It said simply: “Do not worry. Docking Wednesday
A.M
. Chin up. Love. Dad.”
Eva wailed at the magnificence of it and completely ignored the pile of telephone messages on the foyer table – condolences from friends which had poured in all day and driven poor black Venetia crazy. Eva flung herself on the maple bed and let Dr. Scott put cold compresses to her forehead. The telephone rang, and Venetia reported that it was a Mr. Terence Ring on the wire. Dr. Scott growled that Miss MacClure was not at home, and Eva did not have the strength to argue.
He gave Eva something nasty to drink and she fell asleep. When she awoke at ten he was still sitting by her, scowling at the window. He went into the kitchen and came back, and a little later Venetia brought some hot soup. Eva felt so drowsy she fell asleep over the soup and did not know until next morning that Dr. Scott had flung himself on the living-room divan and slept there in his clothes all night, to the complete horrification of Venetia, whose sturdy Baptist soul was constantly rebelling at the loosenesses of modern life.
Wednesday morning on the way to the midtown pier they had to dodge reporters like a pair of fleeing criminals. But when they finally reached the sanctuary of the big shed there was Terry Ring, in a honey-colored gabardine suit and a brown shirt and a yellow tie, lounging near the Customs desk and looking bored. He did not even glance at them. Dr. Scott surveyed the tall tan figure with a wrinkle between his eyes.
The doctor left Eva in the waiting-room and hurried off for information. No sooner had he gone than Eva looked up to find the brown man before her.
“Hi, gorgeous,” said Terry. “Look better this morning. Where’d you get that hat? It looks swell.”
“Mr. Ring,” said Eva hurriedly, glancing about.
“Terry to you.”
“Terry. I didn’t get a chance to thank you for all you –”
“Skip it. I’m a dope. Listen, Eva.” He said it so naturally Eva scarcely noticed it. “Did you spill the real story to your boyfriend?”
Eva looked down at her perforated pigskin gloves. “No.”
“That’s a smart girl.” She was angry with herself for not wanting to look up at him. “Just keep on keeping your mouth shut.”
“No,” said Eva.
“I say yes!”
“No. Please. I couldn’t keep it from my father. It’s not right, Mr. Ring.”
“Terry.” She knew he was angry by the growl in his voice. “Don’t you realize the jam you’re in? First you’re smart, then you’re dumb!”
“Terry.” Eva felt she had to say it. “Just what is it you’re helping me for?”
He did not answer. She looked up then, and saw his eyes flickering in an embarrassed and yet furious way.
“If it’s money,” said Eva quickly, “I –”
She thought he would strike her then and there, in full view of the waiting-room. “Listen to me. Listen to me.” He stooped, his brown face mahogany with passion. Then it went suddenly mauve and he said quietly: “How much you got?”
“Oh,” said Eva. “I’m so sorry.”
“Afraid I was going to shake you down, huh? Don’t you ever say anything like that to me again.”
Eva felt terribly ashamed; she put her gloved hand on his arm, but he jerked it away and stood straight again. Under the front dip of her yellow coolie felt she saw his fists open and close.
“I’m really sorry, Terry. But what could I think?”
“Because I’m a roughneck. Huh!”
“I don’t know why you’re doing this for me –”
“I’m a guy in a tin shirt. I go around rescuing maidens in distress.”
“But if I can trust a perfect stranger, then surely I can confide in my own father?”
“Suit yourself.”
“And then I can’t put you in any more danger than –”
“Yah,” he jeered. “Who’s going to help you?”
She felt her temper surge. “Dick! You’re the most –”
“Why didn’t you give him the lowdown, then?”
Eva’s eyes fell. “There was a – reason.”
“Scared he’d run out on you?”
“No!”
“Only a louse would do that. You’re afraid. You don’t want to find out your pretty boy’s a louse. Don’t tell
me.
”
“You’re simply the most loathsome –”
“You know the spot you’re in. That old shark Queen doesn’t miss many tricks. I’ve seen him work before. He’s suspicious. You know he is.”
“I’m afraid,” whispered Eva.
“You ought to be.” He stalked away. There was boyish cruelty in the swagger of his walk; he had pushed his tan fedora off his forehead in a bitter sort of way.
Eva watched him through a mist. He did not leave the pier. He went back to the Customs desk to be surrounded by a swarm of reporters.
“The
Panthia
’s in Quarantine,” reported Dr. Scott, dropping to the bench. “They’ll be taken off by a police boat – special arrangement with the port authorities. They should be on their way in now.”
“They?” repeated Eva.
“Your father and a fellow named Queen. Seems they met on the boat.”
“Queen!”
Dr. Scott nodded gloomily. “That Inspector’s son. No connection with the police. He writes detective stories or something. Wasn’t he at Karen’s coming-out party?”
“Queen,” said Eva again in a damp voice.
“I can’t imagine what
he
can have to do with it,” muttered Dr. Scott.
“Queen,” said Eva feebly for the third time. She didn’t like that name at all. It was uncanny how it kept turning up. She remembered vaguely the tallish young man in
pince-nez
eyeglasses at Karen’s party – he had seemed a decent enough sort, and he had looked at her quite humanly. She had even been rude to him, which was pleasant. But that was then. Now …
She leaned against Dr. Scott’s shoulder, afraid to think. He was looking down at her again with that funny look – so like the look Terry Ring had given her – and already, despite the fact that he was tender with her and she was so grateful for his tenderness, something had sprung up between them that had never existed before.
The day of the chocolate soda seemed inconceivably distant.
Then Dr. Scott saw the reporters swooping down on them, and he pulled her to her feet and they fled.
Eva never recalled much about her reunion with Dr. MacClure, probably because she had a guilty conscience and chose to forget as much of it as she could. For all her resolutions and the stiffening she had given herself for two nights and a day, it was she who broke down and he who was steady. She wept on his breast as she had wept when broken dolls were human, and the fields about the Nantasket house had seemed the spread of the world. She wept
because
he was so steady.
It was all the more tragic because he was so thin and earthy-colored and aged. His eyes were hot red circles, as if he had done his own crying in private on board ship and had not slept since hearing the news.
The tallish young man in
pince-nez
had murmured something sympathetic and vanished for a while on the pier, to return not long after from the direction of the telephone booths, looking grim. Probably telephoning his father, thought Eva with a shiver. Then he spoke negligently to a group of loungers with large feet and everything took on acceleration – Customs, formalities, even delays. And the press, who had been irresistible, ceased to molest them. When the doctor’s luggage was on its way to the MacClure apartment young Mr. Queen herded the three of them towards the taxicabs, quite as if he had construed himself their male duenna.
Eva contrived to linger behind with her
fiancé
. “Dick – would you mind? I’d like to talk to daddy alone.”
“Mind? Of course not.” Dr. Scott kissed her. “I’ll make some excuse and beat it. I understand, dear.”
Oh, Dick, thought Eva, you don’t understand at all! But she smiled wanly at him and let him take her to where Dr. MacClure and Ellery Queen were waiting.
“Sorry, sir,” said Dick to the doctor. “I’ve simply got to get back to the hospital. And now that you’re here –”
Dr. MacClure rubbed his forehead in a tired way. “Go on, Dick. I’ll take care of Eva.”
“See you to-night, darling?” Scott kissed her again, glanced rather defiantly at Ellery, and drove off in a cab.
“All aboard,” called Ellery. “Jump in, Miss MacClure.”
Eva did not jump in. She pressed her pigskin bag to her breast and looked terrified.
“Where are we going?”
“With Mr. Queen,” said Dr. MacClure. “Don’t worry, honey.”
“But, Daddy! I wanted to talk to you.”
“We can talk with Mr. Queen, Eva,” said the doctor oddly. “I’ve sort of engaged him.”
“Not really engaged, Miss MacClure,” said Ellery, smiling. “Let’s say as a matter of friendship. Will you get in?”
“Oh,” said Eva in a choked voice, and got in.
And all the way uptown, while Mr. Queen chattered on about European politics and the quaint ways of the Bretons, Eva wondered with a sinking stomach how kind Mr. Queen would be when he learned the truth.
Djuna, the Queens’ dark-eyed boy-of-all-work, had to be forcibly restrained from prolonging his joyful demonstration at the return from abroad of his idol. Eventually Ellery managed to quiet him and get him busy in the kitchen preparing coffee. And for a while Ellery busied himself about their comforts, with cigarets and cushions and Djuna’s coffee and gossip.
Then the doorbell rang, and Djuna opened the door. Whereupon a tall brown young man with his hands in his pockets sauntered through the foyer without being asked. Eva caught her breath.
“Hi, Queen,” said Terry Ring, scaling his hat on to the mantel. “Remember Mrs Ring’s brat Terence?”
Even here!
If Ellery was displeased at the interruption, he did not show it. He shook hands cordially and introduced Terry to Dr. MacClure.
“My Dad’s told me all about your part in this deplorable business, Terry,” said Ellery. “That is – all he knows, which doesn’t seem to be much.”
Terry smiled, eyed Dr. MacClure, who returned the stare, and sat down.
Eva murmured, sipping her coffee. “So you know Mr. Ring?”
“Who doesn’t? Terry and I are brothers under the skin. We’ve both pestered the department so long they hate the sight of us.”
“Only difference,” said Terry amiably, “is I work at it and you don’t. I always say,” he continued, speaking over Eva’s head, “you can trust a guy who works for his living, but you can’t always trust a – what do you call it? – dilettante.”
So he didn’t want her to tell Ellery Queen. As if she would! She suppressed a shiver.
And then she sat very still. Mr. Ellery Queen was regarding her with fixity. He turned to regard Terry Ring the same way. Then he sat down with a cigaret and regarded both of them together.
“Well, Terry,” he said at last, “and what’s the purpose of this unexpected visit?”
“Friendly, just friendly,” grinned Terry.
“I suppose you know you’re being watched.”
“Huh? Oh, sure,” said Terry with a wave of his hand.
“I’m informed that since the afternoon of Miss Leith’s death you’ve been following Miss MacClure about like a masher.”
The brown man’s eyes contracted. “That’s my business.”
“And mine,” said Dr. MacClure quietly.
“It couldn’t be,” said Ellery, “that you’re afraid Miss MacClure may say something to someone which might be damaging – let’s say, to you?”
Terry opened a fresh packet of cigarets. Ellery got up and politely held a match for him. “What put that idea in your head?”
“Dr. MacClure and I have decided you know rather more than you’ve told my father.”
“That makes you a couple of smart hombres. Been spending the doc’s dough on transatlantic telephone calls?”
Ellery blew some smoke. “I think we’d better start with a fresh slate. All right, Doctor.”
Eva said in a rush: “Daddy, can’t we – I mean, let’s have this talk with Mr. Queen some other time. Let’s go home. I’m sure Mr. Queen and Mr. Ring will excuse us.”
“Eva,” said Dr. MacClure heavily. He placed his hairy hands on her shoulders. “I want you to tell me something.”
Eva was so frightened she gnawed at the forefinger of her glove. She had never seen Dr. MacClure so pale, so stern. The three men just looked at her; she felt trapped.
“Eva.” The doctor tilted her face up. “Did you kill Karen?”
The question burst over her with such a shock she could not reply. She could only stare back into Dr. MacClure’s troubled blue eyes in a daze.
“You’ve got to answer me, honey. I must know.”
“And I,” said Ellery, “I must know, too. As a matter of fact, Miss MacClure, you’re doing your father a great injustice by looking at him with such horror. The question is really mine.”
She dared not move, dared not glance at Terry Ring.
“I’d like to have one thing understood,” said Ellery cheerfully, and Dr. MacClure made a broken gesture and sat down on the divan. “We’re four people in a room, and these walls haven’t even the vestige of ears. And my father is away.”
“Your father,” choked Eva.
“You must understand, Miss MacClure, that there’s no sentiment in our family where business is concerned. My father lives his life, and I live mine. Our methods, our techniques, are different. My father looks for evidence, I look for truth. They don’t always turn out to lie in the same direction.”
“What do you know?” asked Terry Ring abruptly. “Let’s cut the prelims.”
“All right, Terry, it’s cards on the table. I’ll tell you just what I know.” Ellery crushed out his cigaret. “I’ve been in constant communication with my father from the
Panthia
. He hasn’t been specific, but I think he’s suspicious of both of you.” Eva lowered her eyes. “Dad works cautiously. I should say that neither of you is out of the woods.”
“Eva, honey,” groaned Dr. MacClure. “Why don’t you –”
“Please, Doctor. Now I want to explain my own position. I’ve got to know Dr. MacClure well, and to like him immensely. I’d met Miss Leith and you, Miss MacClure, and your father has been kind enough to tell me many things about the background of your relationship which, frankly, have aroused my interest. I agreed to help. My father knows that; I’ve told him. From now on he goes his way and I go mine. What I learn I keep to myself, what he learns he keeps to himself.”