where she lives, on Grove Street, and waited across the street. When she came out it had started to rain, and she took a taxi, and I managed to grab one and follow her. She went straight to Tingley's and dismissed her cab and went in. I did the same, but I went in the tunnel entrance and waited there. I couldn't imagine what she was doing there."
"What time did she arrive?"
"A few minutes after seven. It was one minute to seven when she left her place on Grove Street. When I saw a man drive up and go in, and a little later come out carrying her and start to put her in his car, naturally I went for him."
"Naturally," Wolfe said. "Were you in the tunnel while Miss Duncan was inside?"
"Yes. And I saw three men come and go in and leave again. Goodwin was the last one. There were two others before that."
Wolfe shook his head. "I doubt if that's a good idea. If you invent a constant stream of visitors, and it develops..."
"I'm not inventing, damn it! I saw them!"
"Tell me about them."
"The first one was at seven-thirty. A big, gray town car stopped at the curb, and the driver got out and held an umbrella over another man as he crossed the sidewalk to the entrance. In five minutes the man came out again and ran to the car and got in, and the car drove off. The license was GJ88."
I grunted. They looked at me. "Nothing," I said, "go ahead."
"I nearly missed seeing the second one go in, because he was walking. He had on a raincoat. It was seven-forty when he entered, and he was inside seven or eight minutes. When he came out I got a pretty good view of his face by a street light. He walked off to the east."
"Did you recognize either of the men?"
"No. But that license number --"
"Do you know it?"
"No, but I can guess, on account of the GJ. I think it belongs to Guthrie Judd. It can be checked."
"Guthrie Judd, the banker?"
"He calls himself a banker, yes. He's more of a promoter. He's been boosting an outfit he calls Consolidated Cereals. Recently he's been after the Tingley business. He's shrewd and unscrupulous--and tough."
"Was it Judd who entered the building at seven-thirty?"
"I couldn't tell. The driver was holding an umbrella over him."
Wolfe grunted. "That's prudent. Should you claim to have recognized Judd, and he is able to prove--" "I'm telling the truth!" Cliff got spirited again. "I'm telling you exactly what happened! Do you think I'm a damned idiot?" He stood up. "I'm going upstairs." A voice behind him asked, "May I come in?"
It was Doc Vollmer. At Wolfe's nod he entered, his bag in his hand, and spoke professionally: "She'll do all right. She got a bad knock on the head, but there's no fracture. It seems to be nervous shock more than anything. After a night's rest "
"Is she conscious?" Cliff demanded.
"Oh, yes." Cliff was darting off, but the doctor grabbed his arm. "Now, wait a minute--just take it easy
"Can she be moved?" Wolfe inquired.
"I wouldn't advise it. Not tonight."
"I want to ask her some questions."
"Now? Is it urgent?"
"Fairly urgent. The police will be here pretty soon." "I see. All right, I'd better go up with you. You'll have to go easy with her."
We moved. Wolfe headed for the elevator and the rest of us walked up the two flights. We got there first. Amy, lying on her side, opened her eyes at us, with no indication of interest for Doc or me, but when they lit on Cliff they opened wide and she made a noise.
"Amy!" Cliff squawked. "Thank God! Amy--"
Vollmer held him back.
"You--" she said weakly. "Where--you--I don't"
"Take her hand," Vollmer said judiciously. "Hold her hand. Don't talk."
Wolfe came in, and Amy moved her head enough to get him in view. "Hello, there," she squeaked.
"Good evening, Miss Duncan," he said politely.
"Does it hurt much?"
"Not--well--it aches."
"I suppose so. Can you understand words?" "Yes--but I don't understand--"
"Please listen. You said nothing this afternoon of any intention to go to your uncle's
"What time did she arrive?"
"A few minutes after seven. It was one minute to seven when she left her place on Grove Street. When I saw a man drive up and go in, and a little later come out carrying her and start to put her in his car, naturally I went for him."
"Naturally," Wolfe said. "Were you in the tunnel while Miss Duncan was inside?"
"Yes. And I saw three men come and go in and leave again. Goodwin was the last one. There were two others before that."
Wolfe shook his head. "I doubt if that's a good idea. If you invent a constant stream of visitors, and it develops..."
"I'm not inventing, damn it! I saw them!"
"Tell me about them."
"The first one was at seven-thirty. A big, gray town car stopped at the curb, and the driver got out and held an umbrella over another man as he crossed the sidewalk to the entrance. In five minutes the man came out again and ran to the car and got in, and the car drove off. The license was GJ88."
I grunted. They looked at me. "Nothing," I said, "go ahead."
"I nearly missed seeing the second one go in, because he was walking. He had on a raincoat. It was seven-forty when he entered, and he was inside seven or eight minutes. When he came out I got a pretty good view of his face by a street light. He walked off to the east."
"Did you recognize either of the men?"
"No. But that license number --"
"Do you know it?"
"No, but I can guess, on account of the GJ. I think it belongs to Guthrie Judd. It can be checked."
"Guthrie Judd, the banker?"
"He calls himself a banker, yes. He's more of a promoter. He's been boosting an outfit he calls Consolidated Cereals. Recently he's been after the Tingley business. He's shrewd and unscrupulous--and tough."
"Was it Judd who entered the building at seven-thirty?"
"I couldn't tell. The driver was holding an umbrella over him."
Wolfe grunted. "That's prudent. Should you claim to have recognized Judd, and he is able to prove--" "I'm telling the truth!" Cliff got spirited again. "I'm telling you exactly what happened! Do you think I'm a damned idiot?" He stood up. "I'm going upstairs." A voice behind him asked, "May I come in?"
It was Doc Vollmer. At Wolfe's nod he entered, his bag in his hand, and spoke professionally: "She'll do all right. She got a bad knock on the head, but there's no fracture. It seems to be nervous shock more than anything. After a night's rest "
"Is she conscious?" Cliff demanded.
"Oh, yes." Cliff was darting off, but the doctor grabbed his arm. "Now, wait a minute--just take it easy
"Can she be moved?" Wolfe inquired.
"I wouldn't advise it. Not tonight."
"I want to ask her some questions."
"Now? Is it urgent?"
"Fairly urgent. The police will be here pretty soon." "I see. All right, I'd better go up with you. You'll have to go easy with her."
We moved. Wolfe headed for the elevator and the rest of us walked up the two flights. We got there first. Amy, lying on her side, opened her eyes at us, with no indication of interest for Doc or me, but when they lit on Cliff they opened wide and she made a noise.
"Amy!" Cliff squawked. "Thank God! Amy--"
Vollmer held him back.
"You--" she said weakly. "Where--you--I don't"
"Take her hand," Vollmer said judiciously. "Hold her hand. Don't talk."
Wolfe came in, and Amy moved her head enough to get him in view. "Hello, there," she squeaked.
"Good evening, Miss Duncan," he said politely.
"Does it hurt much?"
"Not--well--it aches."
"I suppose so. Can you understand words?" "Yes--but I don't understand--"
"Please listen. You said nothing this afternoon of any intention to go to your uncle's
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