There Was an Old Woman by Ellery Queen Read Free Book Online Page B

suspended he lowered himself into his chair. “I wonder,” he wondered to himself, “how much of this a sane mind could take.”
    As if in answer, Sheila ran from the dining room, choking back sobs; and Charley Paxton, looking grim, excused himself after a moment and followed her. Steve Potts rose; his lips were burbling.
    â€œStephen, finish your dinner,” said his wife quietly.
    Sheila’s father sank back in his chair.
    Charley returned with a mumble of apology. The Old Woman threw him a sharp black look. He sat down beside Ellery and said in a strangled undertone: “Sheila sends her apologies. “Ellery, I’ve got to get her out of this lunatic asylum!”
    â€œWhispering Charles?” Cornelia Potts eyed him. The young man flushed. “Where is Sheila?”
    â€œShe has a headache,” muttered Charley.
    â€œI see.”
    There was silence.

5 . . . There Was a Little Man and He Had a Little Gun
    From the moment Robert and Maclyn Potts entered the dining room to be introduced to the guest and seat themselves at table, a breath of sanity blew. They were remarkably identical twins, as alike in feature as two carbon copies. They dressed alike, they combed their curly blond hair alike, they were of a height and a thickness, and their voices had the same pleasant, boyish timbre.
    Charley, who introduced them, was obviously at a loss; he made a mistake in their identities at once, which one of them corrected patiently. They tackled their broth and chicken with energy, talking at a great rate. It seemed that both were angry with their eldest brother, Thurlow, for having interfered in the conduct of the business for the hundredth time.
    â€œWe wouldn’t mind so much, Mother—” began one, through a mouthful of fried chicken.
    â€œYes, Robert?” said the Old Woman grimly. She, at least, could distinguish between them.
    â€œIf Thurlow’d restrict his meddling to unimportant things,” continued the other. Ergo, he was Mac.
    â€œBut he doesn’t!” growled Robert, dropping his fork.
    â€œRobert, eat your dinner.”
    â€œAll right, Mother.”
    â€œBut Mother, he’s gone and—”
    â€œOne moment please,” said Thurlow icily. “And what is it I’m supposed to have done this time, Maclyn?”
    â€œClimb off it, Thurl,” grumbled Mac. “All right, you’re a vice-president of the Potts Shoe Company—”
    â€œYou pretend you’re running a God-knows-how-many-million-dollar firm,” exploded Robert, “and that’s okay as long as you pretend—”
    â€œBut why in hell don’t you stick to wasting the family’s money on those silly lawsuits of yours—”
    â€œInstead of canceling our newspaper-advertising plans for the Middle West, you feeble-minded nitwit?”
    â€œRobert, don’t speak to your eldest brother that way!” cried their mother.
    â€œHow you protect your white-haired boy, Mother,” grinned Robert. “Although there isn’t much of it left … You know Thurlow would ruin the business if—”
    â€œJust—one—moment, if you please,” said Thurlow. His fat nostrils were quivering. “I’ve got as much to say about running the company as you two have—Mother said so! Didn’t you, Mother?”
    â€œI won’t have this disgraceful argument at the dinner table, boys.”
    â€œHe said I’d ruin the business!” cried Thurlow.
    â€œWell, wouldn’t you?” asked Bob Potts with disgust.
    â€œBob, cut it out,” said his twin in a low voice.
    â€œCut nothing out, Mac!” said Robert. “We always have to sit by and watch old fuddy-pants pull expensive boners, then we’ve got to clean up his mess. Well, I’m damned good and tired of it!”
    â€œRobert, I warn you—!” shouted Thurlow.
    â€œWarn my foot. You’re a nice fat little bag