32

ALIBIS: MARCHBANKS

Marchbanks glowered. He bore himself with the sullenness of a man who nurses a grudge. He snapped at the Inspector and ignored Ellery. He deposited his stick and hat on the table with a bang, rudely refusing to allow Djuna to take them from him. He sat down uninvited and drummed nastily on the arm of the chair.

"Well, sir," thought the Inspector, "we'll have at you." He took a pinch of snuff with deliberation, regarding Marchbanks curiously. "Marchbanks," he said in curt tones, "where were you Monday evening and night?"

The dead woman's brother scowled. "What's this—a third degree?"

"If you choose to make it so," retorted the Inspector, in his most unpleasant voice. "I repeat—where were you Monday night?"

"If you must know," said Marchbanks bitingly, "I was out on Long Island."

"Oh, Long Island!" The Inspector seemed duly impressed. "When did you go, where did you go, and how long did you stay?"

"You people always insist on a 'story,'" wheezed Marchbanks, setting his feet solidly on the rug. "Very well. I left town at about seven o'clock Monday evening. In my car...."

"You drove yourself?"

"Yes. I—"

"Anybody with you?"

"NO!" shouted Marchbanks. "Do you want my story or don't you? I—"

"Continue," said the Inspector judicially.

Marchbanks glared. "As I began to say—I left town Monday evening at seven in my car. I was bound for Little Neck—"

"Little Neck, eh?" interpolated the Inspector exasperatingly.

"Yes, Little Neck," stormed Marchbanks. "What's wrong in that? I had been invited to a small party at the house of a friend of mine there—"

"His name?"

"Patrick Malone," replied Marchbanks resignedly. "When I got there, I found no one at home except Malone's man. He explained that at the last moment Malone had been called away on business and had had to call off the party...."

"Did you know that such an eventuality might occur?"

"If you mean did I know that Malone was going to be called away—yes, in a way. He'd mentioned the possibility of it over the 'phone to me earlier in the day. At any rate, I saw no use in staying, so I left at once and proceeded off the main road to my own shack, a few miles farther on. I keep it for occasional jaunts into the Island. I—"

"Have you any servants there?"

"No. It's a small place and I prefer solitude when I'm out that way. So I slept there overnight and returned to the City in the morning by car."

The Inspector smiled sardonically. "I suppose you met no one all night or in the morning who might verify your statements?"

"I don't know what you mean. What are you driving at—?"

"Yes or no?"

"... No."

"What time did you get to the City?"

"About ten-thirty. I rose rather late."

"And what time was it Monday evening when you reached your friend Malone's place and spoke to his valet?"

"Oh, I should say about eight or eight-thirty. I don't recall exactly."

The Inspector sent a mutely humorous glance across the room to Ellery. Then he shrugged his shoulders. Marchbanks' florid face darkened and he rose abruptly.

"If you have nothing more to ask me, Inspector Queen, I must be going." He picked up his hat and stick.

"Ah! Just one other thing. Sit down, Marchbanks." Marchbanks reluctantly reseated himself. "How do you account for the murder of your sister?"

Marchbanks sniggered. "I thought you'd ask that. Up a tree, eh? Well, I'm not surprised. The police of this city are—"

"Answer my question, please."

"I don't account for it, and I can't account for it!" cried Marchbanks suddenly. "That's your business! All I know is that my sister has been shot to death, and I want her murderer sizzling in the Chair." He stopped, out of breath.

"Yes, yes, I realize your natural desire for revenge," said the Inspector tiredly. "You may go, Mr. Marchbanks, but keep in town."