Free And on the Eighth Day by Ellery Queen

occur in Quenan?” he cried. “Here there is no cause for envy or for greed. Even the thieving of Belyar the Weaver could not occur today, for our storehouse bursts with the fruits of our toil; so that, should a man wish for more than the common allotment, he has but to ask for it and it is given him freely. Hate? There is no hate in Quenan; if there were, surely the Teacher would know it. Adultery? In all our days not even an accusation of such has been brought against any man or woman among us. Slander? False pride? False witness? I tell you, these cannot be in Quenan.
    “For we do not wait to obey our laws, we run to do so with joyous feet. Corruption? What should I, or the Successor, or the Superintendent, or any of the Crownsil or the people generally, be corrupted with, and to what purpose? What one has, all have. And as bribery cannot be, so extortion cannot be. Here in Quenan, authority is not abused, trust is not broken uncleanliness does not outlast the moment; and we are so slow to anger that the cause for it would wither before ever the anger came.
    “My heart is troubled, Elroï, that you should suspect us of a capacity for crime.”
    The majestic voice ceased, and once again the little noises of the night intruded. Ellery shook his head in the darkness. It was too good to be true. He wanted to accept it, but he could not. Why hadn’t the Teacher mentioned the greatest crime of all? he thought as the old man reached past him, shut the door of the Holy Congregation House, then took his arm and urged him gently onto the hardpacked earth of the village street.
    Was it that the very notion was foreign to him and his community, so that it would never even cross his mind? As, for example, the concept of war was so foreign to the Eskimo culture that the people of the farthest North had no word for it in their vocabulary?
    “And yet,” the Teacher said in the lowest register of his deep voice, “and yet you are here, Elroï, and for a purpose. That which has been written for all the days to come I may know not; but this I know—that which will be, will be. Blessed be the Wor’d for your coming. I am thankful even so.”
    The water from the rivulet stopped splashing in the darkness somewhere, began again farther away, an irrigation ditch had been shut off, and another opened. He sensed that the Teacher was walking him back to the house where he had been lodged during the first night.
    “How many years, Teacher, has Quenan been here?” he asked.
    “To the number of three generations.”
    “And you are very old. Can you remember when the community was founded?”
    The Teacher was silent. When he spoke, his voice seemed faint. “Tomorrow is another day, Elroï. This is your house. The Wor’d sustain you.”
    Ellery half imagined that there was a very slight tremor in the old man’s powerful handclasp.
    Later, lying on his pallet, Ellery heard a frog in some ditch lift up its voice. Weedit, weedit. And then another, and another, and another. Weedit , weedit , weedit … Not more than half awake, Ellery thought of frog spawn, silent in still waters; then of tadpoles, still silent; then the swift ascension to the land, the swarming, the crawling, the croaking … and at the last a voice, a human voice, saying something stubbornly.
    Nevertheless , this voice said, fading as Ellery sank into sleep, the world does move …

III TUESDAY
    April 4
    E LLERY WAS FINISHING HIS breakfast in the communal dining room when the interruption came. (In spite of stern intentions he had overslept, and he was alone in the building except for the commissary staff, who were quietly cleaning up around him. He had tossed on the pallet all night and regretted having neglected to take one of the red capsules from the little bottle in his grip. Also, he missed coffee. Herb tea might be wonderfully healthful, but it did nothing for the taut Queen nerves.)
    The interruption came in the form of an excited voice.
    “Quenan!”
    The young