Explore "The French Powder Mystery" by Ellery Queen on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Trask was a half-hour late for his appointment at the Queen apartment. He appeared indolently, indolently greeted the two Queens, indolently sank into the chair, indolently applied a match to his cigaret, which was stuck rakishly in a long jade holder, and indolently awaited the Inspector's questions.
Where was he Monday night? Oh, about town -- vaguely, with an idle gesture of his arm. He tweaked the points of his mustache.