The Egyptian Cross Mystery

“Well, isn’t that jake for you?”

“Yes,” said Romaine patiently, “but not this way. They’re all scared, like a bunch of kids. Want to quit, and you won’t let ’em. But I’m not worried about them. It’s the others. Sure won’t get any more customers.”

“So?”

“We want permission to leave.”

Very suddenly old Stryker stood up in the motorboat “This is persecution!” he shrieked. “A prophet is not without honor save in his own country! Harakht demands the right to preach the gospel—”

“Quiet,” said Romaine savagely. The madman gaped and sat down.

“Gibberish,” muttered Professor Yardley; he was pale. “Utter gibberish. The man’s a stark lunatic Quotes Matthew; garbles Egyptian and Christian theology...”

“Well, you can’t have it,” said Inspector Vaughn calmly.

Romaine’s handsome face at once became threatening. He took a step forward, doubled his fists. The detectives about him edged nearer, expectantly. But the obscure desire to please smothered his seething temper, and he relaxed.

“Why?” he asked, swallowing mightily. “You haven’t got anything on us, Inspector. We’ve been good little boys, haven’t we?”

“You heard me. I’m not letting you and that old he-goat skip out on me — not by a long shot. Sure you’ve been good. But as far as I’m concerned you’re both on the teetery edge, Romaine. Where were you the night Thomas Brad was murdered?”

“I told you! On the Island.”

“Oh, yeah?” said the Inspector pleasantly. Instead of flaring into anger again Romaine, to Ellery’s astonishment, grew thoughtful. The Inspector’s nostrils quivered; quite by accident, it seemed, he had stumbled upon something. Isham opened his mouth, and Vaughn nudged him; so Isham closed his mouth.

“Well?” barked Vaughn. “I haven’t got all day. Spit it out!”

“Suppose,” said Romaine slowly, “suppose I can absolutely prove where I was that night — by a reliable witness, I mean. Would that clear me?”

“Ah,” said Isham. “It certainly would, Romaine.”

There was a little stir behind them which no one noticed except Ellery. Jonah Lincoln’s aplomb had fled; he was growling into his throat and trying to push into the van of the group. Ellery’s fingers closed insistently about Lincoln’s biceps; they swelled and hardened under his touch, but he stopped short.

“All right,” said Romaine abruptly; he was rather white about the nostrils. “I wasn’t going to spill this, because it involves — well, some people might misinterpret it. But we’ve got to get out of here... I was—”

“Romaine,” came Jonah’s voice clearly, “if you say another word I promise I’ll kill you.”

Vaughn swung on his heel. “Here, here!” he snarled. “What kind of talk is that? Keep out of this, Lincoln!”

“You heard me, Romaine,” said Jonah.

Romaine shook his big head and laughed — a barking little laugh that raised the short hair on Ellery’s nape. “Nuts,” he said curtly. “I threw you into the Cove once, and I can do it again. I don’t give a damn about you or anybody else in this lousy place. Here’s the dope, Inspector. Between half-past ten and about half-past eleven that night—”

Silently Jonah lunged forward, arms flailing. Ellery with a grunt threw one arm about his neck and bore him backward. A detective jumped into the fray and grasped Jonah’s collar in a stranglehold. After a brief struggle Jonah subsided; he was panting, and he glared at Romaine with murder in his hot eyes.

Romaine said hastily: “I was on Oyster Island with Mrs. Brad.”

Jonah shook off Ellery’s arm. “All right, Mr. Queen,” he said coldly. “I’m quite all right now. He’s done it. Let him speak his little piece.”

“What d’ye mean — on Oyster Island with Mrs. Brad?” demanded, the Inspector; his eyes were narrowed. “Alone with her?”

“Ah, be your age,” snapped Romaine. “That’s what I said. We spent an hour together near shore, under the trees.”

“How did Mrs. Brad get to the Island that night?”

“We had a date. I waited for her at the Bradwood landing in my boat. She showed up just as I got there. A little before half-past ten.”

Inspector Vaughn took a sadly frayed cigar from one of his pockets and jabbed it in his mouth. “You go back to the Island,” he said, “and we’ll investigate your story. Take the nut with you... And now, Mr. Lincoln,” he said thoughtfully, turning his back on Romaine, “if you’d care to take a couple of pokes at this dirty specimen of a hyena’s stinking brood, go ahead. I — er — I’m going back to the house.”

Romaine stood blinking on the dock. The detectives moved away from him. Jonah stripped off his coat, rolled up his sleeves, and stepped forward.

“One,” said Jonah, “for getting funny with my sister. Two,” he said, “for turning the head of a very foolish woman... Put ’em up, Romaine.”

The madman clutched the gunwale of the boat and screeched: “Paul, come away!”