“Funny,” he said. “Very funny.” He weighed the club thoughtfully, glancing over at the pile of débris.
“What is it? What’s the matter now?” asked Val, waking from her trance.
“This Indian club. Indian clubs come in pairs, weighed and matched. Why on earth should you have taken along the mate to this, when this cracked one was left behind?”
“The mate?” Val wrinkled her forehead. “But we didn’t. We left them both here in the closed closet.”
“Really?” said Ellery dryly. “Well, one of them is gone.”
Val stared, then shrugged. Ellery replaced the cracked club in the rack and, frowning, shut the closet-door.
“And another thing,” said Val, as they returned to the terrace. “Whoever it was who watched, it was somebody with only two fingers on his left hand — a two-fingered man! That is a left-hand marking, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Two fingers!”
Ellery smiled the same faint smile. “By the way, I think you’d better telephone police headquarters.”
“What for?”
“To tell them about this table. Shocking neglect on the part of Glücke — not examining your old house!”
“Why, the binoculars are gone!” cried Val.
“Only as far as my pocket. I’d put the table in there, too, only it won’t fit comfortably. Call Glücke. He ought to send a fingerprint man down here right away on the off-chance that some prints are left.”
They went quietly back to the Spaeth house and Ellery sat down on the terrace again while Val tiptoed into the study to telephone. He heard her get her connection and ask for Inspector Glücke, but he was not listening too closely. Those marks...
He jumped at a choking sound from the study. He ran in and found Val staring at the telephone, her face a pale, pale gray.
“All right,” she said weakly. “I’ll be right down,” and she replaced the instrument on its base with a thud, as if it were too heavy for her.
“What’s the matter? What’s happened?”
“It’s Walter. Walter,” said Val. It was always Walter. Whenever anything happened, it was Walter. “You know — I told you about — him. The one who ran into Ruhig’s office—”
“Well, well?”
“Inspector Glücke just told me...” She shivered suddenly and drew her coat more closely about her. “He says Walter has cleared my father. Walter’s — cleared — pop!”
She began to giggle.
Ellery shook her violently. “None of that! What do you mean — cleared your father?”
Val giggled and giggled. It became a laugh, and then a shout, and finally it choked up and turned into a whisper. “He — just — confessed to Glücke that — he was the one — who wore my father’s coat Monday afternoon... that he was the one — Frank saw... Oh, Walter!”
And she buried her face in her hands.
Ellery pulled her hands way. “Come on,” he said gruffly.
Part Four
XIV
Storm over Glücke
Val looked so preoccupied that Ellery took the wheel of her sedan. She sat still, staring ahead. He could not decide whether she was frozen with stupefaction or shocked stiff by the high voltage of some more personal emotion. Her body did not sag even while the sedan squealed around corners. As for Pink, having heard the news, he kept his mouth open all the way downtown.
Inside police headquarters Val broke into a trot. And in the anteroom to Inspector Glücke’s office, while the police clerk spoke into his communicator, she pranced. When he nodded she flew to the Inspector’s door — and slowly opened it.
Walter sat with outstretched legs beside Glücke’s big desk, blowing smoke rings.
There were two others in the office — the Inspector and a thin whippy gentleman of indecipherable age who sat quietly in a corner grasping a stylish stick. Glücke looked grim and alert, as if he were set for some emergency; but the thin man was composed and his eyes had a cynical glitter.
“Hello,” grinned Walter. “Val to the rescue.”
“Oh, Walter,” said Val, and she went to him and put her hand on his shoulder in a proud, tender way.
“What is this,” said the Inspector dryly, “Old Home Week? What d’ye want, King?”
“So I’ve been reported by the demon sleuth team in the black sedan, curse it,” said Ellery. His name was King, was it?
“Take a powder, King. No reporters here.”
“It’s all right with me,” said Mr. King indifferently. “I was on my way to the office anyway with the dope I’ve turned up.”
“What’s that? What dope?”
“If you’d devote less time to playing follow-the-leader and more to examining Sans Souci you’d show a better homicide record. Come on, Pink, let’s amble.”
“Just a moment,” said the thin man with a smile. “I think we can manage this without ruffled feelings, Glücke.” He rose. “My name is Van Every. You say you’ve turned up something at Sans Souci?”
“Ah, the D.A.” They examined each other politely. “I do, but I’m not spilling till I find out what friend Spaeth’s been up to.”
Van Every glanced at Glücke, and Glücke growled: “Okay.” He drew his brows together. “Well, here she is, Spaeth.”
“Wait,” said Val quickly. “Walter, I want to—”
“It’s no use, Val.”
“Walter, please.”
Walter shook his head. “I told you, Inspector, on Monday night that I didn’t enter the Sans Souci grounds. That’s not true. I did enter. I had a key to the gate, and Frank was in his booth reading a paper, so I let myself in and walked up the drive—”
“And he spotted you from the back and thought you were Rhys Jardin because you were wearing Jardin’s torn coat. You’ve told me that already,” said Glücke impatiently. “Answer some questions. So you weren’t hit on the head as you got out of your car?”
“No. I was attacked after—”
“Walter!” Val put her palm over his mouth. He shook his head at her, but she kept her hand where it was. “Inspector, I want to talk to Mr. Spaeth.”
Walter removed her hand gently. “Let me clear this damned thing up, Val.”
“Walter, you zany! You darling idiot... I insist on speaking to Walter alone, Inspector.”
Glücke and the District Attorney exchanged glances, and Glücke waved his hand.
Val pulled Walter out of the chair and drew him off to a far corner. The Inspector’s large ears twitched as he leaned forward, and Pink looked from Walter and Valerie to the Inspector and back again with a confused but hopeful air. But the thin man and Ellery did not stir.
Val linked her arms about Walter’s neck, pressing her body close to him, her mouth an inch from his ear. Her back was toward them and they could not see her face; but they saw Walter’s. As she whispered, the lines of his face stretched and vanished, as if a hot iron had passed over wrinkled damp cloth.
Val stopped whispering, and for a moment she remained pressed to him. He turned his head and kissed her on the mouth.
They came forward side by side. “I want to see Rhys Jardin.” His voice was fresh and untroubled.
“Jardin?” The Inspector was astonished. “What for?”
“Never mind what for. I want to talk to him.”
“Quit stalling and go into your dance!”
“I don’t talk until I’ve seen Jardin.”