The surprise visit to Quinn's home took place at a past morning show in June, at 8:08 a.m. West Eighty-seventh Avenue had just been swept by a sprinkler, and there was still a smear of dirt on the walls of the apartment two floors below. water trails, while Arsène Rupin was feasting on a thick ginseng bush, whose breakfast crumbs called a dozen pigeons from the neighbours. It was a surprise attack, twentieth-century style—without warning.At the moment it happened, Lieutenant Richard Quay was eating the second egg, and the spoon was raised to deliver it to his mouth. He kept this position, weighing Peng to the situation at hand, Fabrikan In the room across the way Mrs. Tate was starting her wheel-like frame, ready to plug in the vacuum cleaner; Ellery was making her way to the living room, straightening her collar with her hands on the back of her neck.

"Don't move". No movement was heard at all beforehand.The front door had been opened, pushed up against the wall, and the foyer had been stepped over. The policeman's spoon, Mrs. Fabricant's huge waist, Ellery's hand, all stopped where they had been at that moment. The two men who had rushed into the house from the foyer were already standing in the hallway.Their right hands are covered with folded overcoats.Their clothes were the same, their suits and hats were brown and yellow in color, but their shirts were different in color, one was dark blue and the other was dark brown.Both of them were handsome, tall and beautiful men, but their faces were expressionless.They searched the Quinns' living room, then stepped away, when Ellery saw that there were not two but three of them.

A third person stood outside the door, legs apart, looking at the head of the public stairwell.With his motionless back facing the others, he was actually watching for anyone coming upstairs. Blue Shirt left his partner abruptly, crossed the room swiftly, opened the door and entered the kitchen.He didn't even glance at the old gentleman as he passed Sergeant Quinn's desk. His partner remained where he was, standing in an almost respectful posture.There was a hint of warmth in his dark brown shirt, which made people think that this was a gentle man.His right hand is exposed, holding a .38 caliber revolver with a suppressor on the barrel.

Blue Shirt came out of the kitchen and into the officer's bedroom. The police officer's spoon, Mrs. Fabricant's huge buttocks, and Ellery's hands all moved at the same time. The ones that should be put down should not be held up anymore, and the ones that have been pouting should also find a place to put them down.There was no violent reaction.Only Blue Shirt had pushed the Inspector slightly away from where Ellery was standing on his way out of the Constable's bedroom and halfway across the hall to the study. A third person has been watching the stairs outside the door.

Mrs. Fabricant moved her mouth as if to shout.Ellery found out and stopped in time: "Don't shout, Fabi." Blue Shirt came back and said to his companion, "It's all clear." Brown Shirt nodded and walked across the room at once to Mrs. Fabricant.Her rise was the fastest ever recorded.The brown shirt looked away, and said to her with a pleasant face: "Old mother, take your vacuum cleaner, go to any bedroom, close the door, turn on the machine, and do your work." He stopped by the window. Arsène Rupin flew away with two coos, and Madame Fabricante disappeared.

Only then did Officer Quinn remember that he had legs and a voice.Stretching his five-foot-four frame as straight as he could, he growled, "Who the hell are you guys?" In Ellery's bedroom next to the study, the vacuum cleaner blared like a chainsaw.Blue Shirt closed the study door as well to block out the noise, and then stood in the hall like a wall. "If this is robbery..." The blue shirt grinned, and the man in the brown shirt by the window smiled fleetingly.Out of the corner of their eye they looked down at Eighty-seventh Street. "...that's the most polite thing ever, too," Ellery said. "I'll look over your shoulder too, the one by the window. It won't make you too nervous, will it?"

The man shook his head impatiently.A black car with New York City license plates was driving from Columbus Avenue into Eighty-seventh Street.Ellery watched its shiny body parked in the street.There are several men in the car. The brown shirt raised his left hand, and two men jumped out of the parked car, ran across the street, and onto the sidewalk under Quinn's window.When they reached the handrail of the steps, the car turned around and slowly stopped at the entrance of the entire apartment building.One man ran up the stone steps; the other quickly opened the back door and took a step back, looking around but not inside.

A man of short stature got out of the car.Wearing a suit of an unknown color and a gray hat of an unknown style, he walked unhurriedly up the brown stone steps and then was out of sight. "Know him, Dad?" Sergeant Quinn, standing behind Ellery, also looking out, shook his head, puzzled. "I don't know either." The brown shirt was standing at the door of the police officer's bedroom at the moment, so he and the blue shirt stood diagonally opposite each other.The somewhat ostentatious stance is reminiscent of a secret agent on guard duty.Their partner standing outside has moved to the landing, and now his right hand is also exposed, and the same point 38 is held in his hand.

Mrs Fabricant's machine was still humming. Suddenly, the man standing outside stepped back. The short, strangely dressed man was brought up by a cage-like elevator. "Good morning," said the little man, taking off his hat, and the voice sounded like the plucking of steel strings. Seen up close, he was not short, a few inches taller than Officer Quinn, but his frame and face were similar to a shorter man like a police officer, delicate and narrow. His heaven is full, and he looks very wise.The skin is taut, but it lacks vivid bright colors, probably from spending too much time indoors, and the hair is mouse gray and a little brown.Behind the square rimless glasses are a pair of slightly protruding eyes with drooping eyelids, but this does not prevent him from looking firmly at what is in front of him.A swollen belly is held tight by his single-breasted coat, which itself looks like a hastily made half-finished product.

He would induce the idea that a bowler hat and a piping waistcoat would be more suitable for the man. He may be 50, or 60, or only 45. Ellery's first impression was straightforward: a professor suffering from amnesia.Especially the loud and atmospheric tone is reminiscent of exams and blackboards. But, amnesia or otherwise, a professor would not be so ostentatiously accompanied by armed men.Ellery reclassified him: maybe a general, the head of the intelligence community, a Pentagon shaker, or an old-school banker from Florida. but…… "My name is," plucked the visitor's "strings" again, "Abel Bendigo."

"Bendigo!" the officer exclaimed. "You can't be that Bendigo..." "Basically," Abel Bendigo said with a smile on his face, "I don't think you've ever seen a picture of him, so you can understand how difficult it is for me, Officer Quinn. These security guards belong to me Brother's PR Internal Affairs, it's run by a very tough guy named Spring. Colonel Spring - I don't think you've heard of that. He's a dictatorship over all of us, even my brother - or I should say, especially to my brother! So you're Ellery Quinn." He looked at Ellery, and without dropping his voice, continued, "It's an honor, Mr. Quinn. I Never appreciated this set of precautions and procedures, but what can I do? Colonel Spring always likes to remind me that it only takes one bullet to turn a farce into a tragedy... May I sit down?" Ellery pulled a leather chair and pushed it across. The Inspector said, "I'd rather, Mr. Bendigo, should have let us know..." "It's still the Colonel's question," said Abel Bendigo as he sat down in his chair. "Thanks, Mr. Quinn, it would be nice to have my hat on the floor here... so many mysteries are It's broken here." "Yes," Ellery said, "but I know what disturbs my father is that he should be at the police office in the middle of the city within twelve minutes." "Sit down, Sergeant. I want to talk to both of you." "I can't, Mr. Bendigo...". "They won't notice your absence this time. I can assure you of that. What I noticed was that your breakfast was interrupted by us, and yours, Mr. Quinn..." "I just started drinking coffee," Elle hurried to the dining table, "Come and eat with us?" From across the room came the brown shirt's voice: "Mr. Bendigo." Bendigo waved his slender hands with a smile: "See! It's another Colonel Spring's rule. Eat yours, please." Ellery filled his father's cup from the coffee pot and poured it for himself. There are no questions to ask the client, in fact, there is no benefit in asking.So he stood at the table and took a sip of his coffee. The police officer started to eat, and glanced at the watch on his wrist with a helpless expression. Abel Bendigo looked aside and waited in silence.The blue and brown shirts stood motionless.The man in the stairwell also remained where he was.Mrs. Fabricant's vacuum cleaner was still blaring endlessly. As soon as the Quinns put down their coffee cups, the visitor said, "Gentlemen, what do you know about my brother?" The father and son looked at each other in blank dismay. "Is there any material about him, son?" asked the officer. "Have." Ellery came out of the study, blue shirt aside.When he came back, he had a big paper clip in his hand.He threw the paper clip on the table, and several clippings from newspapers and magazines fell out of it.He sat down and began to flip through the materials. Abel, Bendigo's protruding eyes peered into Ellery's face from behind the glasses. Ellery looked up at last. "Not much new, Mr. Bendigo, except for a few brief reports in the weekend supplement." "Besides these clippings, don't you know anything else?" "It's been rumored that your brother is one of the five richest men in the world—billionaires. And I suppose that might be a common exaggeration. But it's safe to say he's the richest man." "Oh, is it?" said Abel Bendigo. "How rich is it has become a topic of interest to people. As today's industrial giants, the more well-known one is the Bodigan Arms Company, which is engaged in the manufacture of munitions and has branches all over the world. It is said that this company is completely owned by your brother. I Saying 'supposedly' is because some people think that the name Bodigan is a variation of Bendigo, not necessarily that there is any 'evidence' of who the owner is. If that happens to be the case, I'm putting it on. Second In World War I, an independent branch of Bodigan - one of a dozen - made a profit after tax of almost $42 million a year." "Go on," said Abel Bendigo, blinking. "Your brother, Mr. Bendigo, has a deep relationship with the world-wide oil business, major metals such as steel, copper and aluminum, aircraft, ships, chemicals, etc..." "So it's all-encompassing," said Officer Quinn, wiping his beard, "and it's all about the war. I really have to go downtown, Mr. Bendigo... ..." "Not yet." Bendigo suddenly crossed one leg over the other. "Go on, Mr. Quinn." "The profile is pretty much speculative," Ellery went on. "Your brother seems to be very shy. Little or nothing is known about his background. Two years ago a Kansas newspaper The photographer who snapped a picture of the Bendigo king and managed to escape with the film box unsmashed has won a national hot photojournalism award despite his baited snake being smashed to pieces. Maybe it was some gentleman who was here today, who knows. The picture is a big man, handsome as a devil - I am quoting an eyewitness - who looked 52 years old at the time, and will be 54 this year. But judging from his face, he is not yet 40 years old; 'that arrogant self-confidence' - I am quoting again - 'usually only young people have', 'a pink robber', these words are here, you have to Sorry, I don't know what the reporter was thinking when he wrote these words, maybe he didn't know that some words are already suspected of defamation in English." King Bendigo's younger brother smiled slightly, but the corners of his mouth closed immediately, and the smile disappeared. "I have here two letters," he said slowly, "to my brother. They are threatening letters. A man in my brother's position, however careful he may be to avoid public appearances, cannot To prevent psychopathic eccentrics from appearing. Colonel Spring's Public Relations and Internal Affairs Department does have a need to prevent such dangers, and this is within the scope of their duties. However, these two letters will be different." Bendigo He took out two folded papers from his chest pocket, "I want you to take a good look at it, please." "Okay," Ellery said, reaching out to catch it.The police officer also stood up. "Where's the envelope?" "The Majesty's secretaries discarded them before they knew their importance. My brother's work team opened all the mail for him and sorted it out—everything except those marked 'confidential' or with a special seal Yes. I think the letters came by the ordinary mail." Ellery was in no hurry to read the letter: "Didn't you try to retrieve the envelope, Mr. Bendigo? Like in the wastebasket or somewhere else?" "We don't have wastebaskets in our office. Each secretary's desk has a chute that leads to the center shredder. The paper that goes down there is shredded into paper scraps. These paper scraps are sent to the incinerator. .” "That is, no useful data can be recovered from the incineration smoke?" Ellery said. Abel pouted at Bendigo: "Mr. Quinn, we don't like stockpiling." "Let's read the letter, Ellery," said the sergeant. The two sheets were identical, smooth-sided, personal letter-sized, near-finest vellum, devoid of signatures such as monograms and embossing.In the center of each sheet was a line of words typed with a typewriter. "The five-word one is the first," said Bendigo. Those five words are: The last horizontal line is so heavy that it sinks deep into the paper and seems to have been pressed hard. At first glance, the second sheet of paper is no different from the first.Furthermore, there are only three more words: As on the first sheet, horizontal lines are emphasized. Quinn and his son looked at the two text messages carefully. Bendigo waited. The inspector looked up at last. "Nowhere in these letters does it say that your brother is going to be murdered, Mr. Bendigo? I don't see any names. Not in either letter." "On the envelope, Officer Quinn." "Did you see the envelope?" "No, but the staff..." "Who else saw the envelope but the secretary who opened it—the person who threw the envelope into the chute for destruction?" "No. But they are all reliable men, all of whom have been carefully screened and screened. Of course, Sergeant, you have to take my word for it passively. But the envelope does have my brother's name on it: King Bendigo." Bendigo was not angry, as if anything could please him, "What do you think, Mr. Quinn?" "I know what upsets you. Threat letters are generally written on cheap paper—often in pencil, in capital letters, always illegible, and cheap paper is the least traceable of their source. But these two The letter is unusually candid. The author doesn't seem to be trying to cover his tracks. Expensive special paper should be easy to trace. Instead of writing block capital letters with pencil, a typewriter is used..." "A Portable Winchester Silent Typewriter," the Inspector added quickly. "—this is tantamount to inviting the recipient to do the identification of the source." Ellery said thoughtfully. "Of course, this may also be a joke." "No one would dare to play with my brother's life," said Abel Bendigo. "Then it's hard to understand," said Ellery, "at least to me. Do these letters seem serious to you, Mr. Bendigo?" "Then, in your opinion, they are the work of a mental patient." "No, definitely not," said Ellery. "They're incomprehensible precisely because they're not the work of a mental patient. The letters aren't finished: the first ends with an emphatic dash, the second adds content, but still ends with an emphatic dash. It is a gradual process. So there will be more letters with more information. The first letter foretells the murder, and the second letter foretells the murder on Sunday, From a logical point of view, it should also be predicted on which specific Sunday the murder will occur in the year of 52 years old. Overall, there is careful thinking in it, and there is no psychological disorder. But why leave traces? ? This is what I said is difficult to understand." The man in the leather chair seemed to be savoring Ellery's words, word for word. "How long was the interval between the two letters?" asked the officer. "The second letter arrived on Monday. The first letter was a week ago." Ellery shrugged and turned to the fireplace to get his pipe: "I don't understand, I mean why you're here. With your power and money, you could hire a police force to effectively ascertain the origin of these letters." Author, this is a piece of cake for your Colonel Spring. Can I take it seriously, and you want me to do this for you?" "I'm still not very clear about it myself." Abel Bendigo's good temper remained unchanged, "This matter has nothing to do with Colonel Spring and the security department. I will not allow the Colonel to intervene in this matter... I I feel like this is a very specific question. I'm going to ask it myself." "But you're not making any progress." The officer grinned. "What worries me..." Those protruding eyes showed a cold light, "It's just that I have made some progress." "Oh," said Ellery, "then you know who sent the letter?" "I think," said Abel Bendigo, "I know." The father and son looked at each other. "Then," asked the elder, "who is it?" Bendigo didn't answer. Ellery looked at the two guards.They didn't relax.But it's also hard to tell if they're listening. "Shall the lads go for a beer, Mr Bendigo?" "You misunderstood. I don't want to say what I found, because I am afraid that it will affect the thinking of your investigation. I am never in a hurry to draw conclusions, Mr. Quinn. Before I draw conclusions, I usually have to test repeatedly. Although I made mistakes Not very often, but I do get it wrong. I want you gentlemen to tell me I'm not wrong." "What does your brother think of the matter, Mr. Bendigo?" "He glanced at the letter and smiled. Threats always made him laugh. But I couldn't." "So he doesn't know the results of your private investigation? Or even he doesn't know that you are conducting an investigation?" Bendigo shrugged. "I didn't tell him. Whether he knew or not is another matter." He changed the subject suddenly. "I want you two to come with me." "This morning?" "At this moment." Officer Quinn looked at Bendigo as if he were looking at a man insane. Eller smiled. "My father is a salaried employee in New York City, Mr. Bendigo. I'm relatively free, but I'm too busy to make ends meet. You can't come in and let us stand." Get up and go with you, and even you, Mr Bendigo, we haven't talked for five minutes." "Your father has been subject to..." "Shut up," said the Inspector emphatically, and went back to sit down at the table. "There's no reason why I should be treated this way, Mr. Bendigo." Bendigo still said patiently: "As for you, Mr. Quinn, your long writing has just come to an end, and your "Ellery Quinn Mystery Magazine" has been compiled four issues in advance. There was only one case promised on the calendar, and it has now been dismissed." "Is there?" Ellery said. "I never heard of it." "If you glance at the mail that arrives in the morning, you'll find a notice from a man named Harold P. Considio terminating his employment with you." Ellery looked at him.Then going to the table, took a packet of letters from the breakfast tray, went through them one by one, picked up one of them, and looked at Bendigo again. That's when the envelope was torn open. Ellery glanced at the letter as it was taken out.The police officer leaned over to take it and looked at it. "Mr. Bendigo," said Ellery, "what makes you think you can be so involved in my life?"—the man in the chair tapping rhythmically on the leather of the chair—"How did you know Considio's?" "I don't know him at all. These things are very well arranged. Let's stop wasting time on Considio, are you ready?" "Me?" Ellery said. "I don't think so." "How long?" "Long, Mr Bendigo, longer than your busy schedule." Bendigo's mouth is open, revealing a pink mouth.Then it closed again, looking at Ellery seriously: "Why do you take such an attitude?" "A shoehorn doesn't care who buys it or where it's put. But a man has feelings, and wants others to understand that too. Mr. Bendigo," said Ellery, "I like to hear to someone else's request." "And I'm his boss," his father said. "Sorry, we Bendigos are kind of out of life, like in a vacuum. Of course, you're absolutely right." He leaned forward, clasping his hands like a deacon in a church, "Find out Who wrote these letters is one of the most important things, not just to me. If my brother is assassinated, it will cause the most serious consequences in the whole world." He carefully selected the appropriate of words.Now he smiled and looked up at them, "Will the two gentlemen accept the commission?" Ellery smiled back. "Where's your headquarters?" "On Bendigo Island." "Bendigo Island . . . I don't think I've heard of it. How about you, Dad?" "I've heard of it," said the inspector dryly, "but I can't tell where it is." "It's not well known," said their guest, "I'm afraid you won't find it on a map." "In what direction?" Abel Bendigo showed embarrassment: "It's really inconvenient for me to say, Mr. Quinn. This is one of our very strict regulations. You will be sent there, and you will be sent back to this apartment after the work is completed Come here." "how far?" "Wish I could tell you." "How long does it take to get there from New York?" "Air travel is fast these days. Not too long." Ellery shrugged. "Mr. Bendery, I think I'll have to think about it." "And I see," said Constable Quinn, rising from his seat, "that I have to go downtown. It will be fun meeting you, Mr. Bendigo, and I've been content with doing my job all my life." "Call your office first, officer." "Why?" "You'll know, effective this morning, you'll be exempt from work. Full pay." "You are talking in your sleep in broad daylight!" The police officer, who already had some age spots on his ears and neck, walked slowly past the brown shirt and into his bedroom.Abel Bendigo waited quietly. Ellery heard his father talking to the caller on the direct line to the police station, his voice still raised, as if it was a sin or a punishment not to work on full pay.However, when he came out again, his expression was thoughtful. "Don't know what's going on, no one knows why!" Bendigo smiled again: "Mr. Quinn, have you changed your mind?" "I haven't made up my mind at all, and I can't change it." Bendigo stood up and looked at the watch on his wrist.From the twinkle in his eyes, he made up his mind: "I'm ordered not to do so unless necessary, Mr. Quinn. You leave me with no choice." He handed Ellery a long envelope.Then, with his hands behind his back, he walked to a window and stood down. The officer glanced at the envelope.The handwriting above reads: There is also a heavy wax seal on the seal. Ellery broke the seal.There was only a piece of stiff writing paper inside.The embossment above the letter made him involuntarily glance again at their visitor. The content of the letter is entirely handwritten: Ellery studied the well-known signature for a long time. "Mr. Bendigo, do you understand the contents of this letter?" "I know without looking at it." The answer was without any emotion. "But why me?" muttered the officer. "What did you say, Inspector?" Abel Bendigo turned. "Excuse me, Mr. Bendigo, a few minutes," said Ellery. Bendigo said nothing. The blue shirts moved out of the way, and the Quinns entered Ellery's study.Ellery closed the door blankly and carefully locked it. Mrs. Fabricant's vacuum cleaner was still ringing in the bedroom. "I'm still not going to jail," Ellery whispered. "Even if King Bendigo is powerful and all the activities he engages in involve national interests, the name Bendigo really has such power that it can be obtained from Washington. Such a letter—just to please the two of us?" "This thing is unlikely to be forged, son." "Only the stars in the sky cannot be faked." "Call Washington," his father said, "just for fun." Ellery picked up the phone with a touch of excitement but without much hope.After a lot of trouble, six minutes later, he heard the voice of the letter writer with his own ears, and the dull and easy-going tone could not be faked. "No, it's nothing, Mr. Quinn, I'm waiting for you to check. B asked for such a letter, and I wrote it after thinking about it." The interlocutor also chuckled a few times, "But the letter was not pirated. " "May I speak freely, sir?" "This is a private line." "Did B mean to hire me?" "yes." "Of course you understand the nature of the matter?" "Yes, I do understand. Someone is threatening His Majesty's life." The tone was as calm as usual, or more than usual, "B thinks he knows who it is and wants to be confirmed. So I recommended to him the most competent person, I suggest Your father went with me, and I have some—I think I should use the word 'special'—memory of Officer Quinn. Are you ready to take it?" "Yes, sir." "Good! The United States Government is extremely concerned about His Majesty's recent health—albeit in an unofficial gesture. Is your father around?" "He is, sir." "Let me say a few words to him." Officer Quinn said, "It's me, sir," and listened for a long time without saying a word.Say "Yes, sir" at the end and hang up the phone. "I think there's a tail hidden in that last paragraph," Ellery whispered. "What does he want you to do, Dad?" "Give him a secret report on Bendigo Island. What's on it, who lives on it—facilities, staff, plans, purpose, detailed maps, if possible—everything, Ellery." "You mean that even the government doesn't know...?" "Obviously, even if I knew it, it was only an outline rather than a detail. So, I will grow a tail at my age," the police officer said in an unbelievable tone, "I'm going to be a Trojan horse." "How interesting." They smiled at each other suddenly, shook hands, and Ellery went into the bedroom to tell Mrs. Fabricant to stop the vacuum cleaner, give her some money, and give some instructions for the things that had to be taken care of, and then he started packing. .Before he left, he burned the letter from Washington, including the envelope, in the copper ashtray on the bedside table, and sucked up the ashes with Mrs. Fabricant's vacuum cleaner.