Chapter 11 Chapter Ten Another Gun

Johnson, following Sergeant Quinn's thoughtful instructions, remained in the room where Buck Horne had lived in the Barclay Hotel.He was a small, dark-faced, gray-bearded, piercing-eyed figure who, on the whole, resembled a kind and conscientious shopkeeper. Hearing the knock, he immediately opened the door wide.Seeing it was Ellery, the sudden tension and defensiveness that had been mobilized dissipated, and he backed out of the way with a smile.Several people entered the room, and Officer Willi immediately closed the door tightly. "Is there anything wrong, Johnson?" asked the officer.

"It's nothing. I was just about to take off my shoes and sleep comfortably for a while, but Mr. Quinn disturbed my dream." Ji Temu walked over to a chair covered with calico and sat down stiffly, without taking off his coat and gloves.Curley, dressed in denim and wearing a jacket, threw himself heavily on the bed as before. Everyone was silent. The room was large, typical hotel setting, nothing fancy.A bed, two chairs, a dressing table, a wardrobe and a bedside table. Ellery smiled at Officer Willie, then said, "Miss Horn, make yourself comfortable." He took off his coat, threw his hat on the bed, and walked away busy with his work.

Johnson and Willie watched him wearily. In a short while, he had surveyed the room roughly.Horn’s wardrobe neatly hangs his various clothes—several suits, a coat, and two top hats; there are only a few very ordinary small items in the drawer of the dressing table; there is nothing in the bedside table.He straightened up and thought for a moment, then looked at Kit with an apologetic smile. "Miss Horn, if you don't mind, can I go over to your room and have a look?" Curley struggled as if he was about to use force: "What are you talking about, you! I don't want to let..."

"Curley," said Kit, "it's all right, Mr. Quinn. Go on in. I wish I could find out exactly what you're looking for..." "Actually, it's nothing important," Ellery finished briskly, walked into the bathroom shared by the two suites, opened another door inside, and walked into Kit's room.He came back three minutes later, frowning in surprise. "Surely it should be there... oh, under the bed, of course!" He crouched down, close to Curley's sagging leg, and peered under the bed; He pulled it out; his face flushed with victory—what he pulled out was a small and flat wooden box specially used for theater troupes!

He pulled the box to the center of the room, opened it without a moment's notice, searched quickly for a while, and finally straightened up.At this moment, his eyes were shining brightly - what he held in his right hand was a familiar revolver! "Oh, that!" cried Kit. "Why didn't you say it was the other gun you were looking for, Mr. Quin? Maybe I'll know..." "You don't seem to know," Ellery said slowly, studying the gun. A few shallow wrinkles appeared between Kit's thinly curved brows: "Why, oh, no, I really don't know. I didn't notice at all-so many things happened all of a sudden. I thought he must have brought With two guns. But..."

"Is he used to carrying both guns with him, Miss Horn?" Ellery asked with sleepwalking air. "He didn't try to follow any set rules," she said, raising her voice suddenly a little. "He's always been careless, and Buck's a loose guy. Sometimes he takes out two guns, sometimes he just takes one." Yeah. I remember seeing both guns in this case two or three days ago. Tonight—oh, last night, he must have only one gun on him. Oh, I'm messed up, too. , I'm exhausted..." "That's well explained," said Ellery. "Relax, Miss Horn, you've had a rough few hours... Could it be that he's wearing a belt with two holsters and only A gun, don't you think it's a little weird?"

She looked at him, dumbfounded.After a while, she laughed inexplicably again: "Mr. Quinn!" She laughed almost out of breath, a little hysterical, "I don't think you know anything about Western style Yeah. And you haven't even looked at that sash. Many—not necessarily most—have holsters that can be put on or taken off at will; but Horn's one is different—it's He made it to order. You can only go in and out with two holsters, see, unless you don't wear that sash at all." "Oh," Ellery replied, flushing a little, looking down at the gun he had found.

It was a .45-click Gothic revolver with an ivory handle, evidently and unquestionably the original pair to the one held in the dead man's hand.The barrel and body were as fine as the other, and the fine ivory carvings on the handle were of the same design—bulls, ovals, and the letter B.The ivory insert is also worn and dull yellow, showing that it has been as old as the other gun.It's just that this gun has a small piece of light color on the ivory piece on the left side.This time Ellery gripped the gun with his right hand, the light part just between his fingers and the palm of his hand.Also, the barrel and the horns on the gun were also ground to a smooth finish, exactly as they had been on the first gun.

"Looks as used and worn as that gun," Ellery murmured absently, a gleam in his eye.At this moment, Officer Willie leaned forward heavily, and Curley also jumped out of the bed like a spring. Suddenly he heard Kit weeping hoarsely—the incomparable cowboy heroine in the wilderness, the invincible wild flower blooming on the screen, the stubborn and brave elf in the western world... She, unexpectedly, has no scruples Dihao Tao cried loudly, and sobbed until his whole body trembled, tears pouring down his cheeks. "Oh, oh, we can't be like this," Ellery coaxed, put the gun on the bed, and tried to run to comfort her, but was suddenly caught by a pair of lean and strong arms-Curley was stretching He stood up and blocked it angrily.Police officer Willie, who was flustered by the crying, had no choice but to back away when he saw the situation.

Curley pulled the weepy brown hand from her little brown face and whispered something incantatively in her ear, and in a surprisingly short time Kit's The crying gradually subsided, and the sobbing gradually subsided, and after a while, the crying stopped completely.Curley frowned deliberately to hide his complacency, went back to the bed and sat down. Kit twitched a few more times, wiping away tears with a handkerchief: "I—I'm sorry. Did I look—stupid? Crying like a child? I don't know how... She tossed her handkerchief aside and looked into Ellery's concerned eyes. "I'm all right now, Mr. Quinn. Please forgive my loss of control."

"I—uh—" Ellery fumbled for a moment, blushing.He turned and picked up the revolver. "There is one fact which should be beyond doubt," he said grimly. "This gun belongs to Buck Horn, does it not?" She shook her head slowly and said, "Exactly." "And, surely this is a pair with the one found at the playground?" She looked a little annoyed: "I—I didn't notice which one he was holding, but I think it was—one of those two." "Did he have any other revolvers besides these two?" asked Ellery. "Oh no, I mean..." "You seem confused, too," said Ellery mildly, "and you know that, Mr. Grant?" "Of course," Curley said angrily, "why don't you leave poor Kitty alone? Those two guns were Buck's favorite weapons. He's had them with him for over twenty years. My old man Tell me they were given to him by an Indian fighter--specially made for Buck, with his initials engraved on them. They're two fine guns!" He got more and more excited, and took one from Ellery's hand. snatched the guns, and said with admiration, "Heavy weight, Quinn. How perfect, huh? No wonder Buck never leaves them--uses them all the time. He's a good shooter--you're afraid I've heard--and he's so particular about the two guns he hangs that he can compete with Anne Oakley. Also, the two guns are weighted for the different strengths of his left and right hands, so he's extra special Love them." Johnson came from the corner, glanced at the gun disapprovingly, and turned back to the corner where he was sitting with a grunt.Officer Willie moved his feet, as if he also wanted to step forward to see what happened.Even Kit looked at Curley in amazement.And Ellery seemed to take an extraordinary interest in the words. "Go on," he said, "it's interesting." "Go on?" Curley asked puzzled. "What else can I say..." "No more." Kit said mechanically, and the expressions of the two suddenly changed.Ellery turned away knowingly and leaned back to look at the gun. He still used the old method that had served him for many years--wrapping a pencil in a white silk handkerchief, thrusting it into the eight-inch barrel and withdrawing it. What was stained on the silk handkerchief was only a very small amount of putty—very ordinary oil, nothing suspicious. "Recently cleaned," he said, without looking up at anyone. Kit nodded sadly: "That's nothing to make a fuss about, Mr. Quinn. Buck cherishes these guns as he cherishes his family's treasures, and wipes them meticulously every day." Ellery pulled the trigger and looked into the magazine.There wasn't a single bullet in the gun. He rummaged through the wooden box again and found a box of ammunition--all .Ellery hesitated, then closed the box; the cartridges were pocketed. "I don't think there's anything going on here," he said happily. "Officer, please check again in case I missed something important, such as a piece of paper. There is one more thing I must do before I go." Do it, and you'd better do it right away." He smiled, went to the bedside table and picked up the phone. "Is this the hotel operator? Please put me at the front desk... the night shift? Were you on duty last night too? . . . OK Yes. Come to Room 841, please. This is—by the way, the business of the police." Sergeant Willey was reporting to Ellery the results of his search of the room—"unlucky, still nothing," There was a knock on the door.Johnson opened the door, and a young man trembling with fright stood at the door, with an obvious waiter's logo stuck on his neckline - a carnation. "Come in," said Ellery enthusiastically. "You said you were on duty last night. So, what time did you start?" "Er—seven o'clock, sir!" "Ah, seven o'clock! Luckily. You've heard the news, I suppose?" The young man flinched at the sound. "Yes-yes, sir. About Mr. Ho-Horn, it's scary." He glanced timidly at Kit out of the corner of his eye. "Well, listen," said Ellery, "naturally we'd be interested in a visitor who has visited Mr. Horn within the last few days. That might help us, you know. Someone come ever?" Clearly a little vain and pompous, the guy put on an affected professional stance and swaggered.First, he frowned seriously and thought about it, then scratched his head and posed with the long nails that were carefully manicured like a woman, and finally a blush climbed up his cheeks. He declared aloud: "Yes, sir! There was! I think . . . it was the night before last night, sir!" "What time?" Ellery asked quietly.Kit sat quietly with his hands on his knees.Curley sat down on the edge of the bed, too. "Oh, about ten-thirty, sir. I—" "Hold on, please." Ellery turned to Kit. "What time did you say you got back to the hotel the night before the accident, Miss Horne?" "Did I say that? I don't remember--I just said I came back late and found Buck in bed. Yes, Mr. Quin. It was past midnight when I got back. I had been talking to Mr. Grant until then." together." "Mr Curly Grant?" "what?" Curly Grant seemed to have something in his throat and was busy clearing it. "Go ahead, please," Ellery said to the desk clerk. "Anything else at ten-thirty?" "Mr. Horne was in the hall about nine o'clock, sir, and asked the front desk for the key to his room--that's why I know--and, I guess he went upstairs. At ten-thirty, there was A man came up to the stage and asked Horn's room number. It was a—I think it was a man, sir." "What's that called—you think it's a man?" Inspector Willie, who had been silent, roared suddenly. "You're such an adult, don't you even have any basic common sense? Can't you tell if it's a man or a woman? Or, is there something wrong with that guy?" The waiter looked terrified: "No—no, sir. Actually, I can't recall the man's—oh, I have a vague memory anyway. You know, I'm busy..." "Don't you have any recollection of his features?" Ellery asked. "Oh, sir, he's quite tall, I think, and rather bulky, and-" "What else?" The waiter leaned back against the door. "I don't remember, sir," he said weakly. "Oh, damn!" Ellery whispered, "Forget it, I don't think that means anything." But suddenly, a glimmer of hope appeared in his eyes again, "Is there any colleague with you?" The front desk is on duty, maybe you will notice him?" "No, sir. I am alone on duty." Officer Willie snorted dissatisfiedly, and Ellery shrugged: "What else?" "What else—oh, I told him that Mr. Horne lived in Room 841, and he picked up the phone on the desk and talked to someone, and I heard him call Mr. Horne casually, just He, Buck, kind of said, 'I'm coming up, Buck.', and he walked off the counter." "Only the first name? Well. That's interesting. He went upstairs? In this room?" Ellery bit his upper lip. "Of course you don't know. Thanks for this conversation between us." Don't tell anyone, lad, it's an order." The waiter turned and ran away quickly. Ellery nodded to Officer Willie and Johnson: "Ah—Miss Horne, we're leaving now, please rest alone. I hope I haven't disturbed you too much. But it's all very helpful to us. Come on, lads." "I'm staying," Curley announced protestingly. "Please stay, Curley," Kit whispered in his ear, "I—I don't want to be alone. I can't sleep..." "I know, Kit!" Curley reassured, patting her on the shoulder. Ellery and the other two agents left the room without a word. "Now, Johnson," said Ellery suddenly, "don't disturb those two little birds in love, but keep an eye on those two doors. I think you'll have to be on duty in the passage for the rest of the night. If If there is anything unusual, call Police Officer Quinn on the side of the stadium, and he will send reinforcements at any time." Ellery put his arm around Sergeant Willie's bullish shoulders, and the two strode forward like infantry.

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