“He just sits and broods, Ellery. You’d think with what’s happening in Korea he’d be going around saying I told you so. Instead of which I can’t get him to open his big mouth.”
“The world of fantasy is catching up with Crowe, and it’s probably a painful experience. There’s nothing new at the Priams’?”
“It’s quiet. Ellery, what do you suppose this lull means?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’m so confused these days!” Laurel’s was something of a wail, too. “Sometimes I think what’s going on in the world makes all this silly and unimportant. And I suppose in one way it is. But then I think, no, it’s not silly and it is important. Aggressive war is murder, too, and you don’t take that lying down. You have to fight it on every front, starting with the picayune personal ones. Or else you go down.”
“Yes,” said Ellery with a sigh, “that makes sense. I only wish this particular front weren’t so... fluid, Laurel. You might say we’ve got a pretty good General Staff, and a bang-up army behind us, but our Intelligence is weak. We have no idea where and when the next attack is coming, in what form and strength ― or the meaning of the enemy’s strategy. All we can do is sit tight and keep on the alert.”
Laurel said quickly, “Bless you,” and she hung up quickly, too.
The Enemy’s next attack came during the night of July 6–7. It was, surprisingly, Crowe Macgowan who notified Ellery. His call came at a little after one in the morning, as Ellery was about to go to bed.
“Queen. Something screwy just happened. I thought you’d want to know.” Macgowan sounded tired, not like himself at all. “What, Mac?”
“The library’s been broken in to. One of the windows. Seems like a case of ordinary housebreaking, but I dunno.”