The New Adventures of Ellery Queen (9 page)

The fat man turned until his right side was toward the door. “I'm notoriously hard of hearing,” he chuckled, “in my right ear. Good night, Alice; pleasant dreams. May I pass, Sir Launcelot?”

Ellery kept his gaze on the fat man's bland face until the door closed. For some time after the last echo of Dr. Reinach's chuckle died away they were silent.

Then Alice slid down in the bed and clutched the edge of the quilt. “Mr. Queen, please! Take me away tomorrow. I mean it. I truly do. I—can't tell you how frightened I am of … all this. Every time I think of that—that.… How can such things be? We're not in a place of sanity, Mr. Queen. We'll all go mad if we remain here much longer. Won't you take me away?”

Ellery sat down on the edge of her bed. “Are you really so upset, Miss Mayhew?” he asked gently.

“I'm simply terrified,” she whispered.

“Then Thorne and I will do what we can tomorrow.” He patted her arm through the quilt. “I'll have a look at his car and see if something can't be done with it. He said there's some gas left in the tank. We'll go as far as it will take us and walk the rest of the way.”

“But with so little petrol … Oh, I don't care!” She stared up at him wide-eyed. “Do you think … he'll let us?”

“He?”

“Whoever it is that …”

Ellery rose with a smile. “We'll cross that bridge when it gets to us. Meanwhile, get some sleep; you'll have a strenuous day tomorrow.”

“Do you think I'm—he'll—”

“Leave the lamp burning and set a chair under the doorknob when I leave.” He took a quick look about. “By the way, Miss Mayhew, is there anything in your possession which Dr. Reinach might want to appropriate?”

“That's puzzled me, too. I can't imagine what I've got he could possibly want. I'm so poor, Mr. Queen—quite the Cinderella. There's nothing; just my clothes, the things I came with.”

“No old letters, records, mementoes?”

“Just one very old photograph of Mother.”

“Hmm, Dr. Reinach doesn't strike me as that sentimental. Well, good night. Don't forget the chair. You'll be quite safe, I assure you.”

He waited in the frigid darkness of the corridor until he heard her creep out of bed and set a chair against the door. Then he went into his own room.

And there was Thorne in a shabby dressing gown, looking like an ancient and disheveled specter of gloom.

“What ho! The ghost walks. Can't you sleep, either?”

“Sleep!” The old man shuddered. “How can an honest man sleep in this God-forsaken place? I notice you seem rather cheerful.”

“Not cheerful. Alive.” Ellery sat down and lit a cigarette. “I heard you tossing about your bed a few minutes ago. Anything happen to pull you out into this cold?”

“No. Just nerves.” Thorne jumped up and began to pace the floor. “Where have you been?”

Ellery told him. “Remarkable chap, Reinach,” he concluded. “But we mustn't allow our admiration to overpower us. We'll really have to give this thing up, Thorne, at least temporarily. I had been hoping.… But there! I've promised the poor girl. We're leaving tomorrow as best we can.”

“And be found frozen stiff next March by a rescue party,” said Thorne miserably. “Pleasant prospect! And yet even death by freezing is preferable to this abominable place.” He looked curiously at Ellery. “I must say I'm a trifle disappointed in you, Queen. From what I'd heard about your professional cunning …”

“I never claimed,” shrugged Ellery, “to be a magician. Or even a theologian. What's happened here is either the blackest magic or palpable proof that miracles can happen.”

“It would seem so,” muttered Thorne. “And yet, when you put your mind to it … It goes against reason, by thunder!”

“I see,” said Ellery dryly, “the man of law is recovering from the initial shock. Well, it's a shame to have to leave here now, in a way. I detest the thought of giving up—especially at the present time.”

“At the present time? What do you mean?”

“I dare say, Thorne, you haven't emerged far enough from your condition of shock to have properly analyzed this little problem. I gave it a lot of thought today. The goal eludes me—but I'm near it,” he said softly, “very near it.”

“You mean,” gasped the lawyer, “you mean you actually—”

“Remarkable case,” said Ellery. “Oh, extraordinary—there isn't a word in the English language or any other, for that matter, that properly describes it. If I were religiously inclined …” He puffed away thoughtfully. “It gets down to the very simple elements, as all truly great problems do. A fortune in gold exists. It is hidden in a house. The house disappears. To find the gold, then, you must first find the house. I believe.…”

“Aside from that mumbo-jumbo with Keith's broom the other day,” cried Thorne, “I can't recall that you've made a single effort in that direction. Find the house!—why, you've done nothing but sit around and wait.”

“Exactly,” murmured Ellery.

“What?”

“Wait. That's the prescription, my lean and angry friend. That's the sigil that will exorcise the spirit of the Black House.”

“Sigil?” Thorne stared. “Spirit?”

“Wait. Precisely. Lord, how I'm waiting!”

Thorne looked puzzled and suspicious, as if he suspected Ellery of a contrary midnight humor. But Ellery sat soberly smoking. “Wait! For what, man? You're more exasperating than that fat monstrosity! What are you waiting for?”

Ellery looked at him. Then he rose and flung his butt into the dying fire and placed his hand on the old man's arm. “Go to bed, Thorne. You wouldn't believe me if I told you.”

“Queen, you
must
. I'll go mad if I don't see daylight on this thing soon!”

Ellery looked shocked, for no reason that Thorne could see. And then, just as inexplicably, he slapped Thorne's shoulder and began to chuckle.

“Go to bed,” he said, still chuckling.

“But you must tell me!”

Ellery sighed, losing his smile. “I can't. You'd laugh.”

“I'm not in a laughing mood!”

“Nor is it a laughing matter. Thorne, I began to say a moment ago that if I, poor sinner that I am, possessed religious susceptibilities, I should have become permanently devout in the past three days. I suppose I'm a hopeless case. But even I see a power not of earth in this.”

“Play-actor,” growled the old lawyer. “Professing to see the hand of God in … Don't be sacrilegious, man. We're not all heathen.”

Ellery looked out his window at the moonless night and the glimmering grayness of the snow-swathed world.

“Hand of God?” he murmured. “No, not hand, Thorne. If this case is ever solved, it will be by … a lamp.”

“Lamp?” said Thorne faintly. “Lamp?”

“In a manner of speaking.
The lamp of God
.”

III

The next day dawned sullenly, as ashen and hopeless a morning as ever was. Incredibly, it still snowed in the same thick fashion, as if the whole sky were crumbling bit by bit.

Ellery spent the better part of the day in the garage, tinkering at the big black car's vitals. He left the doors wide open, so that anyone who wished might see what he was about. He knew little enough of automotive mechanics, and he was engaged in a futile business.

But in the late afternoon, after hours of vain experimentation, he suddenly came upon a tiny wire which seemed to him to be out of joint with its environment. It simply hung, a useless thing. Logic demanded a connection. He experimented. He found one.

As he stepped on the starter and heard the cold motor sputter into life, a shape darkened the entrance of the garage. He turned off the ignition quickly and looked up.

It was Keith, a black mass against the background of snow, standing with widespread legs, a large can hanging from each big hand.

“Hello, there,” murmured Ellery. “You've assumed human shape again I see. Back on one of your infrequent jaunts to the world of men, Keith?”

Keith said quietly: “Going somewhere, Mr. Queen?”

“Certainly. Why—do you intend to stop me?”

“Depends on where you're going.”

“Ah, a treat. Well, suppose I tell
you
where to go?”

“Tell all you want. You don't get off these grounds until I know where you're bound for.”

Ellery grinned. “There's a naive directness about you, Keith, that draws me in spite of myself. Well, I'll relieve your mind. Thorne and I are taking Miss Mayhew back to the city.”

“In that case it's all right.” Ellery studied his face; it was worn deep with ruts of fatigue and worry. Keith dropped the cans to the cement floor of the garage. “You can use these, then. Gas.”

“Gas! Where on earth did you get it?”

“Let's say,” said Keith grimly, “I dug it up out of an old Indian tomb.”

“Very well.”

“You've fixed Thorne's car, I see. Needn't have. I could have done it.”

“Then why didn't you?”

“Because nobody asked me to.” The giant swung on his heel and vanished.

Ellery sat still, frowning. Then he got out of the car, picked up the cans, and poured their contents into the tank. He reached into the car again, got the engine running, and leaving it to purr away like a great cat he went back to the house.

He found Alice in her room, a coat over her shoulders, staring out her window. She sprang up at his knocks.

“Mr. Queen, you've got Mr. Thorne's car going!”

“Success at last,” smiled Ellery. “Are you ready?”

“Oh, yes! I feel so much better, now that we're actually to leave. Do you think we'll have a hard time? I saw Mr. Keith bring those cans in. Petrol, weren't they? Nice of him. I never did believe such a nice young man—” She flushed. There were hectic spots in her cheeks and her eyes were brighter than they had been for days. Her voice seemed less husky, too.

“It may be hard going through the drifts, but the car is equipped with chains. With luck we should make it. It's a powerful—”

Ellery stopped very suddenly indeed, his eyes fixed on the worn carpet at his feet, stony yet startled.

“Whatever is the matter, Mr. Queen?”

“Matter?” Ellery raised his eyes and drew a deep, deep breath. “Nothing at all. God's in His heaven and all's right with the world.”

She looked down at the carpet. “Oh … the sun!” With a little squeal of delight she turned to the window. “Why, Mr. Queen, it's stopped snowing. There's the sun setting—at last!”

“And high time, too,” said Ellery briskly. “Will you please get your things on? We leave at once.” He picked up her bags and left her, walking with a springy vigor that shook the old boards. He crossed the corridor to his room opposite hers and began, whistling, to pack his bag.

The living room was noisy with a babble of adieux. One would have said that this was a normal household, with normal people in a normal human situation. Alice was positively gay, quite as if she were not leaving a fortune in gold for what might turn out to be all time.

She set her purse down on the mantel next to her mother's chromo, fixed her hat, flung her arms about Mrs. Reinach, pecked gingerly at Mrs. Fell's withered cheek, and even smiled forgivingly at Dr. Reinach. Then she dashed back to the mantel, snatched up her purse, threw one long enigmatic glance at Keith's drawn face, and hurried outdoors as if the devil himself were after her.

Thorne was already in the car, his old face alight with incredible happiness, as if he had been reprieved at the very moment he was to set foot beyond the little green door. He beamed at the dying sun.

Ellery followed Alice more slowly. The bags were in Thorne's car; there was nothing more to do. He climbed in, raced the motor, and then released the brake.

The fat man filled the doorway, shouting: “You know the road, now, don't you? Turn to the right at the end of this drive. Then keep going in a straight line. You can't miss. You'll hit the main highway in about.…”

His last words were drowned in the roar of the engine. Ellery waved his hand. Alice, in the tonneau beside Thorne, twisted about and laughed a little hysterically. Thorne sat beaming at the back of Ellery's head.

The car, under Ellery's guidance, trundled unsteadily out of the drive and made a right turn into the road.

It grew dark rapidly. They made slow progress. The big machine inched its way through the drifts, slipping and lurching despite its chains. As night fell, Ellery turned the powerful headlights on.

He drove with unswerving concentration.

None of them spoke.

It seemed hours before they reached the main highway. But when they did the car leaped to life on the road, which had been partly cleared by snowplows, and it was not long before they were entering the nearby town.

At the sight of the friendly electric lights, the paved streets, the solid blocks of houses, Alice gave a cry of sheer delight. Ellery stopped at a gasoline station and had the tank filled.

“It's not far from here, Miss Mayhew,” said Thorne reassuringly. “We'll be in the city in no time. The Triborough Bridge …”

“Oh, it's wonderful to be alive!”

“Of course you'll stay at my house. My wife will be delighted to have you. After that …”

“You're so kind, Mr. Thorne. I don't know how I shall ever be able to thank you enough.” She paused, startled. “Why, what's the matter, Mr. Queen?”

For Ellery had done a strange thing. He had stopped the car at a traffic intersection and asked the officer on duty something in a low tone. The officer stared at him and replied with gestures. Ellery swung the car off into another street. He drove slowly.

“What's the matter?” asked Alice again, leaning forward.

Thorne said, frowning: “You can't have lost your way. There's a sign which distinctly says.…”