Little more than that had elapsed when Mr. Ringold opened the door and admitted the detectives, conducting them in to the library, and switching on the light.
“Now, Nick, what’s it all about?” he inquired, gazing curiously at him.
“It’s about the Carrington ball,” Nick replied. “How happened it that you and your wife did not go?”
“For only one reason,” said Mr. Ringold. “It had been postponed, Nick, because of the sudden illness of Mr. Carrington.”
“That so?” queried Nick, smiling. “Who informed you?”
“A messenger sent out by Mrs. Carrington. He came in a limousine this afternoon. He stated that Carrington was ill, that the ball had necessarily been postponed, and that the invitation and admission cards had been recalled and would be reissued later.”
“Did you see the messenger?”
“No. I had not returned home from my office.”
“Who saw him?”
“My wife talked with him. She gave him the cards of our invitation. He said that he and the Carrington butler had been sent to collect them from all who had been invited.”