“We’re rather full up,” said the young woman curtly. “Can’t give you a room in the inn. You’ll have to take a cabin. We’ve got just one left.”

  He halted under the flickering ship’s lantern and said in a stern voice: “I can’t say I care for your atmosphere, Miss Hosey. Do you keep ghosts for pets? I’ve felt clammy fingers groping about my neck all the way from Duxbury. Dinner?”

  She was a very young and pretty miss, he saw, with russet hair and windblown lips. Also, she was angry. “Look here—”

  “Tut, tut,” he said mildly, “mustn’t beshrew the guests, my dear. I should have said ‘supper,’ I suppose. It’s always supper, isn’t it?”

  Her lips relaxed suddenly. “Oh, all right. You’re erratic but—nice. I do resent that crack about our ‘misbegotten Cerberus,’ though. Didn’t Cerberus have two heads? I’ll admit the art is dubious—”

  “Erudition in New Bedford? My dear, Cerberus has had three heads, and fifty heads, and a hundred heads on various literary excursions, but I’ve never heard of his having had two.”

  “Darn,” said Cap’n Hosey’s daughter. “I was minoring in Greek at the time and I did think it was two. Won’t you come in?”

  They entered a large smoky room filled with chattering people—tourists, he saw at once, wincing—and some very lovely old furniture decidedly the worse for irreverent wear. A desk in the brass-cuspidor-and-leaky-pen tradition graced one corner of the room, presided over by a tall gaunt red-cheeked old man with white hair, frosty blue eyes, and a mildly benevolent expression. He wore a faded blue coat with brass buttons.

  “This,” said the young woman demurely, as the traveler dropped his suitcase on the linoleum-covered floor, “is Cap’n Hosey, the ancient mariner.”

  “Delighted to meet you, Captain Hosey,” murmured the tall young man. “That’s familiar for Hosea, I take it?”

  “Ye k’n have it,” chuckled the proprietor, extending a large and horny hand. “Howdy-do. Ye’ve met my daughter Jenny? I heard ye two jawin’ outside. Don’t pay no ’tention to Jenny, sir; she’s eddicated, she is, an’ that makes her a mite sharp, like the feller said when he was honin’ his jackknife. Radcliffe, ye betcha,” he said proudly.

  Jenny turned very red. The young man said: “How charming; I must look into the Greek curriculum there,” and reached for the register. He signed his name with weary fingers. “And now, if I may have a facial and manual rinse and a ton of supper?”

  Jenny consulted the register, and her eyes widened and she exclaimed: “Why, don’t tell me you’re the—”

  “Such,” sighed Mr. Ellery Queen, “is fame. Don’t tell me there’s a murder in the vicinity—although I will say the environment is peculiarly conducive to tragedy. Quite Hardyesque, in fact. I’ve been running away from murders. Just saddled my faithful Rosinante and galloped off into New England, hoping for surcease.”

  “You are the Ellery Queen, though, who goes about solving—”

  “Silence,” he whispered fiercely. “No. I’m young Davy, Prince of Wales, and Papa George has permitted me to go gallivantin’ incognito. For heaven’s sake, Jenny, use discretion. All those people are listening.”

  “Queen, hey?” boomed Cap’n Hosey, beaming. “Well, well. I’ve heard tell of ye, young man. Proud to have ye. Jenny, ye go tell Martha to scramble up some vittles fer Mr. Queen. We’ll mess down in th’ taproom. Meanwhile, if ye’ll come with me—”

  “We?” said Ellery weakly.

  “Well,” grinned Cap’n Hosey, “we don’t git such folks as th’ usual thing, Mr. Queen. Now what was that last case I was readin’ about…?”

  In a brass-and-wooden room downstairs redolent of hops and fish Mr. Ellery Queen found himself the focus of numerous respectful and excited eyes. He blessed his gods privately that they possessed the delicacy to permit him to eat in comparative peace. There were oysters, and codfish cakes, and broiled mackerel, and foamy lager, and airy apple pie and coffee. He stuffed himself with a will and actually began to feel better. Outside the winds might howl and the ghosts wander, but here it was warm and cheerful and even companionable.

  They were a curious company. Cap’n Hosey had apparently gathered the cream of his cronies for the honor of staring at the famous visitor from New York. There was a man named Barker, a traveling salesman “in hardware”; as he said: “Mechanics’ and building tools, Mr. Queen, cement, quicklime, household wares, et cetera and so forth.” He was a tall needle-thin man with sharp eyes and the glib tongue of the professional itinerant. He smoked long cheroots as emaciated as himself.

  Then there was a chubby man named Heiman, with heavy pitted glistening features and a cast in one eye that contrived to give him a droll expression. Heiman, it appeared, was “in drygoods,” and he and Barker from their cheerful raillery were boon companions, their itineraries crossing each other every three months or so when they were—as Heiman put it—“on the road”; for both covered the southern New England territory for their respective establishments.

  The third of Cap’n Hosey’s intimates needed only the costume to be Long John Silver in the flesh. There was something piratical in the cut of his jib; he possessed besides the traditional cold blue eyes—Ellery gulped down a slithery Cotuit instinctively when he first saw it—a pegleg; and his speech was bristly with the argot of the sea.

  “So ye’re the great d’tective,” rumbled the peglegged pirate, whose name was Captain Rye, when Ellery had washed down the last delectable morsel of pie with the last warm drop of coffee. “Can’t say I ever heard o’ ye.”

  “Shush, Bull,” growled Cap’n Hosey.

  “No, no,” said Ellery comfortably, lighting a cigaret. “That’s refreshing candor. Cap’n Hosey, I like your place.”

  Jenny said: “Mr. Queen’s been wondering about the name of the inn, father. That work-of-art over the bar inspired it, Mr. Queen. Relic of father’s past.”

  Ellery noticed for the first time that a faded, seamy, and weatherworn wood-carving was nailed over the bar. It was a three-dimensional projection of the painted monstrosity swinging over the road—a remotely canine bust with two remotely canine heads branching off a single hairy neck.

  “Figgerhead of my granddaddy’s three-master,” boomed Cap’n Hosey from behind stupefying clouds of clay-pipe smoke. “The whaler Cerb’rus. When we opened this here place Jenny she thought that was too high-a-mighty a handle. So she named it Th’ Two-Headed Dog. Pretty, ain’t it?”

  “Speakin’ about dogs,” said Heiman in his piping voice, “tell Mr. Queen about that business happened here three months ago, Cap’n Hosey.”

  “Hell, yes,” cried Barker. “Tell Mr. Queen about that, Cap’n.” His Adam’s apple bobbed eagerly as he turned to Ellery. “One of the most interesting things ever happened to the old coot, I guess, Mr. Queen. Haw-haw! Near turned the place inside out.”

  “Dogs?” murmured Ellery.

  “Jee-rusalem!” roared Cap’n Hosey. “Clean fergot ’bout it. Reg’lar crime, Mr. Queen. Took th’ wind slap out o’ my sails. Happened—let’s see, now…”

  “July,” said Barker promptly. “I remember Heiman and I were both here then on our regular summer trip.”

  “God, what a night that was!” muttered chubby Heiman. “Makes my skin creep to think of it.”

  An odd silence fell over the company, and Ellery regarded them one by one with curiosity. There was a queer unease on the clean fresh face of Jenny, and even Captain Rye had become subdued.

  “Well,” said Cap’n Hosey at last in a low tone, “’twas round ’bout this time o’ month, I sh’d say. Ter’ble dirty weather, Mr. Queen, that night. Stormed all over this end o’ th’ coast. Rainin’ an’ thunderin’ to beat hell. One o’ th’ worst summer squalls I rec’lect. Well, sir, we was all settin’ upstairs nice an’ cozy, when Isaac—that’s th’ swab does my odd jobs—Isaac, he hollers in from outside there’s a customer jest hove in with a car wantin’ vittles and lodgin’ fer th’ night.”

  “Will you ever forget that—that hideous little creature?” shuddered Jenny.

  “Who’s spinnin’ this yarn, Jenny?” demanded Cap’n Hosey. “Anyways, we was full up, like t’night—jest one cabin empty. This man comes in shakin’ off th’ wet; he was rigged out in a cross ’tween a sou’wester an’ a rubber tire; an’ he takes th’ vacant cabin fer th’ night.”

  “But the dog,” sighed Ellery.

  “I’m comin’ to that, Mr. Queen. Well, sir, he was a runt—sawed-off lubber, with scared lamps on ’m ye c’d see a league off, an’ he was nervous.”

  “Craps, he was nervous,” muttered Heiman. “Couldn’t look you in the eye. About fifty, I’d say; looked like some kind of clerk, I remember thinkin’.”

  “Except for the chin-whiskers,” said Barker ominously. “Red, they were, and you didn’t have to be a detective to see right off they were phony.”

  “Disguised, eh?” said Ellery, stifling a yawn.

  “Yes, sir,” said Cap’n Hosey. “Anyways, he reg’sters under th’ name o’ Morse—John Morse—gobbles up a mess o’ slum downstairs, an’ Jenny shows ’m to th’ cabin, with Isaac convoyin’ ’em. Tell Mr. Queen what happened, Jenny.”

  “He was horrible,” said Jenny in a shaky voice. “He wouldn’t let Isaac touch the car—insisted on driving it around to the garage himself. Then he made me point out the cabin; wouldn’t let me take him there. I did, and he—he swore at me in a tired sort of way, b-but savagely, Mr. Queen. I felt he was dangerous. So I went off, and Isaac too. But I watched; and I saw him sneak back to the garage. He stayed there for some time. When he came out he went into the cabin and locked the door; I heard him lock it.” She paused, and for the moment the most curious tension crackled in the smoky air. Ellery, unaccountably, no longer felt sleepy. “Then I—I went into the garage…”

  “What sort of car was it?”

  “An old Dodge, I think, with side-curtains tightly drawn. But he’d been so mysterious about it—” She gulped and smiled wanly. “I got into the garage and put my hand on the nearest curtain. Curiosity killed a cat, and it almost got me a very badly bitten hand.”

  “Ah, there was a dog in the car?”

  “Yes.” She shuddered suddenly. “I’d left, the garage-door open. When lightning flashed I could…It flashed. Something bit into the rubber curtain and I jerked my hand away just in time. I almost screamed. I heard him—it growl; low, rumbling, animal.” They were very quiet now. “In the lightning a black muzzle poked out of a hole in the curtain and I saw two savage eyes. It was a dog, a big dog. Then I heard a noise outside and there was the—the little man with the red beard. He glared at me and shouted something. I ran.”

  “Naturally,” murmured Ellery. “Can’t say I’m overfond of the more brutal canines myself. A sign of the effete times, I daresay. And?”

  “Ain’t a hound been whelped,” growled Captain Rye, “can’t be mastered. Whippin’ does it. I mind I had a big brute once, mastiff he was—”

  “Stow it, Bull,” said Cap’n Hosey testily. “Ye wa’n’t here, so what d’ye know ’bout it? Takes more’n jest dog to scare my Jenny. I tell ye that there wa’n’t no or’n’ry mutt!”

  “Oh, Captain Rye wasn’t stopping at the inn then?” said Ellery.

  “Naw. Hove in ’bout two-three weeks after. Anyways, that ain’t th’ real part o’ the yarn. When Jenny come back we nat’rally talked ’bout this swab, an’—’twas real funny—we all agreed we’d seen his ugly map some’eres b’fore.”

  “Indeed?” murmured Ellery. “All of you?”

  “Well, I knew I’d seen his pan somewhere,” muttered the dry goods salesman, “and so had Barker. Later, when the two—”

  “Haul up!” roared Cap’n Hosey. “’M I tellin’ this yarn or ain’t I? Well, we went t’ bed. Jenny ’n’ me, we bunk in our own quarters in th’ little shack back o’ th’ garage; ’n’ Barker ’n’ Heiman, here, they had cabins that night; bunch o’ school-marms ’d took up jest ’bout all th’ room there was. Well, sir, we took a look at this Morse’s cabin on th’ way out, but it was darker’n a Chinee Lazaret. Then round ’bout three-four in th’ mornin’ it happened.”

  “By the way,” said Ellery, “had you investigated the car before you turned in?”

  “Sure did,” said Cap’n Hosey grimly. “Ain’t no hound this side o’ hell I’m skeered on. But he wa’n’t in th’ car. Dog-stink was, though. This Morse must ’a’ taken-th’ dog to his cabin after he caught Jenny pokin’ round where she had no bus’ness pokin’.”

  “The man was a criminal, I suppose,” sighed Ellery.

  “How’d you know?” cried Barker, opening his eyes.

  “Tut, tut, said Ellery modestly, and inwardly groaned.

  “He were a crim’nal, all right,” said Cap’n Hosey emphatically. “Wait till I tell ye. Early mornin’—’twas still dark—Isaac comes a-poundin’ on th’ door an’ when I opens it there’s Isaac, nekkid under a reefer, with two hard-lookin’ customers drippin’ rain. Still squally, ’twas. Make a long story short, they was d’tectives lookin’ fer this here Morse. They showed me a picture, an’ o’ course I reco’nized him right off even though in th’ snap he was clean-shaved. They knew he’d been sportin’ a fake red beard, an’ that he was travelin’ with a dog—big police dog—that he’d owned b’fore he skipped with th’ jool. He’d lived in a suburb outside Chicawgo some’eres an’ neighbors’d said they’d see him walkin’ out with a dog every once in a while.”

  “Here, here,” said Ellery, sitting up alertly. “Do you mean to say that was John Gillette, the little lapidary who stole the Cormorant diamond from Shapley’s in Chicago last May?”

  “That’s him!” shouted Heiman, blinking his lid rapidly over the eye with the cast. “Gillette!”

  “I remember reading about the case when the theft occurred,” said Ellery thoughtfully, “although I never followed it through. Go on.”

  “He’d worked in Shapley’s for twenty years,” sighed Jenny, “always quiet and honest and efficient. A stonecutter. Then he was tempted and stole the Cormorant and disappeared.”

  “Worth a hundred grand,” muttered Barker.

  “A hund’ed grand!” exclaimed Captain Rye suddenly, stamping his pegleg on the stone floor. And he sank back and shoved his pipe into his mouth.

  “Heap o’ money,” nodded Cap’n Hosey. “These d’tectives’d follered Gillette’s trail all over creation, al’ays jest missin’ ’m. But th’ dog give ’m away finally. He’d been seen up Dedham way with th’ dog. Lot o’ this we found out fr’m them fellers later. Anyways, I shows ’em th’ cabin an’ they busts in. Nothin’ doin’. He’d heard ’em or kep’ an eye open, most likely, an’ skipped.”

  “Hmm,” said Ellery. “He didn’t take the car?”

  “Couldn’t,” said Cap’n Hosey grimly. “Skeered to take th’ chance. Th’ garage is too near where I bunked an’ where th’ d’tectives was jawin’ with me. He must of got away through th’ woods o’ th’ cabins. Them fellers was wild. In th’ rain there wa’n’t no tracks t’ foller. Got away clean. Prob’ly stole a launch or had one hid down in th’ Harbor an’ headed either fer Narragansett Bay or ducked round to th’ Vineyard. Never did find ’m.”

  “Did he leave anything behind besides the car?” murmured Ellery. “Personal belongings? The diamond?”

  “The hell he did,” snorted Barker. “What do you think he is—a fool? He skipped clean, like Cap’n Hosey says.”

  “Except,” said Jenny, “for the dog.”

  “Seems a persistent brute, at any rate,” chuckled Ellery. “You mean he left the police dog behind? You found him?”

  “Th’ d’tectives found th’ mutt,” scowled Cap’n Hosey. “When they busted into th’ cabin there was a big heavy chain attached to th’ grate o’ th’ fireplace. Jest the double chain. No dog. They found th’ dog fifty yards off in th’ woods, dead.”

  “Dead? How? What do you mean?” asked Ellery swiftly.

  “Bashed over th’ skull. An’ an ugly brute she was, too. Female. All blood an’ mud. Th’ d’tectives said Gillette’d done it th’ last minute to git rid o’ her. She was gittin’ too dangerous t’ tote around. They took th’ carkiss away.”

  “Well,” smiled Ellery, “it must have been a hectic time, Captain. I don’t think poor Jenny’s over it yet.”

  The young woman shivered. “I’ll not forget that hideous little b-bug as long as I live. And then—”

  “Oh, there’s something else? By the way, what happened to the car and the chain?”

  “D’tectives took ’em away,” rumbled Cap’n Hosey.

  “I suppose,” said Ellery, “there’s no doubt they were detectives?”

  They were all startled at that. Barker exclaimed: “Sure they were, Mr. Queen! Why, reporters were here from as far as Boston, and those, dicks posed for pictures and everything!”

  “Just a vagrant thought,” said Ellery mildly. “You said: ‘And then—’ Jenny. And then what?”

  There was an awkward silence. Barker and Heiman looked puzzled, but the two old seamen and Jenny turned pale.

  “What’s the matter?” shrilled Heiman, rolling his eyes.

  “Well,” muttered Cap’n Hosey, “I s’pose it’s all foolishness an’ sech, but that cabin ain’t been th’ same since—since that night, ye see.”

  “Say,” chuckled Barker, “I have to sleep in that cabin tonight, Cap’n. What d’ye mean—not the same?”

  Jenny said uneasily: “Oh, it’s ridiculous, as father says, but the most extraordinary things have been happening there, Mr. Queen, since that night in July. J-just as if a—a ghost were prowling around.”

  “Ghost!” Heiman went white and shrank back, visibly affected.

  “Now, now,” said Ellery with a smile. “Surely that’s overheated imagination, Jenny? I thought ghosts are indigenous only to old English castles.”

  “Ye may scoff all ye want,” said Captain Rye darkly, “but I once seen a ghost with me own eyes. ’Twas off Hatteras in th’ winter o’ ’93—”

  “Dry up, Bull,” said Cap’n Hosey irritably. “I’m a God-fearin’ man, Mr. Queen, an’ I ain’t skeered o’ th’ toughest spook ever walked a midnight sea. But—well, it’s mighty queer.” He shook his head as a gust of wind rattled down the chimney and stirred the ashes in the fireplace. “Mighty queer,” he repeated slowly. “Had that cabin occypied a couple o’ times since that night, an’ everybody tells me they hear funny sounds there.”