The King is Dead Read Free

cheap paper untraceable. These letters are remarkable for their frankness. The writer did not try to cover his tracks. He used expensive, distinctive notepaper which should be easy to trace. Instead of printing capitals in pencil, he typed his message on a Winchester —’
    â€˜Winchester Noiseless Portable,’ snapped the Inspector.
    â€˜â€” virtually inviting identification. It’s almost,’ said Ellery thoughtfully, ‘as if he wanted the letters to be traced. Of course, they could be a practical joke.’
    â€˜No one,’ said Abel Bendigo, ‘jokes about the death of my brother King.’
    â€˜Then they make no sense,’ said Ellery, ‘at least to me. Do they make sense to you, Mr. Bendigo?’
    â€˜It’s your opinion, then, that these are the work of a crank?’
    â€˜No, indeed,’ murmured Ellery. ‘They make no sense because they’re obviously not the work of a crank. The letters are unfinished: the first ends with an emphasized dash, the second adds a fact and ends with another emphasized dash. There is a progression here. So there will be more letters with more information. Since the first letter promises murder and the second promises murder on a Thursday, logically a third letter will specify on which of the fifty-two possible Thursdays the murder is planned to take place. It adds up to cold calculation, not aberration. Why, then, leave an open trail? That’s why I say it makes no sense.’
    The man in the leather chair seemed to weigh Ellery’s words, each one carefully.
    â€˜How far apart did the letters arrive?’ asked the Inspector.
    â€˜The second came Monday. The first a week ago.’
    Ellery shrugged, turning to the mantel and his pipe. ‘I don’t get it. I mean the purpose of all this, Mr. Bendigo. Your establishment is important and powerful enough to employ a private police force of great efficiency. Determining the authorship of these letters should be a kindergarten exercise to your Colonel Spring. Am I seriously to take it that you’re proposing to engage me to do it for him?’
    â€˜I haven’t made myself clear.’ Abel Bendigo’s blandness remained unmarred. ‘This matter has nothing to do with Colonel Spring or the security department. I have not permitted it to be put in the Colonel’s hands … I consider it too special a problem. I’m handling it personally.’
    â€˜And you haven’t got anywhere,’ grinned the Inspector.
    â€˜What worries me’ — the prominent eyes chilled — ‘is that I have got somewhere.’
    â€˜Oh,’ said Ellery. ‘Then you know who sent the letters?’
    â€˜I believe,’ said Abel Bendigo, ‘I do.’
    The Queens exchanged glances.
    â€˜Well,’ demanded the older man, ‘and who is it?’
    Bendigo did not reply.
    Ellery looked at the two guards. They had not relaxed. It was hard to say that they were even listening. ‘Shall we send these boys out for a beer, Mr. Bendigo?’
    â€˜You misunderstand. I’d rather not disclose what I’ve found because I don’t want to prejudice your investigation. I never jump to conclusions, Mr. Queen. And when I reach a conclusion I invariably double-check it. There’s always the possibility — though not the probability — that in this matter I’m wrong. I want you gentlemen to tell me whether I am or not.’
    â€˜And your brother King? What does he think of all this, Mr. Bendigo?’
    â€˜He glanced at the letters and laughed. Threats amuse him. They don’t amuse me.’
    â€˜Then he doesn’t know the results of your private investigation? Or even that you’ve been investigating?’
    Bendigo shrugged. ‘I haven’t told him. What he knows or doesn’t know is another matter.’ He said abruptly, ‘I want you both to come with me.’
    â€˜This