The Egyptian Cross Mystery

“Yes, Romaine,” said Mrs. Brad, licking her lips; the position of her figure had not changed for ten minutes. “I forgot. They had a quarrel.”

“Who the devil’s Romaine?” demanded Vaughn.

Lincoln said in a low quick voice: “Paul Romaine. Harakht, that lunatic on Oyster Island, calls him the ‘chief disciple.’”

“Ah,” said Ellery, and looked at Professor Yardley. The ugly man raised his shoulders expressively, and smiled.

“They’ve built up a nudist colony on the Island. Nudists!” cried Lincoln bitterly. “Harakht is a nut — he’s probably sincere; but Romaine is a faker, the worst kind of confidence man. He trades on his body, which is only the cloak of a rotten soul!”

“And yet,” murmured Ellery, “didn’t Holmes recommend: ‘Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul’?”

“Sure,” said Inspector Vaughn, intent on soothing this strange witness. “We understand. But about that quarrel, Mr. Lincoln?”

Lean face worked fiercely. “Romaine’s responsible for the ‘guests’ on the Island — works up the business. He’s hooked a bunch of poor fools who either think he’s some kind of tin god, or else are so damn repressed that the very thought of running around naked...” He stopped abruptly. “Excuse me, Helene — Margaret. I shouldn’t talk. Hester... They haven’t been bothering any of the residents here, I’ll admit. But Tom and Dr. Temple feel the same way I do about it.”

“Hmm,” said Professor Yardley. “Nobody consulted me.”

“Dr. Temple?”

“Our neighbor to the east. They were seen capering around Oyster Island absolutely nude, like human goats, and well — we’re a decent community.” Ah, thought Ellery; thus spake the Puritan. “Tom owns all this property fronting the Cove, and he felt that it was his duty to interfere. He had some sort of run-in with Romaine and Harakht. I think he was intending to take legal measures to oust them from the Island, and he told them so.”

Vaughn and Isham looked at each other, and then at Ellery. The Brads, mother and daughter, were very still; and Lincoln, now that he had rid himself of his accumulated bile, looked uneasy and ashamed.

“Well, we’ll look into that a little later,” said Vaughn lightly. “You say this Dr. Temple owns the estate adjoining on the east?”

“He doesn’t own it; he just rents it — rented it from Thomas.” Mrs. Brad’s eyes were relieved. “He’s been here for a long time. A retired army doctor. He and Thomas were good friends.”

“Who lives on that piece of property to the west?”

“Oh! An English couple named Lynn — Percy and Elizabeth,” replied Mrs. Brad.

Helene murmured: “I met them in Rome last fall and we became very friendly. They said they were thinking of paying a visit to the States and so I suggested that they come back with me and be my guests for the duration of their stay.”

“Just when did you return, Miss Brad?” asked Ellery.

“About Thanksgiving. The Lynns crossed with me, but we separated in New York and they traveled about a bit seeing the country. Then in January they came up here. They were wild about the place—” Lincoln grunted, and Helene flushed. “They were, Jonah! So much so that, not wanting to impose on our hospitality — it was silly, of course, but you know how stuffy the English can be sometimes — they insisted on leasing the house to the west, which is — was father’s property. They’ve been here ever since.”

“Well, we’ll talk to them, too,” said Isham. “This Dr. Temple, now. You said, Mrs. Brad, that he and your husband were good friends. Best of terms, eh?”

“There’s nothing in that direction,” said Mrs. Brad stiffly, “if you’re insinuating, Mr. Isham. I’ve never been overfond of Dr. Temple myself, but he’s an upright man and Thomas, a wonderful judge of character, liked him tremendously. They often played checkers together in the evening.”

Professor Yardley sighed, as if slightly bored with this recital of the neighbors’ vices and virtues when he himself could provide a more penetrating analysis.

“Checkers!” exclaimed Inspector Vaughn. “Now, that’s something. Who else played with Mr. Brad, or was this Dr. Temple his only opponent?”

“No, indeed! We all played with Thomas on occasion.”

Vaughn looked disappointed. Professor Yardley rubbed his black Lincolnian beard and said: “I’m afraid you’re on barren ground there, Inspector. Brad was a fiendishly clever checker player, and tackled everyone who came here for a bout. If they didn’t know how to play, he insisted — with patience, to be sure — on teaching them. I think,” he chuckled, “that I was the only visitor here who successfully resisted his blandishments.” Then he became grave and fell silent.

“He was a remarkable player,” said Mrs. Brad with a faint sad pride. “I was told that by the National Checker Champion himself.”

“Oh, you’re a good player yourself, then?” asked Isham quickly.

“No, no, Mr. Isham. But we entertained the champion last Christmas Eve, and Thomas and he played incessantly. The champion said that Thomas held him quite even.”