Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 12, No. 59, November 1948
The Green-and-Gold String
by Philip MacDonald
Early in October 1947, about two weeks before EQMM’S Third Annual Contest closed, your Editor received the following note from Philip MacDonald: “I have a contest story coming up which I think you’re going to like. I actually believe I have done the near-impossible — created a really new detective and a new technique.” Well, you can imagine the anticipation which began to boil and bubble in your Editor’s mind! A new type of detective and a new technical approach from a writer of such outstanding accomplishment as Philip MacDonald, who in the opinion of most critics has already produced two of the mightiest classics in the genre! We wrote to Mr. MacDonald, telling him how eagerly we looked forward to his manuscript, and waited — biting our nails. And on the final day of the contest the story arrived — the first recorded adventure of the esoteric Doctor Alcazar. Aficionados, there are thrills in this bloodhound business entirely apart from those to be found in the stories themselves — the suspense of observing a mailman fish a large manila envelope out of his bag, the excitement of reading an important and long expected manuscript — the feeling, on first looking into a writer’s dream, of some watcher of the skies when a new planet swims into his ken... and the wild surprise that comes, silent, upon a peek into daring...
Philip MacDonald wrote “The Green-and-Gold String” because Cortez-like he too recognizes the necessity of exploring, of discovering new horizons for the detective story. As Mr. MacDonald remarked in a later communication, the search for new basic forms “is quite a problem.” Mr. MacDonald believes that the character of Doctor Alcazar might be one solution, because this clairvoyant extraordinary, this Olympian-browed charlatan, blends completely those two perennial favorites — the deductive sleuth and the debonair rogue; because Doctor Alcazar is, in effect, Sherlock Holmes and Arsène Lupin crammed simultaneously into the same pair of pants. He isn’t merely a rogue who happens once to be a detective; or a rogue who reforms, giving up thieving for sleuthing. He isn’t at one time a red-handed criminal and at another time a righteous manhunter. In Doctor Alcazar the two sides of the law, for and against, are fused in one and the same character: Doctor Alcazar can’t detect without being a crook, and he can’t be a crook without detecting.
Mr. MacDonald’s got something; but the hybridization of good and evil, producing the scoundrel-sleuth, the felonious-ferret, is not an altogether new idea. True, malefactors like Melville Davisson Post’s Randolph Mason, Edgar Wallace’s Four Just Men, James B. Hendryx’s Black John Smith, and Leslie Charteris’s The Saint have had a go at both straight detection and detection in reverse, though not usually as a combined operation. But in “The Red Silk Scarf” the great Arsène detected with criminal intent, and in “The Stickpin” Antonio Helú’s Máximo Roldán duplicated Lupin’s double-dealing with almost comparable finesse and éclat. Yes, it has been done — but not so frequently, we admit, as to invalidate Mr. MacDonald’s theory. Nor should the fact that a phoney seer has already left his mark in ’tec history discourage Mr. MacDonald from pursuing his near-innovation: Gelett Burgess’s Astro was Alcazar’s spiritual forefather — Astro who also pretended to be a crystal-gazer, whose jeweled turban, flowing robes, silver-mounted water-pipe, and pet white lizard make Alcazar’s props seem almost prosaic.
Now, meet Alcazar, the ratiocinative rogue. The very letters of his name, although Mr. MacDonald did not intend them to, tell us what manner of man he is. A stands for Astro, his mind-reading ancestor; l is for Lupin, who blazed the double trail; c is undoubtedly for Cleek, who also burned the criminological candle from both ends — for Gleek wasfirst the Vanishing Cracksman and then the Manhunter of Forty Faces; a is for a touch of Abû Tabâh, but an even greater helping of the Adjusters; z is a little of Zadig, a little more of Zambra, and a lot of Zaleski; a is for Ainsley, the gentleman crook; and r is for one part Raffles, one part Roldán, and a large dash of Rénine. Yes, there is a little bit of many blackguards and bloodhounds in Alcazar, but unlike the mathematical dictum, the whole is far greater than the sum of its parts — for there is always that part of Alcazar which is Alcazar — and Alcazar alone.
The banner hung over the entrance of a small, square tent of pitch-black canvas, which was sandwiched between a shooting gallery and the beflagged pitch of the. Weight-Guesser. The banner read, “DOCTOR ALCAZAR, Clairvoyam Extraordynary — What Does the Future Hold For YOU? General Reading — 50¢ Special Delineation — $1.00.”
All down the midway the lights blazed, and the evening air was heavy with the odd, distinctive odor which comes from the blending of humanity and peanuts, popcorn and circus.
In the doorway of the small black tent, Doctor Alcazar — who had no right to the name and less to the title — was receiving his second client of the past twenty-four hours.
Doctor Alcazar was tall and graceful and lean. His face was of extraordinary pallor, his dark eyes large and lustrous and glowing. His black, well-tended hair, impressively gray at the temples, surmounted an Olympian brow and he wore, over evening clothes and a pleated shirt in whose faintly yellowish bosom sparkled an enormous ruby-red stud, a long black cloak which hung gracefully from his wide shoulders.
“Good evening, madame,” said Doctor Alcazar in his rich and flexible voice. “You wish to consult me?”
He loomed over his visitor as he bowed, and his lustrous eyes took in every detail of her from head to foot.
Thirty-fivish. Doesn’t look American. Expensive suit, hardly worn. Too tight. Too short. Not hers.
The woman was very nervous. She twisted her bag around in her hands and looked up at Doctor Alcazar.
She said, “Ow, well — maybe I do...”
Aha! British. Cockney. But lived some time in U. S. — hence “maybe” not “p’raps”.
“Then step this way,” said Doctor Alcazar, and having ushered his client into the tent, let fall the canvas doorway, upon the outside of which large white letters announced, IN CONSULTATION.
It was dark inside the tent, which was hung with dusty black draperies, but a nimbus of soft, orange-colored light came from a lamp over the table and chairs which were the only furnishings.
Doctor Alcazar seated his client at one side of the table, placing her chair with courtly precision. Throwing back his cloak, he then took the other chair to face her.
“And now, madame,” said Doctor Alcazar, “do you wish a General Reading? Or — as I myself would recommend in your case — a Special Delineation?”
His visitor’s nervousness seemed to be increasing. She sat on the edge of her chair (which disturbed Doctor Alcazar) and said:
“Well, now, I couldn’t hardly sye.” Her homely face was drawn and puckered with indecision. “Y’see, sir, it’s a private matter — and... and—” Words failed her, and her hands fluttered nervously — to her hat, to her hair, to the cheap brooch at the throat of the ultra-expensive but over-tight blouse.
H’mm. Seamstress’ fingers. “Sir.” Possible housekeeper. More likely lady’s maid.
“Madame,” said Doctor Alcazar, “anything you tell me — anything I may discern about you — is in. the highest degree confidential.” He leaned forward, fixing his compelling gaze upon her. “May I first suggest that you relax, madame. Any undue tension or nervousness disturbs and obfuscates your aura.”