The New Adventures of Ellery Queen Read Free

throat with an oddly ominous finality. Ellery saw what was coming; he had often heard that throat-clearing sound emanate from the mouths of judges pronouncing sentence of doom.
    â€œWe have something sad to tell you, Miss Mayhew. You may as well learn it now.”
    â€œSad?” murmured the girl after a moment. “Sad? Oh, it’s not—”
    â€œYour father,” said Thorne inaudibly. “He’s dead.”
    She cried: “Oh!” in a small helpless voice; and then she grew quiet.
    â€œI’m dreadfully sorry to have to greet you with such news,” said Thorne in the silence. “We’d anticipated.… And I realize how awkward it must be for you. After all, it’s quite as if you had never known him at all. Love for a parent, I’m afraid, lies in direct ratio to the degree of childhood association. Without any association at all …”
    â€œIt’s a shock, of course,” Alice said in a muffled voice. “And yet, as you say, he was a stranger to me, a mere name. As I wrote you, I was only a toddler when Mother got her divorce and took me off to England. I don’t remember Father at all. And I’ve not seen him since, or heard from him.”
    â€œYes,” muttered the attorney.
    â€œI might have learned more about Father if Mother hadn’t died when I was six; but she did, and my people—her people—in England … Uncle John died last fall. He was the last one. And then I was left all alone. When your letter came I was—I was so glad, Mr. Thorne. I didn’t feel lonely any more. I was really happy for the first time in years. And now—” She broke off to stare out the window.
    Dr. Reinach swiveled his massive head and smiled benignly. “But you’re not alone, my dear. There’s my unworthy self, and your Aunt Sarah, and Milly—Milly’s my wife, Alice; naturally you wouldn’t know anything about her—and there’s even a husky young fellow named Keith who works about the place—bright lad who’s come down in the world.” He chuckled. “So you see there won’t be a dearth of companionship for you.”
    â€œThank you, Uncle Herbert,” she murmured. “I’m sure you’re all terribly kind. Mr. Thorne, how did Father … When you replied to my letter you wrote me he was ill, but—”
    â€œHe fell into a coma unexpectedly nine days ago. You hadn’t left England yet and I cabled you at your antique-shop address. But somehow it missed you.”
    â€œI’d sold the shop by that time and was flying about, patching up things. When did he … die?”
    â€œA week ago Thursday. The funeral … Well, we couldn’t wait, you see. I might have caught you by cable or telephone on the Caronia , but I didn’t have the heart to spoil your voyage.”
    â€œI don’t know how to thank you for all the trouble you’ve taken.” Without looking at her Ellery knew there were tears in her eyes. “It’s good to know that someone—”
    â€œIt’s been hard for all of us,” rumbled Dr. Reinach.
    â€œOf course, Uncle Herbert. I’m sorry.” She fell silent. When she spoke again, it was as if there were a compulsion expelling the words. “When Uncle John died, I didn’t know where to reach Father. The only American address I had was yours, Mr. Thorne, which some patron or other had given me. It was the only thing I could think of. I was sure a solicitor could find Father for me. That’s why I wrote to you in such detail, with photographs and all.”
    â€œNaturally we did what we could.” Thorne seemed to be having difficulty with his voice. “When I found your father and went out to see him the first time and showed him your letter and photographs, he … I’m sure this will please you, Miss Mayhew. He wanted you badly. He’d apparently been having a hard time