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remains of the checker game are to be seen. In the summerhouse he was attacked and killed. Perhaps the attack occurred while he was smoking; the pipe dropped from his mouth and fell to the floor. Perhaps, too, his fingers were in his pocket playing with the checker absently. At the time he died the checker was still clutched in his hand, and remained so all the time he was being decapitated, hauled to the totem post and lashed to the wings. Then the checker fell and rolled off in the gravel, unobserved by the murderer. … Why he brought the checker with him at all seems to me a most relevant query. It may have a definite bearing on the case. … An unilluminating analysis, eh, Professor?”
    “Who knows the nature of light?” murmured Yardley.
    Dr. Rumsen fussed into the summerhouse. “Job’s done,” he announced.
    “What’s the verdict, Doc?” asked Isham eagerly.
    “No signs of violence on the body,” snapped Dr. Rumsen. “From this it’s perfectly evident that whatever killed him was directed at his head.” Ellery started; it might have been Dr. Strang repeating the testimony he had given in the Weirton courtroom months before.
    “Could he have been strangled?” asked Ellery.
    “No way of telling now. Autopsy will show, though, by the condition of the lungs. The body’s stiffness is a simple rigor, which won’t wear off for another twelve to twenty-four hours.”
    “How long has he been dead?” asked Inspector Vaughn.
    “Just about fourteen hours.”
    “Then it was in the dark!” cried Isham. “Crime must have been committed around ten o’clock last night!”
    Dr. Rumsen shrugged. “Let me finish, will you? I want to go home. Strawberry birthmark seven inches above the right knee. That’s all.”
    As they left the summerhouse Inspector Vaughn said suddenly: “Say, that reminds me, Mr. Queen. Your father mentioned over the phone that you had some information for us.”
    Ellery looked at Professor Yardley, and Professor Yardley looked at Ellery. “Yes,” said Ellery, “I have. Inspector, does anything about this crime strike you as peculiar?”
    “Everything about it strikes me as peculiar,” grunted Vaughn. “Just what do you mean?”
    Ellery thoughtfully kicked a pebble out of his path. They passed the totem post in silence; the body of Thomas Brad was covered now, and several men were placing it on a stretcher, They headed down the path toward the house.
    “Has it occurred to you to ask,” continued Ellery, “why a man should be beheaded and crucified to a totem post?”
    “Yes, but what good does it do me?” snarled Vaughn. “It’s crazy, that’s all.”
    “Do you mean to say,” Ellery protested, “that you haven’t noticed the multiple T’s?”
    “The multiple T’s?”
    “The pole itself—a fantastic T in shape. The pole for the upright, the flatout spread wings for the arms.” They blinked. “The body: head cut off, arms outstretched, legs close together.” They blinked again. “A T deliberately scrawled in blood on the scene of the crime.”
    “Well, of course,” said Isham doubtfully, “we saw that, but—”
    “And to bring it to a farcical conclusion,” said Ellery without smiling, “the very word totem begins with a T.”
    “Oh, stuff and nonsense,” said the District Attorney instantly. “Pure coincidence. The pole, too, the position of the body—it just happened that way.”
    “Coincidence?” Ellery sighed. “Would you call it coincidence if I told you that six months ago a murder was committed in West Virginia in which the victim was crucified to a T-shaped signpost on a T-shaped crossroads, his head cut off, and a T smeared in blood on the door of his house not a hundred yards away?”
    Isham and Vaughn stopped short, and the District Attorney turned pale. “You’re not joking, Mr. Queen!”
    “I’m really astounded at you people,” said Professor Yardley with placidity. “After all, this sort of thing is your business. Even I, the