He deliberately forced himself to wait until Mrs. Williams answered the door.
As he ran his hand over his hair, Mrs. Williams said: “It’s a naked man. You in?”
Macgowan was alone. He was in his Tree Boy costume ― one loin-cloth, flame-colored this time. He shook Ellery’s hand limply and accepted a Scotch on the Rocks, settling himself on the sofa with his bare heels on the sill of the picture window. “I thought I recognized the car,” said Ellery. “It’s my mother’s. Mine was out of gas. Am I inconvenient?” The giant glanced at the typewriter. “How do you knock that stuff out? But I had to see you.” He seemed uneasy. “What about, Mac?”
“Well... I thought maybe the reason you hadn’t made up your mind to take the case was that there wasn’t enough money in it for you.”
“Did you?”
“Look. Maybe I could put enough more in the pot to make it worth your while.”
“You mean you want to hire me, too, Mac?”
“That’s it.” He seemed relieved that it was out. “I got to thinking... that note, and then whatever it was Roger got in that box the morning old man Hill got the dead dog... I mean, maybe there’s something in it after all, Mr. Queen.”
“Suppose there is.” Ellery studied him with curiosity. “Why are you interested enough to want to put money into an investigation?”
“Roger’s my mother’s husband, isn’t he?”