“The Inspector—the Inspector, did you say? Inspector—” said Djuna, grinning as he held the mouthpiece to his thin chest, “it’s for you.” Ellery subsided in his chair while Queen, with an air of triumph, snatched the instrument. “Yes?” “Stoates calling from Field’s office, Inspector,” came a fresh cheery young voice. “I want to put Mr. Cronin on the wire.” The Inspector’s brow wrinkled in anticipation. Ellery was listening intently, and even Djuna, with the monkey-like eagerness of his sharp features, had become rooted to his corner, as if he, too, awaited important news. Djuna in this respect resembled his brother anthropoid—there was an alertness, a bright inquisitiveness in his attitude and mien which delighted the Queens eternally. Finally a high-pitched voice came over the wire. “This is Tim Cronin speaking, Inspector,” it said. “How are you? I haven’t got round to seeing you for an age.” “I’m getting a little bent and withered, Tim, but otherwise I’m still all there,” returned Queen. “What’s on your mind? Have you found anything?” “Now that’s the very peculiar part of the whole business, Inspector,” came Cronin’s excited tones. “As you know, I’ve been watching this bird Field for years. He’s been my pet nightmare for as long as I can remember. The D.A. tells me that he gave you the story night before last, so I needn’t go into it. But in all these years of watching and waiting and digging I’ve never been able to find a solitary piece of evidence against that crook that I could bring into a courtroom. And he was a crook, Inspector—I’d stake my life on that.... Anyway, it’s the old story here. I really shouldn’t have hoped for anything better, knowing Field as I did. And yet—well, I couldn’t help praying that somewhere, somehow, he would slip up, and that I’d nail it when I could get my hands on his private records. Inspector—there’s nothing doing.” Queen’s face reflected a fleeting disappointment, which Ellery interpreted with a sigh, rising as he did so to walk restlessly up and down the room. “I guess we can’t help it, Tim,” returned Queen, with an effort at heartiness. “Don’t worry—we’ve other irons in the fire.” “Inspector,” said Cronin abruptly, “you’ve got your hands full. Field was a really slick article. And from the way it looks to me, the genius who could get past his guard and put him away is a really slick article, too. He couldn’t be anything else. Incidentally, we’re not half-way through with the files and maybe what we’ve looked over isn’t as unpromising as I made it sound. There’s plenty here to suggest shady work on Field’s part—it’s just that there’s no direct incriminating evidence. We’re hoping that we find something as we go on.” “All right, Tim—keep up the good work,” muttered the Inspector. “And let me know how you make out.... Is Lewin there?” “You mean the office manager?” Cronin’s voice lowered. “He’s around somewhere. Why?”