Two rusty revolvers, Colt .38s, nested in the box. On them lay a small squarish case that looked like gold.
“The dice,” said Mark Haggard, smiling. “Open it.”
“Hold the light higher,” Ellery said. His father craned over his shoulder.
Two crystalline red dice incised in gold sparkled up at them from a bed of purple velvet.
“They look like jewels,” exclaimed the Inspector.
“That’s what they are,” said Mark. “Square-cut rubies with pure gold dots inset. These dice are almost as old as the Christian era. Supposed to have been the personal property of the Roman emperor Caligula. We gave them to Pop for his gambling collection.”
“This inscription in the case?” Ellery squinted. “Hold the lantern up a bit, Mark... To Dad, from Mark, Malvina, and Tracy, on His Ruby Wedding Anniversary. In what way, Mark, were these dice a clue to—?”
But Haggard was gone in the arctic night of the hall.
The Inspector heard the sounds first. He reached across the abyss between their beds and touched Ellery on the shoulder. It was a little past three. Ellery awoke instantly.
“Ellery. Listen.”
It was still raining, jungle music by a thousand drums. The wind slammed a shutter somewhere. In the next room Nikki’s bedsprings complained as she turned desperately over.
Then Ellery heard a floorboard give way and in the same moment ghastly lightning made the bedroom spring alive. A man was standing at the highboy, his right hand reaching for the box Mark Haggard had brought to the room a few hours before. With the first crack of thunder Ellery jumped out of bed and hurled himself across the room. His shoulder hit the intruder below the knees and the man toppled with a cry, striking his head against the highboy.
Ellery sat on him.
“Tracy Haggard!” Inspector Queen leaned over them, trying to hold the beam of his flash steady. From the other room Nikki was wailing, “What was that? What happened?” Dr. Haggard was a small, neat, graying man with a clever face; when his eyes opened they were pale and rather glassy. “This is a fine way to meet again after all these years, Tracy,” growled the Inspector. “What’s the idea of playing sneak thief in your own house?”
“Mark’s box of clues, Dad,” murmured Ellery. “Apparently when Tracy Haggard got home, he learned that his brother had blabbed to us about the ten-year-old murder and left the clues in here. He’s tried to get them back and dispose of them before we can dig too deeply into the crime.”
“I don’t know why I didn’t destroy those guns and dice years ago,” said Dr. Tracy Haggard, calmly enough. “Ellery—you are Ellery, aren’t you? — would you mind removing the derrière from my alimentary canal? You’re not exactly a featherweight.”
“Then it’s true.” Ellery did not stir.
“And I attended Jim’s funeral and never suspected,” said Inspector Queen bitterly. “Tracy, which one of you shot your father? And for God’s sake, why?”
“I don’t know the answer to either question, Inspector. It’s been unholy hell... the four of us living together all these years, knowing one of us did it... It sent Mother to her grave.” Tracy Haggard tried to rise, failed, and hardened his stomach muscles. “I’m glad she’s dead and out of it. And I suppose you saw what it’s done to Malvina and Mark. Mark was always a little batty, but Malvina had a promising career in the theater when this happened and she cracked.”
“What’s going on in there?” shrieked Nikki.
“Dr. Haggard, your brother made no bones about the murder of your father,” said Ellery. “Does Mark want the truth to come out?”
“When Mother died,” said Tracy Haggard coolly, “the three of us split the income of a very large trust fund. By will, if there were only two of us, the income would be that much greater per individual. Mark is always broke—gambling mostly. Does that answer your question?”
“Won’t anybody talk?” howled Nikki. “I can’t come in there!”
“That’s why he asked us up here, is it?” snarled the Inspector. “To pin Jim’s death on you or Malvina. Mark must feel pretty safe...”
“We’re going to try to oblige your brother, Doctor.” Ellery got off his host and reached for the box of clues.
Dr. Haggard rose, tight-lipped. “In the middle of the night?”
“Dad, get a robe on and throw me mine... Why, yes, Doctor. Would you take us to the room where your father was shot to death?”
They trooped downstairs to the nervous accompaniment of the electric lantern, Ellery hugging the box, Nikki in a woolly robe and scuffs insisting that death would be instantaneous if she were to stay upstairs alone. Toward the rear of the main hall Tracy Haggard paused before a heavy door.
“Understandably, none of us ever goes in here. Nothing’s been touched since the night of the crime.” Dr. Haggard unlocked the door, threw it open, and stepped aside. “I might add,” he said dryly, “that neither Mark nor I has done any hunting since... at least with any of these weapons.”
The walls of the Gun Room flanking the one door were hung with racks of shotguns, rifles, and small arms. On the other walls were cases containing James Haggard’s gambling collection, and a great many larger gambling objects were grouped about the room. A thick coat of dust covered everything.
“Just where was your father’s body found?” Ellery murmured.
“Seated behind that desk.”
The desk was an elaborate production of inlaid woods, with gunstock-shaped legs and a sheathing of hammered gunmetal. A matching chair with a braided leather seat stood behind it.
“Was he facing this door, Dr. Haggard?”
“Squarely.”
“The only door, notice,” snapped Inspector Queen, “so the odds are the killer stood in the doorway when he fired the shot. Just one shot, Tracy?”
“Just one shot.”
Ellery opened Mark’s box and removed the two rusty revolvers. “I see the gunracks are numbered. In which rack, Doctor, were these .38s normally kept?”
“This one came from the rack immediately to the right of the door.”
“To the right of the door, Doctor? You’re positive?”
“Yes, this rack numbered 1. The other .38 was kept in the rack immediately to the left of the door. This one here, the rack numbered 6.”
“Gun Exhibit A, right of door, rack number 1. Gun Exhibit B, left of door, rack number 6.” Ellery frowned. “And it must have been done by one of those two guns, Mark said... These ruby dice, Doctor—what did they have to do with the murder?”
“Caligula’s dice? We found them in Dad’s hand.”
“In his hand?” exclaimed Nikki. “I didn’t really believe your brother when he said that—”
“My examination of his body indicated that he lingered a few minutes before dying. You’ll notice that one of the wall cases behind the chair is open and empty. That’s where the Emperor’s Dice, as Dad used to call them, were displayed. When the shooter left, Dad must have managed to reach up, open the case, and take out the ruby dice. Then he died.”
“But why would he do a thing like that?” asked Nikki.
“Dad had police training. He was leaving a clue to his killer’s identity. But we never could figure out whom the dice indicated. They’d been a gift from all three of us.”
“Seems like an awfully peculiar anniversary gift to one’s parents,” Nikki said coldly.
“The dice were for Dad. We gave Mother a ruby pendant.”
“Well, I don’t get it,” the Inspector said irritably. “Clues, ruby dice, emperors! Ellery, can you make anything out of this hash?”
“Let’s hope he won’t,” said Dr. Haggard. “I could kill Mark for this stunt...”