Hotel

Albert Wells nodded cheerfully. "That's right. There's a few other things now, besides."

"If you'll pardon my curiosity," Peter McDermott said, "other things such as what?"

"I'm not sure of all of it." The little man shifted diffidently in his chair. "There's a couple of newspapers, some ships, an insurance company, buildings, other bits 'n pieces. I bought a food chain last year. I like new things. It keeps me interested."

"Yes," Peter said, "I should imagine it would."

Albert Wells smiled mischievously. "Matter of fact, there's something I was going to tell you tomorrow, but I may as well do it now. I just bought this hotel."

18

"Those are the gentlemen, Mr. McDermott."

Max, the dining-room head waiter, pointed across the lobby where two men - one of them the police detective, Captain Yolles - were waiting quietly beside the hotel newsstand.

A moment or two earlier, Max had summoned Peter from the dining-room table where, with Christine, he was sitting in dazed silence after Albert Wells' announcement. Both Christine and himself, Peter knew, had been too astounded either to grasp the news entirely or assess its implications. It had been a relief to Peter to be informed that he was required urgently outside. Hastily excusing himself, he promised to return later if he could.

Captain Yolles walked toward him. He introduced his companion as Detective-Sergeant Bennett. "Mr. McDermott, is there some place handy we can talk?"

"This way." Peter led the two men past the concierge's counter into the credit manager's office, unused at night. As they went in, Captain Yolles handed Peter a folded newspaper. It was an early edition of tomorrow's TimesPicayune. A three-column head read:

CROYDON CONFIRMED U.K. AMBASSADOR NEWS REACHES HIM IN CRESCENT CITY

Captain Yolles closed the office door. "Mr. McDermott, Ogilvie has been arrested. He was stopped an hour ago, with the car, near Nashville. The Tennessee State Police are holding him and we've sent to bring him back. Tbe car is being returned by truck, under wraps. But from an investigation on the spot, there doesn't seem much doubt it's the one we want."

Peter nodded. He was aware of the two policemen watching him curiously.

"If I seem a little slow catching on to all that's happening," Peter said, "I should tell you that I've just had something of a shock."

"Concerning this?"

"No. The hotel."

There was a pause, then Yolles said, "You maybe interested to hear that Ogilvie has made a statement. He claims he knew nothing about the car being involved in an accident. All that happened, he says, is that the Duke and Duchess of Croydon paid him two hundred dollars to drive it north. He had that amount of money on him."

"Do you believe that?"

"It might be true. Then again, it might not. We'll know better after we've done some questioning tomorrow."

By tomorrow, Peter thought, a good deal might be clearer. Tonight held a quality of unreality. He inquired, "What happens next?"

"We intend to pay a call on the Duke and Duchess of Croydon. If you don't mind, we'd like you along."

"I suppose . . . if you think it necessary."

"Thank you."

"There is one other thing, Mr. McDermott," the second detective said. "We understand that the Duchess of Croydon gave some sort of written permission for their car to be taken from the hotel garage."

"I was told that, yes."

"It could be important, sir. Do you suppose anyone kept that note?"

Peter considered. "It's possible. If you like, I'll telephone the garage."

"Let's go there," Captain Yolles said.

Kulgmer, the garage night checker, was apologetic and chagrined. "Do you know, sir, I said to myself I might need that piece of paper, just to cover me in case anything got asked. And if you'll believe me, sir, I looked for it tonight before I remembered I must have thrown it out yesterday with the paper from my sandwiches. It isn't really my fault, though, when you look at it fair." He gestured to the glass cubicle from which he had emerged. "There's not much space in there.

No wonder things get mixed. I was saying just last week, if that place was only bigger. Now, you take the way I have to do the nightly taffy . . ."

Peter McDermott interrupted, "What did the note from the Duchess of Croydon say?"

"Just that Mr. O. had permission to take away the car. I kind of wondered at the time . . ."

"Was the note written on hotel stationery?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you remember if the paper was embossed and had 'Presidential Suite' at the top?"

"Yes, Mr. McDermott, I do remember that. It was just like you said, and sort of a small size sheet."

Peter told the detectives, "We have special stationery for that particular suite."

The second detective queried Kulgmer, "You say you threw the note out with your sandwich wrappings?"

"Don't see how it could have happened any other way. You see, I'm always very careful. Now, take what happened last year ..."

"What time would that be?"

"Last year?"