Read Online The Siamese Twin Mystery by Ellery Queen - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ellery Queen
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So I watched that patch of light at the landing. It was our buxom Demeter, our nervous provider of provender, Mrs. Wheary.”
“The housekeeper? What of it? Probably going to bed. I suppose she and that lout of a scoundrel, Bones—cripes, what a name!—sleep on the attic floor upstairs.”
“Oh, no doubt. But Mrs. Wheary was not bound for blessed dreamland, I’ll tell you that. She was carrying a tray.”
“Ah!”
“A tray, I might add, heaped with comestibles.”
“Bound for Mrs. Carreau’s room, I’ll bet,” muttered the Inspector. “After all, even society women have to eat.”
“Not at all,” said Ellery dreamily. “That’s why I asked you if you knew anything about the gustatory tastes of crustaceans. I’ve never heard of a crab drinking a pitcher of cow’s milk and eating meat sandwiches on whole-wheat bread, and gulping fruit. … You see, she barged right into the room next to Mrs. Carreau’s with not the faintest sign of fear. The room,” he said slyly, “into which you saw your giant crab—ah—” the Inspector threw up his hands and dug into the suitcase for his pajamas—“scuttle!”
Chapter Four
BLOOD ON THE SUN
E LLERY OPENED HIS EYES and saw brilliant sunlight splashing the counterpane of the unfamiliar bed on which he lay. For a moment he did not remember where he was. There was a singed soreness in his throat and his head felt like a pumpkin. He sighed and stirred and heard his father say: “So you’re up,” in a mild voice; and he twisted his head to find the Inspector, fully dressed in clean linen, fastidious little hands clasped behind his back, staring out of the rear windows with quiet abstraction.
Ellery groaned, stretched, and crawled out of bed. He began to peel off his pajamas, yawning.
“Take a look at this,” said the Inspector, without turning.
Ellery shuffled to his father’s side. The wall with two windows between which stood their bed was at the rear of the Xavier house. What had seemed a profound black abyss the night before turned out to be a sheer drop of contorted stone; so deep and disturbing that for a moment Ellery closed his eyes against a surge of vertigo. Then he opened them again. The sun was well over the distant range; it painted microscopic details of valley and cliffside with remarkable clarity. They were so high that the still, deserted world in the cup of the mighty well was the merest miniature; fluffy clouds drifted a little below them, striving to cling to the mountain’s top.
“See it?” murmured the Inspector.
“See what?”
“Way down there, where the cliff begins to slope into the valley. At the sides of the Mountain, El.”
Then Ellery saw. Curling around the edges of Arrow Mountain, far down at the knife-edge sides where the tight green mat of vegetation abruptly ended, were little fluttering pennants of smoke.
“The fire!” exclaimed Ellery. “I’d almost got myself to the point of thinking the whole blessed thing was a nightmare.”
“Drifting around at the back, where the cliff side is,” said the Inspector thoughtfully. “All stone at the back here and the fire can’t get a grip. Nothing to feed on. Not that it does us any good.”
Ellery halted on his way to the lavatory. “And what does that mean, my good sire?”
“Nothing much. Only I was just thinking,” said the old gentleman reflectively, “that if the fire really got bad …”
“Well?”
“We’d be stuck good and proper, my son. A bug could hardly crawl down that cliff.”
For a moment Ellery stared; then he chuckled. “There you go spoiling a perfectly lovely morning. Always the pessimist. Forget it. Be with you in a moment; I want to splash some of that monstrous cold mountain water over me.”
But the Inspector did not forget. He watched the little streamers of smoke without blinking all the while Ellery showered, combed, and dressed.
As the Queens descended the stairs they heard subdued voices below. The lower corridor was
“The housekeeper? What of it? Probably going to bed. I suppose she and that lout of a scoundrel, Bones—cripes, what a name!—sleep on the attic floor upstairs.”
“Oh, no doubt. But Mrs. Wheary was not bound for blessed dreamland, I’ll tell you that. She was carrying a tray.”
“Ah!”
“A tray, I might add, heaped with comestibles.”
“Bound for Mrs. Carreau’s room, I’ll bet,” muttered the Inspector. “After all, even society women have to eat.”
“Not at all,” said Ellery dreamily. “That’s why I asked you if you knew anything about the gustatory tastes of crustaceans. I’ve never heard of a crab drinking a pitcher of cow’s milk and eating meat sandwiches on whole-wheat bread, and gulping fruit. … You see, she barged right into the room next to Mrs. Carreau’s with not the faintest sign of fear. The room,” he said slyly, “into which you saw your giant crab—ah—” the Inspector threw up his hands and dug into the suitcase for his pajamas—“scuttle!”
Chapter Four
BLOOD ON THE SUN
E LLERY OPENED HIS EYES and saw brilliant sunlight splashing the counterpane of the unfamiliar bed on which he lay. For a moment he did not remember where he was. There was a singed soreness in his throat and his head felt like a pumpkin. He sighed and stirred and heard his father say: “So you’re up,” in a mild voice; and he twisted his head to find the Inspector, fully dressed in clean linen, fastidious little hands clasped behind his back, staring out of the rear windows with quiet abstraction.
Ellery groaned, stretched, and crawled out of bed. He began to peel off his pajamas, yawning.
“Take a look at this,” said the Inspector, without turning.
Ellery shuffled to his father’s side. The wall with two windows between which stood their bed was at the rear of the Xavier house. What had seemed a profound black abyss the night before turned out to be a sheer drop of contorted stone; so deep and disturbing that for a moment Ellery closed his eyes against a surge of vertigo. Then he opened them again. The sun was well over the distant range; it painted microscopic details of valley and cliffside with remarkable clarity. They were so high that the still, deserted world in the cup of the mighty well was the merest miniature; fluffy clouds drifted a little below them, striving to cling to the mountain’s top.
“See it?” murmured the Inspector.
“See what?”
“Way down there, where the cliff begins to slope into the valley. At the sides of the Mountain, El.”
Then Ellery saw. Curling around the edges of Arrow Mountain, far down at the knife-edge sides where the tight green mat of vegetation abruptly ended, were little fluttering pennants of smoke.
“The fire!” exclaimed Ellery. “I’d almost got myself to the point of thinking the whole blessed thing was a nightmare.”
“Drifting around at the back, where the cliff side is,” said the Inspector thoughtfully. “All stone at the back here and the fire can’t get a grip. Nothing to feed on. Not that it does us any good.”
Ellery halted on his way to the lavatory. “And what does that mean, my good sire?”
“Nothing much. Only I was just thinking,” said the old gentleman reflectively, “that if the fire really got bad …”
“Well?”
“We’d be stuck good and proper, my son. A bug could hardly crawl down that cliff.”
For a moment Ellery stared; then he chuckled. “There you go spoiling a perfectly lovely morning. Always the pessimist. Forget it. Be with you in a moment; I want to splash some of that monstrous cold mountain water over me.”
But the Inspector did not forget. He watched the little streamers of smoke without blinking all the while Ellery showered, combed, and dressed.
As the Queens descended the stairs they heard subdued voices below. The lower corridor was
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