Free Egyptian Cross Mystery by Ellery Queen Page A

head and said indignantly: “Really, you people are being absurd. What difference does it make where people come from, or whom they were married to years and years ago? Why don’t you try to find out who killed him?”
    “Something tells me with insistence, Miss Brad,” replied Ellery, smiling sadly, “that the matter of geography may become extremely important … Is Mr. Megara Roumanian, too?”
    Mrs. Brad looked blank. Lincoln said curtly: “Greek.”
    “What in the world—?” began the District Attorney helplessly.
    Inspector Vaughn smiled. “Greek, eh? You people are all native Americans, I suppose?”
    They nodded. Helene’s eyes were flashing angrily; even the fiery glints in her hair seemed to glow brighter, and she looked at Jonah Lincoln as if she expected him to remonstrate. But he said nothing, merely looking down at the tips of his shoes.
    “Where is Megara?” went on Isham. “Somebody said he was on a cruise. What kind of cruise—round-the-world?”
    “No,” said Lincoln slowly. “Nothing like that. Mr. Megara is something of a globe-trotter and amateur explorer. He has his own yacht and keeps sailing about in it. He just goes off and stays away for three and four months at a time.”
    “How long’s he been away on this trip?” demanded Vaughn.
    “Almost a year.”
    “Where is he?”
    Lincoln shrugged. “I don’t know. He never writes—just pops in without warning. I can’t understand why he’s stayed away so long this time.”
    “I think,” said Helene, wrinkling her forehead, “that he went to the South Seas.” Her eyes were luminous and her lips quivered; Ellery regarded her curiously and wondered why.
    “What’s the name of his yacht?”
    Helene flushed. “The Helene.”
    “Steam yacht?” asked Ellery.
    “Yes.”
    “Has he a radio—wireless sending outfit?” demanded Vaughn.
    “Yes.”
    The Inspector scribbled in his notebook and looked pleased. “Sail it himself, does he?” he asked as he wrote.
    “Of course not! He has a regular captain and crew—Captain Swift, who’s been with him for years.”
    Ellery sat down suddenly and stretched his long legs. “I do believe … What’s Megara’s first name?”
    “Stephen.”
    Isham growled deep in his throat. “Oh, Lord. Why can’t we stick to essentials? How long have Brad and Megara been partners in this rug-importing business?”
    “Sixteen years,” replied Jonah. “Went into business together.”
    “Successful business, is it? No financial troubles?”
    Lincoln shook his head. “Both Mr. Brad and Mr. Megara founded very substantial fortunes. They were hit by the depression, like everyone else; but the business is sound.” He paused and an odd look changed the expression of his lean healthy face. “I don’t believe you’ll find money troubles at the bottom of this thing.”
    “Well,” grunted Isham, “what do you think is at the bottom of it?”
    Lincoln closed his mouth with a little snap.
    “You don’t by any chance,” drawled Ellery, “think there’s religion behind it, Mr. Lincoln?”
    Lincoln blinked. “Why—I didn’t say so. But the crime itself—the crucifixion …”
    Ellery smiled pleasantly. “By the way, what was Mr. Brad’s creed?”
    Mrs. Brad, still sitting with her ample back arched, chest out, chin up, murmured: “He once told me he had been raised in the Orthodox Greek Church. But he wasn’t devout, to fact, he was a non-believer in ritual; some people considered him an atheist.”
    “And Megara?”
    “Oh, he doesn’t believe in anything at all.” There was something in her tone which caused all of them to look at her sharply; but her face was expressionless.
    “Orthodox Greek,” said Professor Yardley thoughtfully. “That’s consistent enough with Roumania. …”
    “You’re looking for inconsistencies?” murmured Ellery.
    Inspector Vaughn coughed, and Mrs. Brad regarded him tensely. She seemed to sense what was coming. “Did your husband have any