Egyptian Cross Mystery by Ellery Queen Read Free Book Online Page A

Abraham Lincoln, hurried forward and grasped Ellery’s hand as he jumped out of the Duesenberg.
    “Queen! It’s good seeing you again.”
    “And you, Professor. Lord, it’s been years! What are you doing here on Long Island? Last I heard of you, you were still living on the campus, torturing sophomores.”
    The Professor grinned in his short black beard. “I rented that Taj Mahal across the road”—Ellery turned and saw spires and a Byzantine dome peeping above the trees where Professor Yardley’s thumb pointed—“from a crazy friend of mine. He built that atrocity himself when he was bitten by the Oriental bug. He’s gone on a prowl through Asia Minor, and I’m working here this summer. I wanted a little quiet to do my long-deferred opus on Sources of the Atlantean Legend. You recall the Platonic references?”
    “I recall,” smiled Ellery, “Bacon’s New Atlantis, but then my interests were always literary rather than scientific.”
    Yardley grunted. “The same fresh youngster, I see. … Quiet! Well, this is what I ran into.”
    “How on earth did you happen to think of me?”
    They strode along the cluttered driveway of Bradwood toward a large colonial house, its vast pillars gleaming in the noon sun.
    “The long arm of coincidence,” said the Professor dryly. “I’ve followed your career with interest, naturally. And since I’m always fascinated by your exploits, I read quite avidly the accounts five or six months ago of that extraordinary murder in West Virginia.”
    Ellery took in the scene before replying. Bradwood was meticulously landscaped, the estate of a wealthy man. “I might have known nothing would escape the eyes that have examined thousands of papyri and stelai. So you read that highly romanticized version of my little sojourn in Arroyo?”
    “I did. And your highly romanticized lack of accomplishment.” The Professor chuckled. “At the same time, I was gratified by your application of the fundamental I tried to drive into your stubborn head—always go to the source. Egyptian cross, my boy? I’m afraid your sense of theater strangled the purely scientific truth. … Well, here we are.”
    “What do you mean?” demanded Ellery with an anxious frown. “The tau cross was certainly a primitive Egyptian—”
    “I’ll discuss it with you later. I suppose you want to meet Isham. He’s been kind enough to let me potter around.”
    District Attorney Isham of Nassau County, a stubby man of middle age with watery blue eyes and a horseshoe fringe of gray on his head, was standing on the steps of the long colonial porch engaged in heated conversation with a tall powerful man in civilian clothes.
    “Er—Mr. Isham,” said Professor Yardley. “Here’s my protégé, Ellery Queen.”
    The two men turned quickly. “Oh, yes,” said Isham, as if he were thinking of other things. “Glad you came, Mr. Queen. I don’t know what you can do to help, but—” He shrugged. “Meet Inspector Vaughn of the Nassau County police.”
    Ellery shook hands with both of them. “You’ll permit me to wander about? I promise not to get under your feet.”
    Inspector Vaughn displayed brown teeth. “We need somebody to get under our feet. We’re just standing still, Mr. Queen. Like to see the main exhibit?”
    “I suppose it’s customary. Come along, Professor.”
    The four men descended the steps of the porch and began to walk along a gravel path around the eastern ell of the house. Ellery experienced a sense of the vastness of the estate. The main house, he now saw, was situated halfway between the private highway where he had left his Duesenberg and the waters of a cove, whose sun-painted ripples were visible from the elevation of the main house. This body of water, District Attorney Isham explained, was a tributary of Long Island Sound; it was called Ketcham’s Cove. Beyond the waters of the Cove could be seen the woody silhouette of a small island. Oyster Island, remarked the Professor;