The Inspector was no help. He spent most of Wednesday grumpily in his bathroom, locked away from the world of Bendigo. He was copying his sketches of the island’s restricted installations, filling in details as best he could, and transcribing his notes in a minute shorthand.
The call came just as the Queens were about to go to bed Wednesday night.
“I understand you’ve been asking for me, Mr. Queen.”
“Asking for you!” It was Abel Bendigo. “The latest note—”
“I’ve been told about it.”
“Has there been another one? There’s going to be another one—”
“I’d rather not discuss it over the phone, Mr. Queen.”
“But has there?”
“I don’t believe so—”
“You don’t believe so? Don’t you realize that tomorrow is the twenty-first? And you’ve been away—”
“It couldn’t be helped. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Wait! Can’t we talk now? Why don’t you come down here for a few minutes, Mr. Bendigo—”
“Sorry. King and I will be up half the night on the matter that took me to Washington. In the morning, Mr. Queen.”
“But I’ve found out—!”
“Oh.” There was silence on the wire. Then Abel said, “And what did you find out?”
“I thought you didn’t want to discuss it over the phone.” “Who is it?” The twang vibrated the receiver.
“Your brother Judah,” said Ellery brutally. “Does that agree with your conclusion?”
There was another silence. Finally, Abel’s voice said, “Yes.”
“Well, what do my father and I do now, Mr. Bendigo? Go home?”
“No, no,” said Abel. “I want you to tell my brother King.” “Tonight?”
“Tomorrow morning, at breakfast. I’ll arrange it with Karla. You’re to tell him exactly what you’ve found out, and how. We’ll proceed from there, depending on my brother’s reaction.”
“But—”
But Ellery was left holding the receiver.
All night he tossed over the problem of Abel Bendigo’s apparent diffidence, and he came with his father to the breakfast table in the private dining-room without having solved it. But as he took his seat he suddenly had the answer. Abel, a planner, could plan nothing where his brother King was concerned. King was an imponderable, a factor who would always remain unknown. In a crisis as personal as this, he might fly off in any one of a dozen directions. Or he might fold his royal wings and refuse to fly at all. We’ll proceed from there, depending on my brother’s reaction... This was probably why Abel, who had detected Judah’s guilt at once, called for outside confirmation before revealing his knowledge. He could only pile up his ammunition and wait for developments to tell him which way and how much to shoot.
The King was in a sulky mood this morning. He stamped into the dining-room and glared at the Queens, not greeting them. His black eyes were underscored by his nightwork; he looked almost seedy, and Ellery suspected that this had something to do with his mood — King Bendigo was not a man to relish strangers seeing him at less than his best.
Abel was there. Max’l. And Judah.
It was Abel unquestionably who had engineered Judah’s presence at breakfast — a considerable engineering feat, to judge by Judah’s almost normal appearance. In spite of the early hour, the dark little assassin could sit in his chair reasonably straight-backed. His hand shook only a little. He was gulping his second cup of coffee.
And Abel was nervous. Ellery rather enjoyed that. Abel’s gray schoolmaster’s face was far grayer than usual. He kept touching the nosepiece of his eyeglasses, as if he felt them skidding. All his gestures were jerky and full of caution.
“Something special about today?” King glanced darkly about, his hand arrested in the act of picking up his napkin. “Our troublemakers from New York — and you, Judah! How did you manage to get up so early in the morning?”
Judah’s sunken eyes were on the fine hand of his brother.
The hand completed the act of picking up the napkin.
An envelope tumbled to the table.
Max’l shouted something so suddenly that Karla gripped the arms of her chair, going very white. Max’l was on his feet, glaring murderously at the envelope.
“Who done that?” he roared, tearing the napkin from his collar. “Who, who?”
“Sit down, Maxie,” King said. He was looking at the envelope thoughtfully. All his sulkiness had disappeared. Suddenly his mouth curved in a brief malicious smile. He picked the envelope up. His name was typed on it: King Bendigo. Nothing else. The envelope was sealed.
“Today is Thursday, the twenty-first of June, Mr. Bendigo — that’s what’s special about it.” Ellery was on his feet, too. “May I see that, please?”
King tossed the envelope on to his brother Judah’s plate.
“Pass it to the expert, Judah. This is what he’s getting paid for.”
Judah obeyed in silence.
Ellery took the envelope with care. His father hurried around the table with a knife. Ellery slit the envelope.
“And what does this one say, Mr. Queen?” Karla’s tone was too light. She was still pale.
It was the same stationery. The o’s were nicked. Another product of Judah Bendigo’s Winchester portable.
“What does it say!” Abel’s voice cracked.
“Now, Abel,” mocked King. “Control yourself.”
“It’s a duplicate of the last message,” said Ellery, “with two differences. A single word has been added, and this time it ends not with a dash but with a period. You are going to be murdered on Thursday, June 21, at exactly 12.00 o’clock midnight.”
“Midnight, period,” muttered Inspector Queen. “That’s it. There won’t be any more. There’s nothing more for him to say.”
“For who to say?” bellowed Max’l, inflating his ape’s chest. “I kill him! For who?”
King reached across Judah, seized Max’l’s dried-apricot ear, and yanked. Max’l fell back into his chair with a howl. The big man laughed. He seemed to be enjoying himself.
“Kane, let us go away today.” Karla’s hand was smoothing the damask cloth. “Just the two of us. I know these letters are nothing, but—”
“I can’t go away, Karla. Too much to do. But I’ll take a rain-check on that. Oh, come! You all look like professional pallbearers. Don’t you see how funny it is?”
“King.” Abel spoke slowly. “I wish you’d take this seriously. It isn’t funny at all... Mr. Queen has something to tell you.”
The black eyes turned on Ellery, glittering. “I’m listening.”
“I have something to ask you first, Mr. Bendigo,” Ellery did not look in Judah’s direction. “Where would you normally be at midnight tonight?”
“Finishing the confidential work on the day’s agenda.”
“But where?”
“Where I always work at that hour. In the Confidential Room.”
“That’s the room with the heavy steel door, across the hall from your brother Judah’s quarters?”
“Yes.”