“It’s very simple. With John Xavier dead, Mrs. Xavier inherited. But Mrs. Xavier is the last of her line. No children. If anything happened to her, who’d get the estate?”
“Xavier!” exclaimed the Inspector, staring.
“Exactly. His frame-up was a clever means of getting her out of his way to a sizable fortune without soiling his own hands with blood.”
“Well, I’ll be damned.” The Inspector shook his head. “And I thought—”
“What did you think?”
“That there was something between those two.” He frowned. “I couldn’t see anyone but Mark Xavier as the reason why Mrs. Xavier should be willing to take the blame for a crime she knew she didn’t commit. If she thought he did it, and she was desperately in love with him... But that doesn’t wash with his framing her.”
“Such things have happened,” said Ellery dryly. “I shouldn’t discount it merely because it sounds wrong. Passionate women in love with their brother-in-law can generally be counted upon to do unorthodox things. That female’s half cracked, anyway. But I’m not worried about that.” He went to the night table and picked up the torn half of the diamond knave which Xavier had held in his dead hand. “It’s this little jigger that disturbs me. I can understand why Xavier should have thought of leaving a card clue, even though there are pencil and paper in the same drawer from which he took the deck...”
“There are?”
“Certainly.” Ellery waved a weary hand. “But he had a precedent. With his trained legal mind — he was sharp, don’t doubt that — he saw his opportunity. You see, the name of the murderer was on his lips just before he lost consciousness. When he came to, it was still there, waiting. He remembered the cards. His mind was clear. Then the murderer came. Helpless, he was forced to swallow the oxalic acid from the vial. The cards were on his mind... Oh, it’s not the strangest thing that’s happened.”
“You don’t like it?” said the Inspector slowly.
“Eh? Nonsense!”
Ellery went to one of the windows and looked out upon the crimsoning world. The Inspector joined him in silence, putting his right hand on the window and resting his weight against it in a tired, dejected attitude.
“Fire’s a damned sight worse,” he muttered. “Cripes, my head’s like a pumpkin! It’s always at the back of my mind. Feel that blast of heat?... And then there’s the crime — the crimes. What the devil did Xavier mean by that jack of diamonds?”
Ellery half turned away from the window, his shoulders sagging. Then he stiffened and his eyes went wide. He was glaring at the Inspector’s hand on the window.
“What’s the matter now?” said the Inspector peevishly, glancing at his hand. Then he too stiffened, and for a moment both of them stared at his small delicate blue-veined hand with its loose and wrinkled skin quite as if a finger were missing.
“My ring!” gasped the Inspector. “It’s gone!”
Chapter XVI
The Diamond Knave
“Now that,” said Ellery slowly, “is remarkable. When did you lose it?” Instinctively he glanced at his own hand, on which gleamed a very odd and beautiful ring, a medieval trinket which he had picked up not long before in Firenze for a few lire.
“Lose it!” The Inspector threw up his hands. “I didn’t lose it, El. I had it only last night, this morning. Why, I remember seeing it on my fourth finger about twelve-thirty, when I looked at my watch.”
“Come to think of it,” scowled Ellery, “I recall seeing it on your finger before I left you to take a nap last night, and I didn’t see it when I found you on the floor at two.” His lips tightened. “By thunder, it’s been stolen!”
“Now there,” said the Inspector sarcastically, “is a deduction. Sure it’s been stolen. Stolen by that thieving scoundrel who put me to sleep and knocked Xavier off!”
“Undoubtedly. Hold those straining horses of yours.” Ellery was pacing up and down now with furious strides. “I’m more fascinated by the theft of your ring than by anything that’s happened so far. How risky! And all for what? For a ten-dollar plain gold wedding band of the old-fashioned sinker variety that wouldn’t fetch a dollar Mex at a pawnshop!”
“Well,” said the Inspector shortly, “it’s gone. And, by God, I’ll have the eyeteeth of the so-and-so who stole it. It belonged to your mother, my son, and I wouldn’t have taken a thousand dollars for it.” He started for the door.
“Here!” cried Ellery, catching his arm. “Where are you going?”
“To search every damn one of ’em down to their skins!”
“Nonsense, dad. Look here,” said Ellery eagerly. “Don’t spoil everything. I tell you that ring is a — is the case! I don’t know why, but when I recall the previous thefts of valueless rings...”
“Well?” said the Inspector with drawn brows.
“It fits somehow. I know it does. But give me time. You won’t accomplish anything by searching people and places. The thief certainly isn’t stupid enough to have kept it on his person, and even if you turn it up in the house somewhere you won’t know who hid it. Let it ride, please. For a while, anyway.”
“Oh, very well. But I’m not forgetting it. And before we get out of this place — if we ever do — I’ll have it or know the reason why.” Had he been able to look into the near future he would not have spoken so confidently.
With the inexorable advance of the fire a deadly stillness settled down upon Arrow Head and its little band of helpless tenants. They were physically and mentally exhausted, and spiritually demoralized. Not even the menace of the bloodstained invisible creature in their midst could overshadow the greater menace that was creeping upon them from the air and the woods. There was no longer any attempt at dissimulation. The women were frankly hysterical and the men pale and worried. With the advance of day the heat became intolerable. The air was filled with drifting ashes which smudged their skins and clothes and made breathing a pain. There was no haven to which they could flee. The interior of the house was a shade less hot than the open summit, but here there was no breeze and the stillest of air. Yet few of them — the women especially — dared go alone to seek the temporary relief of the showers in their personal lavatories. They were afraid to be alone — afraid of one another, of the silence, of the fire.
Amiable conversations had died entirely. Driven to the group by their individual fears, nevertheless they sat and glared at one another with the most naked suspicion. Their nerves were stripped raw. The Inspector wrangled with Smith; Miss Forrest snapped at Dr. Holmes, who lapsed into the most stubborn of silences; Mrs. Xavier spoke sharply to the Carreau twins, who were haplessly wandering about; Mrs. Carreau flew to their defense; the two women had bitter words... It was horrible and nightmarish. With the heavy smoke eddying about them ceaselessly now, they might have been creatures in torment consigned to an eternal hell by a particularly cynical Satan.
There was no longer any flour. They ate together, bitterly and without appetite, at the communal table in the dining room, taking what nourishment they could from the eternal tinned fish. From time to time their eyes went to the Queens without hope. They all seemed to recognize, in their apathy, that if salvation was to come it would come at the hands of father and son. But the Queens ate stolidly, saying nothing for the excellent reason that there was nothing to say.
After luncheon they did not seem to know what to do. Magazines were picked up and riffled and glanced through with eyes that did not see; people wandered about; no one said anything at all. By reason of some curious development they seemed to be taking the murder of Mark Xavier more tragically than the murder of the master of the house. The tall lawyer had been a definite personality; reticent, dour, frowning, his presence had always charged the atmosphere of a room with positive electricity; and now that he was no longer among them they felt his absence so keenly that the silence was a pain.