Free Halfway House by Ellery Queen Page A

slowly, “As Joseph Wilson he married my sister on February twenty-fourth, 1925. Over two years before he married your mother, Miss Gimball.”
    The only sounds for seconds after was the short sharp cry wrung from Jessica Gimball. Then she said, “1925? You accuse him of being a bigamist, me of—of not… You’re lying, the pack of you!”
    “Are you sure, Bill Angell?” whispered Andrea Gimball. “Oh, are you sure?”
    Bill passed his hand over his lips. “It’s true, Miss Gimball, and we can prove it. And unless you can produce a marriage certificate antedating February twenty-fourth, 1925, your mother is in for it. We’ve nothing but justice on our side, and we must protect ourselves.”
    “Oh, but this is infamous!” said Mrs. Gimball furiously. “There must be a mistake somewhere. There must!”
    Grosvenor Finch said, “Now let’s not be hasty, please. Mr. Angell, Mrs. Gimball is naturally overwrought, and of course she’s sorry for what she said about your sister. Can’t this be adjusted in some way? No, Jessica! Perhaps, Mr. Queen, a little influence—”
    “Too late,” said Ellery coldly. “You saw that red-haired young woman fly out of here. She’s the press. The story is already on the wires, Finch.”
    “But this bigamy angle. She hasn’t heard that. I’m sure—”
    Bill scowled and began to pace about. “Nothing on earth will stop those bloodhounds from hunting up the marriage dates. We’ll have to face it together. God knows we’re all in the same mess.” Lucy sat quietly, still as death.
    “Very well,” said Finch slowly. The muscles of his large jaw were churning. “If it’s to be a battle, I’ve a card to play—”
    “I think,” said a sardonic voice from the corner, “that I’ve let this go just about far enough.” Chief De Jong grinned at them without humor; they had forgotten him. “Now that everybody’s getting ugly, I’ll get tough myself. Murphy, you took it all down?” The detective in the doorway chewed his pencil, nodding. “Now, then,” continued De Jong, striding forward, “let’s get organized. You first, Queen. I think your actions call for an explanation.”
    Ellery shrugged as he put his pipe away. “This man’s face bothered me all evening. I didn’t know why. Then it came back to me. The irritant was a resemblance. I attended a banquet some months ago in honor of somebody or other, and I met and conversed with a man who, I saw, might have been the twin brother of the man I had been told tonight was Joe Wilson, Lucy’s husband. But my tête-à-tête had been introduced to me as Joseph Kent Gimball of New York. When I recalled Joseph Wilson’s habitual absence from his Philadelphia home, it seemed to me a tragic possibility that Wilson and Gimball were the same man. So I went down the road and telephoned Gimball’s home in New York.”
    “We’d have spotted it soon enough,” said De Jong grudgingly. “So?”
    Ellery stared at him. “The only one in was Jasper Borden, Gimball’s father-in-law. I asked a few questions, discovered that Gimball hadn’t been home since the middle of last week, knew I was on the right track, and announced what had happened. Mr. Borden said his family was out, but that he’d sound the tocsin and send them out here as soon as possible.”
    “Borden, hey?” muttered De Jong. “Old railroad man. Why isn’t your father with you, Mrs. Gimball?”
    Andrea sighed. “Grandfather hasn’t stirred from the house for several years. He suffered a stroke in 1930 that paralyzed his entire left side.”
    “Where were you people tonight? Where’d the old boy reach you?”
    “Mother and I attended a charity ball at the Waldorf. We were there with a party of friends. Mr. Finch, my fiancé Mr. Burke Jones of Newport, Mrs.—”
    “All together, hey?” said De Jong. “Big ball, I suppose?” For some reason not altogether clear, Bill Angell felt himself flushing. He might have known, he thought. He glanced at the