The Roman Hat Mystery by Ellery Queen — Read

". To illustrate: Once young Jean C -- -- came to me after a month of diligent investigation on a difficult assignment. He wore a forlorn expression. Without a word he handed me a slip of official paper. I read it in surprise. It was his resignation. / " ‘Here, Jean! ' I cried. ‘What is the meaning of this? ' / " ‘I have failed, M. Brillon,' he muttered. ‘A month's work, gone to the devil. I have been on the wrong track. It is a disgrace. ' / " ‘Jean, my friend,' said I solemnly, ‘this for your resignation. ' Wherewith I tore it to hits before his astonished eyes. ‘Go now,' I admonished him, ‘and begin from the beginning. For remember always the maxim: He who would know right must first know wrong! ' " / From Reminiscences of a Prefect, / by Auguste Brillon

The Queens' apartment on West 87th Street was a man's domicile from the pipe-rack over the hearth to the shining sabres on the wall. They lived on the top floor of a three-family brownstone house, a relic of late Victorian times. You walked up the heavily-carpeted stairs through seemingly endless halls of dismal rectitude. When you were quite convinced that only mummified souls could inhabit such a dreary place, you came upon the huge oaken door marked, "The Queens" -- a motto lettered neatly and framed. Then Djuna grinned at you from behind a crack and you entered a new world.