“Tell me what he died of, and when.”
For the first time Dr. Holmes saw the still figure of the Inspector outstretched on the chair. His eyes widened with horror. “But, great heavens, man, your father! Did he — was he—?”
“Chloroform,” said Ellery briefly. “I want you to bring him around as soon as you can.”
“Well, then, what are you standing there for?” shouted the young man, his eyes blazing. “Get busy, can’t you? To hell with Xavier! Open those windows wide — wide as you can get them!”
Ellery blinked and then sprang to obey. Dr. Holmes bent over the Inspector, listened to his heart, pulled up his eyelids, nodded, and bounded off to the adjoining lavatory. He returned in a moment with several towels soaked in cold water.
“Get him as close to the windows as you can,” he said more calmly. “Fresh air is imperative — fresh as you can get it in this ghoulish place,” he muttered aside. “Quickly, man!” They picked the chair up between them and carried it close to the open windows. The physician bared the Inspector’s chest and slapped the sopping towels on the smooth flesh. Another he applied to the relaxed face, like a barber’s hot towel — curled all about the face but leaving the nostrils exposed.
“He seemed all right,” said Ellery anxiously. “Don’t tell me—”
“No, no, there’s nothing wrong with him. How old is he?”
“Not quite sixty.”
“Good health?”
“Hard as nails.”
“Then this won’t hurt him. If we’re to get him out of it we’ve got to adopt heroic measures. Get a couple of those pillows from the bed.”
Ellery brought the pillows, filched from the dead man, and stood waiting rather helplessly. “What now?”
Dr. Holmes glanced briefly at the bed. “Can’t put him there... Get hold of his legs. We’ll stretch him across the arms of the chair. Head lower than the rest of the body.”
They raised the old man’s body easily and turned him around. Dr. Holmes stuffed the big pillows under the Inspector’s back. The old man’s head hung over one arm.
“Legs as high as you can get them.”
Ellery circled the chair and obeyed.
“Firmly now.” The physician bent over the hanging head and grasped the old man’s jaws. He squeezed until the mouth opened, and then he reached in and pulled out the Inspector’s tongue. “There! That’s better. I could shoot him full of adrenalin, or strychnine, or some of that new stuff, alpha-lobeline, but I don’t think it will be necessary. I think he’ll come round with just a little assistance; he’s been under the influence for some time. Steady! I’m going to try artificial respiration. With an oxygen tank... Well, I haven’t any handy, so — Steady.”
He bent over the Inspector’s torso and set to work. Ellery watched stormily.
“How long will it take?”
“Depends upon how much he’s inhaled. Ah, that’s good! It won’t be long now, Queen.”
In five minutes a strangled moan came from the old man’s throat. Dr. Holmes worked steadily on. A moment later he stopped and pulled away the face towel. The Inspector’s eyes were opening dazedly, and he was licking his lips as if his mouth were dry.
“All right now,” said Dr. Holmes almost cheerfully, standing up. “He’s out of it. Well, Inspector, how do you feel?”
The first word the Inspector said was: “Lousy.”
Three minutes later he was sitting in the armchair, face buried in his hands. Aside from a mild nausea, he felt no ill effects.
“What gets me,” he muttered brokenly “is how I was tricked. That makes me responsible for that man’s death on two counts. Lord... Fell for the oldest gag. I stuck my head out, neglecting to douse the light. Naturally I was a perfect target for anyone skulking out in the dark hall. Whoever it was — was waiting for me. Knew that when I came out it could only be because Xavier was conscious and I was going for you, Doctor. So he — or she — or it, or whoever it was pressed a wet cloth over my nose and mouth and held one arm over my throat. Soaked in chloroform, I was so taken off my guard I didn’t even have a chance to make a fight of it. I didn’t go off right away but I got weak — dizzy — felt the gun drop, and then...”
“No sense in looking for the saturated cloth,” said Ellery quietly. “Whoever used it has disposed of it down a drain by this time, I suppose. Is there chloroform in the laboratory, Doctor?”
“Naturally. Lucky you’ve been eating so lightly today, Inspector. On a full stomach—” The young man shook his head and turned to the bed.
The Queens watched without speaking. In the old man’s eyes there was a sick horror. Ellery gripped his shoulder comfortingly.
“Hmm,” murmured Dr. Holmes, eying the mess on the dead man’s chin and the contorted features. “Poison, eh?” He leaned over and sniffed at the partly open mouth. “Yes, indeed.” He looked around, spied the vial on the table, and picked it up.
“I tasted it,” said Ellery wearily. “It’s sour, and it burned my tongue.”
“Good lord!” cried Holmes. “I hope you didn’t take much of it. Why, this is a deadly corrosive poison. Oxalic acid dissolved in water!”
“I was careful. I suppose that comes from the laboratory, too?”
Dr. Holmes grunted assent and turned back to the corpse again. When he straightened up his eyes were thoughtful. “He’s been dead about an hour. Mouth forced open and the oxalic poured down his throat. You can see the marks on his cheeks and jaw where the fingers gripped him. Poor chap! He died in horrible pain.”
“He could have removed that deck of cards from the drawer, I suppose, and torn one of them in two after he was poisoned and his poisoner left?”
“Yes. As for the murderer’s certainty that death would follow, I might point out that oxalic’s always fatal in one hour, sometimes a good deal less. His generally debilitated condition didn’t help.” Dr. Holmes eyed the cards on the floor curiously. “Another—?”
“Another.”
The Inspector rose and stumbled to the bed.
Ellery let himself out of the room and stood still in the corridor outside, taking stock. Someone in this house was lying on a bed of thorns, writhing under the necessity for waiting, waiting. He wondered if he had the temerity to break into each room without noise and flash a strong light suddenly upon the face of each sleeper. But the women... He pursed his lips thoughtfully.
The door opposite the spot where he stood led, he knew, to Ann Forrest’s room. He marveled silently at the apparent fact that the young woman had heard nothing of the attack upon the Inspector, the murderer’s movements and departure, and all the swishing events that had ensued. He hesitated, then crossed quickly and pressed his right ear against the door. He could hear nothing. So he gripped the knob slowly and slowly turned it until it would turn no more. Then he pushed. To his astonishment, the door held. Miss Forrest had locked herself in!
“Now why the devil did she do that?” he thought as he tiptoed down the corridor toward the next door. “Obviously, for protection. From what? The invisible hand of death?” He chuckled to himself. “How dat ol’ debil Night breeds drama! Did she have a presentiment? Did she lock the door from reasons of general caution? Tsk! I haven’t paid half enough attention to Miss Forrest.”
The room next to the young woman’s was occupied by the Carreau twins. They, at least, were coerced by no unhealthy fears. The door gave readily to his touch and he stole in and listened. Their rhythmic breathing was reassuring. He stole out again and crossed the hall.
Directly opposite the door to the twins’ room was, the door to the room to which Mrs. Wheary had assigned the gigantic fat gentleman named Smith. Ellery did not hesitate. He went in noiselessly, crept about until his fingers found the light switch on the wall near the door, riveted his eyes upon the spot in the darkness from which came an elephantine snorting, and then snapped the switch. The room sprang into being, revealing the mountainous figure of Smith sprawled on the bed, pajama coat unbuttoned and rolls of pink unhealthy-looking flesh rising and falling with the tempestuous tide of his breathing.