rare historic object.
“Well,” continued Inspector Vaughn, “he took hold of himself and ran back to the house. Usual stuff—roused the household. Nobody touched anything. Lincoln, who’s a nervous but levelheaded fellow, took charge until we came.”
“And who is Lincoln?” asked Ellery pleasantly.
“General Manager of Brad’s business. Brad & Megara, you know,” explained Isham, “the big rug importers. Lincoln lives here. Brad liked him a lot, I understand.”
“An embryonic rug magnate, eh? And Megara—does he live here, too?”
Isham shrugged. “When he’s not traveling. He’s off on a cruise somewhere; he’s been away for months. Brad was the active partner.”
“I take it, then, that Mr. Megara, the traveler, was responsible for the totem pole—or post, in deference to the Professor. Not that it matters.”
A cold little man sauntered up the path toward them, carrying a black bag.
“Here’s Doc Rumsen,” said Isham with a sigh of relief. “Medical Examiner of Nassau County. Hi, Doc, take a look at this!”
“I’m looking,” said Dr. Rumsen in a nasty tone. “What is this—the Chicago stockyards?”
Ellery scrutinized the body. It seemed very stiff. Dr. Rumsen looked up at it professionally, sniffed, and said: “Well, get it down, get it down. Do you expect me to climb the pole and examine it up there?”
Inspector Vaughn motioned to two detectives, and they jumped forward unclasping knives. One of them disappeared in the summerhouse, returning a moment later with a rustic chair. He placed it beside the totem post, climbed to the seat, and raised his knife.
“Want me to cut it, Chief?” he asked before bringing the blade down on the lashings of the right arm. “Maybe you’d rather have the rope in one piece. I think I can untie the knot.”
“You cut it,” said the Inspector sharply. “I want to take a look at that knot. Might be a clue there.”
Others came forward, and the depressing business of taking the body down was accomplished in silence.
“By the way,” remarked Ellery, as they stood about watching the proceedings, “how did the murderer manage to get the body up there, and then lash the wrist to the wings nine feet above ground?”
“The same way the detective’s doing it now,” replied the District Attorney dryly. “We found a blood-stained chair, like the one he’s using, in the summerhouse. Either there were two of ’em, or the fellow who pulled this job was a husky. Must have been quite a job heaving a dead body up to that position, even with a chair.”
“You found the chair where?” asked Ellery thoughtfully. “In the summerhouse?”
“Yes. He must have put it back there after he was through with it. There are plenty of other things in the summerhouse, Mr. Queen, that’ll bear looking into.”
“There’s something else that might interest you,” said Inspector Vaughn, as the body was finally freed from its lashings and deposited on the grass. “This.”
He took a small circular red object from his pocket and handed it to Ellery. It was a red wooden checker.
“Hmm,” said Ellery. “Prosaic enough. Where did you find this, Inspector?”
“In the gravel of the clearing here,” replied Vaughn. “A few feet from the right side of the pole.”
“What makes you think it’s important?” Ellery turned the piece over in his fingers.
Vaughn smiled. This is the way we found it. It hasn’t lain here very long, for one thing, as you can see by its condition. And on that clean gray gravel a red object would stand out like a sore thumb. These grounds are gone over by Fox with a finecomb each day; it’s not likely, then, that it was here in the daytime—Fox says it wasn’t, anyway. I’d say offhand that it has something to do with the events of last night; in the darkness it wouldn’t be seen.”
“Excellent, Inspector!” smiled Ellery. “A man after my own heart.” He returned the checker just as Dr. Rumsen ripped out a
“Well,” continued Inspector Vaughn, “he took hold of himself and ran back to the house. Usual stuff—roused the household. Nobody touched anything. Lincoln, who’s a nervous but levelheaded fellow, took charge until we came.”
“And who is Lincoln?” asked Ellery pleasantly.
“General Manager of Brad’s business. Brad & Megara, you know,” explained Isham, “the big rug importers. Lincoln lives here. Brad liked him a lot, I understand.”
“An embryonic rug magnate, eh? And Megara—does he live here, too?”
Isham shrugged. “When he’s not traveling. He’s off on a cruise somewhere; he’s been away for months. Brad was the active partner.”
“I take it, then, that Mr. Megara, the traveler, was responsible for the totem pole—or post, in deference to the Professor. Not that it matters.”
A cold little man sauntered up the path toward them, carrying a black bag.
“Here’s Doc Rumsen,” said Isham with a sigh of relief. “Medical Examiner of Nassau County. Hi, Doc, take a look at this!”
“I’m looking,” said Dr. Rumsen in a nasty tone. “What is this—the Chicago stockyards?”
Ellery scrutinized the body. It seemed very stiff. Dr. Rumsen looked up at it professionally, sniffed, and said: “Well, get it down, get it down. Do you expect me to climb the pole and examine it up there?”
Inspector Vaughn motioned to two detectives, and they jumped forward unclasping knives. One of them disappeared in the summerhouse, returning a moment later with a rustic chair. He placed it beside the totem post, climbed to the seat, and raised his knife.
“Want me to cut it, Chief?” he asked before bringing the blade down on the lashings of the right arm. “Maybe you’d rather have the rope in one piece. I think I can untie the knot.”
“You cut it,” said the Inspector sharply. “I want to take a look at that knot. Might be a clue there.”
Others came forward, and the depressing business of taking the body down was accomplished in silence.
“By the way,” remarked Ellery, as they stood about watching the proceedings, “how did the murderer manage to get the body up there, and then lash the wrist to the wings nine feet above ground?”
“The same way the detective’s doing it now,” replied the District Attorney dryly. “We found a blood-stained chair, like the one he’s using, in the summerhouse. Either there were two of ’em, or the fellow who pulled this job was a husky. Must have been quite a job heaving a dead body up to that position, even with a chair.”
“You found the chair where?” asked Ellery thoughtfully. “In the summerhouse?”
“Yes. He must have put it back there after he was through with it. There are plenty of other things in the summerhouse, Mr. Queen, that’ll bear looking into.”
“There’s something else that might interest you,” said Inspector Vaughn, as the body was finally freed from its lashings and deposited on the grass. “This.”
He took a small circular red object from his pocket and handed it to Ellery. It was a red wooden checker.
“Hmm,” said Ellery. “Prosaic enough. Where did you find this, Inspector?”
“In the gravel of the clearing here,” replied Vaughn. “A few feet from the right side of the pole.”
“What makes you think it’s important?” Ellery turned the piece over in his fingers.
Vaughn smiled. This is the way we found it. It hasn’t lain here very long, for one thing, as you can see by its condition. And on that clean gray gravel a red object would stand out like a sore thumb. These grounds are gone over by Fox with a finecomb each day; it’s not likely, then, that it was here in the daytime—Fox says it wasn’t, anyway. I’d say offhand that it has something to do with the events of last night; in the darkness it wouldn’t be seen.”
“Excellent, Inspector!” smiled Ellery. “A man after my own heart.” He returned the checker just as Dr. Rumsen ripped out a
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