“Oh... mother,” mumbled Rosa, raising haggard eyes. “I’d... I’d forgotten. Yes. I’ll telephone right away.”
Hie Judge stepped in front of her, throwing a warning glance at Ellery. “Let Mr. Queen do it, my dear. You’d better lie down again.” She permitted herself to be led back to the bed; her mouth worked jerkily.
Ellery went into the living-room, shutting the door to the bedroom behind him. They heard the clatter of the dial, and his low voice. Neither the old man nor the girl said anything. Then the door opened and Ellery came back, a rather odd expression on his lean face.
“D-Dav—” began Rosa in a strangled voice.
“No, there’s no news about your uncle, Miss Godfrey,” said Ellery slowly. “Naturally, there’s been some anxiety about you and Mr. Kummer. I spoke to a local gentleman named Moley — Inspector Moley of the county detectives, you see.” He paused, apparently reluctant to go on.
“No news,” she said in an empty tone, staring at the floor.
“Moley?” growled the Judge. “I’ve met him. Good man. We had quite a chat on professional matters two years ago.”
“Your mother is sending a car over at once,” continued Ellery, eying the dark girl as if he were weighing something difficult and intangible. “A police car... By the way, it seems that one of your guests, Miss Godfrey, has been acting oddly. He appropriated one of your father’s cars a few minutes ago and went scooting off Spanish Cape as if all the devils in hell were after him. It was reported to Moley a moment before I called. Two motorcycle officers are after him.”
Her forehead was wrinkled, as if she had difficulty in hearing. “He?”
“A young man named Earle Cort.”
She started violently, and the Judge looked perturbed. “Earle!”
“Isn’t that the young man who was with you in the canoe two years ago, my dear?” muttered the Judge.
“Yes, yes. Earle... It isn’t possible. Not— He wouldn’t—”
“The complications seem to be accumulating,” said Ellery. Then he swung about abruptly. “Something a bit more immediate than Mr. Cort’s defection and the abduction of Miss Godfrey and Mr. Kummer has occurred, Judge.”
The old gentleman’s lips tightened. “Do you think—”
“I believe Miss Godfrey should know. She’s bound to know in a few moments, anyway.”
The dark girl looked up at him in a broken, confused way; she was dazed. “Wh-wh—” Her lips refused to function.
Ellery opened his mouth to speak, and closed it again. They all turned, startled. A high-powered car, to judge by its roar, was hurtling down the road toward the cottage. Before they could move they heard the grind of brakes, the slam of a door, and pounding footsteps on the gravel path. Then a whirlwind burst into the cottage — a tall, powerfully built young man with disheveled blond hair and a smooth skin burned dark brown by the sun. He was in shorts, and the muscles of his thighs and arms were taut.
“Earle!” cried Rosa.
He slammed the door shut behind him, set his half-naked back against it, flung one glance at Rosa as if to make sure that she was intact, and then growled at Ellery: “Well, you brigand, speak up. What in hell’s the idea, and where’s David Kummer?”
“Earle, don’t be silly,” snapped Rosa; normal color had returned to her face. “Don’t you remember Judge Macklin from two years ago? And this is Mr. Queen, a friend of his. They’ve taken this cottage and found me here this morning. Earle! Don’t stand there like a lump! What’s happened?”
The young man glared at them, and the glare turned to shame as a slow red crept down his neck. “I... I beg your pardon,” he muttered. “I didn’t know — Rosa, you’re all right?” He sprang to the bed and knelt by it, seizing her hand.
She snatched it away. “Quite well, thank you. Where were you last night when I needed you, when — when Uncle David and I were kidnaped by a horrible beast with one eye?” She laughed half-hysterically.
“Kidnaped!” he gasped. “Da— I didn’t know. I thought—”
Ellery eyed Cort reflectively. “I don’t hear the sounds of pursuit, Mr. Cort. I’ve just spoken with Inspector Moley at Spanish Cape, and he tells me two motorcycle policemen are after you.”
The young man stumbled to his feet, still dazed. “I shook ’em off, turned into this side-road... They went ahead. But Da—”
“How,” asked Judge Macklin softly, “did you know where to find Miss Godfrey, Mr. Cort?”
He sank into a chair, burying his face in his hands. Then he shook his head and looked up. “I’ll admit” he said slowly, “this is too much for my feeble brain. I got a telephone-call at the house a few minutes ago from somebody who said that I’d find Rosa here, in the Waring cottage. The police were already there, but I thought I’d — I tried to trace the call. But I couldn’t. Then I guess I... I lost my head, and here I am.”
Rosa kept her eyes steadfastly averted from the young man’s face; she seemed angry about something.
“Hmm,” said Ellery. “Was it a bass voice?”
Cort looked miserable. “I don’t know. It seemed to be a bad connection. I couldn’t get any feeling of sex out of the voice at all. It was a whisper.” He turned to regard the dark girl with a queer look of suffering. “Rosa—
“Well,” said Rosa coldly, looking at the wall, “do I have to sit here all day listening to a — listening, or will some one please tell me what’s happened at home?”
Ellery answered without removing his eyes from Earle Cort’s face. “Mr. Cort’s caller complicates matters. How many telephones are there in the house, Miss Godfrey?”
“Several. And extensions in every room.”
“Ah,” said Ellery softly. “Then it’s possible that your caller, Mr. Cort, telephoned from the house itself. Because the events of last night — certain events subsequent to your abduction, Miss Godfrey — would seem to indicate that the call your abductor put through was meant for some one in your father’s house. It’s not certain, of course, but...”
“I... I can’t believe it,” whispered Rosa, paling again.
“Because, you see,” muttered Ellery, “your improbable pirate’s error seems to have been discovered by his employer almost at once.”
“At once? I—”
“And the mistake rectified — perhaps personally.” Ellery frowned at another cigaret, and Earle Cort turned his head away. And Ellery said in a rather tight and puzzled voice: “For, you see, John Marco was found sitting on that beach terrace of yours, Miss Godfrey, early this morning... dead.”
“D-d—”
“Murdered.”
Chapter Three
The Problem of the Naked Man
Inspector Moley proved to be a grizzled veteran of the red-faced, hard-lipped, solidly built variety — the marks of the experienced man-hunter the world over who has come up from the ranks by the free use of fists, a knowledge of the faces and ways of professional criminals, and a certain cool native shrewdness. Such men are often bewildered when crime strays off the path of orthodoxy.
He listened to Rosa’s story and Earle Cort’s muttered explanation without comment, but Ellery detected the puzzlement between his brows.
“Well, Mr. Queen,” he said as the Judge helped Rosa into the police car, Cort scowling behind them in a helpless way, “this business sure looks tough. A little out of my line. I... uh... I’ve heard of you, and of course the Judge’s recommendation is plenty. Would you like to — sort of-help?”