“Go ahead.” Priam still stared.
“You believed me dead,” read Ellery. “ Killed, murdered. For over a score of years I have looked for you ― for you and for him. And now I have found you. Can you guess my plan? You’ll die. Quickly? No, very slowly. And so pay me back for my long years of searching and dreaming of revenge. Slow dying... unavoidable dying. For you and for him. Slow and sure ― dying in mind and in body. And for each pace forward a warning... a warning of special meaning for you ― and for him. Meanings for pondering and puzzling. Here is warning number one.”
“See?” said Priam. “Crazy as a bug.”
“Killed, murdered said Keats. “By a hurricane, Mr. Priam?” But he was smiling.
“That was his craziness, Lieutenant. I remember when he was steaming after us on deck, waving the machete around his head, how he kept yelling we were trying to murder him. All the time he was trying to murder us. Ask your brain doctors. They’ll tell you.” Priam swung about. “Is that what’s been bothering you, Mr. Queen?”
“What? Oh! No, not that, Mr. Priam.” Ellery scowled down at the paper. “It’s the phrasing.”
“The what?”
“The way the message is worded.”
Priam was puzzled. “What’s the matter with it?”
“A great deal is the matter with it, Mr. Priam. I’ll go so far as to say that this is the most remarkable collection of words I’ve ever been privileged to read. How many words are there in this message, Mr. Priam?”