Explore "The Canary Murder Case" by S.S. Van Dine on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
(Sunday, September 16; 10 a.m.)
A fine drizzle was falling the next morning when we rose; and a chill -- the first forerunner of winter -- was in the air. We had breakfast in the library at half past eight, and at nine o'clock Vance's car -- which had been ordered the night before -- called for us. We rode down Fifth Avenue, now almost deserted in its thick blanket of yellow fog, and called for Markham at his apartment in West 12th Street. He was waiting for us in front of the house, and stepped quickly into the car with scarcely a word of greeting. From his anxious, preoccupied look I knew that he was depending a good deal on what Skeel had to tell him.