“Yes, Roger.”
The last they saw of Priam he was waving amiably as Wallace wheeled him across the hall. From his gesture it was apparent that he had talked himself out of his fears, if indeed he had not entirely forgotten their cause.
When the door across the hall had closed, Ellery said: “I hope you don’t mind, Mrs. Priam. We’ve got to know which book this was.”
“You think Roger’s a fool, don’t you?”
“Why don’t you go to bed?”
“Don’t ever make that mistake. Crowe!” Her voice softened. “Where’ve you been, darling? I was beginning to worry. Did you find your grandfather?”
Young Macgowan filled the doorway; he was grinning. “You’ll never guess where.” He yanked, and old Collier appeared. There was a smudge of chemical stain along his nose and he was smiling happily. “Down in the cellar.”
“Cellar?”
“Gramp’s fixed himself up a dark room, Mother. Gone into photography.”
“I’ve been using your Contax all day, daughter. I hope you don’t mind. I’ve got a great deal to learn,” said Collier, shaking his head. “My pictures didn’t come out very well. Hello there! Crowe tells me there’s been more trouble.”