“Yes, sir,” said the officer uneasily.
“King himself broke the seal, Ellery. He was angry, and it was all we could do to convince him that these men weren’t at fault but were just following orders. I had to give the boss man back his key.”
Ellery shrugged and went directly to King’s suite, his father following eagerly.
“This is it, I think.”
They stepped into King Bendigo’s wardrobe room.
“Shut the door, Dad.” Ellery looked around.
The Inspector shut the door and leaned against it. “Now what?”
“Now, we take inventory,” said Ellery. “You watch and make sure I don’t overlook any closet, drawer, or shelf. This has to be thorough.” He approached the first closet to the left of the entrance and slid back its door. “Suits... suits... and more suits. Morning, afternoon, evening, formal, informal, semi-formal...”
“Am I supposed to take notes?” asked his father.
“Mental notes... And so forth. But all suits. Next.” Ellery opened another closet, ran his hand along the racks. “Coats. Topcoats, overcoats, greatcoats, fur coats, storm coats, raincoats— What’s up here? Hat department. Fedoras, homburgs, derbies, silk toppers, golf caps, hunting caps, yachting caps, et cetera, et cetera...”
“What a man.”
“Isn’t he.”
“I meant you,” said his father.
Ah, the shoe department. From patent leathers to hunting boots. Ever see anything like this outside a store? Dressing-gowns... bathrobes... smoking jackets... And the sports division! Sports jackets, shooting jackets, slacks, ski outfits, yachting suits, riding clothes, gym clothes, wrestling tights, tennis whites—”
“Is there anything he’s missed?” said the Inspector. “He couldn’t wear half these things out if he lived to be as old as I feel right now.”
“Shirts, hundreds of shirts, for every occasion... Underwear... pajamas — whew!... socks... collars... and look at these ties!... Handkerchiefs... sweaters... mufflers... gloves... everything in wholesale lots—”
“And I’m not getting any younger,” muttered the Inspector.
“Belts, suspenders, garters, spats, cuff links, collar buttons, studs, tie-pins, tie clasps, key chains... and wallets. Dad, will you look in this drawer? I wonder what this is made of. If this isn’t elephant hide—”
“You missed that one,” said his father.
“Which? Oh... Walking-sticks. About a hundred, wouldn’t you say, Dad? And if this isn’t a sword-cane, I’ll... There you are. Sword-cane, too.”
“Umbrella rack.”
“And the drawer under it... Rubbers. Overshoes. Hip boots — have I left anything out?” Ellery went over to the wall beside his father and pressed a button. “We’ll make sure.”
“I suppose,” sighed his father, “you know what you’re doing. Because I don’t.”
There was a precise knock behind his back. The Inspector opened the door. A thin man in black stood there.
“Yes, sir?” The voice sounded unused.
“Are you the King’s valet?” asked Ellery.
“Yes, sir. I must ask you, sir—”
“Do the contents of this room represent Mr. Bendigo’s entire wardrobe?”
“On Bendigo Island — yes, sir. Sir, this room is—”
“There’s no other place in or out of the Residence where his personal garments are kept?”
“Not on the island, sir. A similar wardrobe room exists in each residence maintained by Mr. Bendigo. There is one in New York City, one in Bodigen, Illinois, one in Paris—”
“Thank you,” said Ellery; and when the valet lingered, he said, “That’s all.” The valet backed away reluctantly.
“That was all I wanted to know,” Ellery said as they made their way to Judah Bendigo’s quarters.
“That King has the biggest personal wardrobe this side of the Milky Way, and that it’s all in that room?”
“That he has the biggest personal wardrobe this side of the Milky Way,” said Ellery, “with one very odd exception.”
The Inspector stopped short. “You mean there’s somebody has a bigger one?”
“I mean there’s something missing.”
“Missing! From there?”
“What I was looking for, Dad, is not in that room. Not one of them. But we’ll make sure.”
Judah was at his Bechstein playing a Bach prelude. There was an open bottle of Segonzac on the piano, and an empty glass.
Blue Shirt rose quietly from a chair and Brown Shirt turned from the window as the Queens came in. Judah paid no attention. Rather remarkably, he did not slouch at the piano. He sat well back on the bench, his back straight, his shallow chest out, head thrown back, hands playing from the wrists in beautiful, dancelike rhythms. His eyes were open and staring out across the strings at some vista visible only to himself. There was a frown on his forehead.
He came to the end of the prelude. With the last chord his hands dropped, his back and chest collapsed, his head came forward, and he reached for the bottle of cognac.
“You should play Bach more often,” said Ellery.
Judah turned, startled. Then he jumped up and hurried forward with every appearance of pleasure. “You’re back,” he exclaimed. “I’ve missed you. Maybe there’s something you can do about these two barbarians — I’ve talked to your father about it, but he merely looked wise. Do you know what this one wants me to play? Offenbach!” Judah had the bottle and glass in his hands and he began to pour himself a drink. “Where have you been, Ellery? No one would tell me.”
“Wrightsville.”
Judah dropped the glass. The bottle remained in his hand, but only by a sort of instinct. He looked down at the rug, foolishly.
Blue Shirt began to pick up the pieces.
“Wrightsville.” Judah laughed; it sounded more like the croak of a blackbird. “And how is dear old Wrightsville?”
“Judah, I want you to come with us.”
“Wrightsville?”
“The outdoor pool.”
Brown Shirt said from his window, “Mr. Judah is confined to his apartment, Mr. Queen.”
“I’m unconfining him. I’ll take the responsibility.”
“We’ll have to come with him, sir.”
“No.”
“Then I’m sorry, sir. We have our orders from the King himself. No one else can countermand them.”
“He kind of surprised Abel, I think,” murmured Inspector Queen. “He doesn’t seem to want any more holes in his hide than he has already, in spite of what Abel told us.”
Ellery went to Judah’s desk. He said into the telephone, “This is Ellery Queen. Connect me with Abel Bendigo. Wherever he is, whatever he’s doing.”
The connexion was made quickly. Ellery said, “No, from Judah’s apartment, Mr. Bendigo. Where are you now?”
“At the Home Office.” Abel sounded curious. “I was beginning to think you’d walked out on us.”
“If I did, I’m back in again with both feet.”
“Oh!”
“Mr. Bendigo, I want to take Judah from his quarters, without a guard. It’s a private matter. I understand your brother King himself ordered Judah confined. Will you take these men off the hook?”
Abel was silent. Then he said, “Let me talk to one of them.”
Ellery held out the phone to Brown Shirt. Brown Shirt said, “Yes, Mr. Abel?” After a moment, he said, “But Mr. Abel, the King himself—” and stopped. Then he said again, “But Mr. Abel—” and stopped again and said nothing at all for sixty seconds. At last he said, “Yes, sir,” in a worried voice, and he handed the receiver back to Ellery. He nodded to Blue Shirt, who was frowning. The two plain-clothes men went quietly out.
“Thus spake Zarathustra,” murmured Judah. “And now do we move toward Armageddon?” He put the mouth of the bottle to his lips and threw his head far back.