EQMM 1956-03 by Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine

Author:Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine [Magazine, Ellery Queen Mystery]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

The day we passed Cape San Vicente, where the long Atlantic rollers broke in high-flung flashes of white against the rust-red cliffs of Portugal, I was standing beside Ginnie at the promenade-deck rail. Raffles was absent, having taken to spending much time getting himself shown about the nether regions of the ship.

I glanced uneasily at Ginnie. She was watching the passing headland and, such was her faith in Raffles, I knew that at this very moment she was seeing herself and Phil, with their child Philippa, making a safe, fresh start in some distant country. It worried me intensely, for in my heart I believed her vision to be more than a mirage. At that moment she turned her head and saw me looking at her. She smiled and put a hand impulsively on mine.

“Have you forgiven me the ten pound trick, Bunny?” she said.

“Now, Ginnie!” I said. My heart ached for that girl.

But Raffles, that night, in the three-berth cabin we shared with Ivor Kern, said, “All that can be done for her up to the moment, Bunny, has been done. The ships being sister ships, I now have the geography and routine of both at my fingertips. I know the precise location of the cells and the strong-room, and—”

“The strong-room?” In my upper bunk, I heaved myself up on an elbow to get a better look at him.

“The Karoo Queen,” he said, “will certainly be carrying South African gold and diamonds. The presence of plunder has a tactical relevance.” Raffles was reclining in his bunk, a hand behind his head. Flicking ash from his cigarette, he glanced across at Kern. “Tell me again about this man in Gibraltar whom you mentioned, Ivor.”

“Osmanazar?” Kern said. “As I told you, I don’t know him personally, but I’ve heard of him, just as he’ll have heard of me. He’s the biggest handler of stolen property in the Western Mediterranean. He works under cover of a shop in Gibraltar called Osmanazar’s Bazaar. I feel pretty sure he’ll let me use some back room in his place to carry out the work you want done.”

“So far, so good,” Raffles said. “One thing bothers me a bit, because of its total unpredictability. You remember, Bunny? I mean ‘the important personal service’ which the Governor was good enough to say I was ‘the very man’ to carry out for him. There’s a possible source of complication there. I wonder what His Excellency can want of me?”

The Governor was not at the dock in person — we had scarcely expected as much — when the tender chugged us ashore next day. In the noonday heat, the multi-hued flat-roofed houses which jostled in terraces up the precipitous side of the Rock sweltered visibly. As we set foot on the wharf, a young officer approached us. He wore a pipe-clayed helmet, scarlet tunic, skin-tight bottle-green trousers strapped under the instep, and small silver spurs. His hand was outstretched

“Raffles, welcome!” he exclaimed. “Delighted to see you. You remember me, at school? Yorick Hope-Jenyns.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.