The Roman Hat Mystery by Ellery Queen Read Free Book Online

the ladies ’ room ― Here, here! That ’ ll never do. Call up the nearest precinct for a matron and have her do that. Thoroughly clear? ”
    Flint was off with a cheerful nod.
    “ Now, then. ” Queen stood rubbing his hands. “ Mr. Panzer, would you step this way a minute? Very kind of you, sir. I ’ m afraid we ’ re making unholy nuisances of ourselves tonight, but it can ’ t be helped. I see the audience is on the verge of rebellion. I ’ d be obliged if you would trot up to the stage and announce that they will be held here just a little while longer, to have patience, and all that sort of thing. Thank you! ”
    As Panzer hurried down the center aisle, people clutching at his coat to detain him, Detective Hagstrom, standing a few feet away, caught the Inspector ’ s eye. By his side was a small slim youth of nineteen, chewing gum with vehement motions of his jaw, and obviously quite nervous at the ordeal he was facing. He was clad in a black-and-gold uniform, very ornate and resplendent, and incongruously fitted out with a starched shirt front and a wing collar and bow tie. A cap resembling the headgear of a bellboy perched on his blond head. He coughed deprecatingly as the Inspector motioned him forward.
    “ Here is the boy who says they don ’ t sell ginger ale in this theatre, ” said Hagstrom severely, grasping the lad ’ s arm in a suggestive grip.
    “ You don ’ t, eh, son? ” asked Queen affably. “ How is that? ”
    The boy was plainly in a funk. His eyes rolled alarmingly as they sought the broad face of Doyle. The policeman patted him encouragingly on the shoulder and said to the Inspector, “ He ’ s a little scared, sir ― but he ’ s a good boy. I ’ ve known him since he was a shaver. Grew up on my beat. Answer the Inspector, Jessie . . . . ”
    “ Well, I ― I don ’ t know, sir, ” stammered the boy, shuffling his feet. “ The only drinks we ’ re allowed to sell during the intermissions is orangeade. We got a contract with the ”― he mentioned the name of a well-known manufacturer of the concoction ―” people and they give us a big discount if we sell their stuff and nobody else ’ s. So ―”
    “ I see, ” said the Inspector. “ Are drinks sold only during intermissions? ”
    “ Yes, sir, ” answered the boy, more naturally. “ As soon as the curtain goes down the doors to the alleys on both sides are opened, and there we are ― my partner and me, with our stands set up, and the cups filled ready to serve. ”
    “ Oh, so there are two of you, eh? ”
    “ No, sir, three all together. I forgot to tell you ― one feller is downstairs in the main lounge, too. ”
    “ Ummmm. ” The Inspector fixed him with a large and kindly eye. “ Now, son, if the Roman Theatre sells nothing but orangeade, do you think you could explain how this ginger-ale bottle got here? ”
    His hand dove down and reappeared brandishing the dark-green bottle discovered by Hagstrom. The boy paled and began to bite his lips. His eyes roved from side to side as if they sought a quick avenue of escape. He inserted a large and dirty finger between his neck and collar and coughed.
    “ Why ― why . . . “ He had some difficulty in speaking.
    Inspector Queen put down the bottle and rested his wiry length against the arm of a seat. He folded his arms sternly.
    “ What ’ s your name? ” he demanded.
    The boy ’ s color changed from blue-white to a pasty yellow. He furtively eyed Hagstrom, who had with a flourish taken a notebook and pencil from his pocket and was waiting forbiddingly.
    The boy moistened his lips. “ Lynch ― Jess Lynch, ” he said hoarsely.
    “ And where is your station between acts, Lynch? ” said the Inspector balefully.
    “ I ’ m ― I ’ m right here, in the leftside alley, sir, ” stuttered the boy.
    “ Ah! ” said the Inspector, knitting his brows ferociously. “ And were you selling drinks in the left alley tonight, Lynch? ”
    “ Why, why ― yes,