The Inspector shifted in his chair. “I see.... I’m sorry you didn’t tell me all this last night. You understand, of course, that your story is perfectly safe with the police. And it’s mighty vital information. Now then—do you happen to know a woman by the name of Angela Russo?” Morgan stared. “Why, no, Inspector. I’ve never heard of her.” Queen was silent for a moment. “Do you know a gentleman called ‘Parson Johnny’?” “I think I can give you some information there, Inspector. I’m certain that during our partnership Field was using the little thug for some shady business of his own. I caught him sneaking up into the office a number of times after hours, and when I asked Field about him, he would sneer and say, ‘Oh, that’s only Parson Johnny, a friend of mine!’ But it was sufficient to establish the man’s identity. What their connection was I can’t tell you, because I don’t know.” “Thanks, Morgan,” said the Inspector. “I’m glad you told me that. And now—one last question. Have you ever heard the name Charles Michaels?” “To be sure I have,” responded Morgan grimly. “Michaels was Field’s so-called valet—he acted in the capacity of bodyguard and was really a blackguard, or I’m greatly mistaken in my judgment of men. He came to the office once in a while. I can’t think of anything else about him, Inspector.” “He knows you, of course?” asked Queen. “Why—I suppose so,” returned Morgan doubtfully. “I never spoke to him, but undoubtedly he saw me during his visits to the office.” “Well, now, that’s fine, Morgan,” grunted Queen, rising. “This has been a most interesting and informative chat. And—no, I don’t think there’s anything else. That is, at the moment. Just ride along, Morgan, and keep in town—available if we need you for anything. Remember that, won’t you?” “I’m not likely to forget it,” said Morgan dully. “And—of course the story I told you—about my son—it won’t come out?” “You needn’t have the slightest fear—about that, Morgan,” said Queen, and a few moments later he and Ellery were on the sidewalk. “So it was blackmail, dad,” murmured Ellery. “That gives me an idea, do you know?” “Well, son, I’ve a few ideas of my own!” chuckled Queen, and in a telepathic silence they walked briskly down the street in the direction of headquarters. CHAPTER XII IN WHICH THE QUEENS INVADE SOCIETY Wednesday morning found Djuna pouring the coffee before a bemused Inspector and a chattering Ellery. The telephone bell rang. Both Ellery and his father jumped for the instrument. “Here! What are you doing?” exclaimed Queen. “I’m expecting a call and that’s it!” “Now, now, sir, allow a bibliophile the privilege of using his own telephone,” retorted Ellery. “I have a feeling that that’s my friend the book-dealer calling me about the elusive Falconer.” “Look here, Ellery, don’t start—” While they were chaffing each other good-naturedly across the table, Djuna picked up the telephone.