Chapter 30 Chapter 29 Harvest

However, if Simpson can be called scheming, the elusive criminal whom Simpson is targeting appears to be even more scheming.For a whole week, nothing happened.A person who writes an anonymous letter is like being swallowed by an unannounced earthquake.Every day, Deputy Pepper sent a report from the Knox House on Riverside Drive that the murderer and racketeer had not moved—had disappeared.Maybe, as Simpson thought and cheered Pepper up—maybe the man was wily and spying, because he had sniffed out a trap.Therefore, Pepper must do everything possible to hide and ambush.Pepper consulted with Knox - who, oddly enough, was not at all concerned by the lack of progress - decided not to be rash; for several days he remained reclusive, even at night.

Pepper called his superiors one afternoon to say that Mr. James Knox continued to keep silent about Leonardo—or so-called Leonardo works.You can't tell him what to say, and he never mentions it himself. Pepper also reported that he was keeping a close eye on Miss Joan Bright--very closely, Prosecutor.Simpson was rather displeased by this; Mr. Pepper, he supposed, was well suited for the errand. On the morning of Friday, November 5th, the armistice was broken and a raging fire broke out.The first delivery of the day set Knox House ablaze.Witty and resourceful, after all, there are gains.Pepper and Knox, both standing in Knox's black patent-leather-walled study, examined a letter that had just arrived by the postman, in triumphant excitement.After a hasty deliberation, Pepper pressed his hat up to his eyelids, and went out through the side door reserved for the servants.That precious letter was in the close pocket.

As soon as he was out, he jumped into a taxi that he had called before leaving.Drive quickly to Central Avenue.He gave a joyous yell as he stormed into the prosecutor's office... As soon as Simpson's fingers touched the letter Pepper brought, his eyes shone with the excitement of capturing the fugitive.Without saying a word, he grabbed the letter, picked up his coat, and the two of them ran out of the building and headed straight for the police headquarters. Ellery was like an acolyte accompanying a fast—the acolyte who had a penchant for biting his nails in lieu of fireworks.The police officer is casually sorting out the mail...

When Pepper and Simpson swarmed in, there was no need to speak, everyone already knew it, and Quinn and his son jumped up. "Second threatening letter," breathed Simpson, "just got it this morning!" "It's on the back of the other half of the promissory note, typed, sir," cried Pepper. Quinn and his son read the letter together.As the deputy prosecutor pointed out, the letter was typed on the other half of the original handwritten note that Khalkis had promised to pay.The police officer took out the first half of the paper and put them together, the rough edges of the torn paper in the middle matched exactly—seamless.

The second threatening letter, like the first, was also unsigned.The letter said: "The first payment, Mr. Knox, requires a round sum of $30,000. Cash is required, and each note must not exceed one hundred dollars. When delivering, put it in a clean small bag. After ten o'clock tonight, wait in the The cloakroom of the Times Building in Times Square, to Mr. Leonor de Vincie, whoever pronounces the name, you hand the packet to the man. Remember, do not call the police. I will be on the lookout for your tricks, Mr Knox." "Our mate is good at joking," said Ellery. "The tone of the letter, the pseudonym after Leonardo da Vinci, has a good sense of humor. What a funny gentleman! "

"I'm going to turn his smiling face into a sad one," Simpson roared, "not tonight." "Guys, guys!" giggled the officer, "no time for small talk." He called into the intercom, and in a few moments our familiar handwriting expert, Enna Rambo, and headquarters The tall, thin, authoritative fingerprints were all bent over the police officer's desk, studying the letter carefully, concentrating on any inadvertent tell. Miss Lanbo was very careful: "This letter uses a different typewriter from the first threatening letter, officer. This time it uses a normal typewriter of the 'Raymington' brand. Judging from the various fonts , I dare say the typewriter is fairly new. As for the author of the letter—” She shrugged, “I hate to say it dead, but from the internal evidence at a glance, this letter is the same as the first two letters. Personally typed. . . interesting little place here. There was a slight error in typing the thirty thousand dollars. The typewriter, although arrogant, was obviously a little nervous."

"Really?" Ellery said to himself.He waved his hand, "Let's not talk about this for now. If it is the same person, there is no need to prove that it was written by the same person. Just the fact that the first threatening letter was typed in Kaji It is enough to prove that the second letter is stamped on the other half." "Any fingerprints, Jimmy?" asked the sergeant, somewhat hopelessly. "No!" said the fingerprint expert. "All right. That'll do it, Jimmy. Thank you, Miss Lambert." "Sit down, gentlemen, sit down," Ellery said cheerfully to himself. "Don't worry. We still have a whole day." Simpson and Pepper were like two fuzzy kids , After hearing this, he sat down obediently, "This letter from the newcomer, it is not difficult to see that it has some characteristics."

"Oh? I think it's completely normal." The police officer blurted out. "I'm not saying it's normal or not. I'm just seeing that our murderer and blackmailer has a special taste for numbers. Don't you wonder if he's asking for thirty thousand dollars? How about a blackmail case of extorting such a figure? It's usually ten thousand, or twenty-five thousand, or fifty thousand, or one hundred thousand." "Bah!" said Simpson, "you're messing around again. I don't think it's a big deal." "I'm not going to argue. But the matter is more than that. Miss Lanbo also pointed out a very interesting phenomenon." He picked up the second threatening letter and scratched the number representing 30,000 U.S. dollars with his fingernail, " You can see," Ellery said to the group around him, "that the letter writer made the usual typist's mistake in typing the number. Miss Lambert thought it was the letter writer's nerves. On the surface Come on, this is a reasonable understanding."

"Of course it is," said the inspector. "What's the matter?" "What's wrong," Ellery said calmly, "is that he hits the 'font change button' in order to type the dollar sign ($), and when he's going to type the '3' he doesn't The 'font change button' was not completely released, so the first stroke was very unclear, and the writer had to press the 'reverse button' to retype the word '3'. This is very interesting—very interesting. " Take a look at the numbers on the letter, they are as follows: "What's the point?" asked Simpson, "maybe I'm being dull, but I don't see what the situation means, other than what you've just said - mistyping, scribbling It was corrected. Miss Lambert judged that the miss was due to haste or nerves, and this judgment is in harmony with the facts."

Ellery smiled and shrugged: "My dear Simpson, it's not the typo that's interesting—although that interests me, too. It's the fact that the 'Thunderington' used to type this letter is interesting." ' brand typewriters don't have a standard keyboard. Maybe that's not all that important." "There isn't a standard keyboard?" Simpson repeated, puzzled. "Why, why?" Ellery shrugged again. "Anyway," the sergeant interrupted their conversation, "we must not make this rogue suspicious. We'll catch him tonight when he shows himself in Times Building in order to withdraw money."

Simpson, who was looking blankly at Ellery, shook his shoulder blades at this—as if to shake off an elusive burden—and nodded: "You have to pay attention, Quinn. Nock Si must pretend to pay the money according to the instructions in the letter, and you will be responsible for all these arrangements, okay?" "Leave it all to me," the old man said with a smile. "Now, we have to talk to Knox about this. How we get into his house will take some thought. Our object may be in the Watching." A group of people left the police officer's office, got into a car without a police mark, and drove to the Knox Mansion in the residential area, and parked at the side gate next to the path for servants to enter and exit.The driver of the police car was very attentive and went around the entire house before stopping at the side gate; there was no suspicious person around, so the Quinns, Simpson, and Pepper slipped through the side gate in the high fence and entered the servants' room. In Knox's resplendent study, they found Knox, calm and composed, dictating a manuscript to Joan Bright.Joan was reserved, especially with Pepper; Knox asked her to leave her alone until she had retreated to her own desk in the corner of the study, and Prosecutor Simpson, the constable, Pepper, and Knox met for business. A plan of action for the night. Ellery did not join in the whispering of these mysterious figures; he paced up and down the room while Joan sat typing away.He looked over Joan's shoulder, as if to see what she was playing, and whispered in her ear: "You keep on being that naive schoolgirl, dear lady. You've done a good job and really opened things up. " "Really?" she murmured, without moving her head; Ellery straightened up, smiling, and strolled into the group. Simpson was speaking his tongue—Simpson, when things were going well, was a master of the ring! —he said to James Knox: "Of course, Mr. Knox, you must understand that the situation has changed. After tonight, you will owe us a great debt. We will do our part. To protect you, to protect a citizen, and you repay us by refusing to return the stolen painting..." Knox raised his hands suddenly: "Okay, guys. I'll give in. This is the last straw that broke the camel's back. I'm so sick of that hapless painting! Such a blackmail Blackmailing is really troublesome... I have no choice but to admit that I am unlucky and let you decide everything." "But I remember you saying that the painting was not stolen from the Victoria Museum," said the police officer calmly.Even though he felt relieved in his heart, there was no expression on his face. "That's what I say now! The picture is mine. But you might as well take it to a specialist—it's up to you. Only one thing, if you find out I'm telling the truth, return it to me." "Oh, I'll do it," Simpson said. "Look, Prosecutor," Pepper interjected anxiously, "shouldn't we deal with the blackmailer first? Or he'll—" "Pepper, you're right," the police officer said in a very relaxed mood. "There's a priority. Get rid of the blackmailer first. And Miss Bright." The old man walked to the other side of the room and stood at Joan Joan looked up, with an inquiring smile, "Do me a favor, little girl, and send me a telegram. Or—wait a minute. Got a pencil?" She tamely produced a pencil and paper.The officer scrawled: "This one, good lady—type it up at once. It's important." Joan's typewriter ticked away.If it was said that her heart was beating with the words she typed, there was no expression on her face.The manuscript she pressed out with her fingers is as follows: The officer circulated the transcript for approval—Knox merely glanced at it—and returned the paper to Joan, who immediately called the telegraph office and read the message. The officer again plans the details of the night's operations; Knox nods reluctantly, half-knowingly; and the guests put on their coats.Ellery alone never touched his coat. "Son, won't you come with us?" "I'm going to take the liberty of Mr. Knox's hospitality and make a fuss a little longer. You go with Simpson and Pepper, Dad. I'll be home in a minute." "Going home? I'm going back to the office." "Very well, then, I'll come to your office." Everyone looked at him and felt strange; but he was smiling and calm.When they got to the door, he waved goodbye to them generously, and everyone walked out without saying a word. "Oh, boy," said James Knox, after they had gone out and shut the door, "I don't know what you sell in your gourd, but I'd welcome you if you'd like to stay here. As planned. I'm going to go to the bank myself and pretend to withdraw thirty thousand dollars. Simpson seems sure that our opponent is watching." "Simpson's right about everything," Ellery laughed. "Thank you for your affection." "It's nothing," Knox said bluntly, and cast a strange look at Joan, who was still sitting at the typewriter, putting on a full-fledged secretary air, concentrating on typing, ignoring everything, "just don't type. Miss Wright's idea. I'm to blame." Knox shrugged and walked out of the room. Ellery waited ten minutes.He didn't speak to Joan, and she continued typing rapidly, without pausing. He sits around doing nothing--looking out the window, in fact.After a while he saw the tall and gaunt Knox Ondo strutting out of the parking porch—the window Ellery looked out from was on the wing of the main building, so the front of the house had a good view of everything— — into the waiting limousine.Cars rolled down the driveway. Ellery suddenly perked up.In this way, Miss Joan Bright also came alive.She took her hands off the typewriter keys and sat looking at him expectantly with a sly smile. Ellery walked easily to her desk. "My God!" she exclaimed, pretending to shrink into a heap of terror, "Mr. Quinn, you are not going to be caught by Mr. Knox so quickly, are you?" "Don't think too much," said Ellery. "Now, if there's no one, let me ask a few questions, my dear lady." "It's a great honour, sir," murmured Joan. "Considering your gender... Let me ask you, noble lady. How many servants are employed in this luxurious mansion?" She looked very disappointed, and pouted her lips: "What a strange question, noble sir, you are such a strange person, you would ask such a strange question to a lady who is determined to do great things, let me think about it ’” She counted, wringing her fingers in silence. “Eight. Yes, eight. Mr. Knox’s family life is quiet. I don’t think he entertains very often.” "What do you know about those servants?" "Sir! A woman can understand everything... Just ask, Mr. Quin." "Are any of the servants here newly hired?" "Absolutely not. This is a very easy-going big family, du bon vieuxtemps. As far as I know, every servant has stayed with Mr. Knox for at least five or six years, and some have stayed for fifteen years. Long." "Does Knox trust them?" "C, est bien!" Ellery's voice was crisp and clear, "Maintenant, Mademoistelle, attendez. Il faut qu'on fait l'examen des servanturs-desbonnes, des domesticiques, des employees. Tout de suite!"——She Standing up, one knee slightly bent, bowing salute--"Mais oui, Monsieur. Vos ordres?" There is only a tiny slit left, and I can watch these people as they come in. You ring for them, one by one, with every pretext, and when they come, try to get them to stand within sight of me. place, so that I can see every face clearly... Of course, the driver of the car will not be called, but I have seen his face clearly. What's his name?" "Is he the only driver employed here?" He quickly entered the next room and stood behind the slight crack in the door.He witnesses Joan ringing the bell.A middle-aged woman in black taffeta entered the study, whom he had never seen before.Joan asked her a question, she answered, and went away.Joan rang the bell again, and in came three young women in elegant black dresses.Immediately after them came the lanky old manservant; after that came a squat, well-dressed, smooth-headed man; Chef clothing. When the last man got out and closed the door, Ellery stepped out of hiding. "Excellent. Who is that middle-aged woman?" "It's the housekeeper, Mrs. Healy." "What are the maids' names?" "Grant, Paulus, Hodges." "Where's the little guy with the expressionless face?" "He's Mr. Knox's squire, and his name is Harris." "Bussing, an immigrant from Paris—Alexander Bussing." "Is everyone complete? Are you sure?" "Everything, except that Schultz." Ellery nodded. "I've never seen any of them. So...do you remember the morning when you got the first threatening letter?" "Has anyone been in the house since that morning? I mean, anyone?" "A lot of people have been here, if they have been, but none of them have made it past the downstairs drawing room. Mr. Knox has refused to see visitors at all since then - most of them are at the door." It was blocked by Kraft's polite remark of 'not at home'." "Why is this?" Joan shrugged: "Although he pretends to be indifferent and sometimes shows a look of inviolability, in fact, I think Mr. Knox has been very nervous since he received the first threatening letter. I often feel strange, Why doesn't he hire a private detective." "It's clear," said Ellery with a sneer, "that he didn't want anyone--or at that time anyone--who had anything to do with the police, to come into his house. He was afraid of being found out. That Leonardo, or a Leonardo copy." "He trusts no one. Not even his own old friends, or acquaintances and customers with whom he has had much business dealings." "What did he do to Miles Woodruff?" Ellery asked. "As far as I know, Knox hired him to help with the aftermath of the Khalkis estate." "That's true. But Mr. Woodruff never called. They just talked on the phone every day." "Is it possible?" Ellery said to himself, "such luck—such a miracle, amazing good fortune." He squeezed her hands tightly, and she grunted in pain.Ellery, however, seemed to have no evil intentions.He clasped those delicate hands almost unceremoniously and unceremoniously, and said, "It's been a very interesting morning, Joan Bright, very interesting!" Although Ellery had assured his old man that he would be back at the sheriff's office "in a moment," he did not stroll into police headquarters until the afternoon, smiling from deep relief. As luck would have it, the police officer was so engrossed in business that he didn't get a chance to question him.Ellery was at his ease for a while, and it was only when he heard the old man instructing Inspector Willie how to arrange for the detectives to gather at night on the ground floor of the Times Building that he woke up from his boring daydream. "Perhaps," began Ellery--the old man seemed to realize that he was in the house--"perhaps it would be more practical to meet at Knox's on Riverside Avenue at nine o'clock in the evening." .” "The Knox family? Why?" "There's more than one reason. Of course you've got to have detectives in places where criminals are likely to be caught, but it's true that the main force should be assembled at the Knox's house. In any case, we don't need to be in the Times Building before ten o'clock." The officer was about to reprimand him, but seeing a certain determination in Ellery's eyes, he blinked and said, "Oh, good!" Turning around, he picked up the phone and called Simpson's office. . Inspector Willie strode in.Ellery, with an unexpected burst of energy, got up and followed the huge man.Out in the corridor he caught up to Willie, took his strong arm, and had a very, very hearty talk with him--pretty much a good talk. It was evident that the usually lukewarm Inspector Willie was suddenly animated—a liveliness characteristic of Willie becoming more and more restless as Ellery whispered eagerly in his ear.The good inspector is constantly supporting himself on his left or right leg alternately.He hesitated.He shook his head.Bite your big lips.Scratching his bearded chin.It seemed that he was overwhelmed by conflicting feelings. In the end, still unable to resist Ellery's sweet talk, he sighed unwillingly, and grunted, "Okay, Mr. Quinn, but if something goes wrong, I'm screwed." Then he walked away Go, as if eager to use official duties to get rid of the entanglement of beggars and beggars.