“At any rate, discover the identity of Miss Bloomer’s partner, the mysterious shadow behind her false claim, and you obviously discover her murderer.
“What do we find then, in recapitulation? That the person we seek is: A — the owner of the pen-and-pencil set; B — the person who tipped off the police to the fact that the supposed marriage between Miss Shawn and Mr. Rummell was a hoax; and C — Ann Bloomer’s silent partner.
“Or, to put it another way, we must find the one and only person who had criminal opportunity — the pencil places that person in the room from which the fatal shots were fired; who had criminal motive — as Ann Bloomer’s vengeful partner seeking also to seal her lips forever as to his identity; and who wished to frame Miss Shawn — and did so by tipping off the police about the fake marriage.
“That’s a fairly complete picture,” murmured Mr. Queen. “Need I continue? Won’t our friend the silent partner step forward and end this excruciating suspense?”
And in die ensuing silence Mr. Queen thought furiously: “Damn Beau! Why isn’t he here?”
And, also in the silence, as if in response to Mr. Queen’s unexpressed question, the telephone rang.
They started, nervously. But Mr. Queen smiled as he leaped for the telephone. “A call I’ve been expecting. You’ll excuse me?”
A voice said in his ear — a tired but jubilant voice: “Beau Rummell. Who is this?”
“You’re speaking to the proper party,” said Mr. Queen sharply. “Well?”
“I’ve got the goods, my fran’.”
“Well, well.” Mr. Queen expelled a long, ecstatic breath. “How soon can you be here with the... er... merchandise?”
“I’m downtown. Say fifteen minutes. How’s it going?”
“So far, so good.”
“Save the last poke for me. Kerrie all right?”
“Bearing up like a Spartan. Hurry, will you?”
Mr. Queen hung up and turned again to his audience. There was a rustle among them — the strangest little sound. Not of impatience. Nor of fatigue. Nor yet of relief from, the unnatural silence. Rather it was the rendition of a tension, a physical expression to relieve an intolerable strain.
And one face there was ghastly.
Mr. Queen chose to ignore its damning pallor. He remarked cheerfully: “Let’s examine Point B more closely. Who tipped off the police that the marriage was a hoax, thereby driving the last nail into the frame-up of Miss Shawn?
“There were four persons who knew the marriage was a hoax before the tip was sent. And only four.
“One was my partner, Beau Rummell, the ‘bridegroom.’ Well, how about Mr. Rummell as a possibility? No, no, he is eliminated on numerous counts. I need mention only one. At the instant the shots were fired Mr. Rummell was stepping out of the elevator on the seventeenth floor of the Villanoy. The elevator operator has testified to this. Since a body cannot occupy two different sections of space at the same time, Mr. Rummell obviously couldn’t also have been in Room 1726 at that instant. And so he cannot be the person we are looking for.”
Mr. Queen lit a cigaret. “The second person who knew the marriage was a hoax was — myself. I could make out some excellent arguments against the theory that I was Ann Bloomer’s accomplice and subsequent murderer, of course—”
“Keep going,” growled District Attorney Sampson.
“Thank you, Mr. Sampson,” murmured Mr. Queen. “A magnificent compliment. By the way, Miss Day — I believe you’re Miss Day, although I’ve never been formally presented — why are you looking so completely miserable?”
Vi jumped visibly, going pale at having every one’s attention so abruptly focussed upon her. “I... accused Beau Rummell of... Never mind. Of course, I didn’t know—”
“I see.” Mr. Queen smiled. “Mr. Rummell’s told me all about that. Very amusing. I hope you’ll apologize, Miss Day.”
Kerrie smiled and pressed Vi’s hand, and Vi sank back, on the verge of tears.
“I don’t want to interrupt,” murmured Kerrie, “but I... thought pretty much the same thing once.”
“Yes, Beau is a secretive individual. Seems tough. Not really, though. I hope you’ll apologize, too!” Kerrie flushed and lowered her gaze. “I’m sure you will, to Mr. Rummell’s complete satisfaction. Now where was I?
“Oh, yes! That makes two of our four possibilities. The remaining pair are Messrs. Goossens and De Carlos, the trustees of the Cole estate. The evening Mr. Rummell and Miss Shawn registered at the Villanoy as man and wife, the evening of the murder, Mr. Rummell deserted his ‘wife’ almost as soon as they had checked in. Quit her cold, the softie. A gentleman beneath it all, you see. Wouldn’t take advantage of an innocent girl—”
“Get on, get on,” snapped the Inspector.
“Your wish is my command. At any rate, driven to the outer world by his conscience, Mr. Rummell thought of how he might occupy his time. He decided to occupy it usefully. He went up to our office and wrote two letters identical in content — one addressed to Mr. Goossens, one addressed to Mr. De Carlos.
“The letters informed these gentlemen, as co-trustees, that the marriage was a hoax, and begged the recipients to keep this intelligence confidential. Beau wrote only because, had he not informed the trustees of the true state of affairs, they would have had to take immediate steps to cut her out of her uncle’s will. Being in fact unmarried, Miss Shawn was still entitled to her inheritance.
“My partner sent these two letters by special delivery. It was late at night, so of course the letters must have been delivered early the following morning. By the morning after the crime, then, two people more knew that the marriage had been a hoax — the aforesaid Messrs. Goossens and De Carlos. Theoretically, then, either of you two gentlemen,” and Mr. Queen addressed himself with a smile to the two trustees, “could have sent the anonymous tip to die police.”
“I didn’t!” cried De Carlos.
“Nor I,” said Goossens.
“Wait a minute,” barked the Inspector. “You’ve mentioned four, Ellery. There are really five. You’re forgetting this phony Justice of the Peace who performed the fake marriage ceremony. He certainly knew!”
“Now, dad,” said Mr. Queen sadly. “Must you steal my thunder?”
“Five!”
“Four.” Mr. Queen shook his head. “I said four, and I still say four. Acrobatic mathematics, really.”
“Rummell, Goossens, De Carlos, you, and the phony Justice — that makes five!”
“This pains me,” murmured Mr. Queen. “I must dissent: four. Because, you see, I was the phony Justice.”
He grinned at Kerrie, who stared back with parted lips. The Inspector could only wave his fragile hand feebly.
“Go on,” said Lloyd Goossens, lighting his pipe. “It seems Mr. De Carlos and I are to be eliminated by some logical process. I’m curious to hear how you do it.”
“I don’t want to hear!” yelled De Carlos. “I’m getting out of here! I’ve had enough of this—”
“Not quite enough, Mr. De Carlos.” Ellery eyed him and De Carlos collapsed in his chair in a sort of agony. “And since you’re so reluctant to hear, you shall. We must pay special attention to you, Mr. De Carlos. You’ve caused more trouble in this case, I’m sure, than, you’re worth! You’ve been a confuser of issues, a brilliantly red herring, from the very first. And yet, oddly enough, for all the sleepless nights you’ve given me, I must confess this case would never have been solved had you not been a factor in it.”