Dutch Shoe Mystery Read Free Page B

take what the gods provide.” Minchen paused with his hand on the knob of a door lettered: EXAMINING ROOM. “Of course, an anæsthetist will be standing beside the operating-table prepared to administer without a second’s delay should Abby pop out of the coma. … Come in here, Ellery; I want to show you how a modern hospital does things.”
    He pushed the door open and waved Ellery into the room. Ellery noticed that a small panel on the wall illuminated by a tiny electric bulb flashed on as the door opened to announce that the Examining Room was now occupied. He paused appreciatively on the threshold.
    “Neat, eh?” grinned Minchen.
    “What’s that thingamajig over there?”
    “Fluoroscope. There’s one in every Examining Room. Of course, there’s the stock examining-table, small sterilizing-machine, drug cabinet, instrument racks. … You can see for yourself.”
    “The instrument,” said Ellery didactically, “is an invention of man to mock his Creator. Heavens, aren’t five fingers sufficient?” They laughed together. “I’d stifle in here. Doesn’t anybody ever throw things around?”
    “Not while John Quintus Minchen is boss,” grinned the physician. “Actually, we make a fetish of orderliness. Take minor supplies, for instance. All kept in these drawers—” he flipped his hand at a large white cabinet in one corner, “and quite out of sight or knowledge of meddling patients or visitors. Everybody in the Hospital who has to, knows just where to get supplies. Makes things confoundedly simple.”
    He pulled open a large metal drawer at the bottom of the cabinet. Ellery bent over and stared down at a bewildering display of assorted bandages. Another drawer contained absorbent cotton and tissue; another medicated cotton; another adhesive tapes.
    “System,” murmured Ellery. “Your subordinates get demerit marks for dirty linen and untied shoelaces, don’t they?”
    Minchen chuckled. “You’re not so far off at that. Standing rule of the Hospital makes it mandatory to dress in Hospital uniform, which for men is white canvas shoes, white duck trousers and coat; and for women white linen throughout. Even the ‘special’ outside—well, you remember he wore white, too. The elevator men, mopmen, kitchen help, clerical force—everybody wears the standardized uniform from the moment he sets foot on the Hospital premises until he leaves.”
    “My head’s absolutely a-buzz,” groaned Ellery. “Let me out of here.”
    As they emerged once more into the South Corridor, they caught sight of a tall young man dressed in a brown greatcoat, hat in hand, hurrying toward them. He looked their way, hesitated, then turned suddenly into the East Corridor at his right and disappeared.
    Minchen’s frank face fell. “Forgot Abigail the Mighty,” he muttered. “There goes her attorney now—Philip Morehouse. Bright young coot. Devotes all his time to Abby’s interests.”
    “He’s heard the news, I gather,” remarked Ellery. “Is he interested so personally in Mrs. Doorn?”
    “I should say in Mrs. Doorn’s lovely young daughter,” replied Minchen dryly. “He and Hulda have hit it off quite famously. Looks like a romance to me. And from all accounts Abby, in her grand lady-of-the-manor fashion, smiles on the affair. … Well! I suppose the clans are gathering. … Hullo! There’s the old master himself. Just out of ‘A’ operating-room. … Hi there, Doctor!”

Chapter Two
AGITATION
    T HE MAN IN THE brown greatcoat ran up to the closed door of the Waiting Room in the North Corridor and rapped sharply. There was no sound from beyond the door. He tried the knob, pushed. …
    “Phil!”
    “Hulda! Darling. …”
    A tall young woman, her eyes red with tears, flew into his arms. He cradled her head on his shoulder, murmuring wordless incoherent sympathy.
    They were alone in the vast bare room. Long benches squatted stiffly along the walls. Over one was thrown a beaver coat.
    Philip Morehouse gently