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off.
    â€œYou up at six A.M.?” yawned the Inspector. Then he inhaled. “The millennium! You’ve already made the coffee.”
    â€œDad.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œDo me a favor this morning. Check up on a pistol permit.”
    â€œWhose?”
    â€œDirk Lawrence.”
    â€œThat fellow?” The Inspector glanced sharply at Ellery, but Ellery’s face told nothing. “I’ll call you from downtown.” The Inspector waited, but Ellery said not another word, and the old gentleman left.
    Ellery was awakened by his father’s call.
    â€œHe has one.”
    â€œWhen was it issued?”
    â€œLast week. Shouldn’t it have been? After all, he’s a friend of yours.” Inspector Queen sounded sarcastic.
    â€œI don’t know,” said Ellery.
    â€œThink it ought to be revoked?” When Ellery did not reply, the Inspector said, “Ellery, you there?”
    â€œI was just thinking,” said Ellery. “If a man is bent on securing possession of a gun, the fact that his license has been revoked isn’t going to stop him. And there’s no nourishment in jailing a man for using a gun without a license after he’s used it. No, Dad, let it ride.”
    For three days Nikki accompanied Dirk Lawrence to the Westchester gun club, developing a bulky notebook and a slight case of deafness in both ears. Dirk’s behavior toward Martha was impeccable, and Martha, reported Nikki, seemed content with small favors. She was very bright and gay when they saw her. The Alex Conn play was in its last week, and she was busy reading manuscripts. At the theater, she explained. She didn’t want to drag her work into Dirk’s working quarters; the apartment was too small.
    â€œSounds good,” said Ellery.
    â€œIt sounds better than it looks,” replied Nikki with grimness. “After all, Martha’s had training as an actress. But she can’t fool me. Her shoulders are developing a permanent hunch. She’s waiting for that next blow to fall.”
    The next blow fell from an unexpected direction, and it struck an unexpected target. For a few days Nikki transcribed her notes and organized them. There was no return to the gun club and the Army automatic vanished. Then, after the weekend, Dirk began visiting the New York Public Library at 42nd Street to read up on background for his story. He spent most of Monday and Tuesday away from home. Late on Tuesday afternoon Nikki dropped in to the Queen apartment.
    Ellery was shocked. She was haggard; her eyes were wild.
    â€œNikki, what’s the matter?”
    â€œHow can you tell?” Nikki laughed hollowly. “Dirk’s still at the library and Martha’s due home any minute. I can’t stay long … Ellery, I did something today I’ve never done in my life. I deliberately eavesdropped on a telephone conversation.”
    â€œDirk?”
    â€œMartha.”
    â€œMartha?”
    â€œIt was this morning,” said Nikki, leaning back. “I was up early–I’ve suffered stupidly from insomnia lately–and I’d just taken my coffee and toast into the study to start typing Dirk’s library notes of yesterday when the phone rang. Charlotte–the maid who comes in every day–hadn’t got there yet, and Dirk and Martha were still asleep, so I answered. I said hello, and a man’s voice said, ‘Good morning, Martha darling.’”
    Nikki opened her eyes and looked at Ellery as if she expected a suitable response.
    But Ellery said irritably, “What am I supposed to do, phone for the reserves? There must be a hundred men who call Martha darling. I do myself. Who was he?”
    Nikki’s head rolled. “Give me credit for some sense, Ellery. This wasn’t an ordinary, garden-variety darling. This was a darling of a different hue. Rose-colored, if you know what I mean.”
    â€œSorry,” said Ellery wearily. “Go