“Neither does this!”
Ellery shrugged. He fished in his pocket and produced a pocket-knife.
“What are you going to do, Ellery?”
“Go through the motions. What else can I do?” Ellery opened the knife to its sharpest blade and carefully nicked both sides of the lower case o in Judah Bendigo’s typewriter.
“What’s the point of that? We know they’re being typed on this machine.”
“Maybe they were all typed at the same time, long ago. If the o’s on the next note are undamaged, they were, and we’ll probably be at a dead end. But if they show these nicks, and if we can get a round-the-clock check on who enters this room...”
Ellery said to the captain of the guard, “Get Colonel Spring on the phone for me.”
The officer stiffened. “Yes, sir!”
The other guards stiffened, too.
“Colonel? This is Ellery Queen. I’m calling from—”
“I know where you’re calling from, Mr. Queen,” said Colonel Spring’s high voice. “Enjoying your visit?”
“I’d rather answer that question in person, Colonel. If you know where I am, suppose you come here at once.”
“Something wrong?” The Colonel sounded alert.
“I’ll wait for you.”
The drowned face of Colonel Spring appeared in six minutes. He was not smiling or limp now.
“What is it?” he asked abruptly.
“How much are these guards,” asked Ellery, “to be trusted?”
The guards, including their officer, were rigidly at attention. Their eyes bulged.
“These men?” Colonel Spring’s aqueous glance washed over them. “Completely.”
“That goes for all shifts on duty up here?”
“Yes. Why?”
But Ellery said, “They’re utterly devoted to the King?”
The little man in the splendid black and gold uniform put one hand on a hip and cocked his fishlike head. “To King Bendigo, you mean? They’d lay down their lives for him. Why?”
“I’ll settle for incorruptibility,” murmured Ellery. “Why, Colonel? Because, as of this minute, I want a twenty-four-hour-a-day report on the identity of every person who enters the private apartment of Judah Bendigo.”
“Mr. Judah? May I ask why?”
“You may, but I’m not going to answer, Colonel Spring.”
The little man produced a brown cigarette and snapped it to his lips. The captain sprang forward with a lighter.
“Thank you, Captain,” said the Colonel. “And is this authorized, Mr. Queen?” He puffed in short, stabbing puffs.
“Check with Abel Bendigo. If he withholds authorization, tell him Inspector Queen and I will expect to be flown back to New York within the hour. But he won’t... This report, Colonel, is to be confidential. No one — except Abel Bendigo, and I’d really prefer not to except even him — no one is to know the check is being made. For simplification, maids and other servants are to be barred from Judah Bendigo’s rooms on some plausible pretext until further notice. If any leak whatever occurs, or the job isn’t done thoroughly, Colonel—”
The green in Colonel Spring’s complexion deepened. But he merely said, “I’ve never had any complaints, Mr. Queen.”
In the elevator Inspector Queen said dryly, “I wonder how much he can be trusted.”
Ellery was wondering, too.
7
The fourth letter turned up on the afternoon of the following day.
The day began with a humorous ultimatum from the King’s Surgeon-General. Dr. Storm’s quarters in the Residence were combined with a hospital wing, reserved for the use of the Bendigo family. Here, against a background of the most advanced equipment, with the assistance of a staff of medical and dental assistants and laboratory technicians, Dr. Storm supervised the daily ritual of examining into the health of the master of the Bendigo empire. The medical examination took place each morning before King Bendigo’s breakfast.
On this particular morning the stout little doctor, brandishing a clip of reports, waddled past the guards into the family dining-room, as King and his queen were rising from the table, to announce abruptly that there would be no work for his eminent patient that day.
“Something is wrong?” Karla asked quickly.
“Rot,” growled King. “I feel fine. A bit pooped, maybe—”
“A bit pooped, maybe,” mocked Dr. Storm. “A bit pooped, certainly! I don’t like you this morning. I don’t like you at all. And it’s a heavy, humid day. Bad for you, at your age. You’ll do nothing today but relax.”
“Go away, Stormy,” frowned King Bendigo. “Abel’s had to run over to Washington and I have a thousand things on my calendar. It’s out of the question.”
“I’ll go away,” said the Surgeon-General, showing his sharp little teeth, “and I won’t come back. Do you think I enjoy this exile? Oh, for an excuse, an excuse.”
“Why do you stay?” King was smiling.
“Because I detest genus homo. Because I’ve conquered all their little universes and staggered all their little minds and shocked all their little ethical sensibilities, and because you’ve given me a great hospital to play with — and a wealth of raw material. And because, my lord, I’m in love with you. You’re not to go near the Office today, do you hear? Not a step, or find another fool.”
“But my appointments, Stormy—”
“What will happen? A dynasty will fall? You’ll make ten million dollars less? To hell with your appointments.”
“Darling,” begged Karla. Her hand was on her husband’s arm and her eyes were very bright.
“You, too, Karla?” The great man sighed and turned to inspect himself in a mirror. He stuck out his tongue. “Aaaaa. Does look starchy—”
“It isn’t your tongue at all. It’s your muscle tone and vascular system. Do you stay, or do I go?”
“All right, all right, Doctor,” said the King tolerantly. “What are your orders?”
“I’ve given them to you. Do anything you like except work. Fly a kite. Get plastered. Make love to your wife. What do I care?”
So that afternoon, oppressed by the heat, nerves jangling, prowling restlessly, the Queens came upon an extraordinary scene. Passing by the Residence’s gymnasium, they heard masculine shouts and looked in to find royalty at play. Near the indoor pool there was a regulation prize ring, and in the ring the master of the island was wrestling with Max’l. The two men wore high laced shoes and tights; both were naked from the waist up. Max’l was completely furred; the King’s torso was as smooth as a boy’s. Beside the other man’s bulk, he looked slim.
As the Queens entered, Bendigo broke a vicious arm-lock by a backward somersault, and the next moment he had spun Max’l about and applied a full nelson. Max’l raised his great arms, hands clenched, and exerted all his strength in a downward pressure. But King’s eyes flashed and he held on. And then Max’l sagged and he began to wave his fingers frantically.
“Give up, Maximus?”
“Yah, yah!”
Laughing, King increased the pressure. Max’l’s eyes popped in his contorted face. Then, with a sort of contempt, King unlocked his hands and turned away. The great furred body crashed to the mat and lay still. After a moment Max’l rolled over and crawled to a corner of the ring, where he sat dejectedly, like an exhausted animal licking his wounds. He kept rubbing the back of his neck.