Ellery Queen - 1958 - The Finishing Stroke by Ellery Queen

Author:Ellery Queen [Queen, Ellery]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-01-15T12:12:11+00:00

* * *

Mr. Gardiner found Busty in the old carriage house. She was cuddled against John on the dusty front seat of the ancient sleigh, listening raptly to the young monster read poetry. Their backs were to him, so that for a few moments the old gentleman could observe them unnoticed. The poetry was love poetry of a particularly brittle, clever sort, and from the immense self-satisfaction with which the young man read it Mr. Gardiner gathered that it was his own. Rusty, whom the clergyman could see in profile, was drinking in the verse with parted lips.

Mr. Gardiner composed himself and coughed. He had to repeat the cough before they heard him.

“Oh, Mr. Gardiner,” Rusty cried, her red bob flying. “You should hear John’s poems. They’re magnificent!”

“Hi, Reverend,” John said shortly.

“Then I’m interrupting. I’m sorry.” Nevertheless, Mr. Gardiner did not stir.

“I take it I’m not wanted,” John said,

“Well, I’ve been lax,” Mr. Gardiner said, unmoved. “With the wedding date, so near, I really should have a talk with Rusty. Of course, if you’d rather I deferred it—”

“Oh, hell,” John said. “Get it over with.” He jumped from the sleigh and strode out.

“Don’t pay any attention to John,” Rusty said with an embarrassed laugh. “You know what a strain he’s been under the past few days. Do you want to sit up here beside me?”

Mr. Gardiner climbed spryly into the sleigh. He took Rusty’s hand and smiled down at her. “Well, my dear—alone at last, as the spider said to the fly.” It was Mr. Gardiner’s standard witticism for such occasions.

Then his big Yankee nose tightened at the nostrils as he set himself for what he had to say.

At that instant Rusty gave a little shiver of pure happiness. “Oh, Mr.

Gardiner, I’m so full of everything wonderful and ecstatic I could burst.

Not even what’s been happening can spoil it.”

Mr. Gardiner’s mouth closed. It was written in I Samuel II, If one man sin against another, the judge shall judge him. Still . . . Matthew VII, 1, Judge not, that ye be not judged.

“You love John dearly,” Mr. Gardiner said in a troubled voice.

“Oh, yes.”

“And John loves you?”

Rusty laughed. “He’d better!”

Mr. Gardiner did not smile. “You have no doubts, my dear? Either for yourself, or for him?”

Rusty hesitated, and Mr. Gardiner took hope. But then she said thoughtfully, “I don’t think so. I have been kind of worried the past few days, I admit, John’s acted so—well, not himself at times. But it’s just all this mixup. You can’t really blame him. He feels the responsibility of getting everyone together, and then murder . . . and those dreadful Christmas boxes . . . “

“Rusty.” The old clergyman cleared his throat. “Suppose you discovered that John isn’t what you think he is. Would you still marry him?”

“You’re a darling.” Rusty squeezed his hand. “But I can’t answer a question like that, Mr. Gardiner. It has no reality for me. John couldn’t be otherwise than I know he is. He wouldn’t be my John.

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