“Yes! Yes!”
“It didn’t kill Karen Leith.”
Terry Ring drawled in the very special silence: “Well, what do you know about that.”
“You wouldn’t kid an old man, would you, Sam?” asked the Inspector, trying to smile.
“I’m telling you,” said Prouty impatiently. “Listen, I’ve got to be back at the Morgue in twenty minutes and I can’t stand here gassing. But after that first autopsy report of ours on Tuesday, I guess I owe you an explanation.”
“I guess you do,” growled the old man.
Terry Ring went over to Dr. Prouty and pumped his limp hand. “The Marines have landed!” Then he went to Eva and led her, chuckling, to the settee. “Sit down, kid. This is your show now.”
Bewildered, Eva sat down. She had never felt more alert in her life; it had something to do, she knew vaguely, with the adrenal glands; and yet nothing made sense. The half-scissors... the fingerprints...
“My fault,” said Prouty. “I was busy and left the autopsy to — well, never mind. He’s a youngster and hasn’t had much experience. Besides, I thought it was merest routine. There didn’t seem to be any doubt about the agency of death.”
Ellery ran over to him and gripped his lapel. “Prouty, stop babbling before I throttle you! If the half-scissors didn’t kill her, what did?”
“A different... If you’ll give me a chance—”
Ellery smacked his father’s desk. “Don’t tell me the knife-wound was inflicted over a first wound, a smaller wound — to obliterate it!”
The black jaw, which needed a shave badly, dropped.
“Lord! I never dreamed... Is there any way of telling, Prouty? Is the venom recognizable?”
“Venom?” repeated Dr. Prouty dazedly.
“It was just yesterday. I’d been thinking over the case — its curious angles. I got to thinking about Kinumé.” Ellery was exultant. “And then I remembered Karen Leith’s remarking in the spring that the old Japanese woman came from the Loo-choo Islands. I promptly referred to Britannica and found — pure hunch, mind you! — that a majority of the islands, especially a place called Amami-Oshima, are infested with a genus of venomous reptile called habu.”
“Ha... what?” said Prouty, goggling at him.
“Trimeresurus — I hope I’ve remembered it correctly. No rattle, scaly head, attain a length of six to seven feet, and their bite causes quick death.” Ellery drew a deep breath. “It was the marks of fangs underneath, Prouty?”
Prouty took the dangling cigar out of his mouth. “What’s the matter with him, Q. — is he crazy?”
Ellery’s smile vanished. “You mean it wasn’t a snake?”
“No!”
“But I thought—” began Ellery feebly.
“And who said anything about the knife-wound obliterating another, smaller wound underneath?”
“But when I asked you—”
Prouty threw up his hands. “Look, Q. Put in a call to Matteawan, and then bring out that half-scissors.”
The Inspector took the batting-wrapped half-scissors from his drawer. Prouty unwrapped it. “Hmm. Then I was right.” He threw the thing on the desk and produced a small cardboard box from his pocket. There was a wad of wool inside, and nestling on the wool like a jewel was a small sliver of steel, sharply triangular in shape.
“Dug this out of her throat myself this afternoon. My assistant missed it Tuesday.” He handed the box over to the Inspector, and they crowded around.
“The tip of a scissors” blade,” said the old man slowly. “Snapped off by the blow. And the tip of this half” — he glanced over at the half-scissors on the desk — “is still intact.”
“Same kind of tip exactly, wouldn’t you say?” muttered Terry.
“What do you think, El?”
“No question about it. This sliver is the tip of the missing half-scissors.”
“Then you’re right, Sam,” said the old man gloomily. “This half of the scissors couldn’t have knifed her. It was the other half.”
“Okay, kid!” Terry ran over to Eva. “You sleep in your own bed to-night!”
“Found the other half?” asked Prouty, going to the door.
“No!”
“Well, all right, don’t bite my head off.” Prouty scratched his jaw. “Uh... Dr. MacClure. I don’t want you to think this sort of bungling is usual with our office. Green hand. You know—”
Dr. MacClure waved an absent hand. “By the way,” said Ellery, “what else did you find, Prouty? I didn’t see the report.”
“Oh, nothing much. A coronary thrombosis — did you know that, Doctor? I believe you were her physician.”
“Suspected it,” muttered the doctor.
“Coronary thrombosis?” repeated Ellery. “I thought that was a form of heart disease exclusive with men.”
“It’s commoner in men,” said Prouty, “but plenty of women have it. Karen Leith had a nice thrombus. That’s why she died so quickly.”
“Quickly? She lingered for at least fifteen minutes.”
“Ordinarily with a throat wound they’ll live for hours. Bleed to death, and that takes time. But with a weak pump they’ll die in a matter of minutes sometimes.”
“Anything else?”
“Nothing interesting. Anaemia — weak stomach. But that’s about all. After my young man’s boner I did a thorough autopsy myself... Look here, I’ve got to be going. “Bye, Doctor.” And Prouty disappeared.
“I never told Karen about the thrombosis,” sighed Dr. MacClure. “It would only have worried her, and it wasn’t a serious condition. The life she led — no exertion or excitement, plenty of care — she could have lived for many years without danger.”
“She struck me,” said Ellery, “as something of a hypochondriac.”
“Never had another physician — ideal patient,” said the doctor grimly. “Followed my instructions and advice to the letter. I suppose she thought she had a lot to live for.” He sounded bitter.
“By the way, what sort of married life did she contemplate? I’m curious, because I don’t see how she intended to keep up the deception about her sister Esther afterward.”
“She wanted a ‘modern’ marriage. Separate establishments, separate careers, she was to keep her own name — all the rest of it. At the time it sounded like a Lucy Stoner’s whim. But now—” Dr. MacClure scowled — “now I see why. It would have enabled her to continue the deception.” He exploded suddenly. “It’s damnable how a woman can fool a man!”
Or a man, thought Eva, a woman. She said quietly: “I think you can go back to your office now, Dick. There’s no more danger for to-day — is there, Inspector?”
The Inspector picked up the warrant and slowly tore it in half. “Sorry,” he said. But he did not sound sorry. He sounded angry.
“Then I think,” said Dr. Scott with difficulty, “I think I’ll go, Eva... I’ll call you to-night.”
“Yes,” said Eva, and when he made as if to stoop and kiss her again, she turned her face away. He straightened up, smiling a little foolishly; he was white around the lips. Then he left without a word.
“You people might as well go, too,” said the Inspector. “Or no. Wait a minute. You didn’t happen to see the other half of those scissors around anywhere Monday afternoon, did you, Miss MacClure?”
“No, Inspector.” Eva scarcely heard him. The two-carat square-cut diamond on the fourth finger of her left hand burned.
“How about you, Mr. Ring?”
“Me?” said Terry. “Not me.”
“It couldn’t have been in one of your pockets, now, could it, when I let you go Monday?” asked the old man bitterly. “Teach me never to—” But he did not finish.