“Yah! Let him explain it!” shouted Simpson.

  “Would you please explain it, Mr. Queen?” So respectfully.

  Ellery blew out the match. He smoked, he waited.

  Dakin’s eyes became opaque.

  “Well? Mr. Queen!” This was Diedrich. And harsh.

  He’s grabbed it.

  “Writing a book, did he say?” Wolfert Van Horn exploded. He rocked and hawked with the miserable joy of it.

  “Mr. Queen.” Diedrich again. Now we’re going to be fair. Chance to talk before pronouncing execution. Well, I’ll be damned if I…“Mr. Queen, won’t you please say something!”

  “What can I say?” Ellery smiled. “That I’m humiliated? Insulted? Furious? Astounded?”

  Diedrich considered this. Then he said quietly: “This could be very clever.”

  “Could it, Mr. Van Horn?”

  “Because now that I think of it, there are certain facts. Other facts.”

  “Such as?”

  “That other robbery. Friday morning.”

  Dakin said quickly: “What’s this, Mr. Van Horn?”

  “My safe was burglarized some time during the early hours of Friday morning, Dakin. Twenty-five thousand dollars in cash were taken.”

  Jump, Sally. Yes, look at him. Oh, but away. So fast.

  “You didn’t report that, Mr. Van Horn,” said Dakin, blinking.

  “Diedrich, you didn’t even tell me,” said Wolfert. “Why…?”

  “You were here then, too, Mr. Queen,” said Diedrich.

  Ellery nodded thoughtfully.

  “That pane in the French door was broken then, too, Dakin. I had a glazier fix it over the week end. But that first time the pane’d been broken from inside the study here. I must admit…at the time I thought it was an inside job—I mean…one of the help.”

  Unworthy of you, Diedrich. One of the help? Well, what else can you say?

  “But now…The job done on that first pane could have been a smart dodge. A trick.”

  “To make it look like an amateur job?” Dakin nodded slowly. “It could at that, Mr. Van Horn.”

  “What are you just looking at him for?” shrilled Simpson. “What is he, God or somebody? He buncoed me! He’s a crook!”

  Diedrich frowned, rubbing his jaw. “Simpson, you sure Mr. Queen was the one who pawned that necklace?”

  “Am I sure? Van Horn, my business is remembering faces. You bet your sweet life I’m sure. I’m sure. I shelled out good American money and lots of it. Ask him. Go ahead!”

  “You’re quite right, Simpson.” Ellery shrugged. “I pawned Mrs. Van Horn’s necklace…yes.”

  Sally said, “Excuse me,” in a faint voice. She started from the room.

  Diedrich said, “Sally,” and she stopped in mid-step and turned around a moment later and Ellery saw the oddest expression on her pretty face. Sally stood on the brink of a decision. He wondered grimly whether she would jump or run. “We’ve got to get to the bottom of this,” said Diedrich harshly. “I just can’t believe it. Queen, you’re no fly-by-night. You’re somebody. You’d have to have a tremendous reason to do a thing like this. Won’t you tell me what’s behind it? Please.”

  “No,” said Ellery.

  “No?” Diedrich’s jaw settled.

  “No, Mr. Van Horn. I’m going to let Howard answer for me.”

  Not Sally. Sally has to do it by herself. That’s important. I’m a fool but that’s important.

  “Howard?” said Diedrich.

  “Howard, I’m waiting,” said Ellery.

  “Howard?” said Diedrich again.

  “Haven’t you anything to say, Howard?” Ellery asked gently.

  “Say?” Howard licked his lips. “What would I have to say? I mean…I don’t get this. At all.”

  Committed, Howard?

  “Queen.” Diedrich seized Ellery’s arm. Ellery almost cried out. “Queen, what’s my son got to do with this?”

  “Last chance, Howard.”

  Howard glared at Ellery.

  Ellery shrugged. “Mr. Van Horn, Howard handed me that necklace. Howard asked me to raise money on it.”

  Howard began to shake. “That’s a damned lie,” he said hoarsely. “I don’t know what he’s talking about.”

  Committed. Over.

  And Sally?

  Sally just stood there.

  She’s standing there but she’s jumped. She would be ruthless, she’d said. And Howard said he’d do anything. To keep Diedrich from learning the truth they’d lie, steal, betray. You weren’t kidding, either of you.

  There was no reason whatever for keeping Sally out of this. And yet an obscure something checked Ellery’s tongue. Pure sentiment, he decided. What’s more, she knew it. He could read the little, wicked, triumphant woman’s knowledge in her eyes. And yet Sally was neither wicked nor small. Perhaps she was better than any of them, and bigger. He was almost happy to be able to keep her out of it. Unless Howard mucked to the very bottom and dragged her down with him. But Ellery didn’t think he would. Not to spare her. To spare himself.

  Ellery stopped thinking altogether. But then he pulled himself in. Diedrich was watching him, watching Howard. And then Diedrich did a strange thing. He strode over to Sally and took the necklace from her fingers and ran to the safe and hurled the necklace in and slammed the safe door and twirled the dial.

  When he turned to Chief Dakin his face was composed.

  “Dakin, the matter’s closed.”

  “No charges?”

  “No charges.”

  Dakin’s clouded eyes shifted ever so slightly. “Mr. Van Horn, it’s your property.”

  “Wait a minute!” screamed J. P. Simpson. “The matter’s closed, is it? And what about that money I loaned him on the necklace? Think I’m goin’ to be done out of my money?”

  “How much was it, Simpson?” asked Diedrich courteously.

  “Twenty-five thousand dollars!”

  “Twenty-five thousand dollars.” Diedrich’s lips tightened. “Reminiscent, Mr. Queen, isn’t it? By the way, is that right—that figure?”

  “Quite right.”

  Diedrich went to his desk and in the intolerable silence wrote out a check.

  When Dakin and Simpson had gone, Wolfert seeing them out, Diedrich got up from his desk and put his hand on Sally’s arm.

  She quivered, but she said, “Yes, Dieds.”

  He steered her to the doorway. Howard moved, too, but somehow his father’s bulk managed to get in the way.

  The door closed in Howard’s face.

  Neat.

  Howard shouted, “Why’d you come out with it? Damn you, why did you?”

  His hands were fists and he was pale and flushed alternately and he seemed about to throw himself at Ellery in a perfect frenzy of outrage.

  “Why did I come out with it, Howard?” asked Ellery incredulously.

  “Yes! Why didn’t you stick by us!”

  “You mean why didn’t I confess to a crime I didn’t commit?”

  “You didn’t have to say a damned thing! All you had to do was keep your big mouth shut!”

  I’ve got to get hold of myself.

  “In the face of Simpson’s identification?”

  “Father would never have pressed charges!”

  He’s insane.

  “Instead of which you welshed on us! You’ve made him suspicious! You forced me to lie. And he knows I lied. And if he doesn’t get it out of me, one of these days he’ll worm it out of Sally!”

  Just hold on.

  “I rather think, Howard, that Sally will take care of her end very capably. He doesn’t suspect she’s involved in any way. The only one he suspects is you.”

  Forced him to lie. Howard believes it.

  “Well, that’s true.” As suddenly as it had begun, the tantrum ended. “I’ll give you that much. You kept Sally out of it.”

  “Yes,” said Ellery. “Big-hearted Queen. So, now all your father can think is that you’re a thief, Howard; he has no reason to learn that you cuckolded him, too. As I said, big-hearted Queen.”

  Howard went very pale.

  He dropped into the armchair and began to bite his nails.

  “This whole thing, Howard,” said Ellery, “is so completely incredible that frankly, for the first time in my life, I don’t know what to say. I ought to knock your head right off your shoulders. If I thought you were normal, I would.”

  Ellery reached for the telephone.

  “What are you going to do?” Howard mumbled.

  Ellery sat down on the desk. “If I stay on here, Howard, I can only continue to muddy the existing mess. That’s one thing. Another is that I’ve had a bellyful—I wash my hands of the whole stupid, unbelievable business. You and Sally work it out as you see fit—you never took my advice, anyway. This adultery thing wasn’t what brought me up here; had I known about it in advance, I shouldn’t have come in the first place. As for your amnesia, my advice—which undoubtedly you won’t take—is what it was back in New York: See a really top man or woman in psychiatry and open up.

  “The third thing, Howard,” said Ellery with a slight smile, “is that I’ve learned an important lesson, to wit: Never reach a conclusion about a man’s character on the basis of a few weeks in Paris, and never, never reach a conclusion about a woman on any basis whatsoever.”

  He dialed Operator.

  “You’re leaving?”

  “Tonight. Immediately. Operator—”

  “Wait a minute. You calling for a cab?”

  “Just a moment, Operator. Yes, Howard. Why?”

  “No more trains out tonight.”

  “Oh—never mind, Operator.” Ellery hung up, slowly. “Then I’ll have to stay over in one of the hotels.”

  “That’s silly.”

  “And dangerous? Because it might get around that Howard Van Horn’s house guest spent his last night in Wrightsville at the Hollis?”

  Howard reddened.

  Ellery laughed. “What do you suggest?”

  “Take my car. If you insist on leaving tonight, drive back. You can garage the car in town and I’ll pick it up on my next trip in. I’ve got to run into New York the end of the week anyway to buy some stuff for the Museum project. I’ll tell father you suddenly decided to leave tonight—which is true—and that I lent you my car—which is also true.”

  “But look at the risk I’m running, Howard.”

  “Risk? What risk?”

  “Of finding Dakin on my trail,” said Ellery, “with a warrant charging me with automobile theft.”

  Howard muttered: “You’re very funny.”

  Ellery shrugged.

  “All right, Howard. I’ll chance it.”

  Ellery drove steadily. It was very late, there was almost no traffic on the main highway, Howard’s roadster hummed the song of escape, there were honest stars to look at, the tank was full, and he felt happy and at peace.

  It had been wrong from the start. He’d had no business meddling in Howard’s amnesia. But there had been a mystery then, and the human element of liking and curiosity. Later, however, when he learned about the erotic explosion at Lake Pharisee, he should have run rapidly for the nearest exit. Or, if he had stayed, he should have refused firmly and finally to act in any capacity whatever in the negotiations with the blackmailer. At any step along the way he might have spared himself the sickening eventuality of Howard’s perfidy simply by being sensible. So, really, he had no one to blame but himself.

  But it was a comfortable castigation. Peace perched on his suitcase, a therapeutic companion.

  It was possible to see Wrightsville now in the perspective of his receding tracks, a sore spot rapidly vanishing. It was possible to see Diedrich Van Horn and his great trouble, and Sally Van Horn and hers. It was even possible to see Howard for what he was—the disturbed and degenerating prisoner of a cruel personal history, an object of sympathy rather than a subject for anger. And Wolfert was simply a little nastiness, to be flicked off. As for Christina Van Horn, she was less than a phantom—the ancient shadow of a phantom, toothlessly mouthing in the darkness of her crypt a few dry morsels of the Bible.

  The Bible.

  The Bible!

  Ellery found himself parked on the side of the road, crouched over the dead wheel, gripping it while his heart labored to right itself and his head filled with the unthinkable.

  It took him some time to work out. There was the wonder to fight clear of, and the deadwood to pick out and throw away. An orderly process had to be set up so that the thing might be seen in its unbelievable image. He had to stand far enough off to be able to encompass its sheer magnitude.

  But was it possible? Really possible?

  Yes. He couldn’t be mistaken. He could not.

  Each piece had the terrifying color of the whole, the congruent edges of which, fitted together, revealed the tremendous—the simply tremendous and tremendously simple—pattern.

  Pattern…Ellery recalled his uneasy thoughts about a pattern, how he had tried to decipher its hieroglyphs. But this was the Rosetta Stone. There was no possibility of a mistake.

  One piece was missing.

  Which?

  Slowly. One…four…seven…

  A pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death.

  Frantically, he started the roadster, shot the car around.

  His foot kicked the accelerator to the floor, held it struggling there.

  That all-night diner a few miles back.

  The hollow-eyed night man in the diner stared.

  Ellery’s hand shook as he dropped the coins into the slots.

  “Hello?”

  Quickly!

  “Hello! Mr. Van Horn?”

  “Yes?”

  Safe.

  “Diedrich Van Horn?”

  “Yes! Hello? Who is this?”

  “Ellery Queen.”

  “Queen?”

  “Yes. Mr. Van Horn—”

  “Howard told me before he went to bed that you—”

  “Never mind! You’re safe, that’s the important thing.”

  “Safe? Of course I’m safe. Safe from what? What are you talking about?”

  “Where are you?”

  “Where am I? Queen, what’s the matter?”

  “Tell me! Which room are you in?”

  “My study. I couldn’t sleep, decided to come down and do some paper work I’ve neglected—”

  “Everyone in the house?”

  “Everyone but Wolfert. He went back to town with Dakin and Simpson, left me a note saying he’d forgotten some contracts on a deal we’ve been negotiating, that he’d probably work through the night, and—”

  “Mr. Van Horn, listen to me.”

  “Queen, I can’t take much more tonight.” Diedrich sounded exhausted. “Can’t whatever it is wait? I don’t understand,” he said bitterly. “You pack up and leave—”

  Ellery said rapidly: “Listen to me carefully. Are you listening?”

  “Yes!”

  “Follow these instructions to the letter—”

  “What instructions?”

  “Lock yourself in the study.”

  “What?”

  “Lock yourself in. Not only the door. The windows. The French door, too. Don’t open to anyone, Mr. Van Horn, do you understand? To anyone but me. Do you understand?”

  Diedrich was silent.

  “Mr. Van Horn! Are you still there?”

  “Yes, I’m still here,” said Diedrich very slowly. “I’m here, Mr. Queen. I’ll do as you say. Just where are you?”

  “Wait a minute. You there!”

  The counterman said: “Somebody in trouble, bud?”

  “How far am I from Wrightsville?”

  “Wrightsville? About forty-four miles.”

  “Mr. Van Horn!”

  “Yes, Mr. Queen.”

  “I’m about forty-four miles from Wrightsville. I’ll drive back as fast as I can. Figure forty to forty-five minutes for the trip. I’ll come to the French door on the south terrace. When I knock, you’ll ask who it is. I’ll tell you. Then, and then only, open—and only when you’re completely satisfied that it’s really me. Is that perfectly clear? There must be no exceptions. You must let no one into the study either from outside the house or from inside. Is that clear?”

  “I heard you.”

  “Even that may not do it. Is that .38 Smith & Wesson still in your desk drawer? If it isn’t, don’t leave the study to get it!”

  “It’s still here.”

  “Take it out. Now. Hold it. All right, I’m going to hang up now and start. As soon as I do, lock up and keep away from the windows afterward. I’ll see you in—”

  “Mr. Queen.”

  “Yes? What?”

  “What’s the point of all this? From the way you’re talking anyone would think my life’s in danger.”

  “It is.”

  The Eighth Day

  FORTY-THREE MINUTES LATER ELLERY knocked on the French door.

  The study was in darkness.

  “Who is it?”

  It was hard to say just where Diedrich might be beyond the glass. Queen.

  “Who? Say it again.”

  “Queen. Ellery Queen.”

  A key turned. He opened the French door, stepped through, shut the door swiftly, turned the key. He felt around in the dark until he found the pull of the hanging.

  Only then did he say, “You may turn the lights on now, Mr. Van Horn.”

  The desk lamp.

  Diedrich was standing on the other side of the desk, the .38 brilliant. The desk top was a confusion of account books, papers. He was in pajamas and robe; bare feet in leather mules. His face was quite pale, a study in planes.

  “Good idea turning the lights out,” said Ellery. “I should have thought of that myself. Never mind the gun now.”

  Diedrich laid the weapon on the desk.

  “Anything?” Ellery asked.

  “No.”

  Ellery grinned. “That was quite a drive; I’ll dream about it. Mind if I take the load off my feet?”

  He dropped into Diedrich’s swivel chair and stretched his legs.

  A muscle at the corner of the big man’s mouth was jumping. “I’m pretty much at the end of my patience, Mr. Queen. I want the whole story, and I want it now.”

  “Yes,” said Ellery.

  “What’s this about my life being in danger? I haven’t an enemy in the world. Not that kind of enemy.”