Howard nodded, curdy. “Sally?”

  She got out of the chair.

  Ellery trailed them to Diedrich’s study compelled by a psychology he tried wearily to analyze. The sensible course was to pack up and leave. And yet he persisted in following them in their awkward gyrations as if he were a part of the problem. Maybe it was just curiosity. Or curiosity and a perverted sort of loyalty, or a compulsion of conscience, as if, having agreed to one bargain, he had to stick to the end, even though it had long since been superseded by other bargains to which he was not a party.

  They went in and Sally put her back against the study door and Ellery stood in a corner.

  None of them said a word.

  Howard wadded a handkerchief. It was like watching a pantomime. With it he opened Diedrich’s safe. He wrapped the handkerchief around his hand and made violent gestures inside, tumbling things about. His hand came out with a velvet box. He opened it. It was empty.

  “This is it, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  Howard dropped the box, open, on the floor just below the safe. He left the safe open.

  Now what? The scene had a certain academic interest.

  Howard strode to the French door. On the way he snatched a cast-iron paperweight from his father’s desk.

  “Howard,” said Ellery.

  “What?”

  “If you’re manufacturing evidence to indicate that the thief was an outsider, don’t you think it might be wiser to break the pane from the terrace side?”

  Howard looked startled. Then he reddened. And then he opened the French door with his handkerchief-wrapped hand, stepped through, shut the door, struck the pane nearest the handle with the paperweight. Glass showered onto the study floor.

  Howard came back in. This time he left the door open. He stood looking around.

  “Have I forgotten anything? All right, Sally. That’s it.”

  “What, Howard?” Sally looked at him blindly.

  “It’s up to you now. Phone him.”

  Sally swallowed.

  She went around her husband’s desk, avoiding the glass, sat down in the big chair, pulled the telephone to her, dialed a number.

  Neither man said anything.

  “Mr. Van Horn, please. No, Diedrich Van Horn. Yes, this is Mrs. Van Horn calling.”

  She waited.

  Ellery moved closer to the desk.

  “Sally?” He heard the big voice, reduced.

  “Dieds, my necklace is gone!”

  Howard turned away, fumbling for a cigaret.

  “Necklace? Gone? What do you mean, darling?”

  Sally burst into tears.

  Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it.

  “I just went to take the necklace out of the safe for tonight’s affair and…”

  “It’s not in the safe?”

  “No!”

  Weep, Sally, weep.

  “Maybe you took it out and forgot, dear.”

  “The safe’s been opened. The door to the terrace…”

  “Oh.”

  And a very queer oh that was, Mrs. Van Horn. You don’t know what he knows and what he suspects. Careful now.

  “Dieds, what am I going to do?”

  Weep, Sally, weep.

  “Sally. Dearest. Now stop. Ask Mr. Queen to—Is he there?”

  “Yes!”

  “Put him on. And stop crying, Sally.” Still odd. “It’s just a necklace.”

  Sally held the telephone out, mutely.

  A mere hundred thousand dollars’ worth.

  Ellery took it.

  “Yes, Mr. Van Horn.”

  “Have you looked over the—”

  “The French door has been broken through. The wall safe is open.”

  Van Horn did not ask the question about the glass. He waited. But Ellery waited, too.

  “You’d better tell my wife not to touch anything. I’ll be right home. Meanwhile, Mr. Queen, would you keep an eye on things?”

  “Of course.”

  “Thanks.”

  Diedrich hung up.

  Ellery hung up.

  “Well?” Howard’s face was all out of shape. Sally just sat there.

  “He asked me to keep an eye on things. No one is touch anything. He’s coming right home.”

  “No one’s to touch anything!” Sally got up.

  “I think,” said Ellery slowly, “he intends to notify the police.”

  Chief of police Dakin had grown old. Where he had been lean, he was fragile; his hide was crumbling; his hair was ashes. His big nose seemed even bigger.

  But his eyes were still two panes of frosted glass.

  Dakin came in between the brothers and it was characteristic that, even though he must have known Ellery would be there, his glances went first to the broken pane, next to the open safe, and only thirdly to Ellery. But then it turned warm; and he came over to pump Ellery’s hand.

  “We never seem to meet excepting there’s trouble,” he exclaimed. “Why didn’t you let me know you were back among us?”

  “I’ve been more or less in hiding, Chief. And the Van Horns have been covering me up. I’m writing a book.”

  “Seems to me you could have kept your eye on things better for these folks between paragraphs,” said Dakin, grinning.

  “I’m humiliated, believe me.”

  Wrightsville’s chief of police stood rubbing his lean jaw.

  “Diamond necklace, huh? Oh, hello, Mrs. Van Horn.” He nodded to Howard, too.

  Sally said, “Oh, Dieds,” and Diedrich put his arm around her.

  In the doorway, Wolfert said nothing. He kept looking around peckishly. Searching for worms, Ellery thought.

  Chief Dakin strolled over to the French door, glanced at the glass on the floor, at the jagged hole in the pane.

  “Second robbery since June,” he remarked. “Seems like somebody’s got it in for you, Mrs. Van Horn.”

  “I hope I’m as lucky this time, Mr. Dakin.”

  Dakin drifted over toward the safe.

  “Did you find anything, Mr. Queen?” Diedrich asked. His jaw was jutting.

  “It’s a pretty clear case, Mr. Van Horn, as Chief Dakin will tell you. Incidentally, you don’t need me with Dakin around. I have a great deal of respect for the chief’s talents.”

  “Say, thanks,” said Dakin, picking up the velvet box.

  Diedrich nodded rather grimly, as if to say, So have I.

  Mad clear through, Ellery thought. First the twenty-five thousand, now the diamond necklace. Can hardly be blamed.

  Dakin took his time. Dakin always took his time. He had the exasperating deliberateness of a rising tide. You could hardly see it move, and yet you knew it would engulf everything in its own time and that nothing could stop it.

  He was fascinating Sally and Howard.

  “Mrs. Van Horn.”

  Sally jumped. “Oh! Everybody’s been so quiet. What, Mr. Dakin?”

  “When’s the last time you saw the necklace?”

  “Over a month ago,” said Sally quickly.

  Too quickly.

  “Why, no, dear,” said Diedrich, frowning. “It was two weeks ago, don’t you remember? You took it out of the safe to show—”

  “Millie Burnett. Of course.” Sally was crimson. “I’d forgotten, Dieds. Stupid of me.”

  “Two weeks.” Dakin stood digesting the fact. “Anybody see it after that?”

  “Did you,” said Diedrich, “Howard?”

  The ugly face was stone.

  “Me?” Howard laughed, nervously. “Me, father?”

  “Yes.”

  “How could I have seen it? I never have any reason to go to the safe.”

  Diedrich said in a thick voice, “I just thought you might have seen it, son.”

  He suspects. He doesn’t know. He suspects, and it’s killing him. It’s killing him to suspect and not know. Howard? Impossible. Sally? Unthinkable. But…

  Diedrich turned away.

  “It was in the safe Monday morning,” said his brother.

  “Yesterday?” Diedrich eyed Wolfert sharply. “You’re sure?”

  “Sure I’m sure.” Wolfert smiled his meager smile. “I had to get at those Hutchinson papers and I opened the safe. The necklace was there.”

  Dakin asked, “In this box, Mr. Van Horn?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Box open?”

  “No…but—”

  “Then how’d you know the necklace was in it?” said Dakin mildly. “Have to be careful about these things, Mr. Van Horn. In gettin’ the facts, I mean. Or did you happen to, now, open the box, Mr. Van Horn?”

  “As a matter of fact, I did.” The tips of Wolfert’s furry ears were turning fuchsia.

  “You did?”

  “Just looked at it, that’s all.” Wolfert was furious. “Or do you think I’m lying?”

  Diedrich roared, “What difference does it make? The burglary occurred during the night, that pane of glass was all right late last night. What difference does it make when the necklace was last seen?”

  He’s sorry already. Sorry he’s called Dakin in on this. That was bitterness. This is bitter regret.

  The police chief said, “You’ll be hearin’ from me about this, Mr. Van Horn,” and before they grasped that he had said something definite and threatening, Dakin was gone.

  Diedrich did not return to town. Wolfert did, but Diedrich remained in his study most of the day behind a closed door. Once, seeking a reference book, Ellery approached the door; but hearing the footsteps of his host blundering about aimlessly, Ellery went back to the cottage. Howard had shut himself up in his studio. Sally was in her room.

  Ellery worked.

  At five o’clock Diedrich appeared in the cottage doorway.

  “Oh, hello.”

  He had fought his battle and won it. The lines were deeper, but controlled.

  “See that deputation of old hens?”

  “The Committee? No, I didn’t. Working…”

  “Mountain coming to Mohamet. What could I say? I felt like a fool. Of course, we have to go.”

  “To each his suff’ring,” said Ellery with a laugh.

  “What’s that in Job?” Diedrich responded with a slight smile. “Pa used to quote it. Oh, yes. Man is born unto trouble, as the sparks fly upward. Some of us look as if we were being attacked by acetylene torches…See here, I don’t want to disturb you, Mr. Queen, but it occurred to me we hadn’t said a word about your coming with us tonight to that blamed testimonial dinner. Of course we want you to—”

  “I’m afraid I’ll have to beg off,” said Ellery quickly, “although it’s very kind of you to include me in the family.”

  “No, no. We’d love having you.”

  “I have no evening clothes with me—”

  “You can wear an extra tuxedo of mine.”

  “I’d swim in it. Anyway, Mr. Van Horn, this is your show.”

  “You mean you want to stay here and punish that typewriter.”

  “It hasn’t taken half enough abuse. Frankly, yes.”

  “I wish we could change places!”

  They laughed at that, companionably and after a while Diedrich waved and went away.

  A strong man.

  Ellery watched the Van Horns leave. Diedrich, magnificent in tails and a silk topper, held the door open for Sally, who wore a mountainous mink wrap with a gardenia corsage, a white gown sweeping the steps, and a gossamer something over her head; and, behind them, Wolfert, looking like an undertaker’s assistant. The Cadillac limousine rolled up with Howard at the wheel, Diedrich and Sally got into the tonneau, Wolfert slipped in beside Howard. The bon ton of Wrightsville rarely employed chauffeurs.

  The big car roared down the drive and around a bend and disappeared.

  And it seemed to Ellery that none of them had uttered a word through the whole thing.

  He returned to his typewriter.

  At seven-thirty Laura appeared. “Mrs. Van Horn told me you’d be home for supper, Mr. Queen.”

  “Oh, Laura. You don’t have to bother.”

  “No bother,” said Laura. “Will you be having it in the dining room, Mr. Queen, or would you like me to bring you a tray?”

  “Tray, tray. Don’t go to any trouble, Laura. Anything’ll do.”

  “Yes, sir.” But Laura lingered.

  “Yes? What is it, Laura?” That heroine was an increasing pain in the neck.

  “Mr. Queen, is…somethin’ wrong? I mean—”

  “Wrong, Laura?”

  Laura plucked at her apron. “Mrs. Van Horn in her room cryin’ all day, and Mr. Diedrich bein’ so…And then, him comin’ back with the chief of police this morning and all.”

  “Well, if something’s wrong, Laura, it’s really none of our affair, is it?”

  “Oh. No, Mr. Queen.”

  When Laura returned with the tray, her mouth was set in a very thin line indeed.

  Ellery gathered that she had just discovered the clay in her idol’s feet.

  He really made progress. The pages flipped off and he heard nothing but the typewriter’s chatter.

  “Ellery.”

  He was surprised to find Howard beside him. He hadn’t even heard the door open.

  “Back already, Howard? Why, what time is it?”

  Howard was hatless; his evening topcoat was open and the tails of his white scarf dangled. His eyes made Ellery remember everything.

  Ellery pushed back.

  “Come over to the house.”

  “Howard, what’s the matter?”

  “We just got back from the dinner. We found Dakin waiting for us.

  “Dakin. Is Dakin here? I’ve been so absorbed—”

  “Dakin sent me over here for you.”

  “For me.”

  “Yes.”

  “Didn’t he say why he…?”

  “No. He just said to get you.”

  Ellery buttoned the collar of his shirt, reached for his jacket.

  “Ellery.”

  “What?”

  “He’s got Simpson with him.” Simpson.

  “The pawnbroker?”

  “The pawnbroker.”

  Ellery clamped his mind shut instantly.

  J. P. Simpson was a balding, grape-eyed little countryman who always looked as if he were sniffing something. His stained topcoat was buttoned and he clutched his hat tightly. He was seated on the rim of Diedrich’s big chair. When Ellery and Howard strode in, he jumped up and scuttled behind it.

  Sally was in a shadow near the French door, still in her fur coat. Her white gloves crumpled a menu.

  The old baffled look was on Diedrich’s face. He had dropped his coat and top hat on the floor; his scarf, like Howard’s, was still around his neck; his hair was disorderly. And he was extremely quiet.

  Wolfert hovered behind his brother.

  Chief Dakin leaned against a bookcase.

  “Dakin.”

  Dakin pushed away from the case, reaching into his pocket.

  “I thought we’d better have you in on this, Mr. Queen.”

  “In on what?”

  As if I didn’t know.

  “Well, here he is,” said Diedrich roughly. “Now what’s this, Dakin?”

  Dakin’s hand emerged from his pocket with the diamond necklace.

  “This your necklace, Mrs. Van Horn?”

  The souvenir menu fell to the floor.

  Sally stooped but Dakin was quicker. He had it, and he handed it to her politely, and Ellery thought how beautifully this man worked. The way he had got to her side without making a point of his approach. He was really wasted in Wrightsville.

  “Thank you,” said Sally.

  “Is it, Mrs. Van Horn?”

  Sally let it drip, glittering, over her gloved hands.

  “Yes,” she said faintly. “Yes. It is.”

  “Why, Dakin,” said Diedrich, “where’d you find it?”

  “I’ll let Mr. Simpson tell you that, Mr. Van Horn.”

  The pawnbroker said in an excited voice: “I made a loan on that! Yesterday. Yesterday afternoon.”

  “Take a look around, Mr. Simpson,” drawled the chief of police. “Recognize anybody here as the person who pawned it?”

  Simpson shook an indignant finger at Ellery.

  Even Wolfert was surprised. But Diedrich was stunned.

  “This gentleman here?” he asked incredulously.

  “Queen. Ellery Queen. That’s him!”

  Ellery grimaced. He had told them it wouldn’t work. Now they were in for it. He glanced sadly at Sally and Howard. Sally was clutching the necklace and staring at it. Howard was trying to look surprised.

  How silly this all is.

  “Mr. Queen pawned “this necklace?” Diedrich was saying. “Mr. Queen?”

  “Made me think it was for a client or some such tittle-tootie,” cried the little pawnbroker. “Led me by the nose! Took me in! Well, I always said you never can tell about these New Yorkers. Bigger they are, foxier they are. Stolen article all the time—why didn’t ye tell me that, Mr. Queen? Why didn’t ye tell it was stole from Mrs. Van Horn?” He was dancing behind the armchair.

  Diedrich laughed. “Why, I frankly don’t know what to say, what to think. Mr. Queen…?” He stopped, helplessly.

  Your turn, boys and girls…Ellery looked at Howard again.

  And a strange thing happened.

  Howard looked away.

  Howard looked away…

  But he must have caught that glance.

  Ellery succeeded in catching Howard’s eye again.

  Howard looked away again.

  Quickly, Ellery glanced at Sally.

  But Sally seemed to be counting the diamonds.

  Can’t be. They can’t be this perfidious. Howard! Sally!

  This time Ellery compelled her to look up.

  Sally looked through him.

  And suddenly Ellery felt a tightness around his throat. When he felt it he knew it for what it was. He found himself angry. Angrier than he had ever been in his life. So angry that he did not trust himself to speak.

  Diedrich was looking him over now, no longer helplessly; more questioning now, and with a certain joy that lit up the question and sharpened its outline swiftly.

  He’s glad. He’s going to hang onto this. He’s been floundering; and here’s a life preserver flung from nowhere and he’s grabbing for it.

  Ellery lit a cigaret, deliberately.

  “Mr. Queen.” Dakin was being respectful. “I don’t have to remind you this all looks pretty queer. I’m dead certain you can explain it, but—”