Greek Coffin Mystery Read Online Free PDF Page B

all. I’ll have to talk it over with the Chief first.”
    Velie thrust his fists into his pockets, surveying the battleground. “Well,” he grumbled, “I’m washed up. Listen, folks.” They had been listening; but all vitality had been drained out of them by the cloying wait, and they stared at Velie with doggy eyes. “When I leave this house, I’m closing up this room and those two others beyond. Understand? Nobody is to come in here. Nobody is to touch Khalkis’ room either, or Demetrios Khalkis’—leave everything exactly as it is. And one more thing. You can come and go in and out of the house as you please, but you’ll be searched every single time, so don’t anybody try any funny stuff. That’s all.”
    “I say.” Some one had spoken in a cavernous voice. Velie turned slowly. Dr. Wardes was coming forward—a man of middle height, bearded like one of the old prophets, but with a physique almost simian. His very bright brown eyes, set closely together, regarded Sergeant Velie almost with humor.
    “What do you want?” Velie bristled, wide-legged, on the rug.
    The physician smiled. “Your orders will not put any of the regular residents of this house to great inconvenience, don’t you know, Sergeant, but they will affect me most unpleasantly. You see, I’ve been merely a guest here. Must I intrude on the hospitality of this very sad establishment indefinitely?”
    “Say, who are you, anyway?” Velie moved a ponderous step forward.
    “My name is Wardes, and I am a citizen of Great Britain and a humble subject of His Majesty the King,” replied the bearded man, twinkling. “I’m a medico—eye specialist. I’ve been having Mr. Khalkis under observation for some weeks.”
    Velie grunted. Pepper moved to his side and whispered. Velie nodded, and Pepper said: “Naturally, Dr. Wardes, we don’t want to embarrass you or your hosts. You are perfectly free to leave. Of course,” he continued smiling, “you won’t object to a last formality—a thorough search of your person and luggage on going away?”
    “Object? Certainly not, sir.” Dr. Wardes played with his shaggy brown beard. “On the other hand—”
    “Oh, do stay, Doctor!” shrilled Mrs. Sloane. “Don’t leave us in this dreadful time. You’ve been so kind …”
    “Yes, do, Doctor.” This was a new voice, and it proceeded from the deep chest of a large handsome woman—a dark bold beauty. The physician bowed and murmured something inaudible, and Velie said nastily, “And who are you, Madame?”
    “Mrs. Vreeland.” Her eyes sparked warning; her voice had coarsened, and Joan, perched on the edge of Khalkis’ desk in woeful resignation, swallowed a smile bravely; her blue eyes went appraisingly to Dr. Wardes’ powerful shoulder-blades. “Mrs. Vreeland. I live here. My husband is—was—Mr. Khalkis’ traveling representative.”
    “I don’t get you. What do you mean—traveling representative? Where is your husband, Madame?”
    The woman flushed darkly. “I don’t like your tone! You have no right to speak to me in such a disrespectful tone!”
    “Can it, sister. Answer my question.” Velie’s eyes grew cold, and when Velie’s eyes grew cold they grew very cold indeed.
    The little mutter of anger sputtered away. “He’s—he’s in Canada somewhere. On a scouting trip.”
    “We tried to locate him,” said Gilbert Sloane unexpectedly. His pomaded black hair, small mathematical mustache, pouched watery eyes gave him an incongruously dissipated appearance. “We tried to locate him—the last we heard, he was operating from Quebec as a base, on the trail of some old hooked rugs he’d heard about. We haven’t heard from him yet, though we left word at his last hotel. Perhaps he’ll see the news of Georg’s death in the papers.”
    “And perhaps he won’t,” said Velie shortly. “Okay. Dr. Wardes, you staying?”
    “Since I am requested to do so—yes. I shall be very happy to.” Dr. Wardes moved back and