Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 4, No. 2, March 1943

The Characters

Ellery Queen        the detective

Nikki Porter       his secretary

Inspector Queen     his father, of Police Headquarters

Sergeant Velie      of Inspector Queen’s staff

Sweeney          a fire insurance agent

Ferguson         who owns a cigar-and-stationery store

Jacob Tinker        who owns a pawn-shop

Simon Tinker       Tinker’s half-witted brother

Ferril            who owns an interior-decorating shop

Mme. Delage        who owns a milliner’s shop

Chief Hilliard        of the Fire Department

and Firemen — Police — Street Spectators, etc.

Scene

SCENE 1: The Queen Apartment (The Inspector, Ellery, and Nikki Porter are at breakfast, Sergeant Velie is impatiently waiting for the Inspector to finish)

Velie: Here’s your hat an’ coat, Inspector Queen. Man, you must love coffee! Don’t you know dooty calls?

Inspector: (Chuckling) Don’t rush me, Velie. I’m an old man.

Ellery: Old man! Why there isn’t a youngster on the police force could keep up with you, dad Isn’t that so, Sergeant?

Velie: When he wants to. Right now he don’t want to.

Nikki: More coffee, Ellery?

Ellery: No thanks, Nikki. Oh, by the way! No work on my novel this morning. I’m expecting a visitor.

Nikki: (Quickly) Male or female?

Ellery: Male, my child. Male named Sweeney. New York agent for the Vulcan Fire Insurance Company of Cleveland.

Velie: The whozis? Say, Inspector, d’ye hear that?

Nikki: Now what did the great Mr. Queen say?

Inspector: Well, Ellery doesn’t know it, but Headquarters is helping the Vulcan people investigate the epidemic of fires that’s been keeping this neighborhood up nights.

Nikki: And their agent is coming to see him today — the long arm of coincidence! May as well clear these dishes away. (Fading) Hired as a secretary — finagled into being a housekeeper! (The men laugh)

Velie: Those fires been raisin’ hallelujah around here. Bad business, Mr. Queen.

Ellery: How many fires have there been, dad?

Inspector: Three in the last two weeks. First one was that cigar-and-stationery store around the corner on Amsterdam Avenue.

Nikki: (Returning) You know, Ellery — the store run by that grumpy old Scotchman, Ferguson.

Velie: Second fire was an interior decorator’s shop down the block a ways — Ferril’s.

Inspector: And the third fire — only two nights ago — gutted a brand-new milliner’s shop two blocks north.

Nikki: I know! Madame Delage’s. She really had the stunningest hats, Ellery. Such a shame.

Ellery: Isn’t it possible the three fires were accidents?

Velie: Not accordin’ to the Arson boys at Headquarters.

Inspector: Chemicals started the blaze in all three cases, son — and all in the middle of the night, so that by the time the fires were discovered and alarms turned in, there was a total loss of interior property.

Velie: Inspector, we gotta be goin’. We’re late! L-A-T-E!

Inspector: Coming, Velie, coming. Ellery, compare notes with me after you’ve talked to this Vulcan insurance man — what’s ’is name? — Sweeney. (Velie growls at him) Right, right, Velie! (The Inspector and Velie leave the apartment)

Nikki: This is one of the few cases you’ve had involving mysterious fires, isn’t it, Ellery?

Ellery: Yes, Nikki. Where’s that man Sweeney? I’m itching to have a go at this one!

Nikki: Could the three fires be the work of a — what do you call those people who set fire to things just for the heck of it?

Ellery: Incendiary — pyromaniac — commonly called “fire-bug,” Nikki. An especially nasty and dangerous type of psychopathic criminal. (Doorbell rings off) There’s Sweeney now.

Nikki: (Fading) Coming...! (She opens the door off)

Sweeney: (He is a nervous, middle-aged man) I have an appointment with Mr. Queen. Name’s Sweeney.

Nikki: (Off) Come in, Mr. Sweeney. (She closes the door) This way, please.

Ellery: Come in, Mr. Sweeney! My secretary, Miss Porter. (Sweeney mumbles) Sit down.

Sweeney: Thanks. Mr. Queen, I... you’ve got a rep for... well, helpin’ people out when they’re in a jam—

Nikki: (Surprised) But I thought it was about the fires—

Ellery: (Quickly) Notes, Nikki. (Nikki subsides) (gently) Yes, Mr. Sweeney?

Sweeney: (Desperately) Mr. Queen, would you help an ex-convict go straight?

Nikki: Of course he would! He’s always helping people.

Ellery: (Kindly) You’ve done time, Mr. Sweeney?

Sweeney: (Unevenly) Quite a stretch. Years ago I... got into a bad mess. I’d just started workin’ for the Vulcan Fire Insurance company, and they had me pinched.

Ellery: On what charge?

Sweeney: Collusion with a policy-holder to defraud the company. Yes, I was guilty — this account of mine was a slick article, he tempted me... anyway, we tried to collect on a fake fire. They had me with the goods, and I went to jail. (Quickly) The company was swell to me, though. When I was paroled, they took me right back and gave me another chance.

Nikki: That’s the way it should be.

Sweeney: I’ve worked honest ever since. But just when I thought it was all forgotten — this has to happen.

Ellery: You’re under suspicion again, Mr. Sweeney?

Sweeney: But this time I’m innocent — I swear I am, Mr. Queen! Three of the accounts I wrote up for fire insurance have had fires in the past two weeks — mighty funny-lookin’ fires—

Nikki: The fires in this neighborhood? Stationery-store, interior decorator, and hat shop?

Sweeney: (Surprised) Yes. You know about this case?

Ellery: Yes, we know about it. What’s the attitude of your company — precisely?

Sweeney: They’re suspicious. Can you blame ’em, Mr. Queen? Not in the face of my record. But I tell you I don’t know a darned thing about those fires. I’ve got a wife and two growin’ kids now. I wouldn’t want my youngsters to find out their old man’s an ex-con.

Nikki: Oh, Ellery! Can’t you do something for Mr. Sweeney?

Ellery: We can try, Nikki.

Sweeney: Mr. Queen, if my company fires me again, under suspicion, I’m through. I’ll be tagged a crook for the rest of my life. No other company’d give me a job. Help me, Mr. Queen. I want to go straight!

Ellery: I’ll start investigating at once. Be back here at my apartment tonight at nine, Mr. Sweeney, and perhaps I’ll have some news for you!

SCENE 2: Ferguson’s Cigar-and-Stationery Store (Ellery and Nikki pause on the side-walk before Ferguson’s shop)

Nikki: Here’s Ferguson’s cigar-and-stationery store, Ellery. But the show window’s all boarded up.

Ellery: Let’s see... No, there’s our Scotty sitting inside with his head in his hands. (They go in).

Nikki: Doesn’t he look sad, Ellery?

Ferguson: (He is a broad-brogued Scotsman) And if ye’re lookin’ fer a cigar, or a magazine, look elsewhere. Ferguson’s outa business!.. Oh. ’Tis that bonnie Miss Porter. And Misterrr Queen. (They greet him) Come to commiserate with a ruint mon, eh, lassie? Ferguson ruint by a conflagration!

Nikki: You poor thing. Look at this place. Everything burned to a cinder!

Ellery: But didn’t you carry fire insurance, Mr. Ferguson?

Ferguson: ’Tis His Satanic Majesty himself’s been after me since I coom to this coontry, Mr. Queen! Fer ten long years I carry fire insurance to the hilt—

Nikki: Then stop worrying, Mr. Ferguson. The insurance company will pay you for your losses.

Ferguson: Aye, an’ will they, lass? Nae, not Ferguson! I decided to economize a wee bit. No sooner does Ferguson cancel part of his insurance, then a fire breaks oot an’ ruins the entire stock!

Ellery: How much will you collect on your policy?

Ferguson: Not enough to pay my creditors for bills past doo! (Sighs) Aye, Ferguson’s outa business.

Ellery: Any idea how the fire started, Mr. Ferguson?

Ferguson: ’Twas at night, sir, in m’back room there. I kept a wee dark-room there — amatoor photographer I am — and o’ coorse there’s chemicals. But whether the fire started in the chemicals by itself, sir, or some dirrrty criminal put a match to ’em...

Ellery: Who’s your landlord, Mr. Ferguson? From whom do you rent this store?

Ferguson: Aye, an’ there’s a harrrd mon, Mr. Queen — a verra harrrd mon. Jacob Tinker.

Nikki: Jacob Tinker? Ellery, that’s the squeaky little old man who owns the pawnshop down the street.

Ferguson: (Glumly) The verra same. A graspin’ miser! I tell ye I’d like — (The shop door opens and a queer figure shambles in)

Nikki: A customer... and nothing to sell! It is a shame.

Ellery: (Low) Queer-looking customer. Look at the bulk of the man, Nikki! Burly brute.

Nikki: (Low) But he has such a childish smile Ellery — and such foolish, staring eyes!

Ferguson: (Gentle impatience) Well, well! Don’t be gawpin’ there, Simon! Go away. Shoo! Off wi’ ye!

Simon: (He has a deep, but childlike voice. He is a “simple”) I just found a penny, Mr. Ferguson. See how nice and shiny it is. Will you sell me a cigaret? Please, Mr. Ferguson.

Ferguson: (Sighing) Simon, I canna sell ye cigarets na’ more. (As if to a child) See? My shop. Gone!

Simon: (Wondering) Did the fairies take it? (Claps hands like a child) I know! The fire! (He laughs with glee) It was a nice fire — it burned so bright — like the boys make on the empty lot (Fading) but so big — so hot — so red... (He exits suddenly, with gleeful laughter)

Nikki: Who in the world was that, Mr. Ferguson?

Ferguson: ’Tis Simon Tinker, lass — the pawnbroker’s brother.

Ellery: Body of a grown man and the mind of a child.

Ferguson: Aye, he’s a half-wit, Simple Simon is. Lives with old Jacob in the back room of the pawnshop. (Muttering) A hot fire, he says. Aye, ’twas that, ’twas that!

Ellery: (Low) Let’s be off, Nikki — Ferguson’s miserable enough as it is. And we’ve learned all we can.

Ferguson: (Muttering as they leave) ’Tis an enemy I’ve got — who it is I canna think — but may he burrrn in his own fire in the deepest pits of... (The door drowns him out)

SCENE 3: Ferril’s Interior-Decorating Shop (Ellery and Nikki enter Ferril’s shop)

Ellery: Mr. Ferril?

Ferril: (Approaching) Yes?

Ellery: My name’s Queen. This is Miss Porter, Mr. Ferril.

Ferril: (Despairing) If you’re in-tewethted in decowating an apartment, Mithter Queen, I’m afwaid

I can’t help you. All my dwapeth and curtainth and wall-paperth were burned to a cwithp!

Nikki: (Grimly) Seems to have been a pretty complete job, your fire, Mr. Ferril. Gosh!

Ferril: Thimply dweadful!

Ellery: We’re investigating the epidemic of fires in this neighborhood, Mr. Ferril.

Ferril: Oh! You’re detectivth?

Ellery: Well—

Mme. Delage: (She is a full-blown French woman — a vivid personality) Do I hear you say de-tec-a-tive? It is time someone do some thing! Chou-Chou an’ I — we both wring our hands!

Ferril: (Hastily) Thith ith Madame Delage. Miss Porter, Mr. Queen. (Greetings)

Nikki: Aren’t you the milliner who was burned out, too, Madame Delage?

Ellery: Companions in misery, eh, Madame?

Mme. Delage: Oui. Chou-Chou an’ I — we are ol’ friends. (Giggle) Pardonnez-moi! Chou-Chou... that is my pet name for Mr. Ferril. We know each ozzer from Paree, when Chou-Chou is an artist on the Left Bank an’ I... (Sighs) I was Camille.

Ferril: (Unhappily) Madame Delage wethently came fwom Pawith to open a millinery ethtablithment, tho I thub-leathed my old thtore to her and wented thith bigger one for my dwape-and-wallpaper buthineth.

Mme. Delage: An’ I, Monsieur Queen — I sub-lease Chou-Chou’s small shop, I turn it at great expense into a millinery shop — new fixtures, new decorations, magnifique! An’ I am not open a week when the fire, she burn every thing! I go out of my mind!

Nikki: It was a lovely shop, Madame. I was thinking of coming in for a hat. Then I passed and saw what the fire had done—

Mme. Delage: (Despairing) You see? It is fate!

Ellery: But you must have carried fire insurance, Madame.

Mme. Delage: But so little! I was a fool. What I will collect from the Vulcan Fire Insurance Company — it is not sufficient to furnish the poorest new shop!

Ellery: Were you sufficiently covered by insurance, Mr. Ferril?

Mme. Delage: Chou-Chou? He is even worse off! He is — how you say? — broken!

Ferril: Naturally when I ekthpanded, Mithter Queen, I bought a new thtock — wallpaper, fabricth — gorgeouth line! But I wath tho buthy and tho ekthited, I forgot to incweathe my polithy to cover the new invethtment.

I’m over my thilly ear-th in debt — the old polithy won’t half pull me out!

Ellery: Who’s your landlord, Mr. Ferril? I mean, both of the small shop you sub-leased to Madame Delage, and of this one you recently moved to?

Ferril: The thame man — old Jacob Tinker. The Scwooge!

Ellery: Ah. Well, we’ll be getting along. (He opens the street door) If you two should recall anything helpful to our investigation—

Ferril: We’ll get wight in touch with you, Mithter Queen. (Angry) Thimon! Thimon Tinker! Get away fwom here!

Nikki: (Low) Here’s the half-wit again, Ellery.

Ferril: He maketh me tho nervouth.

Simon: (Approaching eagerly) Mr. Ferril, see what I found! A nice cigaret! Give me a match to light my cigaret, Mr. Ferril? Please!

Mme. Delage: Non, non — go away, Simon! We have no matches!

Simon: (Wistfully) Nobody ever has matches. (Eagerly) You look nice. Will you give me a match?

Nikki: (Whispering) Ellery, he’s talking to you!

Ferril: (Whisper) Thay you haven’t any, Mithter Queen! Thimon’th like a baby — can’t be twuthted!

Ellery: (Gently) Sorry, Simon. No matches today.

Simon: (Agonized) No matches for Simon! I’ll find a good fairy — she’ll give me a match! Won’t somebody give me a match? Please. Simon wants a match... Simon wants a match to see the pretty fire. (He laughs and laughs.)

SCENE 4: The Queen Apartment

Inspector: But why are you so interested in this pawnbroker Jake Tinker and his half-wit brother Simon, Ellery?

Ellery: (Grimly) Because I’m wondering if Jacob Tinker gained anything by those three fires, Dad.

Nikki: And where was the half-wit brother on the nights of the three fires?

Velie: Aw, we didn’t pass that one up, Miss Porter!

Inspector: Old Jake Tinker gave his brother Simon an alibi. Said Simon didn’t leave their backroom quarters at the pawnshop on any of the three nights. (Doorbell rings)

Nikki: I’ll go. Must be Mr. Sweeney.

Inspector: Could be Jake’s lying in his false teeth, but right now the alibi holds. It’s a funny case.

Velie: Yeah — I bet Ferguson, Ferril, an’ this French dame are bustin’ their sides laughin’!

Nikki: (Returning with Sweeney) Mr. Queen’s waiting, Mr. Sweeney.

Sweeney: Evenin’, Mr. Queen! Am I late? You said to be back here at nine—

Ellery: Right on time, Mr. Sweeney. My father Inspector Queen, Sergeant Velie. (Ad libs) Of course you must know that Jacob Tinker, the local pawnbroker, owns the buildings where all three fires occurred?

Sweeney: Sure, Mr. Queen. He used to be one of my accounts.

Nikki: (Eagerly) Does Tinker gain by the fires, Mr. Sweeney?

Sweeney: Gains! He loses more than anyone else.

Ellery: (Sharply) How’s that?

Sweeney: A month ago, when Tinker’s insurance had to be renewed, he squawked for a reduction in rate. My company said no. Tinker got sore, started dickering with another company, then Ferguson’s fire happened, and the old nickel-nurser was caught without protection.

Nikki: Serves people like that right!

Inspector: I knew about that, Ellery. The other company called off negotiations until the cause of the fire could be determined.

Velie: So Tink-Tink-Tinker’s had three big fire-losses in a row — an’ he ain’t collectin’ a cent!

Ellery: Then you’ve nothing to worry about, Mr. Sweeney.

Sweeney: (Eagerly) I haven’t?

Ellery: Of course not! How can the Vulcan company accuse you of collusion to defraud? In all three fires the shopkeepers lost more than the insurance coverage! And Tinker’s building losses don’t cost the company anything. (Faint fire engines clang from some nearby street.)

Sweeney: (Relief) I hope the home office sees it that way. But who’s behind these fires, darn it?

Nikki: And for goodness sake — why? (The fire engines are louder.)

Ellery: Since no one gains anything — shopkeepers or owner of the buildings or insurance company or yourself, Mr. Sweeney, — it must be the work of a fire-bug — a crank committing arson for the thrill. (Engines still louder.)

Velie: Say! Ain’t those fire-engines?

Nikki: Fire-engines! Let’s see!

Inspector: Open the window, Velie! (Velie obeys, and the engines scream from somewhere nearby.)

Ellery: They’re racing past on Amsterdam Avenue!

Sweeney: There’s the glow against the sky! See it?

Velie: Wow, what a fire!

Nikki: Ellery! Isn’t that just about the spot where Jacob Tinker’s pawnshop is located?

Ellery: Tinker’s pawnshop? Come on!

SCENE 5: A Street Outside Tinker’s Pawnshop (Fire-engines, crowd noises, hiss of hoses, shouted orders of police and firemen, and a fierce background of crackling flames.)

Ellery: (Above hubbub) Let us through, please!

Nikki: Ouch, my foot! It’s like the mob-scene from Macy’s!

Velie: Gangway, folks! Come on, Sweeney!

Ellery: Dad! Get us through the fire-lines.

Inspector: Follow me. One side, Officer!

Officer: (Fadingon) Hey, you! You can’t git through here! Oh, ’scuse me, Inspector Queen. Didn’t reco’nize you. Stand back, folks! Go on, now...!

Inspector: Chief! Chief Hilliard!

Fire Chief: (Fading on) Evening, Inspector. Out to see the fun, hey? (Grimly.) Some fun... Hey Bill! More pressure! You men! Get a move on there.

Inspector: Jake Tinker’s pawnshop, all right. Can you save the building, Chief?

Chief: We’ll be lucky if we save the ones on either side. Fire inside Tinker’s store is terrific.

Ellery: Chemical combustion, like the previous fires?

Chief: Yep. Sent a fireman inside, but the heat’s so intense that even wearing special equipment the man had to come out again. Says the fire’s so hot the aluminum cooking pots on a shelf over the stove in the back room are melting. (Shouts.) Bring up Number Three!

Nikki: Look at that fire! My face is hot even from here.

Velie: Jake Tinker an’ his brother safe?

Chief: Haven’t seen Tinker. The half-wit got out by himself.

Nikki: There he is — crowing like a child!

Ellery: Sergeant, call the poor fellow over here. (Velie slips off.) I wonder where his brother Jacob is.

Sweeney: Tinker’s gone to the home office of my insurance company — that’s in Cleveland — to try and talk them into reinstating his lapsed policy. Funny, isn’t it?

Velie: (Returning) Here’s Simple Simon, Mr. Queen.

Simon: (Excited) Ooh! It’s a big, big fire! Isn’t it?

Ellery: (Gently) Where have you been all day, Simon?

Simon: Playing in the street with the little boys... Sssss! Watch the water! Watch the fire! Watch the smoke!

Inspector: You weren’t in your brother’s pawnshop or back room all day, Simon?

Simon: Huh? Oh, sure. In and out. I love fires! The fairies make them! For me! The fairies like me. (He lumbers off gleefully.) More fire! More water! More smoke! Ssssss...!

Nikki: Isn’t that Mr. Ferguson in the crowd there, Ellery? And there’s Mr. Ferril and Madame Delage!

Ellery: Fatal affinity of misery and company, Nikki... Dad! (“Yes, son!”) When the fire’s out and the engines leave, post your own men around the building. Don’t let anyone examine the debris. By morning the fire should be out, and it will be safe for me to poke around the ruins. I want to be the first one.

Inspector: All right, but what do you expect to find?

Ellery: (Grimly) If I knew that, Dad, I’d know everything.

SCENE 6: The Same, Next Morning (The Queen Party drives up to the scene of the fire)

Ellery: Come on, Dad, Nikki. Let’s have a look at the remains.

Nikki: It’s just a black, hollow shell. Awful! (They get out.)

Inspector: There’s Velie — he’s relieved the night men. Morning Velie! (Velie yawns, Ferguson is with him.)

Ellery: Good morning, Sergeant. Ah, Mr. Ferguson. Out early to view the remains?

Velie: Mr. Ferguson just come around to give ol’ man Tinker the needles.

Ferguson: But that harrrd-hearted mon, he’s na’ here yet. Well, sir, Ferguson waits, I’ll tell ye thot! I’m not a vindictive mon, but that Tinker — serves him right, the penny-pinchin’ scrounger!

Inspector: (Chuckling) Scotty’s got his monkey up. Well, let’s go in. (They all enter the gutted building.)

Ellery: No one’s been allowed inside all night, Sergeant?

Velie: Nope. Watch yer step, Miss Porter. This floor ain’t what you’d call the Rock o’ Gibraltar.

Nikki: This was a fire. Practically nothing left.

Ellery: Grab sticks, everybody. Let’s see if we can’t turn up something interesting.

Inspector: Here’s a couple. Scatter. Sticks!

Ferguson: (Off) And what we supposed to be lookin’ for, Mr. Queen?

Ellery: Mr. Ferguson, blessed if I know! (They keep poking.)

Velie: (Off) What could anyone find in this burned trash?

Nikki: Even the big safe over there’s in pretty bad shape. (Cries of Tinker off. He enters, stumbling.) Who on earth is that?

Inspector: It’s Jake Tinker. Listen to him rave!

Tinker: (He is an old man with a nasal cracked voice) My store! My propitty! Burned to the ground! Who did it? They’re tryin’ to ruin me! Look at it — just look). (Groans.)

Ferguson: (Shouting — off) Serves ye right, ye old shark!

Ellery: Hush, Mr. Ferguson. You just found out you’d had a fire, Mr. Tinker?

Tinker: I just got back from Cleveland — the insurance company won’t renew my policy... My store, my building, burned... Wait! I’m crazy! I forgot! Did you find it? Where is it? It was over here, over the stove...

Inspector: Did we find what, Jake? (Things hurled aside.)

Tinker: My cracker tin! The tin I kept on the shelf over the stove in the back room here! It’s got all my money in it! Hid under the crackers! (He hurls himself at the debris.)

Ellery: (Low) He certainly lives up to his reputation as a miser, doesn’t he, Nikki? Money in a cracker box!

Nikki: (Low) Look at him scrabbling in that pile of charred junk! He’s worse than his brother Simon.

Tinker: (Babbling) I don’t trust banks — so I keep my money here. Can you blame me? Who can trust anyone these days? My tin — where is it? It must be here some place!

Ellery: Let us help you, Mr. Tinker. How much money did you have in the tin box?

Tinker: Twenty one-thousand-dollar bills!

Velie: (Whistles) Twenty grand!

Nikki: Covered with moldy crackers. He’s been reading Poe!

Velie: (Off) Don’t see that cracker-tin nowheres.

Tinker: (Yell of triumph) I found it!

Inspector: Yep, it’s a cracker box, all right. All twisted and blackened. Can you open it? (Clatter of tin lid — Tinker cries out.)

Ellery: What’s the matter, Mr. Tinker?

Tinker: (Sobbing) My twenty thousand dollars — my lovely dollars — ashes. Just ashes. All burned up!

Ellery: Let’s have that tinful of ashes, Mr. Tinker. (Low) Dad — Headquarters. I want these ashes tested in the police laboratory!

SCENE 7: Inspector Queen’s Office, Police Headquarters

Nikki: (Yawning) I wish Sergeant Velie’d come upstairs with that laboratory report. I’m all worn out.

Ellery: It’s a peculiar case. Four fires, all deliberately set, and every person involved is ruined!

Inspector: What’s peculiar about it, Ellery? These things happen every day. It’s the work of a nut, a fire-bug.

Nikki: It’s just a question of finding the bug!

Ellery: It’s certainly not Ferguson or Ferril or Madame Delage or Jacob Tinker, if it’s a fire-bug. A fire-bug might ruin others for the sheer joy of committing arson — but not himself. And Sweeney wouldn’t run the risk of losing four customers and perhaps his job!

Inspector: My guess is it’s this half-wit Simon.

Nikki: You’ve seen how the poor man acts, Ellery. He loves fire. And he’s half-witted. He might be the fire-bug!

Ellery: Oh, come. These fires have been cleverly executed — they involved the combustion of chemicals. Would a dreamy simpleton like Simon be capable of such planning and cleverness? No, it’s not Simon. (Fretfully.) A case without a single active suspect!

Nikki: Here’s Sergeant Velie! Well, Sergeant?

Inspector: Was old Jake telling the truth about the money?

Velie: (Entering) Yep. Lab report says most of the ashes in the burned tin are ashes of paper!

Ellery: The same kind of paper used in printing paper money?

Velie: Yeah. An’ what’s more, the amount of ashes, they say, is just about what it oughta be if twen’y one-thousand-buck bills’d been burned up in the tin.

Nikki: (Sighing) Jacob Tinker’s got such a bad reputation — I’d feel better if we’d found he was lying.

Inspector: (Fretfully) Yes, it would have given us something to start on — a lead, anything.

Velie: Looks like we gotta start all over again—

Ellery: Wait! That’s it! That’s it... (Ad libs.) Yes, I see it all now — the whole diabolical thing! (Chuckles.) Very clever. Very clever! (Grimly.) Dad, I know who the fire-bug is!

Ellery Queen, as you have just seen, now knows the identity of the fire-bug. Do you?

Millions who have listened to “The Adventures of Ellery Queen” on the air have joined what seems to be a spontaneous “armchair detectives’ society,” the sole bylaw of which is that the armchair detectives shall try to figure out both the identity of the criminal, and the clues and logical reasoning which pin the guilt on him, before Ellery Queen himself goes through the reasoning for them.

You can garner additional pleasure from the reading of these radio playlets by stopping here and playing the game.

And now, if you think you’ve figured out the correct answer... go ahead and read Ellery Queen’s own solution to The Adventure of the Fire-Bug.

The Solution

Scene 8: Same, Immediately After (They are besieging Ellery with questions.)

Ellery: (Laughing) All right, I’ll explain. In the fourth fire the heat was so intense, the Fire Chief told us, that aluminum pots on the shelf above the stove in Tinker’s backroom actually melted. But what else was on that shelf over the stove? The cracker tin in which old Jacob hid his twenty thousand dollars!

Velie: That’s a fact. Old Jake told us that himself!

Ellery: Everybody knows tin melts more easily than aluminum. In fact, aluminum needs almost three times more heat! Then why didn’t the tin of the cracker-tin on the shelf melt? The tin was merely twisted and blackened, as Dad remarked. If the tin didn’t melt, while the more fire-resistant aluminum did—

Nikki: Then it means the tin wasn’t on the shelf at all!

Inspector: Wasn’t in that inferno of a back-room at all!

Ellery: Precisely. Therefore someone spirited old Jacob’s cracker-tin full of money away before the fire started — and brought it back the next morning and buried it in the debris of the room, after fire-treating it by hand to make it look twisted and blackened!

Velie: Not realizin’ he was pullin’ a boner — that if the tin’d really gone through that fire, it woulda melted!

Ellery: Yes, Sergeant. Now who took the tin away? Could only be the person who later set fire to the premises. Why was it taken away in the first place? Obviously, for its contents — twenty thousand dollars in one-thousand-dollar bills. Then we shouldn’t be looking for a fire-bug at all — our man is really a thief! And the ashes we found were not the ashes of Tinker’s treasure!

Nikki: But why didn’t the thief just take away the money and leave the empty tin behind?

Ellery: He wanted to conceal the fact that there’d been a theft, Nikki — to make it look as if the money’d been burned up in the fire. What would he logically do? He’d take twenty one-dollar bills — a small investment in return for the same number of thousand-dollar bills! — and burn them in the tin.

Inspector: Then when old Jake’d report his loss, we’d look and find a fire-bent tin, with the proper amount of authentic currency paper-ashes inside, and we’d never suspect that theft had occurred!

Ellery: Exactly, Dad. But it takes time to burn bills in a tin, and fire-treat the tin so that it would look like part of the bigger fire to come. And the thief knew Jacob’s simple brother Simon might come in at any moment and spot him — Simon said he was in and out all day. So our too-clever thief elected to do the business at home and plant the tin in the debris after the fire the next day. We know he must have done that, because we know the tin wasn’t on the premises during the fire — if it had been, it would have melted.

Velie: I get it now! The whole series o’ fires was just a cover-up of that last fire — to make us think it was all the work of a fire-bug... prob’ly Simple Simon!

Nikki: Yes, and that last fire was designed to cover up the theft of Jacob Tinker’s twenty thousand dollars.

Ellery: Right. Now who was the thief? Who took the tin away and after the fire planted it in the ruins of Tinker’s back-room? Only two possible culprits.

Inspector: How do you figure that, son?

Ellery: Didn’t your own men guard the burned pawnshop all night, Dad? (Inspector ad lib) Sergeant, didn’t you tell us no one had been allowed to examine the ashes before we arrived this morning? (Velie ad lib) So the tin couldn’t have been returned and buried in the ruins until after we arrived this morning!

Nikki: After we arrived! But—

Ellery: Therefore the tin must have been planted in the ruins between the time we came and the time Jacob Tinker dug it out of the debris!

Velie: But nobody was there exceptin’ us and old Jake himself!

Nikki: You mean the pawnbroker smuggled the tin into the debris while he was pretending to be looking for it, and then dramatically dug it out to show it to us?

Inspector: Can’t be Tinker, Nikki. Old Jake couldn’t have had any motive to steal the tin and the money in the first place. It was his own money!

Nikki: That’s so!

Inspector: No, son, I see whom you mean — there was one other outsider there with us, Velie — so he’s the only one who could have planted the tin under our noses — probably while we were all poking around in the ashes! He’s the

smart lad who had the first fire — probably a pure accident — and the fire gave him the idea for a whole chain of fire-bug blazes to lead up to his theft of old fake’s money-box, so that he could recoup his own fire-losses.

Ellery: (Chuckling) Yes, Dad!

Nikki: Of course—

Velie: It was—

Nikki & Velie: (Together) Ferguson! (The music comes up.)