A Bag in the Dead Man’s Pocket Why Is Frances Ives-Pope Silent

A Bag in the Dead Man’s Pocket Why Is Frances Ives-Pope Silent

The two Queens departed for Sampson’s headquarters.

The office of the District Attorney was a busy place and even an Inspector of Detectives was treated with scant ceremony in the sacred chambers. Ellery was wroth, and his father smiled, and finally the District Attorney himself came rushing out of his sanctum with a word of displeasure to the clerk who had allowed his friends to cool their heels on a hard bench.

“Watch your throat, young man,” warned Queen, as Sampson led the way to his office, muttering maledictions on the head of the offender. “Are you sure I look all right to meet the money-mogul?”

Sampson held the door open. The two Queens on the 147threshold saw a man, hands clasped behind his back, looking through the window on the uninteresting vista outside. As the District Attorney closed the door the occupant of the room wheeled about with astonishing agility for a man of his weight.

Franklin Ives-Pope was a relic of more virile financial days. He resembled the strong self-assertive type of magnate who like old Cornelius Vanderbilt had dominated Wall Street as much by force of personality as by extent of wealth. Ives-Pope had clear grey eyes, iron-grey hair, a grizzled mustache, a husky body still springy with youth and an air of authority unmistakably masterful. Standing against the light of the dingy window, he was a most impressive figure of a man and Ellery and Queen, stepping forward, realized at once that here was an individual whose intelligence required no patronage.

The financier spoke in a deep pleasant voice even before Sampson, slightly embarrassed, could make the introduction. “I suppose you’re Queen, the man-hunter,” he said. “I’ve been anxious to meet you for a long time, Inspector.” He offered a large square hand, which Queen took with dignity.

“It would be unnecessary for me to echo that statement, Mr. Ives-Pope,” he said, smiling a little. “Once I took a flyer in Wall Street and I think you’ve got some of my money. — This, sir, is my son Ellery, who is the brains and beauty of the Queen family.”

The big man’s eyes measured Ellery’s bulk appreciatively. He shook hands, saying, “You’ve got a smart father there, son!”

“Well!” sighed the District Attorney, setting three chairs. “I’m glad that’s over. You haven’t the slightest idea, Mr. Ives-Pope, how nervous I’ve been about this meeting. Queen is the devil himself when it comes to the social amenities, and I shouldn’t have been surprised if he 148had clapped his handcuffs on you as you shook hands!”

The tension snapped with the big man’s hearty chuckle.

The District Attorney came abruptly to the point. “Mr. Ives-Pope is here, Q, to find out for himself just what can be done in the matter of his daughter.” Queen nodded. Sampson turned to the financier. “As I told you before, sir, we have every confidence in Inspector Queen — always have had. He generally works without any check or supervision from the District Attorney’s office. In view of the circumstances, I thought I should make that clear.”

“That’s a sane method, Sampson,” said Ives-Pope, with approval. “I’ve always worked on that principle in my own business. Besides, from what I’ve heard about Inspector Queen, your confidence is well placed.”

“Sometimes,” said Queen gravely, “I have to do things that go against the grain. I will be frank to say that some things I did last night in the line of duty were extremely disagreeable to me. I suppose, Mr. Ives-Pope, your daughter is upset because of our little talk last night?”

Ives-Pope was silent for a moment. Then he raised his head and met the Inspector’s gaze squarely. “Look here, Inspector,” he said. “We’re both men of the world and men of business. We’ve had dealings with all sorts of queer people, both of us; and we have, too, solved problems that presented enormous difficulties to others. So I think we can converse frankly…. Yes, my daughter Frances is more than a little upset. Incidentally, so is her mother, who is an ill woman at the best of times; and her brother Stanford, my son — but we needn’t go into that…. Frances told me last night when she got home with — her friends — everything that happened. I know my daughter, Inspector; and I’d stake my fortune that there isn’t the slightest connection between her and Field.”

“My dear sir,” returned the Inspector quietly, “I didn’t 149accuse her of anything. Nobody knows better than I what peculiar things can happen in the course of a criminal investigation; therefore I never let the slightest blind spot escape my notice. All I did was to ask her to identify the bag. When she did so, I told her where it was found. I was waiting, of course, for an explanation. It did not come…. You must understand, Mr. Ives-Pope, that when a man is murdered and a woman’s bag is found in his pocket it is the duty of the police to discover the owner of the bag and his or her connection with the crime. But of course — I do not have to convince you of that.”

The magnate drummed on the arm of his chair. “I see your point of view, Inspector,” he said. “It was obviously your duty, and it is still your duty to go to the bottom of the thing. In fact, I want you to make every effort to. My own personal opinion is that she is the victim of circumstances. But I don’t want to plead her case. I trust you sufficiently to rely on your judgment after you’ve thoroughly probed the problem.” He paused. “Inspector Queen, how would you like to have me arrange a little interview at my home to-morrow morning? I would not ask you to go to this trouble,” he added apologetically, “except that Frances is quite ill, and her mother insists she stay at home. May we expect you?”

“Very good of you, Mr. Ives-Pope,” remarked Queen calmly. “We’ll be there.”

The financier seemed indisposed to end the interview. He shifted heavily in his chair. “I’ve always been a fair man, Inspector,” he said. “I feel somehow that I may be accused of using my position as a means of securing special privileges. That is not so. The shock of your tactics last night made it impossible for Frances to tell her story. At home, among the members of her family, I am sure she will be able to clear up her connection with the affair to your satisfaction.” He hesitated for a moment, 150then continued in a colder tone. “Her fiancé will be there and perhaps his presence will help to calm her.” His voice expressed the thought that he personally did not think so. “May we expect you, let us say, at ten-thirty?”

“That will be fine,” said Queen, nodding. “I should like to know more definitely, sir, just who will be present.”

“I can arrange it as you wish, Inspector,” replied Ives-Pope, “but I imagine Mrs. Ives-Pope will want to be there and I know that Mr. Barry will — my future son-in-law,” he explained dryly. “Perhaps a few of Frances’ friends — theatrical friends. My son Stanford may also grace us with his presence — a very busy young man, you know,” he added with a suspicion of bitterness.

The three men shifted embarrassedly. Ives-Pope rose with a sigh and Ellery, Queen and Sampson followed suit. “That’s all, I think, Inspector,” said the financier in a lighter tone. “Is there anything else I can do?”

“Not a thing.”

“Then I’ll be getting along.” Ives-Pope turned to Ellery and Sampson. “Of course, Sampson, if you can get away, I’d like you to be there. Do you think you can make it?” The District Attorney nodded. “And Mr. Queen” — the big man turned to Ellery — “will you come also? I understand that you have been following the investigation very closely at your father’s side. We shall be happy to have you.”

“I’ll be there,” said Ellery softly, and Ives-Pope left the office.

“Well, what do you think, Q?” asked Sampson, fidgeting in his swivel-chair.

“A most interesting man,” returned the Inspector. “How fair-minded he is!”

“Oh, yes — yes,” said Sampson. “Er — Q, he asked me before you came if you wouldn’t go easy on the publicity. Sort of special favor, you know.”

151“He didn’t have the nerve to come out with it to me, eh?” chuckled the Inspector. “He’s quite human…. Well, Henry, I’ll do my best, but if that young woman is implicated seriously, I won’t vouch for hands off with the press.”

“All right, all right, Q — it’s up to you,” said Sampson irritably. “Damn this throat of mine!” He took an atomizer from a desk-drawer and sprinkled his throat wryly.

“Didn’t Ives-Pope recently donate a hundred thousand dollars to the Chemical Research Foundation?” asked Ellery suddenly, turning to Sampson.

“I seem to remember something of that sort,” said Sampson, gargling. “Why?”

Ellery mumbled an inaudible explanation that was lost in Sampson’s violent gyrations with the sprayer. Queen, who was regarding his son speculatively, shook his head, consulted his watch and said, “Well, son, it’s time we knocked off for lunch. What do you say — Henry, think you’d like to join us in a bite?”

Sampson grinned with an effort. “I’m full up to my neck with work, but even a District Attorney has to eat,” he said. “I’ll go on only one condition — that I pay the check. I owe you something, anyway.”

As they donned their coats Queen picked up Sampson’s telephone.

“Mr. Morgan?…. Oh, hello, Morgan. I say, do you think you can find a little time this afternoon for a chat?… Right. Two-thirty will be fine. Good-by.”

“That settles that,” said the Inspector comfortably. “Always pays to be polite, Ellery — remember that.”

At two-thirty promptly the two Queens were ushered into the quiet law-office of Benjamin Morgan. It was noticeably different from Field’s lavish suite — richly furnished but with a more business-like simplicity. A smiling 152young woman closed the door after them. Morgan greeted them with some reserve. He held out a box of cigars as they sat down.

“No thanks — my snuff will do,” said the Inspector genially, while Ellery after being introduced lit a cigarette and blew smoke-rings. Morgan lit a cigar with shaking fingers.

“I suppose you’re here to continue that talk of ours last night, Inspector?” said Morgan.

Queen sneezed, replaced his snuff-box, and leaned back in the chair. “Look here, Morgan old man,” he said evenly. “You haven’t been quite on the up-and-up with me.”

“What do you mean?” asked Morgan, coloring.

“You told me last night,” said the Inspector reflectively, “you told me last night that you parted amicably with Field two years ago, when you dissolved the firm of Field & Morgan. Did you say that?”

“I did,” said Morgan.

“How, then, my dear fellow,” asked Queen, “do you explain the little incident of the quarrel at the Webster Club? I certainly would not call a threat against another man’s life an ‘amicable’ way of dissolving a partnership!”

Morgan sat quietly for several minutes while Queen stared patiently at him and Ellery sighed. Then he looked up and began to speak in a passionate undertone.