But in the late afternoon, after hours of vain experimentation, he suddenly came upon a tiny wire which seemed to him to be out of joint with its environment. It simply hung, a useless thing. Logic demanded a connection. He experimented. He found one.
As he stepped on the starter and heard the cold motor sputter into life, a shape darkened the entrance of the garage. He turned off the ignition quickly and looked up.
It was Keith, a black mass against the background of snow, standing with widespread legs, a large can hanging from each big hand.
“Hello, there,” murmured Ellery. “You’ve assumed human shape again, I see. Back on one of your infrequent jaunts to the world of men, Keith?”
Keith said quietly: “Going somewhere, Mr. Queen?”
“Certainly. Why — do you intend to stop me?”
“Depends on where you’re going.”
“Ah, a threat. Well, suppose I tell you where to go?”
“Tell all you want. You don’t get off these grounds until I know where you’re bound for.”
Ellery grinned. “There’s a naive directness about you, Keith, that draws me in spite of myself. Well, I’ll relieve your mind. Thorne and I are taking Miss Mayhew back to the city.”