelerator. They accomplished the rest of the journey in silence.
De Jong’s office in Chancery Lane was deserted. Bill drove around to South Broad, parked the Pontiac near Market Street, and they hurried into the dark lobby of the Mercer County Court House. In the office of the County Prosecutor on the second floor they found the small, dyspeptic Pollinger and the police chief with their heads together. The heads separated with the celerity of guilt. “Well, look who’s here,” said De Jong in a queer tone.
“The very man.” Pollinger was nervous. “Have a seat, Angell. Just drove down from New York, Mr. Queen?”
“Yes. I thought I’d get whatever developments there were at first hand. Bill happened to be with me. Any news?”
Pollinger glanced at De Jong. “Well,” said the prosecutor casually, “before we discuss that, I’m rather curious to hear your views, Mr. Queen. That is, of course, if you have any.”
“
Quot homines, tot sententiæ,
” chuckled Ellery. “So many men, so many opinions. I suppose I have one—a poor thing, but mine own.”
“What did Finch want to see you about?”
“Oh, that.” Ellery shrugged lightly. “He wanted to hire me to investigate this business for the National Life.”
“The beneficiary angle, eh?” Pollinger drummed on his desk. “I thought they’d do that. Glad to help you, of course. We can work together.”
“I didn’t,” murmured Ellery, “accept.”
“Really?” Pollinger drew his brows up. “Well, well, let’s hear your views, anyway. I’m not one of those short sighted lawyers who disdain the advice of amateurs. Fire away.”
“Sit down, Bill,” said Ellery. “Apparently we’ve run into something.” Bill obeyed. His eyes had become watchful again.
“Well?” drawled De Jong in a half-amused way.
Ellery took out his pipe. “I’m at a disadvantage. Obviously you men have information of which I’m ignorant. At the moment, I can offer no theory which focuses upon an individual. The facts don’t lend themselves to solution, at least the facts at my disposal. But, from the instant I identified Wilson as Gimball, it struck me that there was one line of investigation which might prove fruitful. I suppose you gentlemen have seen your local papers recently?”