Back Golden Age Detective Stories
Chapters (22)
  1. Cover
  2. Title
  3. GOLDEN AGEDETECTIVE STORIES
  4. INTRODUCTION
  5. THE ENEMY
  6. THE STRIPPER
  7. POSTICHE
  8. THE CASE OF THE CRIMSON KISS
  9. THE ENCHANTED GARDEN
  10. 5-4=MURDERER
  11. THERE’S DEATH FOR REMEMBRANCE
  12. THE MONKEY MURDER
  13. THE ADVENTURE OF THE AFRICAN TRAVELER
  14. PUZZLE FOR POPPY
  15. FROM ANOTHER WORLD
  16. GOOD-BYE, GOOD-BYE!
  17. LOCKED DOORS
  18. THE MYSTERY IN ROOM 913
  19. DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
  20. American Mystery Classics
  21. AMERICAN MYSTERY CLASSICS
  22. About the Editor

His chief problem was to avoid recognition by any of the staff, when he returned there nearly a year later. To achieve this after all the years he’d worked in the hotel, he checked in swiftly and inconspicuously. The mustache he had been growing for the past eight months and which now had attained full maturity, effectively changed the lower part of his face. The horn-rimmed glasses, with plain inserts instead of ground lenses, did as much for the upper part, provided his hat brim was tipped down far enough. If he stood around, of course, and let them stare, eventual recognition was a certainty, but he didn’t. He’d put on a little added weight from the long months of idleness in the furnished room. He hadn’t worked in the interval. He could no doubt have got another berth, but he considered that he was still on a job—even though he was no longer drawing pay for it—and he meant to see it through.

A lesser problem was to get the room itself. If he couldn’t get it at once, he fully intended taking another for a day or two until he could, but this of course would add greatly to the risk of recognition. As far as he could tell, however, it was available right now. He’d walked through the side street bordering the hotel three nights in a row, after dark, and each time that particular window had been unlighted. The red tag would quickly tell him whether he was right or not.

Other than that, his choice of this one particular night for putting the long-premeditated move into effect was wholly arbitrary. The interval since the last time it had happened roughly approximated the previous intervals, and that was all he had to go by. One night, along about now, was as good as another.

He paid his bill at the rooming house and set out on foot, carrying just one bag with him. His radio and the rest of his belongings he left behind in the landlady’s charge, to be called for later. It was about nine o’clock now. He wanted to get in before Maxon’s shift. He’d been more intimate with Maxon than the other clerks, had practically no chance of getting past Maxon unidentified.