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hands on that pendant that you’ve lost the few decent instincts you used to have. You’ve waited this long, can’t you wait another couple of days? Father’s hardly settled in his grave.”
    â€œPlease,” murmured Mum.
    â€œPlease!” cried Jo.
    His reflections disturbed by the sibling colloquy, Ellery roused himself. “It may not be necessary to call in anybody. Your father left a dying message—MUM. Chief Newby is positive that Godfrey was leaving a clue to his killer’s identity—Mum Caswell here. But if Godfrey meant to identify his murderer, why did he choose to write MUM? MUM can mean a great many different things, which I shan’t go into now; but, as an identification, it’s an ambiguity. Had he wanted to accuse Mrs. Caswell, he could simply have written down her initials, MC. If he’d meant to accuse Joanne or Mr. Thorp—JC or WT. One of his children? ‘Son’ or ‘daughter’—or their initials. Any one of which would have been specific and unmistakable.
    â€œI choose to proceed, then,” Ellery went on, “on the assumption that Godfrey, in writing MUM, did not mean his killer.
    â€œNow. What had he promised to leave for you? The combination of the safe containing the only considerable asset in his estate. So his dying message may have been meant to be the safe combination. If so, the theory can be tested.”
    Going to the painting, he pushed it aside. Entranced, they trooped after him.
    â€œStudy this dial for a moment,” Ellery said. “What do you see? Twenty-six numbered notches. And what does twenty-six suggest? The number of letters in the alphabet!
    â€œSo let’s translate M-U-M into numbers. M is the thirteenth letter of the alphabet, U the twenty-first. Safe combination: 13-21-13. Now first we twirl the dial a few revolutions—to clear the action, so to speak. Then we turn to 13 and set it directly under the alignment notch—there. Next we turn the dial to the right—we’ll try that direction first—and align the 21. And now to the left—usually the directions alternate—back to 13.”
    Ellery paused. The crucial instant was at hand. There was no movement behind him, not even a breath.
    He took hold of the knob and pulled, gently.
    The thick, heavy door of the safe swung open.
    A shout of triumph went up—and died as if guillotined.
    The safe was empty. Utterly. No pendant, no jewel box, not even a scrap of paper.
    Later that day, true to his commitment, Ellery visited Anse Newby at police headquarters and reported the opening of the safe, including its emptiness.
    â€œSo what have you accomplished?” the Chief growled. “Somebody killed the old man, opened the safe, swiped the pendant. That doesn’t knock my theory over. It just gives us the motive.”
    â€œYou think so?” Ellery squeezed his lower lip. “I don’t. According to everyone’s testimony, Godfrey told them he was the only one who knew the combination. Did one of them figure out the M-U-M combination before I did and beat me to the safe? Possible, but I consider it unlikely, if you’ll pardon the self-puff. It takes experienced follow-through thinking to make the jump from M-U-M to 13-21-13.”
    â€œAll right, try this,” argued Newby. “Somebody sneaked downstairs in the middle of that night and got lucky.”
    â€œI don’t believe in that sort of luck. Anyway, it would call on one of them to be a mighty good actor.”
    â€œOne of them is an actor.”
    â€œBut, I gather, not a good one.”
    â€œOr maybe she—”
    â€œLet’s keep it a neutral ‘he.’”
    â€œâ€”maybe he forced old Godfrey to tell him the combination before sinking the knife into him.”
    â€œEven less likely. Everyone knew that Godfrey’s paralysis included his speaking apparatus, which even in a good recovery is usually the