The Egyptian Cross Mystery

“Swell talk,” said Vaughn sarcastically, “but where?” He was tired and dripping. “Know of any hiding places here, Mr. Megara?”

Professor Yardley’s chin-brush jutted out like the false beard of an Egyptian Pharaoh as Megara shook his head.

Ellery said: “Reminds me of a remarkably similar search my father, Assistant D.A. Cronin, and I made not long ago when we were investigating the murder of that crooked lawyer, Monte Field who was poisoned — you recall? — in the Roman Theater during a performance of Gunplay.[1] We found it in—”

The Professor’s eyes glistened, and he hurried across the room to the alcove in which the grand piano was ensconced. Isham had gone through the alcove some minutes before. But Yardley did not bother with the body of the instrument, or the piano chair, or the music cabinet. He merely sat down in the chair and, with all the gravity Ellery remembered from the Professor’s lectures at the university, began at the first bass note on the keyboard and wended his digital way up toward the treble, one note at a time, depressing each key slowly.

“A canny analysis, Queen,” he said as he sounded one note after another. “Gave me a positive inspiration... Suppose I were Krosac. I want to hide something — small, let us say, flat. I have only a limited time and a limited knowledge of the premises. What shall I do? Where shall—” He stopped for a moment; the note he had struck was off-key. He pressed it several times, but when it was apparent that the note was merely out of tune, he continued his ascending exploration. “Krosac wants a place which won’t be discovered until he’s ready — won’t be discovered even by accident. He looks about — and there’s the piano. Now mark this: Brad is dead; this is Brad’s room. Certainly, he reasons, no one is going to play a piano in the private study of a dead man — not for a long time, anyway. And so...”

“A positive triumph of the intellect, Professor!” cried Ellery. “I couldn’t have done better myself!”

And just as if the concert had been scheduled to begin at the immediate conclusion of this modest program note, the Professor made his discovery. The even ripple of the scale had been interrupted; he had come to a key which stubbornly refused to be depressed.

“Eureka,” said Yardley, with an expression of utter disbelief on his ugly face. He looked like a man who has been taught a trick of legerdemain and is astonished to find at his first attempt that the trick was successful.

They crowded around now, Megara as eager as the rest. The note refused to descend more than a quarter of an inch, despite all of the Professor’s efforts. And suddenly it stuck completely, refusing even to rise again.

Ellery said sharply: “Just a sec,” and took out of his pocket the little kit he always carried in defiance of his father’s derision. He selected a longish needle from this kit and began to probe the crevices between the stubborn key and the note on either side. A moment’s work, and between two of the ivory slabs the tiny edge of a wad of paper appeared.

They all straightened up, sighing. Ellery gently worked the wad out. In silence they surrounded him and backed into the library. The paper had been flattened and crushed; Ellery unfolded it with care and spread it out on the table.

Megara’s face was inscrutable. As for the others, not one of them, including Ellery himself, could have prophesied the extraordinary message conveyed by the heavily scrawled writing on the sheet.