“Four and a half years, sir.” The man sat twisting his felt hat between his fingers.
“Were you on duty from September twenty-eighth on?”
“Yes, sir. Haven’t missed a night in―”
“Did you know a guest by the name of Albert Grimshaw?”
“Yes, sir, I did. The man the papers say was f-found murdered in that church graveyard on Fifty-fourth Street.”
“Fine, Bell. Glad to see you’re on your toes. Did you check him in?”
“No, sir. The day-clerk did that.”
“Then how do you know him?”
“It’s a funny story, sir.” Bell had lost some of his nervousness. “There was one night in that week during his stay when something―well, fishy-looking happened, and that made me remember him.”
“What night was that?” asked the Inspector eagerly. “And what was it?”
“Two nights after he checked in. Thursday night a week ago . . . “
“Ha!”
“Well, sir, this man Grimshaw had five people come in that night to see him! All within a half-hour or so.”
The Inspector was admirable. He leaned back and took a pinch of snuff as if Bell’s statement was of no importance. “Go on, Bell.”
“Around ten o’clock that Thursday night I saw this Grimshaw walk into the lobby from the street with a man. They were together―talking fast, in a hurry, it seemed like. I couldn’t hear what they said.”
“What did Grimshaw’s companion look like?” asked Pepper.
“Can’t say, sir. He was all bundled up―”
“Ha!” said the Inspector for the second time.
“―all bundled up. Seemed as if he didn’t want to be recognized, I’d say. Might recognize him if I saw him again, but I won’t swear to it. Anyway, they went to the elevator and that’s the last I saw of “em.”
“Just a minute, Bell.” The Inspector turned to the sergeant. “Thomas, round up the night elevator-man.”
“Pulled him in already, Chief,” said Velie. “Hesse ought to be here with him any minute.”
“Fine. Go ahead, Bell.”
“Well, as I say, this was around ten o’clock. Practically right away―in fact, while Grimshaw and his pal were still standing there by the elevator, waiting―a man walked up to the desk and asked for Grimshaw. Wanted to know his room-number. I said: “There he goes right now, sir,” just as they were getting into the elevator; I said: “His room-number is 314,” I said, because that was his room-number, you see. This man looked a little funny―seemed nervous; anyway, he went and waited for the elevator to come down. We’ve only got one,” added Bell ungrammatically. “The Benedict’s a small place.”
“And?”
“Well, sir, for a minute or so I’d sort of noticed a woman hanging round the lobby, looking nervous, too. She comes up to the desk now and says: “Have you a vacant room next to Room 314?” Must have heard the man before her asking, I’d guess. Sort of funny, I thought, and I began to smell a rat somewhere. “Specially since she had no luggage. As luck would have it, Room 316 next door to Grimshaw’s was vacant. I got the key and yelled, “Front!” but no―she doesn’t want a bell-hop, she says, she wants to go up all by herself. I give her the key and she takes the elevator up. By this time the man’d already gone up.”
“What did she look like?”
“Uh―I guess I could recognize her if I saw her. Little dumpy kind of woman, middle-aged.”
“What name did she register under?*
“Mrs. J. Stone. I’d say she was trying to disguise her handwriting. Wrote crooked, as if she was doing it on purpose.”
“Was she a blonde?”
“No, sir. Black hair getting grey. Anyway, she paid in advance for one night―room without bath―so I said to myself: “I should worry. Business is rotten enough these days without―”
“
“Here, here, stick to your story. You said there were five all told. How about the other two?”
“Well, sir, within about fifteen or twenty minutes two more men came up to the desk and asked whether there was an Albert Grimshaw registered. And if so what his room-number was.”
“Were they together?”
“No, sir. They came about five or ten minutes apart.”
“Do you think you could identify these two men if you saw them?”
“Sure thing. You know,” and Bell became confidential, “what struck me funny was how all of “em acted so nervous, as if they didn’t want to be seen. Even the guy that came in with Grimshaw originally acted queer.”
“Did you see any of these people leave the hotel?”
Bell’s pimply face fell. “I guess I ought to be kicked, sir. I should have been on watch. But I got a sort of rush after that―bunch of show girls checked out―and they must have beat it while I was busy.”
“How about the woman? When did she check out?”
“That’s another funny thing. The day-man told me, when I came on duty the next night, that the chambermaid had reported the bed in 316 hadn’t been slept in. Matter of fact, the key was sticking in the door. She must’ve changed her inind. It was all right, because she’d paid in advance.”
“Now about times other than Thursday night―Wednesday night? Friday night? Did Grimshaw have any visitors?”
“That I couldn’t say, sir,” replied the night-clerk apologetically. “All I know is, nobody asked for him at the desk. He checked out Friday night around nine o’clock, leaving no forwarding address. He didn’t have any baggage either―that’s another thing that made me remember him.”
“Might take a look at that room,” muttered the Inspector. “Did anybody occupy 314 after Grimshaw left?”
“Yes, sir. It’s been occupied by three different guests since he checked out.”
“Cleaned every day?”
“Oh, yes.”
Pepper shook his head disconsolately. “If anything was there, Inspector, it’s gone by now. You’ll never find it.”
“Not after a week, we won’t.”
“Er―Bell,” came Ellery’s drawl, ‘did Grimshaw’s room have a private bath?”
“Yes, sir.”
The Inspector leaned back. “Something tells me,” he said genially, ‘that we’re in for some lively doings. Thomas, round up all the people connected with the case so far and have “em at Eleven East Fifty-fourth within an hour.”
As Velie left, Pepper muttered: “Good Lord, Inspector, if we find that some of those five Grimshaw visitors are people already connected with the case so far, we’re in some sweet mess. Especially after everybody who looked at the body said they’d never seen Grimshaw before.”
“Complicated, hey?” The Inspector grinned without humour. “Well, that’s life.”
“Good God, dad!” groaned Ellery. Bell was looking from face to face in bewilderment.
Velie tramped back. “All set. And Hesse’s outside with a ‘shine”―the night elevator-man at the Benedict.”
“Get him in here.”
The night elevator-man at the Benedict proved to be young Negro violet with fear. “What’s your name, son?”
“White suh. W―White.”
“Oh, heavens,” said the Inspector. “Well, White, do you remember a man named Grimshaw at the Benedict last week?”
“The―the choked gen’man, suh?”
“Yes.”
“Y-yassuh, I do,” chattered White. “Member him plain.”
“Do you remember a week ago Thursday night―when he came into your elevator in the company of another man about ten o’clock?”
“Yassuh. Sure do.”
“What did the other man look like?”
“Ain’t got no idea, Cap”n. Nosuh. Don’t ‘member whut he looked like.”
“Do you remember anything? Taking up other people who got off at Grimshaw’s floor?”