“Well... It’s true that he did take the damned card away — we didn’t find it, so he must have. Why?”
“The only logical reason must be that even taking it out of his brother’s dead hand and tossing it among the scattered cards on the desk, or slipping it into the deck,” replied Ellery calmly, “would not conceal the fact that it had been used as a clue.”
“Now you’re talking in riddles again. That doesn’t make sense. How on earth could that be?”
Ellery puffed thoughtfully. “We’ve a perfect explanation. In his own case he left a jack of diamonds — torn in half.” The Inspector started. “But doesn’t that fit? He himself found only half a jack, I say, in his brother’s hand! If he’d found a torn jack, obviously he couldn’t leave it on the scene of the crime; its torn condition would immediately have called attention to it, especially since he was leaving a torn six in its place. I maintain that logically he must have found a torn jack in his brother’s hand as the only plausible explanation under the circumstances for his having taken it away. He took it away, I suppose, and destroyed it, feeling fairly certain that no one would think of counting the cards... as no one,” he added, frowning, “would have had not the murderer tried to steal the deck from the cabinet in this room.”
“Well, that’s all very good,” snapped the Inspector, “but let’s get on. I’m not questioning the ways of Providence. That was a break, my son... The point is that — the six of spades having been a frame-up on Mark Xavier’s part on his own confession — the only important thing we have left is this: in both crimes we know that the victim left a half-jack of diamonds as a clue to the murderer. The same clue, of course, means the same murderer. There’s only one queer thing in this business. By taking away the half-jack from the scene of his brother’s murder he was covering up that murderer — shifting the blame from the real murderer to Mrs. Xavier. Then in his own murder he ups and accuses the very one he’d saved from suspicion in the first case! It looks a little screwy somewhere.”
“Not at all. Mark Xavier,” said Ellery dryly, “was scarcely the self-sacrificing or Robin Hood type of scoundrel. He framed Mrs. Xavier purely out of the trite but universal gain-motive. Obviously he couldn’t leave the jack clue around. He wanted that frame-up to take. In other words, he ‘saved’ our knave of diamonds not out of loyalty or affection, but purely for financial reasons. On his own deathbed it was a different story... There’s something else, too. When you accused him of being his brother’s killer, he lost his nerve and was only too willing to blurt out the name of the real murderer — indicating two things: that essentially he had no overweening desire to protect that individual, especially when his own neck was in danger; and secondly that he himself had probably solved the problem of who was meant to be indicated by the jack! And there, incidentally, is the answer to your question about how Xavier knew who his brother’s murderer was. The half-jack of diamonds in his brother’s hand had told him.”
“That all washes,” muttered the Inspector. “And to keep him from spilling the bad news, the murderer bumped him off.” He rose and took a turn about the room. “Yes, it all gets down to that jack of diamonds. If we knew whom John and Mark had in mind when they left the half-jack, we’d have our man. If we knew...”
“We do know.”
“Hey?”
“I’ve been working the old brain cells overtime since last night and they’ve clicked on all twelve.” Ellery sighed. “Yes, if that’s all there is to it the case is solved. Sit down, dad, and let’s go into executive conference. I warn you — it’s the craziest thing you ever heard of. More fantastic than the six of spades. And it’s a solution that still needs considerable scrubbing up. Sit down, sit down!”
The Inspector sat down with celerity.
An hour later, with the black-red night glaring outside, a demoralized company were assembled in the game-room. The Inspector stood at the foyer door and ushered them in, one by one, in a very forbidding silence. They came in wearily and yet cautiously, eying his grim face with the most helpless kind of apprehensive resignation. Finding no consolation there, they sought Ellery’s face; but he was standing by the window looking out at the darkness beyond the terrace.
“Now that we’re all here,” began the Inspector in a tone as grim as his expression, “sit down and take a load off your feet. This is going to be our last get-together about the murders. We’ve been led one hell of a merry chase, I’ll tell you that, and we’re just about fed up on it. The case is solved.”
“Solved!” they gasped.
“Solved?” muttered Dr. Holmes. “You mean you know who—”
“Inspector,” said Mrs. Xavier in a low voice. “You haven’t found — the right one?”
Mrs. Carreau sat very still, and the twins glanced in some excitement at each other. The others drew in their breaths.
“Can’t you understand English?” snapped the Inspector. “I said solved. Go on El. This is your party.”
Their eyes shifted to Ellery’s back. He swung about slowly. “Mrs. Carreau,” he said with abruptness, “you’re French in origin, I believe?”
“I? French?” she repeated, bewildered.
“Yes.”
“Why — of course, Mr. Queen.”
“You know the French language thoroughly?”
She was trembling, but she made a weak attempt to laugh. “But — certainly. I was brought up on irregular verbs and Parisian slang.”
“Hmm.” Ellery came forward and stopped before one of the bridge tables. “Let me point out at once,” he said without inflection, “that what I am about to say constitutes probably the most fantastic reconstruction of a clue in the history of the so-called ‘clever’ crime. It is incredibly subtle. It’s so far removed from the ordinary realm of observation and simple deduction as to partake of something out of Alice in Wonderland. And yet — the facts are here, and we cannot ignore them. Please try to follow me closely.”
This remarkable preamble was received in the deepest silence. There was blank confusion, or so it seemed, on every face.
“You all know,” continued Ellery calmly, “that when we found Mark Xavier’s dead body we also found clutched in his hand — the correct hand, incidentally — a torn playing card. The exhibit was half a knave of diamonds; unquestionably intended to convey to our intelligences the identity of Xavier’s murderer. What you don’t know — or at least what most of you don’t know — is that when Mark Xavier entered his brother’s study the other night, discovered the body, and decided to leave a six of spades in the dead man’s fingers as a false clue to Mrs. Xavier, there was already in the dead man’s fingers an other card.”
“Another card?” gasped Miss Forrest.
“Another card. It’s unnecessary to tell you how we know this, but the fact remains that beyond a doubt Mark Xavier was compelled to wrench out of Dr. Xavier’s stiff hand... half a knave of diamonds!”
“Another one,” whispered Mrs. Carreau.
“Precisely. In other words, both dying men left half a knave of diamonds as a clue to the identity of their murderer — their common murderer, obviously, since the same clue was used. What did they mean by half a knave of diamonds?”