The Egyptian Cross Mystery
- Автор: Куин (Квин) Эллери
- Серия: Ellery Queen #5
- Год: 1932
- Язык: английский
- Год: Frederick A. Stokes Company
- Жанр: Классические детективы
Электронная книга - «The Egyptian Cross Mystery». Краткое содержание книги:
“But how about the witness coming before Krosac, and leaving before — a witness who played checkers with Brad?” persisted the Professor.
Ellery clucked with concern. “Dear, dear, you’re becoming groggy, Professor. If he came before or after Krosac, he wouldn’t be a witness, would he?” He chuckled. “No, the point is that the game we found was the Brad-Krosac game, and that if there were a previous or later visitor, this would not invalidate the fact that Krosac — the murderer — did play with Brad.”
“And your conclusion from all this rigmarole?” muttered Yardley.
“As I said before: That Brad’s murderer played checkers with him. And that Krosac was well-known to Brad, although not, of course, as Krosac but as someone else.”
“Aha!” exclaimed the Professor, slapping his thin shank. “I’ve got you, young man. Why well-known? Eh? You mean to say that’s logic? That because a man like Brad played checkers with someone, that that someone was necessarily a friend of his? Fiddlesticks! Why, Brad would play with a manure collector. Any stranger was prey, provided he could play the game. It took me three weeks to convince him that I really wasn’t interested!”
“My nerves, Professor. If I gave you the impression that it was from the checker game that I deduced Brad’s opponent to have been a friend of his, I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to. There is a much more potent reason. Did Brad know that Krosac, enemy of the Tvars, was abroad thirsting for that good old Tvar blood?”
“Yes, of course. The note he left shows that, and then Van himself wrote Brad and warned him.”
“Bien assurément! Would Brad, knowing Krosac to be abroad, make an appointment with a stranger, deliberately sending all possible protectors of his hide from the premises, as he did?”
“Hmm, I suppose not.”
“You see,” said Ellery with a tired sigh, “you can prove anything if you collate sufficient data. Look here — let me take the most extreme case. Suppose Brad’s expected visitor that night did come, did transact his business with Brad, did leave. Then Krosac appeared. An utter stranger, mind. But we’ve shown that Krosac, Brad’s murderer, played checkers with Brad. That would mean that Brad deliberately invited into his defenseless house an utter stranger... Wrong, of course. Then Krosac must have been well-known to Brad, whether he was the visitor expected by Brad or a chance guest of the evening. Actually, I don’t care a tittle which. My own belief is that only one person besides Brad was in the study that night — Krosac. But if there were two, or three, or a dozen, it doesn’t invalidate the conclusion that Brad knew Krosac well in whatever guise he appeared, and that Brad played checkers with him and was murdered during the game.”
“And where does that get you?”
“Nowhere,” said Ellery ruefully, “which is why I said before that I’m no better off now than I was three weeks ago... You know, there’s another positive fact, now that I come to think of it, which we can fish out of this mess of indecision. I’m an ass not to have thought it out before.”
The Professor rose and knocked out his pipe against the fireplace. “You’re full of surprises tonight,” he said, without turning. “What’s that?”
“We can assert with absolute assurance that Krosac does not limp.”
“We said that before,” retorted Yardley. “No, you’re right. We said we couldn’t be sure. But how—?”
Ellery got to his feet, stretched his arms, and began to pace up and down. It was humid in the library; the downpour outside redoubled in hissing intensity. “Krosac, whoever he’s pretending to be, was well-known to Brad. No one who was well-known to Brad limps. Therefore Krosac actually does not limp; but has utilized his youthful infirmity as a consistent physical characteristic merely to lead the police astray.”
“That’s why,” muttered Yardley, “he’s been so apparently careless about leaving a trail to a limping man.”
“Exactly. He discards the limp the moment he scents danger. No wonder no trace of him has been found. I should have thought of it before.”
Yardley teetered on his big feet, cold pipe jutting from his mouth. “And there we are.” He regarded Ellery keenly. “No sign of the fugitive thought, eh?”
Ellery shook his head. “Still hiding behind a convolution somewhere... Let’s see now. Murder of the first victim, Kling, satisfactorily explained. Krosac, and the pseudo-limp, in the direct vicinity; motive, proximity, peculiar nature of crime — all fit. There is a feud. Krosac thinks he has killed Andreja, one of the brothers. How does he finally get on the track of Van, the most remote of the three Tvars? Query unanswerable; to be answered God knows when... Krosac strikes once more. Brad this time; same query, also unanswerable. The plot thickens deliciously: Krosac finds Brad’s note which tells him for the first time that he has made a mistake in the introductory murder, that Van is still alive. But where is Van? Must be found, says Krosac to himself, or my vengeance is incomplete. Curtain on second act — very melodramatic... Megara returns; Krosac knows he will; enter the sole possessor, according to the note, of the secret of Van’s new identity and present whereabouts... Time out. Delay. And then... By God,” said Ellery.
Professor Yardley stiffened, scarcely breathing. All the signs pointed to the apprehension of the fugitive. Ellery was rooted to the floor, glaring at his host with the ferocious light of discovery in his eyes.
“By God,” shouted Ellery, leaping two feet into Professor Yardley’s humid air, “what a fool I’ve been! What an idiot, what an imbecile, moron, mental defective! I’ve got it!”
“It always works,” grinned the Professor, relaxing. “What — Here, my boy; what’s the matter?”
He paused in alarm. A remarkable change had come over Ellery’s exulting face. His jaw dropped, his eyes clouded, and he winced as people do sometimes at the purely imaginary shock of a fancied blow.
The expression came, and went. Ellery’s jaw was outlined on his smooth brown cheek. “Listen,” he said rapidly. “I haven’t time for anything but the sketchiest analysis. What were we waiting for? What was Krosac waiting for? We were waiting for Krosac to attempt to discover through Megara, the only source of information, where Van is. Krosac was waiting to make this discovery. And then he killed Megara. It can mean only one thing!”
“He found out,” cried Yardley, the gravity of the thought causing his deep voice to crack. “My God, Queen, what fools, what blind fools we’ve been! It may be too late already!”
Ellery wasted no time in reply. He sprang to the telephone. “Western Union... Take a telegram. Fast. Addressed to Constable Luden, Arroyo, West Virginia... Yes. Message: ‘Form posse immediately and go to hut of Old Pete. Protect Old Pete until my arrival. Notify Crumit Krosac returning. If anything has happened by time you reach hut pick up Krosac trail but leave scene of crime intact.’ Sign it Ellery Queen. Repeat, please... Krosac — K-r-o-s-a-c. Right... Thanks.”
He flung the instrument from him, then changed his mind and picked it up again. He put in a call to Bradwood, across the road, asking for Inspector Vaughn. Vaughn, he discovered from Stallings, had left Bradwood hurriedly not long before. Ellery dismissed Stallings peremptorily and asked for one of Vaughn’s men. Where was Inspector Vaughn? The man on the other end of the wire was sorry, but he had no idea. The Inspector had received a message, and he and District Attorney Isham had immediately commandeered a car and dashed away.