French Powder Mystery Read Online Free PDF Page A

a corner near the plate-glass window, and pulled. A translucent curtain fell immediately, shutting off the view of the frantic people in the street.
    The bearded man knelt at the side of the model, felt her pulse, hesitantly touched the skin of the other woman, rose and ran back to the door. A growing crowd of salesgirls and shoppers was collecting on the main floor of the department store, just outside the window. Three men—floorwalkers—rushed through as if to enter.
    The man in the window spoke sharply: “You—get the head store detective at once—no, never mind—here he comes—Mr. Crouther! Mr. Crouther! This way! Here!”
    A heavy-set, abroad-shouldered man with a mottled complexion shoved his way, cursing, through the crowd. He had just reached the entrance of the window when the policeman who had dispersed the crowd on the sidewalk ran up and dashed after him into the window. The three men disappeared, the bluecoat slamming the door shut behind them.
    The bearded man stood aside. “There’s been a terrible accident, Crouther. … Glad you’re here, officer. … My God, what an affair!”
    The head store detective pounded across the room and glared down at the two women. “What happened to the girl, Mr. Lav-ery?” he bellowed at the bearded man.
    “Fainted, I suppose!”
    “Here, Crouther, let me take a look,” said the policeman, unceremoniously pushing Lavery aside. He bent over the body of the woman who had tumbled from the bed.
    Crouther cleared his throat importantly. “Listen here, Bush. This is no time to make an examination. We oughtn’t to touch a thing until Headquarters is notified. Mr. Lav-ery and me—we’ll stand guard here while you use the ’phone. Go ahead now, Bush, don’t be an egg!”
    The policeman stood undecidedly for a moment, scratched his head, and finally left the room with hurried steps.
    “This is one sweet mess,” growled Crouther. “What happened here, Mr. Lav-ery? Who the hell is this woman?”
    Lavery started nervously and plucked at his beard with long thin fingers. “Why, don’t you know? But of course not. … Good Heavens, Crouther, what are we to do?”
    Crouther frowned. “Now don’t go getting yourself all excited Mr. Lav-ery.” This is a police job, pure and simple. Lucky I was on the scene so quick. We gotta wait for the detail from Headquarters, Just take it easy now—”
    Lavery regarded the store detective coldly. “I’m perfectly all right, Mr. Crouther,” he said. “I suggest—” he weighted the word with authority—“that you immediately marshal your store forces to keep order on the main floor. Make it appear as if nothing out of the way has happened. Call Mr. MacKenzie. Send somebody to notify Mr. French and the Board of Directors. I understand they’re having a meeting upstairs. This is—an affair of a grave nature—graver than you know. Go now!”
    Crouther looked at Lavery rebelliously, shook his head, and made for the door. As he opened it a small dark man with a physician’s bag stepped into the room. He glanced quickly around and without a word crossed to the side of the two bodies.
    He favored the model with a scant glance and a feeling of the pulse. He spoke without looking up.
    “Here—Mr. Lavery, is it?—you’ll have to help—get one of the men outside to give you a hand—the model has merely fainted—get her a glass of water and put her on that divan there—send somebody for one of the nurses from the infirmary. …”
    Lavery nodded. He went to the door and looked out over the whispering crowd on the floor.
    “Mr. MacKenzie! Here, please!”
    A middle-aged man with a pleasant Scotch face hurried up and into the room. “Help me, please,” said Lavery.
    The doctor busied himself over the body of the other woman. His movements concealed her face. Lavery and MacKenzie picked up the reviving form of the model and carried her to the divan. A floorwalker outside was dispatched for a glass of water and reappeared in