The French Powder Mystery

“Not a particularly well-regulated household,” murmured Ellery. “Miss Underhill, please tell me how Miss Carmody was attired when she left the house — it was about two-thirty, I presume?”

Hortense Underhill shifted restlessly in her chair. The maid still regarded Ellery with stupid, frightened eyes.

“Just about,” said the housekeeper. “Well, Bernice was wearing — let me see now — her blue felt hat with the brilliant fancy, her grey chiffon dress, her grey fur-trimmed coat, and a pair of black leather pumps with rhinestone buckles. Is that what you wanted to know?”

“Precisely,” said Ellery with a charming smile. He took Weaver to one side. “Wes, do you know why I’ve called these two worthy ladies into consultation?” he demanded in an undertone.

Weaver shook his head. “Except for the fact that you wanted to know about Bernice... Oh, I say, Ellery, it wasn’t that you’re looking for further indications of Bernice’s presence here, is it?” he asked aghast.

Ellery nodded gloomily. “We have three apparent indications of the young lady’s alleged visit to the apartment, to be journalistic... Something told me there were more. Indications that I might not be able to descry. The housekeeper, though — the maid, Bernice’s maid—” He broke off, shook his head with impatience at his own thoughts. He turned to the waiting women. “Miss Doris Keaton.” The maid jumped, stark terror in her eyes. “Don’t be afraid, Miss Keaton,” said Ellery mildly, “I shan’t bite you... Did you help Miss Bernice dress yesterday afternoon, after luncheon?”

The girl whispered: “Yes, sir.”

“Would you recognize the articles of clothing, for example, that she wore yesterday, if you saw them here and now?”

“I... I think so, sir.”

Ellery walked to the closet door nearest the lavatory, threw it wide — disclosing a rack hung with multicolored gowns, a silken shoe-bag tacked to the inner side of the door, and a top shelf on which lay several hat-boxes — stepped back, and said:

“There’s your territory, Miss Keaton. See what you can find.” He stood directly behind the girl, watching her with quick sharp flashes of his eyes. He was so absorbed in her movements that he did not even feel the presence of Weaver at his side. The housekeeper sat, a thin stone, in her chair, watching them.

The maid’s ringers trembled as she rummaged among the numerous gowns on the rack. After going through the entire rack, she timidly turned to Ellery and shook her head. He motioned her to proceed.

She stood on tiptoe and lifted from the shelf the three hat-boxes. She opened these one by one and scrutinized them briefly. The first two boxes contained hats belonging to Mrs. French, she said hesitantly. This was corroborated by a frigid nod from Hortense Underhill.

The maid lifted the lid from the third box. She uttered a little choked cry and reeled backward, touching Ellery. The contact seemed to burn her skin. She jumped away, fumbled for a handkerchief.

“Well?” asked Ellery softly.

“That’s... that’s Miss Bernice’s hat,” she whispered, biting the handkerchief nervously. “This one — she wore when she left the house yesterday afternoon!”

Ellery eyed the hat narrowly as it lay, brim to the bottom, in the box. The soft blue felt crown, due to its position, had collapsed. A glittering pin was fixed above the turned-down brim, just visible from where he stood... Ellery made a brief request and the maid lifted the hat from the box and offered it to him. He turned it over in his fingers, then silently handed the hat back to the girl, who as silently took it, put her hand inside the crown, flipped the hat upside down, and deftly returned it to the box in that position. Ellery, who had been about to turn away, stiffened instantly. Nevertheless, he said nothing, watching the girl replace the three hat-boxes on the shelf.

“The shoes now, please,” he said.

Obediently the maid bent over the silk shoe-rack hanging on the inside of the closet door. As she was about to remove a woman’s pump, Ellery stopped her with a tap on the shoulder and turned to the housekeeper.

“Miss Underhill, will you please verify the fact that this is Miss Carmody’s hat?”

He lifted a long arm, took down the box with the blue hat inside, removed the hat, and handed it to Hortense Underhill.

She examined it briefly. Unaccountably, Ellery had stepped away from the closet to stand by the lavatory door.

“It’s hers,” said the housekeeper, looking up belligerently. “But what that has to do with anything, I don’t know.”

“That’s honest.” Ellery smiled. “Will you please return it to the shelf?” As he said this, he stepped slowly forward again.

The woman, sniffing, put her hand inside the hat, inverted it, and placed it in that position in the hat-box. She carefully lifted it to the shelf and as carefully returned to her chair... Weaver observed Ellery’s sudden grin with a lost bewilderment.

Then Ellery did an amazing thing — a thing that brought an unbelieving stare from each of the three people watching him. He reached up to the shelf and took down the same hat-box!