Val jumped. She ran to the desk, listening for the answer.
“No, sir,” said Walewski. “He was all alone.”
“Thanks.”
Ellery hung up and Val stared at him. Then he rose and said lightly: “What’s out here? Ah, a terrace. Let’s imbibe some fresh air.”
The study wall facing the terrace was completely glass. They went out through the glass doors. The terrace was deserted, and its gaily striped awning, bright furniture, cushions, rattan, wrought-iron chairs, and pastel flagstones looked a little forlorn.
Ellery handed Val gallantly into the slide-swing and stretched himself out in a long summer chair.
“I think, my brave colleague,” he said, settling himself comfortably and gazing out over the rock gardens and the empty pool below, “we have our Mr. Ruhig neatly figured.”
“He was alone when he came back, Walewski says!”
“Exactly. Let’s see what we have. Pink discovers that Ruhig left his office around four-thirty Monday afternoon, in his car, accompanied by two assistants. This checks with other facts — that the previous week when he drew up, and Spaeth signed the will which cut Walter Spaeth off, Ruhig also came with two assistants, to serve, as he himself said, as witnesses to the signature.”
“How do you know that?” frowned Val. “You weren’t present when he told that to the Inspector Monday night.”
“I — uh — I read it in the papers. Now. From Ruhig’s office to Sans Souci is a good forty-minute drive through traffic; so Ruhig probably told the truth when he said he reached here at five-fifteen Monday. With, mind you, his two assistants. He says he couldn’t get in and drove away and returned at six-five or so. Why? Obviously, if he hadn’t got in at five-fifteen, then he still had to handle the change of will for Spaeth. But when he returned at six-five, presumably for this purpose, his two men weren’t with him! What does that suggest?”
Val wrinkled her brow. “I can’t imagine.”
“Obviously that he no longer needed them. But why had he brought his assistants in the first place? To witness a new will. Then if he no longer needed them at six-five, it seems to me highly indicative that the assistants had already served their purpose by six-five. In other words, to reduce it to specifies, that they had witnessed a new will between five-fifteen, when Ruhig first came, and five-thirty-two, when Spaeth died.”
“A new will!” cried Val. “Oh, lord. Then that means—”
“Hush! We don’t want Winni hearing this. We don’t know exactly what this means in terms of the will. But we can be pretty sure Spaeth signed a new will before he died, and that Ruhig and his men were in this study at approximately the murder-period.”
Val sat thinking furiously. It did sound logical. And it changed everything. Any new will would have affected Winni Moon’s gigantic legacy. Where did Walter enter the picture? Did he find that will? Was he... was he protecting Winni? What real part did that oily little Ruhig play?
“What’s that?” asked Ellery sharply, sitting up.
“What’s what?” asked Val in an absent way.
Ellery pointed. Fifty yards from where they sat, directly beyond the pool, was the rear terrace of the old Jardin house. Something was winking there, flashing prismatic colors in the rays of the sinking sun.
“I can’t imagine,” said Val. “That’s the terrace of our old house. We didn’t leave anything there except an odd piece or two or porch furniture we didn’t want.”
Ellery rose. “Let’s go look-see.”
They stole down the stone steps and made their way without noise across the rock garden, around the pool, to the Jardin house. The awning still hung over the terrace, which was largely in shadow; but the sun illuminated an area several feet deep along the entire length of the terrace; and in this sunlit area stood an old wrought-iron porch table.
They saw at once what had caused the fiery flashes. A pair of battered binoculars lay on the table, its lenses facing the sun.
“Oh, shoot,” said Val, disappointed. “It’s just that old pair of binoculars.”
“Here!” said Ellery sharply. “Don’t touch that table.” He was crouched over, studying its surface with narrowed eyes. “You mean you left them here when you moved?”
“Yes. One of the lenses is cracked.”
“Did you leave it on this table?”
“Why, no,” said Val, surprised. “It wasn’t left here at that. We went over a lot of stuff — pop likes the races, and we have several pairs of binoculars — and we just threw this one out.”
“Where did you leave it?”
“There’s a pile of junk in the gym.”
“Then what is it doing here?”
“I don’t know,” said Val truthfully. “But what difference does it make?”
Ellery did not reply. He indicated the glass doors which led to the vacant study; they stood slightly ajar.
“That’s funny,” said Val slowly. “Those doors were locked when we left. Unless the landlord had some one come in and—”
“If you’ll look closely, you’ll find the lock broken,” said Ellery, “indicating a basic disrespect for the rights of property.”
“Oh!” cried Val, pointing to the table. “Those marks!”
She bent over the table and Ellery smiled faintly. The surface was covered with mottled dust. There seemed to be two layers of dust, deposited at different times. Val was studying two oval marks — they were more like smudges — under the upper dust-stratum. One was larger than the other, and they were separated by several inches.
“Damn those rains,” said Ellery. “The table didn’t get the full force of it, being under the awning, but it did get a fine spray, enough to remove any fingerprints that may have been here.”
“But those marks,” said Val. “They look like fingerprints. Like the marks of two fingers — a thumb and a little finger.”
“That’s what they are. They were deposited on an already dusty surface. Then more dust settled, and the rain messed things up, but they’re still visible because the dust-layer is thinner where they are than on the rest of the table. However, there don’t seem to be any distinguishing whorls — probably the rain.”
He took out a handkerchief and carefully lifted the binoculars. Where they had lain was a slightly dusty surface, lighter than the surrounding surface. “Binoculars and fingermarks made at about the same time.” He wrapped the binoculars in the folds of the handkerchief and calmly dropped the whole thing into the pocket of his sport-jacket.
Val did not notice. She was striding excitedly up and down. “I’ve got it! It was still light at the time of the murder, and the glasses show some one stood right here on this terrace watching what was going on in Spaeth’s study! He could easily see, because of the glass walls, like these here. There was a witness to the murder!”
“Excellently spoken,” said Ellery. “I mean — you said a mouthful there, baby.” But he was still studying the two finger-smudges on the table in a puzzled way.
“Then some one knows who killed Spaeth. Some one saw!”
“Very likely.” Ellery looked around. “Did you say a lot of junk was left in the gym? Where’s the gym?”
“A few doors down,” said Val, hardly knowing what she was saying. Then she took a deep breath. “Here, I’ll show you.”
She led him along the terrace to the door of the empty gymnasium. This door, too, had been forced. “There it is,” said Val.
Ellery went over to a small pile of débris and poked it apart with his foot. But there was nothing of interest in the pile. He was about to return to the terrace when he spied a small closet set into one of the walls. The closet-door was closed. He walked over and opened it. Inside, on a rack, hung a lone Indian club. He took it out, frowning, and examined it. It was cracked.