Death-Watch by John Dickson Carr Read Free Book Online

that grew pouched. She had stopped to dress herself completely; and she was, it seemed to Melson, well dressed, as she had not been that morning. Her hair was rather more brown. She could be—he felt—a terror. But she would not resort to terrorism until charm had first failed.
    “… Yes, certainly, madam. Yes, I quite understand,” Hadley was saying, making a faint gesture as though he were troubled by a fly. He peered up the stairs rather angrily. “Where’s the old blighter got to, anyway? Betts! See if you can find him … Ah!”
    Dr. Fell rumbled a greeting from the stairs, saluting with one cane. Mrs. Steffins broke off in the middle of a mechanical smile, the smile with which she was moving her head from side to side and setting off the somewhat loud voice. “And I have something,” she insisted, “of the utmost importance—” Hadley raised his hat absently, replaced it on his head, and strode forward. Behind him doddered the glum little figure of Dr. Watson, the police surgeon. Hadley scowled at Dr. Fell.
    “Very well, my excellent windbag,” he said, with a grim settling of his jaw. “Oh, good evening, Professor! I don’t know what he’s got you in for, Melson, but I rather fancy I’m on a hell of a wild-goose chase. Look here, what makes you think that the knifing of a burglar in Lincoln’s Inn Fields is tied up with Jane the Ripper?”
    “Jane the Ripper?”
    “Newspaper talk,” Hadley said, irritably. “Anyway, it’s easier than saying the-unknown-woman-who-slit-the-shopwalker’s-stomach-at-Gamridge’s. Well?”
    “Only,” answered Dr. Fell, wheezing, “that I’m more worried than I think I ever have been before. And I need a few facts. Did you bring along the man who’s on the case—what’s his name?—Inspector Ames?”
    “No. I couldn’t find him. He’s out on it somewhere. But I’ve got his latest report. I haven’t read it yet; but it’s here in my briefcase. All right! Where’s the body?”
    Dr. Fell drew a deep breath and led the way up the stairs. He went slowly, one stick knocking against the banisters. At the top Carver and Boscombe were standing in the doorway; but Hadley gave them only a glance. Drawing on a pair of gloves, he propped his briefcase up against the wall and lifted the cover across the body.
    Something portentous, something fierce and hushed in Dr. Fell’s manner, made Melson’s flesh crawl uneasily during the instant of silence while Hadley bent over …
    Hadley muttered something, sharply, from deep in his throat.
    He knocked one side of the door open to give him more light. “Watson!” he said. “Watson!”
    When he straightened up again, not a muscle in Hadley’s face moved; but it was quiet with rage and hatred.
    “No,” he said, “I didn’t bring Ames.” He jabbed a finger stiffly down at the figure under the couch-cover and added, “That’s Ames.”

5
Two on a Roof
    I N THE PAST-SERVICE FILES at the C. I. D. there is now a card which reads:
Ames, George Finley, Detective-Inspector sr. rank. Born Bermondsey E., March 10th, 1879. Constable, K Division, 1900. Promoted Sergeant, K Division, 1906. Transferred D division, plainclothes, 1914. Promoted, Hope-Hastings case, signal mention by Mr. Justice Gale, Detective-Inspector central bureau at reorganization in 1919. Ht. 5ft. 9in. Wt. list. No distinguishing marks or features. L. ‘Restvale,’ Valley Road, Hampstead. Married. Two children. Abilities: Expert at disguise, trailing, extracting information. Special mention for ability at disguise. Patient, discreet, well-educated by own efforts.
    At the bottom of the card is written in red ink, “Killed on duty, September 4th, 1932.”
    That is the most complete information we are ever likely to have about Detective-Inspector George Finley Ames. In the whole clock-hand case, the least conspicuous figure was the victim. His name might have been Smith or Jones or Robinson; he might never have been a human, breathing entity who liked his