Howard turned to him hungrily.

  “Ellery, I’ll never ask you to do anything—”

  “You mean you want me to pawn this necklace, Howard.”

  “You know about these things,” stammered Howard. “I don’t.”

  “Yes, and that’s why I characterize this entire business as lunacy.”

  “But we’ve got to raise that money,” said Sally in a hard tone.

  Ellery shrugged.

  “Ellery.” She was begging now, fiercely. “Do it for me. A favor. It’s my necklace. I take the responsibility. Howard’s right—we won’t ever ask you to get mixed up in this again. No matter what happens. But won’t you do just this one thing?”

  “Let me ask you, Sally,” said Ellery clearly. “Why don’t you do it yourself?”

  “I might be seen in town. By Dieds, or Wolfert, or one of their employees. Going into or coming out of the pawnshop. You don’t know what a small town’s like. It would be all over Wrightsville in no time. Dieds would be bound to hear about it—somebody’d make good and sure he heard about it! Don’t you see?”

  And Howard jumped in: “Yes, and the same thing goes for me, Ellery.” He hadn’t thought of it till Sally brought it up. Now he’s grabbing for it.

  “Or the pawnbroker might mention it, or—”

  Ellery raised his brows. “Let me get this straight. You want me to pawn this necklace without identifying it as yours, Sally?”

  “That’s the whole point. That way Dieds couldn’t find out—”

  “I don’t get this. At all.” Ellery’s face was bleak. “A necklace like this—it must be famous in Wrightsville. Even if the pawnbroker doesn’t know it, the minute someone else saw it—”

  “But Dieds bought it in New York,” said Sally eagerly. “And I’ve never worn it. Even at home, Ellery, when we’ve entertained. I’ve had it only a few months. I’ve been saving it for an occasion. It’s not known in town—”

  “Or you could pawn it somewhere else,” put in Helpful Howard.

  “No time to go outside Wrightsville, Howard. You two seem to think a stranger can walk into a pawnshop, plunk down a hundred-thousand-dollar necklace, and walk out with twenty-five thousand of the broker’s dollars and no questions asked. There’s only one broker in town, old Simpson in the Square, so I can’t even shop around. Simpson would want proof of ownership. Or authorization from the owner. He’d have to raise the cash. And at once.” Ellery shook his head. “It’s not just stupid. It’s almost impossible.”

  But now they were both at him, collaborating their arguments, with a determination he found a little sickening.

  “Why, you told me yourself you knew J. P. Simpson,” Sally was saying. “From the time you were in Wrightsville visiting the Wrights. The Haight case—”

  “I didn’t know Simpson, Sally. We met briefly during Jim Haight’s trial; he was a witness for the prosecution.”

  “But he’d remember you,” cried Howard. “You’re somebody, Ellery. They’ve never forgotten you in this town!”

  “Maybe so, but do you expect Simpson to have twenty-five thousand dollars in his till?”

  “He’s one of the richest men in town,” countered Sally triumphantly. “Has one of the largest accounts at the Wrightsville National. And he does occasionally make big loans. Only last year Sidonie Glannis got herself in an awful mess with some smoothie who swept her off her feet—that was a letter business, too—and he blackmailed her for I don’t know how much. Sidonie had a lot of jewels left to her by her mother, and she pawned them at Simpson’s to pay this man off before he turned the letters over to Claude—that was Claude Glannis, Sidonie’s husband. I don’t know how much Simpson gave her, but I’ve heard it was well over fifteen thousand dollars. They caught the man and the story came out and Claude Glannis blew his brains out, but even before the blackmailer was arrested—he’s in prison now—everybody in town knew about it and—”

  “Then what makes you think everyone in town won’t know about this?”

  “Because you’re Ellery Queen,” she retorted. “All you’d have to do would be to tell Simpson you were in Wrightsville on a very hush-hush case—staying with the Van Horns as a blind—that you couldn’t disclose the name of your client but that you had to pawn her necklace, or something like that. You see? I’m even writing your dialogue, Ellery. Oh, do it!”

  Every reasonable cell in Ellery’s body bade him rise, pack his bag, and flee to the first train out of Wrightsville bound for any destination whatever.

  Instead, Ellery said: “Whichever way this turns out, I warn you both now, in advance, that I’ll have nothing further to do with this childish, dangerous nonsense. Don’t ask me to connive at anything but the truth from now on. I’ll refuse.—Now let me have the locker key and the necklace, please.”

  Ellery returned from town shortly after one o’clock.

  They were watching for him, because he had scarcely got his hat off when they appeared in the cottage doorway.

  He said, “It’s done,” and stood there, his silence inviting them to leave.

  But Sally came in and dropped into the armchair.

  “Tell us about it,” she begged. “How did it go?”

  “You called the turn, Sally.”

  “Didn’t I tell you? What did Simpson say?”

  “He remembered me.” Ellery laughed. “It’s depressing how gullible people are. Especially the shrewd ones. I keep forgetting it, and every time I do I go wrong…Why, Simpson did it all by himself, with hardly a suggestion from me. Assumed I was working on something very big, very secret, and very important. Fell all over himself co-operating.” He laughed again.

  Sally slowly got out of the chair.

  “But the money,” Howard demanded. “Did you have any trouble about the money?”

  “Not the slightest. Simpson locked his store and went over to the bank in person. Came back with a bagful.” Ellery turned to Wrightsville. “He was so very impressed. With the necklace, with me, with his part in what he obviously suspects has international ramifications…

  “The money’s in Locker 10 at the station. The key is on top of the tier of lockers, at the back, against the wall. It’s too high to be noticed accidentally; he had it all figured out.” Ellery said, “Do you two have any idea what I feel like?”

  He turned around.

  “Do you?”

  They stood before him, just looking at him and not at each other and after a moment not looking at him, either.

  Then Sally’s lips parted.

  “No thanks are necessary,” Ellery said. “Now would you mind very much letting me get on with my work?”

  He did not join the household at dinner Monday evening. Laura brought a tray over to him, which he emptied dutifully before her eyes; then she took the tray away.

  He worked through half the night.

  Ellery was putting his shaving things away Tuesday morning when a voice called from the sitting room: “Queen? You up?”

  He could not have been more astounded if the voice had been Professor Moriarty’s.

  He went to the doorway in his undershirt, razor still in hand.

  “Not intruding, I hope.” Wolfert Van Horn was all friendliness this morning, eager-beaverish, with a vast dental smile and his hands plunged in his pockets boyishly.

  “No, indeed. How are you this morning?”

  “Fine, just fine. Saw your door open and wondered if you’d be up. Weren’t your lights on most of the night?”

  “I worked until almost 3:30.”

  “That’s exactly what I thought.” Wolfert beamed at the littered desk; he’s the only man I ever saw, Ellery thought, who can look sly with his eyes wide open. “So this is what an author’s desk looks like. Wonderful, wonderful. Then you didn’t get much sleep, Queen.”

  So we’re going to play games.

  “Hardly any,” Ellery smiled. “You work yourself into a thing, Mr. Van Horn—everything tight, everything wound up—it sometimes takes a long time to unwind.”

  “And I’ve always thought writers live the life of Riley. Just the same, I’m glad you’re up.”

  Here it comes.

  “Haven’t seen you since Sunday. How’d you like Chichering?”

  Not yet.

  “Earnest, in an earnest sort of way.”

  “Yes, ha-ha! Very spiritual man. Reminds me a little of my father,” Wolfert laughed deprecatingly, “although Pa was a fundamentalist, of course. He used to scare Diedrich and me so our knees shook. But here, I’m rattling along as if neither of us had a lick to do.” Wolfert lowered his voice, cocked his ax of a head, and struck. “You weren’t thinking of having breakfast with the family this morning, were you, Mr. Queen? You didn’t have dinner with us last night and I thought…”

  Ellery smiled back. “Something special on the menu this morning, Mr. Van Horn?”

  To his horror, Wolfert winked.

  “Extra-special!”

  “Eggs benedictine?”

  Wolfert howled and slapped himself. “Very good! No, it’s something a whole lot better’n that.”

  “Then I’ll certainly come over.”

  “I’d better tip you off first. My brother’s a funny coot. Hates formality. To get him to make a speech you practically have to call out the State Militia. Get it?”

  “No.”

  “You hurry up and get dressed, Queen. This is going to be a circus!”

  Nevertheless, Mr. Queen was not elated.

  Wolfert Van Horn nursed and nuzzled his mystery all through breakfast, chuckling and making obscure remarks to his brother and behaving so remarkably unlike his unwholesome self that even Howard, bogged down in his problems, noticed and said, surprised: “What’s happened to him?”

  “Now, son,” said Diedrich dryly, “let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth.”

  They all laughed, Wolfert the most loudly.

  “Don’t be mean, Wolf,” said Sally with a smile. “Give out.”

  “Give out what?” said Wolfert innocently. “Ha-ha!”

  “Don’t rush him, dear,” said her husband. “Wolf so seldom allows himself to laugh…”

  “All right, that did it,” said Wolfert, winking at Ellery. “I’ll put you out of your misery, Diedrich.”

  “Me? Oh, I’m the joke.”

  “Get set, now.”

  “All set.”

  So was Sally. So was Howard. Suddenly. The wicked flee when no man pursueth.

  “Where d’ye think you’re going tonight, Diedrich?”

  “Going? Not a darned place but home.”

  “Incorrect. Sally,” said Wolfert with a flourish of his cup, “more coffee.”

  Sally poured with an ever-so-unsteady hand.

  “Oh, come on,” growled Howard. “What’s all the mystery about?”

  “Why, Howard. You’re in it, too. Ha-ha-ha!”

  “All right, son,” said Diedrich quietly. “Well, well, Wolf? And where am I going tonight?”

  His brother set bony elbows on the table, took a slurp of his coffee, set the cup down, and brandished a forefinger coyly. “I’m not supposed to tell you this, now—”

  “Then don’t.” Diedrich promptly pushed his chair back.

  “But it’s too good to keep,” said Wolfert hastily. “And you’ll know, anyway, this morning at the office. They’re sending a delegation to invite you.”

  “Invite me? Where, Wolf? To what? What delegation?”

  “All the old girls of the Art Museum Committee—Clarice Martin, Hermy Wright, Mrs. Donald Mackenzie, Emmy DuPré and the rest of that crew.”

  “But why? Invite me to what?”

  “Tonight’s shindig.”

  “What shindig?” demanded Diedrich, with a note of alarm.

  “Brother,” said Wolfert triumphantly, “you told me you hoped the Committee didn’t make a fuss about your donation. Well, sir, tonight you’re going to be guest of honor at a grand banquet in the Grand Ballroom of the Hollis—testimonial dinner to that patron of the arts, that benefactor of culture or whatever it is, the Man Who Made the Art Museum Possible—Diedrich Van Horn! Hip-hip! Yayyyyy!”

  “Testimonial dinner,” said Diedrich feebly.

  “Yes, sir. Soup-and-fish, speeches, the works. Tonight the Van Horns become Public Property! The great man in the middle, his beautiful wife at his right, his talented son at his left—everybody all togged out!”—Wolfert laughed again, and it sounded like a snarl “—try getting out of this one, Diedrich. Matter of fact, I’ll tell you a secret.” There went that wink again. “I was the one put ’em up to it!”

  It was fortunate, Ellery thought, that Diedrich reacted in character. His dismay and Wolfert’s enjoyment of it enabled Sally to fight the cornered animal in her eyes, and Howard sat slack-jawed, trying to close his mouth.

  Ellery felt a little sickish himself.

  As Diedrich bellowed and stormed—he’d be damned if he’d do it, they couldn’t make him—and Wolfert baited him—banquet’s set, dinner’s ordered, invitations sent out—Sally and Howard managed to take hold of themselves.

  So that when it was all over and Diedrich threw up his hands and said to Sally, “I guess we’re stuck, darling. Well, there’s one saving grace—it’ll give you a chance to doll up. Wear that diamond necklace I gave you, Sally,” Sally was able to smile and say, “Naturally, dear,” and tilt her face to be kissed—exactly as if wearing the necklace which lay in J. P. Simpson’s safe was the most delightful prospect in the world.

  Diedrich and Wolfert left. The three conspirators sat. Laura came in and began to clear the breakfast dishes. Sally shook her head and Laura went out, banging the door.

  “I think,” said Ellery at last, “we’d better go somewhere else.”

  “The studio.” Howard rose, stiffly.

  Upstairs Sally collapsed. Her body shook and shook. Neither man said anything. Howard stood wide-legged, only the semblance of a man. Ellery strolled back and forth before little Jupiter.

  “I’m sorry.” Sally blew her nose. “I seem to have a genius for doing the wrong thing. Howard, what are we going to do?”

  “I wish I knew.”

  “It’s like a sort of punishment.” Sally held on to the arms of the chair and addressed the rafters tiredly. “No sooner do you get out of one corner than you’re trapped in another. It’s almost humorous. I’m sure I’d laugh if it were happening to somebody else. We’re a couple of frantic bugs trying to get out of a matchbox. How am I going to explain about that necklace?”

  Ellery did not say that that was a question she should have considered when she decided to pawn the diamonds.

  “I thought I had time.” She sighed. “I thought, I’ll figure out a way when the time comes. And here it is. So soon…”

  Yes, thought Ellery, that’s the remarkable thing about this problem. The pressure. The pressure of events crowding one another. They’re piled up now in a space too small to contain them. Something has to give…The unusual factor of pressure. Unusual factor…The phrase kept repeating itself until his conscious mind took note of its insistence. Unusual…

  Howard was saying something over and over, too, and not brightly.

  “What was that, Howard?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Sally. “Howard said maybe I could say the necklace was in my japanned box and was stolen with the other jewels in June.”

  “And never recovered, Sal! That’s the point!”

  “Howard, you’re not being helpful. I gave Dieds a full list of the contents of the jewel box at the time. The necklace wasn’t on the list because the necklace hadn’t been in the box. What do you want me to say—that I forgot it? Anyway, its been in his safe downstairs all this time. I told you I went to the study to get it. Dieds must have seen it there; he goes to the safe frequently. For all I know, so does Wolfert.”

  “Wolfert.” Howard grabbed at that, black-angry. “If not for that—that corpse, none of this would be necessary!”

  “Oh, stop it, How.”

  “Wait.”

  “For what?”

  “No, wait, wait.” Howard’s voice was soft, almost unpleasant. “There is a way out of this, Sal. I don’t like it, but…”

  “What way?”

  Howard looked at her.

  “What way, Howard?” She was really puzzled.

  He said very carefully, “Stage a…robbery.”

  “A robbery?” She sat up straight. “A robbery?” She was horrified.

  “Yes! Last night. Or during the night. Father and Wolfert didn’t go into the study this morning, I’m sure of it. We can say…We’ll open the safe, heave the safe door open. Break a pane in the French door. Then, Sal, you can call father at the office…”

  “Howard, what are you talking about?”

  He’s forgotten she doesn’t know about the other robbery. Now she’s beginning to wonder. Now he sees it. Now he covers up.

  “Then you suggest something,” he said shortly.

  Sally glanced at Ellery but then—quickly—she glanced away.

  “Ellery.” Howard sounded very reasonable. “What do you think?”

  “Lots of things, Howard. None of them pleasant.”

  “Yes, I know, but I mean—”

  “It won’t work.”

  “But what else can we do?”

  “You can tell the truth.”

  “Thanks!”

  “You asked me, I’m telling you. This thing is now so involved, so hopeless, that there’s no other way.” Ellery added with a shrug, “There never was, really.”

  “No. I can’t tell him. I won’t. I can’t hurt him that much!”

  Ellery looked at him.

  Howard’s glance shifted. “All right, have it your way. I don’t want to hurt myself, either.”

  “But that’s not my reason,” moaned Sally. “I’m not thinking of myself. I’m not, I’m not.”

  “We seem,” said Ellery in the silence, “to have come to some sort of ending.”

  Howard said abruptly, “There’s nothing you can suggest?”

  “Howard, I told you. That pawnshop deal was my last. I’m utterly, immovably against all of this. If I can’t stop you from acting the fool, I can at least stop compounding your folly. I’m sorry.”