Ellery was regarding the top of the desk gloomily. “You might put those cards away, too. After all, they’re evidence. This is the craziest case. Corpse has to be stuffed into a refrigerator, evidence held for the proper officials, nice little blaze toasting — figuratively — our toes... Pah!”
He shoved the cards together, went through them to get all their faces turned the same way, stacked them together and handed them to his father. The torn piece of card with the six of spades showing, and the crumpled remainder, he tucked after a moment of hesitation into his own pocket.
The Inspector found a Yale key sticking into the lock on the laboratory side of one study door, closed the doors and locked them from the study, locked the library door with an ordinary steel key of the skeleton type from his own key ring, and used the key again on the outside of the cross-hall door.
“Where are you going to cache the evidence?” murmured Ellery as they began to mount the stairs.
“Don’t know. Have to get a fairly safe place.”
“Why didn’t you leave it in the study? You took plenty of trouble to lock the three doors.”
The Inspector grimaced. “Doors from the hall and library any kid could open. I locked ’em just for effect... What’s this?”
A little knot of people was crowded about the open door of the master bedroom. Even Mrs. Wheary and Bones were there.
They pushed their way through to find Dr. Holmes and Mark Xavier bending over the bed.
“What’s the trouble?” snapped the Inspector.
“She come out of it,” panted Dr. Holmes, “and I’m afraid she’s a bit violent. Hold her, Xavier, will you! Miss Forrest — get my hypo...”
The woman was struggling desperately in the men’s grip, her arms and legs threshing like flails. Her eyes were glaring at the ceiling, wide open and blind.
“Here,” muttered the Inspector. He leaned over the bed and said in a crackling clear voice: “Mrs. Xavier!”
The threshing ceased and sense crept back into her eyes. She brought her chin down and looked about her rather dazedly.
“You’re acting very foolishly, Mrs. Xavier,” the Inspector went on in the same sharp tone. “It won’t get you anywhere, you know. Snap out of it!”
She shuddered and closed her eyes. Then she opened them and began very softly to weep.
The men straightened up with deep sighs of relief, Mark Xavier wiping his damp brow and Dr. Holmes turning away with dejected, drooping shoulders.
“She’ll be all right now,” said the Inspector quietly. “But I shouldn’t leave her alone, Doctor. As long as she’s tractable, you understand. If she gets fractious again, put her to sleep.”
He was startled to hear the woman’s voice, husky but controlled, from the bed. “I shall not make any more trouble,” she said.
“That’s fine, Mrs. Xavier, that’s fine,” said the Inspector heartily. “By the way, Dr. Holmes, you’d probably know. Is there any place in the house here where I can put something for safekeeping?”
“Why, the safe in this room, I should think,” replied the physician indifferently.
“Well... no. It’s the — evidence, y’see.”
“Evidence?” growled Xavier.
“Those cards from the doctor’s desk in the study.”
“Oh.”
“There’s an empty steel cabinet in the living room, sir,” ventured Mrs. Wheary timidly from the group in the corridor. “It’s a sort of safe, but the doctor never kept anything in it.”
“Who knows the combination?”
“No combination, sir. It’s got some kind of funny locks and things, with just one funny key. Key’s in the big table drawer.”
“Fine. The very thing. Thanks, Mrs. Wheary. Come along, El.” And the Inspector strode out of the bedroom followed by a battery of eyes. Ellery sauntered after, frowning. When they were on the stairs descending to the ground floor he glanced at his father with a quizzical eyebrow.
“That,” he murmured, “was a mistake.”
“Hey?”
“Mistake, mistake,” repeated Ellery patiently. “Not that it makes a particle of difference. I’ve got the important evidence right here in my pocket.” He tapped the pocket which held the halves of playing card. “At that it may be interesting. Sort of baited trap. Is that what you had in mind?”
The Inspector looked sheepish. “Well... not exactly. Hadn’t thought of it that way. Maybe you’re right.”
They went into the deserted living room and sought out the cabinet. It was imbedded in one of the walls near the fireplace, its face painted to match the wooden paneling of the wall, but frankly a hiding-place. Ellery found the key in the top drawer of the big table; he regarded it for a moment, shrugged, and tossed it to his father.
The Inspector caught the key, hefted it with a frown, and then unlocked the cabinet. The mechanism worked with a convincing series of complex clicks. The deep recess inside was empty. He took the loose pack of cards from his pocket, regarded it for a moment, sighed, and then slapped it down on the floor of the recess.
Ellery swung on his heel at a slight sound from the terrace. The gross figure of Mr. Smith appeared beyond a French window, bulbous nose flattened against the glass, frankly spying upon them. He started guiltily at Ellery’s movement, jerked upright, and disappeared. Ellery heard his elephantine step resound on the wooden flooring, of the terrace.
The Inspector took the murder weapon from his pocket and the box of cartridges. He hesitated, then returned them to his pocket. “No,” he muttered. “That’s too chancy. I’ll keep ’em on me. Have to find out if this is the only key to the cabinet. Well, here goes,” and he slammed the door shut and locked it. The key he put on his own key ring.
Ellery was increasingly silent as the afternoon wore on. The Inspector, yawning, left him to his own devices and trudged upstairs to their room for a nap. As he passed the door of Mrs. Xavier’s bedroom he saw Dr. Holmes standing at one of the front windows, hands clasped behind his back, and the woman lying wide-eyed and quiet in bed. The others had disappeared.
The Inspector sighed and went on.
When he emerged an hour later, feeling distinctly refreshed, the bedroom door was closed. He opened it softly and peered in. Mrs. Xavier lay as he had last seen her. Dr. Homes had apparently not stirred from his position by the window. But Miss Forrest now had made her appearance; she lay in a chaise-longue near the bed, eyes closed.
The Inspector closed the door and went downstairs.
Mrs. Carreau, Mark Xavier, the twins, and Mr. Smith were on the terrace. Mrs. Carreau was making a pretense of reading a magazine, but her eyes were cloudy and her head did not move from side to side. Mr. Smith was still patrolling the terrace chewing the ragged end of his cigar. The twins were engrossed in a game of chess, which they were playing on a magnetized pocket board with metal pieces. Mark Xavier half-lay on a chair, head on his breast, apparently asleep.
“Have you seen my son around?” asked the Inspector of the world at large.
Francis Carreau looked up. “Hullo there, Inspector!” he said cheerfully. “Mr. Queen? I think I saw him go down there under the trees about an hour ago.”
“He was carrying a pack of cards,” added Julian. “Come on, Fran, it’s your move. I think you’re going to be licked.”
“Not,” retorted Francis, “when I can give you a bishop and take your queen, I won’t. How d’ye like that?”
“Shucks,” said Julian disgustedly. “I give up. Let’s have another.”
Mrs. Carreau looked up, smiling faintly. The Inspector smiled back at her, looked up at the sky, and then descended the stone steps to the gravel path.