“You’d put her hard a-port, I suppose?” murmured Ellery.
“Mr. Queen! You obviously didn’t mean us to search the entire Hudson River. Consequently it’s a more restricted body of water you had in mind.” She sprang off the veranda.
“The pool!” cried Lieutenant Fiske, scrambling after her.
“Remarkable woman, your daughter, sir,” said Ellery, following the pair with his eyes. “I’m beginning to think Dick Fiske is an extraordinarily fortunate young man.”
“Mother’s brain,” said the General, beaming suddenly. “B’gad, I am interested.” He waddled rapidly off the porch.
They found Leonie complacently deflating a large rubber fish which was still dripping from its immersion in the pool.
“Here it is,” she said. “Come on, Dick, pay attention. Not now, silly! Mr. Queen’s looking. What’s this? ‘Then it should swim in butter.’ Butter, butter... Pantry, of course!” And she was off like the wind.
Ellery replaced the note in the rubber fish, inflated it, stoppered the hole, and tossed the thing back into the pool.
“The others will be here soon enough. There they are! I think they’ve caught on already. Come along, General.”
Leonie was on her knees in the pantry, before the huge refrigerator, digging a scrap of paper out of a butter-tub. “Goo,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “Did you have to use butter? Read it, Dick. I’m filthy.”
Lieutenant Fiske declaimed: “ ‘And at last, sirrah, it should swim in good claret.’ ”
“Mr. Queen! I’m ashamed of you. This is too easy.”
“It gets harder,” said Ellery dryly, “as it goes along.” He watched the young couple dash through the doorway to the cellar, and then replaced the note in the tub. As he and the General closed the cellar-door behind them, they heard the clatter of Mrs. Nixon’s feet in the pantry.
“Damned if Leonie hasn’t forgotten all about that necklace of hers,” muttered the General as they watched from the stairs. “Just like a woman!”
“I doubt very much if she has,” murmured Ellery.
“Whee!” cried Leonie. “Here it is... What’s this, Mr. Queen — Shakespeare?” She had pried a note from between two dusty bottles in the wine-cellar and was frowning over it.
“What’s it say, Leonie?” asked Lieutenant Fiske.
“ ‘Under the. greenwood tree’... Greenwood tree.” She replaced the note slowly. “It is getting harder. Have we any greenwood trees, father?”
The General said wearily: “Blessed if I know. Never heard of ’em. You, Richard?” The Lieutenant looked dubious.
“All I know about the greenwood tree,” frowned Leonie, “is that it’s something in As You Like It and a novel by Thomas Hardy. But—”
“Come on, Tarzan!” shrieked Mrs. Nixon from above them. “They’re still here. Out of the way, you two men! No fair setting up hazards.”
Leonie scowled. Mrs. Nixon came flying down the cellar stairs followed by Harkness, who was still grinning, and snatched the note from the shelf. Her face fell. “Greek to me.”
“Let me see it.” Harkness scanned the note, and laughed aloud. “Good boy, Queen,” he chuckled. “Chlorosplenium aruginosum. You need a little botany in jungle work. I’ve seen that tree any number of times on the estate.” He bounded up the stairs, grinned once more at Ellery and Major-General Barrett, and vanished.
“Damn!” said Leonie, and she led the charge after Harkness.
When they came up with him, the big man was leaning against the bark of an ancient and enormous shade-tree, reading a scrap of paper. The bole of the tree was a vivid green which looked fungoid in origin.
“Green wood!” exclaimed Mrs. Nixon. “That was clever, Mr. Queen.”
Leonie looked chagrined. “A man would take the honors. I’d never have thought it of you, Mr. Harkness. What’s in the note?”
Harkness read aloud: “ ‘And... seeks that which he lately threw away... ’ ”
“Which who lately threw away?” complained the Lieutenant. “That’s ambiguous.”
“Obviously,” said Harkness, “the pronoun couldn’t refer to the finder of the note. Queen couldn’t possibly have known who would track it down. Consequently... Of course!” And he sped off in the direction of the house, thumbing his nose.
“I don’t like that man,” said Leonie. “Dickie, haven’t you any brains at all? And now we have to follow him again. I think you’re mean, Mr. Queen.”
“I leave it to you, General,” said Ellery. “Did I want to play games?” But they were all streaming after Harkness, and Mrs. Nixon was in the van, her red hair flowing behind her like a pennon.
Ellery reached the veranda, the General puffing behind him, to find Harkness holding something aloft out of reach of Mrs. Nixon’s clutching fingers. “No, you don’t. To the victor—”
“But how did you know, you nasty man?” cried Leonie.
Harkness lowered his arm; he was holding a half-consumed cigaret. “Stood to reason. The quotation had to refer to Queen himself. And the only thing I’d seen him ‘lately’ throw away was this cigaret-butt just before we started.” He took the cigaret apart; imbedded in the tobacco near the tip there was a tiny twist of paper. He smoothed it out and read its message.
Then he read it again, slowly.
“Well, for pity’s sake!” snapped Mrs. Nixon. “Don’t be a pig, Tarzan. If you don’t know the answer, give the rest of us a chance.” She snatched the paper from him and read it. “ ‘Seeking... even in the cannon’s mouth.’ ”
“Cannon’s mouth?” panted the General. “Why—”
“Why, that’s pie!” giggled the red-haired woman, and ran.
She was seated defensively astride the sunset gun overlooking the river when they reached her. “This is a fine how-d’ye-do,” she complained. “Cannon’s mouth! How the deuce can you look into the cannon’s mouth when the cannon’s mouth is situated in thin air seventy-five feet over the Hudson River? Pull this foul thing back a bit, Lieutenant!”
Leonie was helpless with laughter. “You idiot! How do you think Magruder loads this gun — through the muzzle? There’s a chamber in the back.”
Lieutenant Fiske did something expertly to the mechanism at the rear of the sunset gun, and in a twinkling had swung back the safe-like little door of the breech-block and revealed a round orifice. He thrust his hand in, and his jaw dropped. “It’s the treasure!” he shouted. “By George, Dorothy, you’ve won!”
Mrs. Nixon slid off the cannon, gurgling: “Gimme, gimme!” like an excited gamine. She bumped him rudely aside and pulled out a wad of oily cotton batting.
“What is it?” cried Leonie, crowding in.
“I... Why, Leonie, you darling!” Mrs. Nixon’s face fell. “I knew it was too good to be true. Treasure! I should say so.”
“My pearls!” screamed Leonie. She snatched the rope of snowy gems from Mrs. Nixon, hugging them to her bosom; and then she turned to Ellery with the oddest look of inquiry.
“Well, I’ll be... be blasted,” said the General feebly. “Did you take ’em, Queen?”
“Not exactly,” said Ellery. “Stand still, please. That means everybody. We have Mrs. Nixon and Mr. Harkness possibly at a disadvantage. You see, Miss Barrett’s pearls were stolen this morning.”
“Stolen?” Harkness lifted an eyebrow.
“Stolen!” gasped Mrs. Nixon. “So that’s why—”