“Was the attempt successful?” asked Ellery quietly.
Dr. Holmes bit his lip. “Well — no. But then we didn’t know as much—”
“That’s all right, Dr. Holmes,” said Francis earnestly. “We know all about these things, you see, Mr. Queen. Naturally our own cases interested us. The Blascek girls died as a result of the attempt. But then Dr. Xavier wasn’t around—”
Mrs. Carreau’s cheeks were paler than the whites of her eyes. The Inspector hurled a furious glance at Ellery and signaled Dr. Holmes to continue.
“Then,” said Dr. Holmes with difficulty, “there’s the xiphopagus — twins joined by the xiphoid process of the sternum. That’s the most famous case of all, of course — the original Siamese twins, Chang and Eng Bunker. Two healthy, normal individuals...”
“Died in 1874,” announced Julian, “when Chang contracted pneumonia. They were sixty-three years old! They were married and had loads of children, and everything!”
“They weren’t really Siamese,” added Francis, smiling, “sort of three-quarters Chinese and one-quarter Malay, or something. They were horribly smart, Inspector Queen. And very rich... That’s the kind we are.” He said hastily: “Xiph-xiphopagus, not rich.”
“We are rich,” said Julian.
“Well, you know what I mean, Jule!”
“Finally,” said Dr. Holmes, “there’s the so-called side-to-side type. The boys, as I said, are front-to-front — joined livers. And, of course, a common blood-stream.” He sighed. “Dr. Xavier had the complete case history. Mrs. Carreau’s personal physician supplied it.”
“But what,” murmured Ellery, “was the purpose of bringing these husky young brutes to Arrow Head, Mrs. Carreau?”
There was a little silence. The atmosphere thickened again. Mrs. Xavier was staring dully at Mrs. Carreau.
“He said,” whispered the small woman, “that perhaps—”
“He gave you hope?” inquired Ellery slowly.
“Not that — exactly. It was just the barest, faintest chance. Ann — Miss Forrest had heard he was doing experimental work.”
“Dr. Xavier,” interrupted the young physician tonelessly, “had been occupying his time here in rather — bizarre experiments. I shouldn’t say bizarre. Unorthodox, perhaps. He was, of course, a very great man.” He paused. “He expended a good deal of time and money on the — experiments. There was some publicity; not a good deal, because he detested it. When Mrs. Carreau wrote—” He stopped.
The Inspector looked from Mrs. Carreau to Dr. Holmes. “I take it, then,” he murmured, “you didn’t share Dr. Xavier’s enthusiasm, Doctor?”
“That,” replied the Englishman stiffly, “is beside the point.” He glanced at the Carreau twins with the oddest mixture of affection and pain.
There was another silence. The old gentleman took a turn about the room. The boys were perfectly quiet, but alert.
The Inspector halted. “Did you boys like Dr. Xavier?” he said abruptly.
“Oh, yes!” they said in instant unison.
“Did he ever — well, hurt you?”
Mrs. Carreau started, alarm flooding her soft eyes.
“No, sir,” replied Francis. “He just examined us. Made all kinds of tests. With X rays and special foods and injections and things.”
“We’re used to that sort of thing, all right,” said Julian darkly.
“I see. Now about last night. Slept well, did you?”
“Yes, sir.” They were very solemn now and breathing a little more rapidly.
“Didn’t hear any peculiar sounds during the night, I suppose? Like guns going off?”
“No, sir.”
The old gentleman rubbed his chin for a moment. When he spoke again he was grinning. “Had your breakfast, both of you?”
“Yes, sir. Mrs. Wheary brought it up to us early this morning,” said Francis.
“But we’re hungry again,” added Julian quickly.
“Then suppose you two young men trot out into the kitchen,” said the Inspector amiably, “and get Mrs. Wheary to rustle you some grub.”
“Yes, sir!” they exclaimed in chorus and rose, kissed their mother, excused themselves, and left the room with the peculiarly graceful rhythm imparted to their bodies by the act of walking.
Chapter IX
The Murderer
A bent figure appeared on the terrace beyond one of the French windows, and peered into the living-room.
“Oh, Bones,” called the Inspector; the man started. “Come on in here. I want you in on this.”
The old man slipped through the window. His lugubrious face was set in even more savage lines than before and his long, skinny arms dangled and jerked, the fingers curling and uncurling.
Ellery studied his father’s bland face thoughtfully. There was something up. An idea, a suddenly snatched and half-formed idea, was stewing in the Inspector’s brain.
“Mrs. Xavier,” began the old man in a mild voice, “how long have you lived here?”
“Two years,” said the woman lifelessly.
“Your husband bought this house?”
“He built it.” Fear had begun to creep back into her eyes. “He retired at that time, purchased the summit of Arrow Mountain, had it cleared and the house constructed. Then we moved in.”
“You’ve been married only a short time, haven’t you?”
“Yes.” She was startled now. “About six months before... before we came here to live.”
“Your husband was a wealthy man, wasn’t he?”
She shrugged. “I have never inquired deeply into his finances. He gave me, always, the best of everything.” The feline glare returned for an instant as she added: “The best of material things.”
The Inspector took a pinch of snuff elaborately; he seemed very sure of himself. “I seem to recall that your husband had never been married before, Mrs. Xavier. How about you?”
She tightened her lips. “I was a widow when I... met him.”
“No children from either marriage?”
She sighed queerly. “No.”
“Hmm.” The Inspector crooked his finger at Mark Xavier. “You ought to know something about your brother’s financial condition. Well off, was he?”
Xavier started out of a profound reverie. “Eh? Oh, money! Yes. He was well-cushioned.”
“Tangible assets?”
The man lifted his shoulders. “Some of it in real estate, and you know what realty values are today. Most of it, however, in solid government securities. He had some money from our father when he began practising medicine — as I did — but he’s made most of what he has... had... in his profession. I was his attorney, you know.”
“Ah,” said the Inspector. “Glad you mentioned that. I was wondering how we’d jump the testamentary hurdle all bottled up this way... So you’re an attorney, hey? He left a will, of course.”
“There’s a copy in his bedroom safe upstairs.”
“Is that right, Mrs. Xavier?”
“Yes.” She was oddly quiet.
“What’s the combination?” She told him. “All right. Please remain where you are. I’ll be back shortly.” He buttoned his jacket with nervous fingers and hurried from the room.