“Look here,” said Ellery patiently. “Let’s get this straight, Jorum. You saw Mr. Marco and the lady’s-maid Pitts on the terrace last night. Very well. What time was this?”
Jorum scratched a mossy ear. “Can’t tell ye to the minute,” he said plausibly. “Don’t carry no watch. But it must ‘a’ been roun’ one o’clock in the mornin’, mebbe a mite after. I was comin’ down th’ path toowards the terrace, see, takin’ a look aroun’ ‘fore turnin’ in—”
“Jorum’s something of a watchman,” explained Godfrey curtly. “Not a regular part of his duties, but he keeps his eyes open.”
“Terrace was bright enough under th’ moon,” continued the old man, “and Mr. Marco, he was settin’ by a table with his back to me, all dressed up like a playin’ actor—”
“He had a cloak on, Jorum?” asked Ellery swiftly.
“Yes, sir. I seen him wear that there thing ‘fore. Made’m look like that there, now, Me-fist-o-feels I once see in an op’ry up Maartens way.” Jorum chuckled lasciviously. “Pitts, she was standin’ up next to him all togged out in ’er maid’s uniform; I could see her face plain. She was sore. ‘Fore I hove into sight I heard like a slap, y’understand, an’ when I sees her standin’ there, sore-like, I says to m’self, I says: ‘Oho, Jorum, there’s monkey-business!’ ’N I hears ’er say, angry-like: ‘Ye can’t talk to me like that, Mr. Marco; I’m a respectable woman!’ an’ then she comes on up the steps toowards me, in a huff, an’ I dodged into a shadder. Mr. Marco, he just sets there like nothin’ happened. He was a cool hand, Mr. Marco, when it come to th’ wimmen. I once see him pesterin’ Tessie, who helps out in th’ kitchen. But this Pitts gal, she put’m in his place. Queer...”
Rosa clenched her hands and ran from the library.
“Get Pitts,” said Moley laconically to the detective on duty at the door.
When Godfrey and Jorum had gone, the millionaire prodding his gardener like a proud shepherd, Inspector Moley threw up his hands. “Another complication. A damned maid!”
“Not necessarily a complication. If Jorum’s time-sense is to be relied on, our original reconstruction still stands. The coroner said Marco died between one and half-past, and this Pitts woman was being coy with Marco within that period. And Jorum actually saw her leave.”
“Well, we’ll soon enough find out if this Pitts business is just nothing, or what.” Moley lowered himself into a chair and stretched his thick legs. “God, I’m tired! Must be pretty tuckered yourself.”
Ellery smiled ruefully. “Don’t mention that word. All I can think of is Judge Macklin snoring beatifically away somewhere over my head. I’ll simply have to get some shut-eye soon, or drop in my tracks.” He sat down limply. “By the way, here’s the murder-note. Your local district attorney may find it valuable when — and if — this case ever reaches the prosecuting stage.”
Moley tucked the pasted sheet carefully away. They sat relaxed, facing each other, minds emptied. The library was hushed, a cloister in a land of pandemonium. Ellery’s lids began to droop.
But they came alive at the sound of clattering feet. The Inspector swung about, tense. It was the detective he had sent, followed by Mrs. Godfrey.
“What’s the matter, Joe? Where’s that maid?”
“Can’t find her,” panted the man. “Mrs. Godfrey says—”
They sprang to their feet. “So she’s gone, eh?” muttered Ellery. “I thought I heard you say something about that to your daughter this morning, Mrs. Godfrey.”
“Yes.” Her dark features were worried. “As a matter of fact, when I went upstairs before to tell you about luncheon, I had in mind mentioning Pitts’s absence. I forgot in what happened.” She passed her slender hand over her forehead. “I didn’t think it important—”
“You didn’t think it important!” howled Inspector Moley, dancing up and down. “Nobody thinks anything important! Jorum keeps his mouth shut. You won’t talk. Everybody... Where is she? When’d you see her last? For God’s sake, haven’t you a tongue, Mrs. Godfrey?”
“Don’t shout, please,” said the dark woman coldly. “I’m not a servant. If you’ll keep your temper, Inspector, I’ll tell you what I know about it. We’ve been so upset here today that a thing like that didn’t make much impression on me, at first. I don’t generally see Pitts until I return from my morning dip to dress for breakfast. Naturally, with everything that — that happened, you see... It wasn’t until I returned to the house this morning, after I... I found the body, that I asked for her. Nobody seemed to know where she was, and I was too dazed and harassed about other things to push the matter. One of the other maids helped me. All day at various times it’s come back to me that she wasn’t anywhere about...”
“Where’s she sleep?” said Moley with bitterness.
“In the servants’ wing on the main floor here.”
“Did you look there?” he barked at the detective.
“Sure, Chief.” The man was frightened. “We never thought— But she’s gone. Skipped clean. Took all her duds, her bag, everything. How should we know that—”
“If she took a powder under your noses,” said Moley savagely, “I’ll have your shields, the pack o’ you!”
“Now, now, Inspector,” frowned Ellery, “that’s not credible. Not with all those troopers on guard. When was the last time you saw her yesterday, Mrs. Godfrey?”
“When I returned to my own quarters after... after—”
“After you left Marco’s room. Yes, yes. And?”
“She usually helps me prepare for bed, combs my hair. I rang for her, but she didn’t appear for a long time.”
“Was that unusual?”
“Yes. When she did show up she complained of feeling ill and asked if she might be excused. She was very flushed and her eyes did look feverish. Of course, I permitted her to go at once.”
“Just a gag,” snarled the Inspector. “What time was it when she left your room?”
“I don’t know exactly. Around one o’clock, I suppose.”
Ellery murmured: “By the way, Mrs. Godfrey, how long has this woman been working for you?”
“Not very long. My former maid quit rather unexpectedly in the spring, and Pitts came to me soon after.”
Moley said irritably: “I suppose you didn’t see where she went. This is a fine kettle of fish—”
A brute in trooper’s uniform said from the doorway: “Lieutenant Corcoran sent me to report, Inspector, that there’s a yellow roadster missing from the garage. He’s just checked up with that man Jorum and the two chauffeurs.”
“Yellow roadster!” gasped Stella Godfrey. “Why, that was John Marco’s!”
Moley glared out of red-rimmed eyes. Then he sprang at his detective with a yell. “Well, what are you standin’ there for, like a damn’ dummy? Get busy! Trace that car! This Pitts woman must have run out durin’ the night! Get the dope on it, you dumbbell!”
Mr. Ellery Queen sighed. “By the way, Mrs. Godfrey, you say your former maid left you rather precipitately? Did she have any reason for doing so, to your knowledge?”
“Why, no,” said the dark woman slowly. “I’ve often wondered about that. She was a good girl and I paid her well. She’d often expressed herself as delighted with her job. Then — she just left. No reason at all.”
“Maybe,” shouted Moley, “she was a Communist!”
“Ha, ha,” said Ellery. “And you secured the ailing Miss Pitts from an agency, of course, Mrs. Godfrey?”
“No. She was recommended to me. I—” Mrs. Godfrey stopped so suddenly that even Moley paused in his stamping about the room to stare at her.