Chapter III in Which a “Parson” Comes to Grief (2)

    The man took a moment before replying. Then he said slowly, but with conviction, “No, sir. Nobody went out of the theatre. Nobody, I mean, but the orangeade boy.”
    “Were you there all the time?” barked the Inspector.
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Now then. Do you remember anybody coming in during the second act?”
    “We-e-ll.... Jessie Lynch, the orangeade boy, came in right after the act started.”
    “Anybody else?”
    There was silence as the old man made a frenzied effort at concentration. After a moment he looked helplessly from one face to another, eyes despairing. Then he mumbled, “I don’t remember, sir.”
    The Inspector regarded him irritably. The old man seemed sincere in his nervous way. He was perspiring and frequently looked sidewise at Panzer, as if he sensed that his defection of memory would cost him his position.
    “I’m awfully sorry, sir,” the doorman repeated. “Awfully sorry. There might’ve been some one, but my memory ain’t as good as it used to be when I was younger. I—I just can’t seem to recall.”
    Ellery’s cool voice cut in on the old man’s thick accents.
    “How long have you been a doorman?”
    The old man’s bewildered eyes shifted to this new inquisitor. “Nigh onto ten years, sir. I wasn’t always a doorman. Only when I got old and couldn’t do nothin’ else—”
    “I understand,” said Ellery kindly. He hesitated a moment, then added inflexibly, “A man who has been a doorman for as many years as you have might forget something about the first act. But people do not often come into a theatre during the second act. Surely if you think hard enough you can answer positively, one way or the other?”
    The response came painfully. “I—I don’t remember, sir. I could say no one did, but that mightn’t be the truth. I just can’t answer.”
    “All right.” The Inspector put his hand on the old man’s shoulder. “Forget it. Perhaps we’re asking too much. That’s all for the time being.” The doorman shuffled away with the pitiful alacrity of old age.
    Doyle clumped toward the group, a tall handsome man dressed in rough tweeds in his wake, traces of stage make-up streaking his face.
    “This is Mr. Peale, Inspector. He’s the leading man of the show,” reported Doyle.
    Queen smiled at the actor, offering his hand. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Peale. Perhaps you can help us out with a little information.”
    “Glad to be of service, Inspector,” replied Peale, in a rich baritone. He glanced at the back of the Medical Examiner, who was busy over the dead man; then looked away with repugnance.
    “I suppose you were on the stage at the time the hue-and-cry went up in this unfortunate affair?” pursued the Inspector.
    “Oh, yes. In fact, the entire cast was. What is it you would like to know?”
    “Could you definitely place the time that you noticed something wrong in the audience?”
    “Yes, I can. We had just about ten minutes before the end of the act. It was at the climax of the play, and my rôle demands the discharge of a pistol. I remember we had some discussion during rehearsals of this point in the play, and that is how I can be so sure of the time.”
    The Inspector nodded. “Thank you very much, Mr. Peale. That’s exactly what I wanted to know.... Incidentally, let me apologize for having kept you people crowded back here in this fashion. We were quite busy and had no time to make other arrangements. You and the rest of the cast are at liberty to go backstage now. Of course, make no effort to leave the theatre until you are notified.”
    “I understand completely, Inspector. Happy to have been able to help.” Peale bowed and retreated to the rear of the theatre.
    The Inspector leaned against the nearest seat, absorbed in thought. Ellery, at his side, was absently polishing the lenses of his pince-nez. Father motioned significantly to son.
    “Well, Ellery?” Queen asked in a low voice.
    “Elementary, my dear Watson,” murmured Ellery. “Our respected victim was last seen alive at 9:25, and he was found dead at approximately 9:55. Problem: What happened between times? Sounds ludicrously simple.”
    “You don’t say?” muttered Queen. “Piggott!”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Is that the usherette? Let’s get some action.”
    Piggott released the arm of the young woman standing at his side. She was a pert and painted lady with even white teeth and a ghastly smile. She minced forward and regarded the Inspector brazenly.
    “Are you the regular usherette on this aisle, Miss—?” asked the Inspector briskly.
    “O’Connell, Madge O’Connell. Yes, I am!”
    The Inspector took her arm gently. “I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to be as brave as you are impertinent, my dear,” he said. “Step over here for a moment.” The girl’s face was deathly white as they paused at the LL row. “Pardon me a moment, Doc. Mind if we interrupt your work?”
    Dr. Prouty looked up with an abstracted scowl. “No, go right ahead, Inspector. I’m nearly through.” He stood up and moved aside, biting the cigar between his teeth.
    Queen watched the girl’s face as she stooped over the dead man’s body. She drew her breath in sharply.
    “Do you remember ushering this man to his seat to-night, Miss O’Connell?”
    The girl hesitated. “Seems like I do. But I was very busy to-night, as usual, and I must have ushered two hundred people all told. So I couldn’t say positively.”
    “Do you recall whether these seats which are empty now”—he indicated the seven vacant chairs—“were unoccupied all during the first and second acts?”
    “Well.... I do seem to remember noticing them that way as I walked up and down the aisle.... No, sir. I don’t think anybody sat in those seats all night.”
    “Did anyone walk up or down this aisle during the second act, Miss O’Connell? Think hard, now; it’s important that you answer correctly.”
    The girl hesitated once more, flashing bold eyes at the impassive face of the Inspector. “No—I didn’t see anybody walk up or down the aisle.” She quickly added, “I couldn’t tell you much. I don’t know a thing about this business. I’m a hard-working girl, and I—”
    “Yes, yes, my dear, we understand that. Now—where do you generally stand when you’re not ushering people to their seats?”
    The girl pointed to the head of the aisle.
    “Were you there all during the second act, Miss O’Connell?” asked the Inspector softly.
    The girl moistened her lips before she spoke. “Well—yes, I was. But, honest, I didn’t see anything out of the way all night.”
    “Very well.” Queen’s voice was mild. “That’s all.” She turned away with quick, light steps.
    There was a stir behind the group. Queen wheeled to confront Dr. Prouty, who had risen to his feet and was closing his bag. He was whistling dolefully.
    “Well, Doc—I see you’re through. What’s the verdict?” asked Queen.
    “It’s short and snappy, Inspector. Man died about two hours ago. Cause of death puzzled me for a while but it’s pretty well settled in my mind as poison. The signs all point to some form of alcoholic poisoning—you’ve probably noticed the sallow blue color of the skin. Did you smell his breath? Sweetest odor of bum booze I ever had the pleasure of inhaling. He must have been drunk as a lord. At the same time, it couldn’t have been ordinary alcoholic poisoning—he wouldn’t have dropped off so fast. That’s all I can tell you right now.” He paused, buttoning his coat.
    Queen took Field’s kerchief-wrapped flask from his pocket and handed it to Dr. Prouty. “This is the dead man’s flask, Doc. Suppose you analyze the contents for me. Before you handle it, though, let Jimmy down at the laboratory look it over for fingerprints. And—but wait a minute.” The Inspector peered about and picked up the half-empty ginger-ale bottle where it stood in a corner on the carpet. “You can analyze this ginger ale for me, too, Doc,” he added.
    The Assistant Medical Examiner, after stowing the flask and bottle into his bag, tenderly adjusted the hat on his head.
    “Well, I’ll be going, Inspector,” he drawled. “I’ll have a fuller report for you when I’ve performed the autopsy. Ought to give you something to work on. Incidentally, the morgue-wagon must be outside—I ’phoned for one on my way down. So long.” He yawned and slouched away.
    As Dr. Prouty disappeared, two white-garbed orderlies hurried across the carpet, bearing a stretcher between them. At a sign from Queen they lifted the inert body, deposited it on the stretcher, covered it with a blanket and hustled out. The detectives and policemen around the door watched with relief as the grisly burden was borne away—the main work of the evening for them was almost over. The audience—rustling, whispering, shifting, coughing, murmuring—twisted about with a renewal of interest as the body was unceremoniously carted off.
    Queen had just turned to Ellery with a weary sigh when from the extreme right-hand side of the theatre came an ominous commotion. People everywhere popped out of their seats, staring, while policemen shouted for quiet. Queen spoke rapidly to a uniformed officer nearby. Ellery slipped to one side, eyes gleaming. The disturbance came nearer by jerky degrees. Two policemen appeared hauling a struggling figure between them. They dragged their capture to the head of the left aisle and hustled the man to his feet, holding him up by main force.
    The man was short and ratlike. He wore cheap store-clothes of a sombre cut. On his head was a black hat of the kind sometimes worn by country dominies. His mouth writhed in an ugly manner; imprecations issued from it venomously. As he caught the eye of the Inspector fixed upon him, however, he ceased struggling and went limp at once.
    “Found this man tryin’ to sneak out the alley door on the other side of the buildin’, Inspector,” panted one of the bluecoats, shaking the captive roughly.
    The Inspector chuckled, took his brown snuff-box from his pocket, inhaled, sneezed his habitual joyful sneeze, and beamed upon the silent cowering man between the two officers.
    “Well, well, Parson,” he said genially. “Mighty nice of you to turn up so conveniently!”