"I'll be glad to do so," said Atwood politely. "The point had not occurred to me."
Drake said, "I think that's a crock of crud. The message refers to a curious omission in Alice. I think it means in Alice as it now stands and not in some outside source." "You can't know that," protested Halsted. "Yes, but that's the point," said Trumbull. "It seems to me that if we get the right answer, we'll know at once it's right, and if we work out something that only uncovers a new layer of puzzle, that's just wrong."
Avalon said, "Well, nothing more occurs to me. Do we ask Henry?"
Atwood looked puzzled, and Avalon went on, "You have to understand, Mr. Atwood, that Henry, whose pleasure it seems to be to wait on us, has the faculty for seeing past complications."
Gonzalo said, "That's what I tried to do and you all ran me down… Henry, isn't the answer in the full title of the book?"
Henry smiled regretfully and said, "Gentlemen, you must not put more on my shoulders than I can carry. I do not know the book very well, though I've read it, of course. If I'm to penetrate the meaning of the puzzle, it will have to be very simple."
"If it were very simple," said Atwood, "we would have seen it."
"Perhaps," said Henry, "yet it seems to me it must be simple. Surely, your friend, Mr. Sanders, wanted you to have the bequest. He put it in a game, and made a contest out of it, because that was his way, but he must have wanted you to win."
Atwood nodded. "I would think so." "Then let's look for something very simple he felt you would surely see, but just subtle enough, perhaps, to make the game interesting. As I said, I don't know the book very well, so I'll have to ask questions."
"Very well, sir. Mr. Trumbull said Alice in Wonderland involved a deck of cards, and I do remember, from the Disney cartoon version more than from anything else, that the Queen of Hearts kept shouting 'Off with his head.' "
"Yes," said Avalon. "A female Henry VIII. The King of Hearts and the Knave of Hearts are also involved."
"Any other cards?"
"They're all mentioned," said Avalon. "The hearts are the royal family, the clubs are soldiers, the diamonds courtiers, the spades workmen. Three of the spades have speaking parts, the two, the five, and the nine… Do you agree with me, Atwood?"
"Yes," said Atwood grimly. "It's fresh in my mind."
Trumbull said, "1 suspect Henry is going to ask if any of the cards were omitted. Only a few are mentioned specifically-"
"The six I listed," said Avalon. "The King, Queen, and Knave of Hearts; the two, five, and nine of spades."
"But so what?" said Trumbull. "As many as necessary were mentioned and the rest were there in the background. There's nothing 'curious' about that. I insist on respecting the word 'curious.' "
Henry nodded, then said, "Are you an Episcopalian, Mr. Atwood?"
"I was brought up an Episcopalian. Why do you ask?"
"You said Mr. Sanders teased you about your high-church proclivities and you said you were a Protestant. Putting those together, I felt you might be an Episcopalian… Do you have a chess set, Mr. Atwood?"
"Certainly!"
"Yours? Or was it a present from Mr. Sanders?"
"Oh, no, mine. A rather beautiful set that belonged to my father. Sanders and I played many a game on it."
Henry nodded. "I ask because it seems to me that we've all discussed Alice in Wonderland without mentioning that there was a sequel."
"Through the Looking-Glass," said Avalon. "Yes, of course."
"Might that not be considered as included in the word Alice?"
Avalon nodded. "Certainly. As it happens, the full title is Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There, so it surely bears as much right to be referred to as Alice as the other does."
"And isn't Through the Looking-Glass about chessmen?"
"Absolutely," said Avalon benevolently, his role as recognized expert having completely restored his good humor. "The Red and White Queens are important characters. The White King has a speaking role but the Red King just sleeps under a tree." "And there are knights, too?"
Avalon nodded. "The White Knight has a battle with the Red Knight and then escorts Alice to the final square. He's the most amiable character in either book and the only one who seems to like Alice, He's usually considered a serf-portrait by Carroll."
"Yes, yes," said Trumbull testily. "What are you getting at, Henry?"
"I'm looking for omissions. There is a reference to a white pawn at the start of the book, I think."
Avalon said, "I don't think you're as unknowledgeable about the books as you pretend, Henry. There is a mention of a white pawn named Lily in the first chapter. Alice herself plays the part of a white pawn, too, and is eventually promoted to a white queen."
"And rooks?" said Henry. Avalon frowned in silence for a while, then shook his head.
Atwood interposed. "There's a reference to them. Take my word for it; I know the stupid books practically by heart. In Chapter 1, Alice enters the Looking-Glass house, sees chessmen moving about, and says to herself, 'and here are two Castles walking arm in arm.' The castles, of course, are also called rooks.
Henry said, "That accounts, then, for the King, Queen, Rook, Knight, and Pawn. But there is a sixth chesspiece, the Bishop. Does it play a role in the book or is it even mentioned?"
Avalon said, "No."
Atwood said, "Two bishops are shown in one of the illustrations to the first chapter."
"That's Tenniel's work," said Henry, "not Carroll's. Now isn't the total absence of the Bishop a curious omission?"
"I don't know," said Avalon slowly. "Lewis Carroll, a thorough-going Victorian, probably feared giving offense to the Church."
"Isn't it curious to have him go so far in avoiding offense?"
"Well, supposing it is?" asked Halsted.
Henry said, "I think it possible that if Mr. Atwood checks the four bishops of his set, a set which Mr. Sanders knew Mr. Atwood cherished and would neither sell, give away, or lose, he will probably find the piece of film. If the head comes off, he should look inside. If the head doesn't come off, pull off the piece of felt it stands on."
There was an uncomfortable silence. "That's farfetched, Henry," said Trumbull.
"Perhaps not, sir," said Henry. "Mr. Sanders has more than once been described as having a raucous sense of humor. He teased Mr. Atwood constantly about his religion. Perhaps this final message is another way of continuing the joke. You are an Episcopalian, Mr. Atwood, and I suppose you know what the word means."
"It's from the Greek word for bishop," said Atwood, half choking.
"I imagine, then," said Henry, "Mr. Sanders might think it funny to hide the message in a bishop."
Atwood started to his feet. "I think I had better go home."
"I'll take you," said Halsted.
"I think the snow has stopped," said Henry, "but drive carefully."
This, in a way, is a twice-told tale.
At a time before I had begun the Black Widowers series, I was asked by Union Carbide Corporation to write a short mystery without a solution for a contest they were running for their employees, who were to supply solutions, with myself making the final judgment on excellence.
Well, I wrote the short mystery, which was rather like the story you have just read. The contest was carried through successfully (two other writers also supplied short mysteries) and all was well.
However, I was made restless by the fact that the short mystery I wrote was never published-except on the book jacket of an edition of The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes which was given out to the contest applicants. That seemed a waste to me, and I abhor literary waste. It was especially annoying since the story appeared without my solution.