Vix grinned and said: “Sure. Got plenty to do. Be seein’ you,” and he dashed out.
“Ty Royle, you listen to me,” said Bonnie fiercely. “I hate it. But we’re caught, and we’re going to do it. I don’t want to hear another word out of you. It’s settled, do you hear? Whatever they want!”
Ellery detached himself from the support of the doorway and said dryly: “Now that all the masterminds have had their say, may I have mine?”
Inspector Glücke came in with him. He said, frowning: “I don’t know. I’m not sure I like it. What do you think, Queen?”
“I don’t give a damn what anybody thinks,” said Ty, going over to a liquor cabinet. “Will you guys please clear out and leave Bonnie and me alone?”
“I think,” said Ellery grimly, “that I’ll find myself a nice deep hole, crawl into it, and pull it after me. I don’t want to be around when the explosion comes.”
“Explosion? What are you talking about?” said Ty, tossing off a quick one. “You and your riddles!”
“Oh, this is a lovely one. Don’t you realize yet what you’ve done?” cried Ellery. “Announcing your marriage was bad enough, but now this! Spare me these Hollywood heroes and heroines.”
“But I don’t understand,” frowned Bonnie. “What have we done? We’ve only decided to get married. That’s our right, and it’s nobody’s business, either!” Her lip trembled. “Oh, Ty,” she wailed, “and it was going to be so beautiful, too.”
“You’ll find out very shortly whose business it is,” snapped Ellery.
“What’s this all about?” demanded Glücke.
“You’re like the sorcerer’s apprentice, you two, except that you’re a pair. Sorcerer goes away and you start fiddling with things you don’t understand — dangerous things. Result, grief. And plenty of it!”
“What grief?” growled Ty.
“You’ve done the worst thing you could have done. You’ve just agreed to do the one thing, in fact, that’s absolutely fatal to both of you.”
“Will you get to the point?”
“I’ll get to the point. Oh, yes. I’ll get to the point. Hasn’t it occurred to either of you that you’re the designs in a pattern?”
“Pattern?” said Bonnie, bewildered.
“A pattern formed by you and Ty and your mother and Ty’s father. Hang it all, it’s so obvious it simply shrieks.” Ellery raced up and down the room, muttering. Then he waved his arms. “I’m not going to launch into a long analysis now. I’m just going to open your eyes to a fundamental fact. What happened to Blythe and Jack when they married? What happened to them, eh? Only an hour after they married?”
Intelligence leaped into Inspector Glücke’s eyes; and Ty and Bonnie gaped.
“Ah, you see it now. They were both murdered, that’s what happened. Then what? Bonnie gets warnings, winding up with one which tells her in so many words to have nothing more to do with Ty. What does that mean? It means lay off — no touch — hands off. And what do you idiots do? You promptly decide to be married — in such loud tones that the whole world will know not only the fact but the manner, too, in a matter of hours!”
“You mean—” began Bonnie, licking her lips. She whirled on Ty and buried her face in his coat. “Oh, Ty.”
“I mean,” said Ellery tightly, “that the pattern is repeating itself. I mean that if you marry tomorrow the same thing will happen to you that happened to Jack and Blythe. I mean that you’ve just signed your death warrant — that’s what I mean!”
Part Four
Chapter 19
The Four of Hearts
Ty recovered a little of his color, or perhaps it was the Scotch. At any rate, he said: “I don’t believe it. You’re trying to frighten us with a bogey-man.”
“Doesn’t want us to be married?” said Bonnie in a daze. “You mean mother... too? That that—”
“It’s nonsense,” scoffed Ty. “I’m through listening to you, anyway, Queen. All you’ve ever done to me is mix me up.”
“You poor fool,” said Ellery. “You don’t know what I’ve done to you. You don’t know what I’ve done for you. How can people be so blind?”
“That’s me,” said the Inspector. “Not just blind; stiff. Queen, talk some sense, will you? Give me facts, not a lot of curly little fancies.”
“Facts, eh?” Ellery glowered. “Very well, I’ll give you—”
The front doorbell rang. Bonnie called wearily: “Clotilde, see who it is.” But Ellery and the Inspector jostled each other crowding through the doorway. They pushed the Frenchwoman out of their way. Ty and Bonnie stared after them as if the two men were insane.
Ellery jerked open the door. A stout lady, hatless but wearing a broadtail coat over a flowered house-dress, stood indignantly on the Welcome mat trying to shake off the grip of one of Glucke’s detectives.
“You let go of me!” panted the lady. “Of all things! And all I wanted to do—”
“In or out?” asked the detective of his superior.
Glücke looked helplessly at Ellery, who said: “I daresay we may invite the lady in.” He stared at the woman with unmoving eyes. “Yes, Madam?”
“Of course,” sniffed Madam, “if a person can’t be neighborly...”
Bonnie asked from behind them: “What is it? Who is it?”
“Oh, Miss Stuart,” gushed the stout lady instantly, barging between Ellery and the Inspector and bobbing before Bonnie in a ponderous figure that was almost a curtsy. “You do look just the way you look in pictures. I’ve always remarked to my husband that you’re one of the loveliest—”
“Yes, yes, thank you,” said Bonnie hurriedly. “I’m a little busy just now—”
“What’s on your mind, Madam?” demanded Inspector Glücke. For some reason of his own Ellery kept watching the stout lady’s hands.
“Well, I hope you won’t think I’m intruding, Miss Stuart, but the funniest thing just happened. I’m Mrs. Stroock — you know, the big yellow house around the corner? Well, a few minutes ago my doorbell rang and the second maid answered it after a delay and there was nobody there, but an envelope was lying on my mat outside the door, and it wasn’t for me at all, but was addressed to you, Miss Stuart, and to Mr. Royle, and I thought to myself: ‘Isn’t that the queerest mistake?’ Because after all your address is plain enough, and the names of our streets are so different—”
“Yes, yes, envelope,” said Ellery impatiently, extending his hand. “May I have it, please?”
“I beg your pardon,” said Mrs. Stroock with a glare. “This happens to be Miss Stuart’s letter, not yours, whoever you are, and you aren’t Mr. Royle, I know that. Anyway, Miss Stuart,” she said, turning to Bonnie again, all smiles, “here it is, and I assure you I ran over here just as fast as I could, which isn’t fast,” she giggled, “because my doctor says I am running the least bit to flesh these days. How do you keep your figure? I’ve always said that you—”
“Thank you, Mrs. Stroock,” said Bonnie. “May I?”
The stout lady regretfully took an envelope out of her coat pocket and permitted Bonnie to take it from her. “And may I congratulate you on your engagement to Mr. Royle? I just heard the announcement over the radio. I’m sure it’s the nicest, sweetest thing for two young people—”