Midnight Part 23

From somewhere in the rear of the house he heard the clamor of a doorbell, then the sound of footsteps in the hall, the opening and closing of the front door--and then Naomi Lawrence appeared in the music room. Carroll could have sworn that her eyes were twinkling with amus.e.m.e.nt as she addressed Evelyn--pointedly ignoring him.

"Evelyn--that Somerville boy is here."

"Oh! bother! What's he doin' here?"

"He says he came to call. He's got a box of candy."

"Piffle! What do I care about candy? He's just a kid!"

Naomi went to the hall door. "Right this way, Charley." And as the slender, overdressed young gentleman of nineteen entered the room, Carroll again glimpsed the light of amus.e.m.e.nt in Naomi's eyes.

Mr. Charley Somerville expressed himself as being "Pleaset'meetcha" and tried to conceal his vast admiration when Evelyn informed him that this was _the_ David Carroll. Charley was impressed but he was not particular about showing it--Charley fancying himself considerable of a cosmopolite, thanks to a year at Yale. His dignity was excruciatingly funny to Carroll as the very young man seated himself, crossed one elongated and unbelievably skinny leg over the other and arranged the creases so that they were in the very middle.

"A-a-ah! Taking a vacation from your work on the Warren murder case, I presume?"

Carroll nodded. "Yes--for awhile."

"Detective work must be a terrible bore--mustn't it?"

"Sometimes," answered Carroll significantly.

"Charley Somerville!" Evelyn flamed to the defense of her friend's profession. "At least Mr. Carroll ain't--isn't--a college freshman."

"I'm a soph.o.m.ore," a.s.serted Charley languidly. "Pa.s.sed all of my exams."

"Anyway," snapped Evelyn, "he ain't any kid!"

For a time the atmosphere was strained. Then Carroll recalled a particularly good college joke he knew and he told it well. After which Evelyn explained to Charley that Mr. Carroll was the wonderfulest piano player in the world and David Carroll, detective, strummed out several popular airs while the youngsters danced.

Horrible as the situation was, it appealed irresistibly to his sense of humor. He found himself almost enjoying it. And he worked carefully.

Eventually his patience was rewarded. He succeeded in getting them together on a lounge with a photograph alb.u.m between them. And then, very quietly and positively, and with a brief--"Excuse me for a moment," he walked through the hall and into the living room.

Lawrence and his wife were at opposite sides of the library table. At sight of Carroll, Lawrence laid down his paper and rose to his feet.

"Well?" he inquired inhospitably.

Carroll laughed lightly. "It got too much for me. Too much youth. I dropped in here for a chat with you folks."

"I didn't understand that you had come to call on us," said Lawrence coldly.

"Why, I didn't--"

"You did!" snapped Lawrence. "I'm no fool, Carroll. From the minute I heard you were coming, I knew what you had up your sleeve. You wanted to talk about the Warren case! Now suppose you go ahead and talk--then get out!"

CHAPTER XIII

NO ALIBI

Carroll was rarely thrown from a mental balance, but this was one of the exceptions to a rule of conduct where poise was essential. His eyes half-closed in their clash with the coldly antagonistic orbs of his host.

His instinctive dislike of the man flamed into open anger and he controlled himself with an effort.

One thing Lawrence had done: he had stripped from Carroll his disguise as a casual caller and settled down ominously to bra.s.s tacks. Carroll shrugged, forced a smile--then glanced at Naomi Lawrence.

She had risen and was staring at her husband with wide-eyed indignation.

Undoubtedly she was horrified at his brusqueness. For the first time, she, too, had made it plain that Carroll was not welcome--that his ruse of calling upon Evelyn had been seen through plainly--but he could see that even under those circ.u.mstances she was not forgetful that he was a guest in her home and, as such, he was ent.i.tled to ordinary courtesy.

Carroll was more than a little sorry for her, and also a bit rueful at his own plight. Things had gone wrong for him from the commencement of the evening. And this--well, the gage of battle had been flung in his face and he was no man to refuse the challenge. But his muscles were taut until the soft voice of Naomi broke in on the pregnant stillness--

"Won't you be seated, Mr. Carroll?"

Carroll smiled gratefully at her. With her words the unpleasant tension had lightened. He dropped into an arm chair. Lawrence followed suit, his close-set eyes focused belligerently on Carroll's face, the hostility of his manner being akin to a personal menace. Naomi stood by the table, eyes s.h.i.+fting from one to the other.

"I'd rather," she suggested softly, "that we did not discuss the Warren case."

"It doesn't matter what you prefer," snapped her husband coldly. "Carroll forced himself upon us for that purpose--with a lack of decency which one might have expected. Let him have his say."

Carroll gazed squarely at Lawrence. "I'm sorry," he said, "that you see fit to act as you are doing."

"I asked for no criticism of my conduct."

"Just the same, dear--" started Naomi, when her husband interrupted angrily--

"Nor any apologies to him from you, Naomi. Carroll has placed himself beyond the pale by what he has done in having the impertinence to foist himself upon us as a social equal. Now, Carroll--are you ready with your little catechism?"

"Yes." The detective's voice was quite calm. "I'm quite ready."

"Well--ask." Lawrence paused. "You _did_ come here to inquire about Warren, didn't you?"

Carroll could not forbear a dig: "I trust that you are not putting it upon me to deny your statement to that effect."

"I don't give a d.a.m.n what you deny or affirm."

"Good! Then we know all about each other, don't we. You know that I am a detective in search of information and I know absolutely what you are!"

That dart went home--Lawrence squirmed. "So I'll come right to the point.

Is it not a fact that you were in this city at the hour Roland Warren is supposed to have been killed?"

He heard a surprised gasp from Naomi and saw that her face had blanched and that she was leaning forward with eyes wide and hands clutching the arms of the chair in which she had seated herself.

Lawrence leered. "As the kids would say, Carroll--that's for me to know and for you--super-detective that you are--to find out."

Carroll was more at ease now. Lawrence's sneering aggressiveness brought him into his own element and he was. .h.i.tting straight from the shoulder: refusing pointblank to mince matters.

"I fancy I can," he returned calmly. "And now: is it not a fact that you despised Warren even though you pretended to be his friend?"