We found they were having a convention in the living room. The delegates consisted of John Charles Dunn, Glenn Prescott, Osric Stauffer, a wiry little squirt whom I recognized as Detective-Lieutenant Bronson of the police, and a six-footer in a hot and dignified three-piece suit who looked concentrated and uncomfortable. By the introduction, made by Dunn, he was identified as Mr. Ritchie of the Cosmopolitan Trust Company, executor of Noel Hawthorne’s estate.
Dunn also explained why we had been ousted from the library. The police had asked for permission to inspect the private papers of Hawthorne, most of which were in a safe built into the library wall, and the trust company had granted it, on condition that they should have a representative present. That was Mr. Ritchie. It was also thought desirable that Hawthorne’s personal attorney should be there. That was Mr. Prescott. And to protect, if necessary, the confidential affairs of Daniel Cullen and Company, they wanted a man there too. That was Mr. Stauffer.
Bronson, Stauffer, Prescott and Ritchie marched off upstairs to open the safe. I thought to myself, they’ll find another will as sure as water’s wet, and then we’ll have to solve the damn murder to get any fee at all.
John Charles Dunn was asking Wolfe if he had made any progress, and Wolfe was replying grumpily that he hadn’t. I knew better than to try any badgering in the presence of Dunn, but I thought I might as well try something, so I crossed the room to where the draperies were and pulled them open, thinking to show Wolfe where I had found Stauffer in ambush. But there was more than that there to show him, if he had been beside me, though I nearly missed it. She must have heard me, or seen me through a slit, approaching. All I saw was the back of the gray gown, and the back of her head, as she went through the door in the right rear corner.
I called to Wolfe and Dunn, “Come here a minute!”
“What is it?”
“Come here and I’ll show you.” They crossed to me. I held the curtain open. “I admit it’s her house, but it’s a bad habit to get into anyhow. When I was in here alone this morning, Mrs. Hawthorne suddenly appeared from behind these drapes and then vanished. This is also the ambush I mentioned in that note I gave you while she was in the library. And she was in here just now. When I lifted the curtain she was beating it through that door. Not that it seems to be the answer to anything, but I thought you’d like to know.”
“You saw her leaving just now?”
“Yes, sir. Practicing, do you suppose?”
“I have no idea. As you say, it’s her house. Since she would have been quite welcome — what’s the matter, Mr. Dunn?”