Эрл Гарднер - The Adventures of Paul Pry

“Rather a neat scheme,” said Paul Pry. “And, by the way, have the police any trace of the two young ladies?”

“Not yet; they’ve just broadcast a general description.”

Paul Pry looked at his wristwatch. “Doubtless,” he said, “by this time, the young ladies are far, far away, which, probably, is just as well. Possibly they were intimidated, by the man for whom they worked, into taking certain isolated steps in connection with a murder campaign, but didn’t know just how those steps were connected up at the time.”

“Perhaps,” said Eva Bentley, staring at Paul Pry curiously. “The police have a description, however, of a young man who entered the speakeasy just about the time when the autopsy surgeon estimates the two men were killed. Would you like to hear that description?”

Paul Pry yawned and shook his head. “No,” he said, “I don’t think so. Really, Miss Bentley, I’m not particularly interested in the cross-stitch murders any more.”

Mugs Magoo stared at him with stupefied wonder for a moment, then suddenly reaching out, he grasped the neck of the whiskey bottle in his left hand, and, disdaining the use of a glass, tilted the bottle to his lips, letting the contents gurgle down his throat.