“If you had,” said Ellery with a smile, “you’d have learned that most of the little fellows we found in Priam’s room are a small tree frog or tree toad ― Hyla regilla is the scientific name ― commonly called spring peepers, which are found in great numbers in this part of the country in streams and trees, especially in the foothills. You can even find bullfrogs here, though they’re not native to this part of the country ― they’ve all been introduced from the East. So if you wanted a lot of frogs and toads, and you didn’t want to leave a trail, you’d go out hunting for them.”
“Two whole days,” groaned Macgowan. He gulped what was left in his glass.
“It’s my fault, Mac,” said Laurel miserably. But then she perked up. “Well, it’s all experience. Next time we’ll know better.”
“Next time he won’t use frogs!”
“Mac.” Ellery was tapping his teeth with the bit of his pipe. “I’ve been thinking about your grandfather.”
“Is that good?” Mac immediately looked bellicose.
“Interesting man.”
“You said it. And a swell egg. Keeps pretty much to himself, but that’s because he doesn’t want to get in anybody’s way.”
“How long has he been living with you people?”
“A few years. He knocked around all his life and when he got too old for it he came back to live with Delia. Why this interest in my grandfather?”