The Dragon’s Teeth Read Free Page B

into the Caribbean.
    On 21 June she spoke a passing cruise liner 100 miles northwest of Port Gallinas. Captain Angus exchanged the usual courtesies of the sea with the liner’s master.
    At eight bells on the night of 30 June, during a squall, the Argonaut’s wireless sputtered a general distress call directed to any vessel carrying a medical officer. The message stated that Cadmus Cole had suffered a severe heart-attack and that while Captain Angus had medical equipment in his locker and was capable of administering simple treatment, he felt the serious condition of his owner demanded immediate professional advice.
    White Lady, lying some 200 miles northeast, promptly responded. Her chief medical officer radioed for details of pulse, respiration, blood-pressure, and superficial symptoms. This information was supplied him via wireless.
    White Lady’s physician then advised digitalis injections, applications of ice, and other emergency measures. Captain Angus kept him informed by five-minute radio exchanges of the sick man’s condition. Meanwhile, the liner steamed towards the Argonaut at full speed.
    But she was too late. An hour and fifty minutes after the original distress call, a radio message signed by Captain Angus and Edmund De Carlos announced that Cadmus Cole had passed away. The message concluded with thanks for White Lady’s assistance and the information that the millionaire’s last wish before expiring had been to be buried at sea.
    â€œNo, no!” shrieked Mr. Queen. “Stop them!”
    â€œWhoa, Silver,” said Beau soothingly. “Cole’s been lying at the bottom of the Caribbean in a canvas shroud for a week.”
    â€œA whole week!” groaned Ellery. “Is it July already?”
    â€œWednesday, July fifth.”
    â€œThen we’ve got to speak to De Carlos, to Angus, to the radio operator, the crew! Where are they now?”
    â€œThe Argonaut showed up at Santiago de Cuba two days after Cole kicked in—that was last Sunday. By Monday Captain Angus and the crew were paid off and discharged.”
    â€œDe Carlos?” asked Ellery after a profound silence.
    â€œYeah. De Carlos then put the Argonaut in drydock down there, shipping Cole’s personal effects to the States, and hopped a plane. He ought to be here tonight or tomorrow morning.”
    Mr. Queen was ominously quiet. Then he said: “Fee fi-fo-fum.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œA heart-attack in the middle of the Caribbean during a convenient storm, death before a certified medical officer can examine the dying man, sea-burial before an autopsy can be performed—and now the Captain and crew dispersed before they can be questioned!”
    â€œLook at it this way, Master-Mind,” said Beau, “because this is the way it’s going to be looked at by John Q. Public. Cole’s ticker gave out? He was sixty-six. Died at sea? Funny if he hadn’t, since he spent his last eighteen years aboard a yacht. Buried fathoms deep? Natural request of a dying man who loved the sea.”
    â€œAnd De Carlos’s discharging Captain Angus and the crew in Cuba?” asked Mr. Queen dryly.
    â€œSure, he could have had them sail the Argonaut back north. But a plane is faster, and it would be natural for De Carlos to want to get back to New York as quickly as possible. No, son, the set-up is as smooth as a baby’s—”
    â€œDon’t like it,” said Ellery irritably. “Cole makes out a will, hires us, acts mysterious, dies—some people would use a nasty word, Beau … murder!”
    â€œThere’s an ol’ debbil in de law,” said Beau dryly, “and his name is corpus delicti. I’ll be squashed if I see how we’d do it, but suppose we could prove murder. We’d have to produce a body, wouldn’t we? And where’s the body? Making fish-food at the bottom of the Caribbean. No, sir, all we can have is suspicions, and