Doug Allyn - Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 104, No. 4 & 5. Whole No. 633 & 634, October 1994

Time seemed to stretch on endlessly. Hope faded. A pernicious lethargy crept over his body. His senses dulled. A torpid acceptance of death touched his mind and, when forced away, returned with greater force and increasing frequency, sapping his will.

He realized that he was becoming insensitive to the cold, to the hard press of the vault door against his body, to the very darkness itself. His consciousness was less and less of reality and more of weird possibilities. Unreal and spectral shapes filled his imagination. Fantasies, grotesque semi-dreams crowded into his mind. His normal fear and pain gave way to abnormal obsession with the slow beating of his heart, the sinister trickle of sweat down his body, the useless whir of the useless air conditioner.

When the sound came, he was almost unconscious of it. Like a searchlight penetrating fog, the sound fought its way through his confusion. Somewhere doors were slamming. There were footsteps; people were walking. Then he heard voices. Henry Brian, his secretary, was speaking in a loud, complaining voice, a voice which Clipton had heard him use to subordinates when Henry thought his boss was out of hearing. The day watchman was answering.

Clipton struggled to consciousness. The intercom between his office and the vault was working. If he could hear them, they should be able to hear him.

He shouted. He screamed. There was no response. The sounds from the office continued as before. Henry was badgering the day watchman to account for Renelle’s absence.

“He just wasn’t here when I arrived.”

“Were you on time?”

“I was on time, a bit early in fact.”

“Mr. Clipton will have something to say about this. You know you are supposed to take over from Renelle.”

Clipton called out until he was hoarse. The conversation continued uninterrupted by Clipton’s clamor. Gradually he accepted the fact that the communicator had been damaged. He could hear them, but they could not hear him. He beat on the steel door.

He reached down and took off a shoe. As he bent down, he breathed air from near the floor. He almost passed out. Standing again and with his head held face up like a swimmer trying to keep from drowning, he leaned against the door and pounded on it with his shoe. Noises on the other side stopped. He struck with the shoe again.

He heard Henry ask, “Did you hear something?”

Clipton pounded even harder.

“There it is again.”

“It’s coming from the vault. There’s someone in there.”

“Of course there’s someone in there,” Henry snarled in disgust. “That fool Renelle has got himself locked in. He’ll simply have to wait until Mr. Clipton arrives to let him out.”

“But how did he get in?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps old Clipton forgot to lock the vault. It serves Renelle right if he’s locked in. He should have reported to Mr. Clipton and closed the door. He had no business going in.”

“But, Mr. Brian, I don’t think Mr. Clipton would leave the door open.”

“He shouldn’t, but maybe he just forgot. Still, we ought to tell him. I’ll call his home and tell him that he was careless and left the vault unlocked and Renelle has got himself shut up in it.”

There was a brief silence and then Henry’s voice resumed, “Mrs. Clipton, this is Henry Brian. May I speak with Mr. Clipton, please. Yes, I know he should be in the office now but he seems to be late and the night watchman is locked in the museum vault. No, I don’t think it is a matter for the police. As soon as Mr. Clipton arrives with the combination, we will let the night watchman out and probably dismiss him. He should have... No, I really don’t think we need to... Yes, if you insist, I will call them. You don’t have to come down here. It’s not terribly important. Mr. Clipton will take care of it when he... All right, I’ll call right away.”

Clipton beat on the door again.

“Oh, shut up, Renelle. You’ve caused enough trouble. Now she’s coming down here and Clipton will let her upset the whole routine the way she always does.

“Hello, police? This is Henry Brian of the Clipton Museum. Our night watchman has got himself locked in our vault and Mrs. Clipton said I should call you. No, Mr. Clipton has not arrived as yet and when he does, we’ll let the night watchman out. There’s really no need for you to send anyone... Very well, do as you like.”

All this while Clipton had been breathing slowly and trying to relax. The air in the vault was foul. He heard the sound of normal activity in the next room. Henry was berating the day watchman again. Then heavier steps approached. There were other voices, Henry speaking with two other men. As the others entered the room, Clipton could make out what they were saying.

“How do you know it’s the night watchman?”

“Because he wasn’t here when the day watchman arrived.”

“But neither was the boss, was he?”

“No.”

“Isn’t he usually here before you?”

“He should be.”

“So maybe both he and the watchman are in there.”

“Hey! You in there, can you hear me?”

Clipton beat on the door.

“He can hear us all right. Wonder why he doesn’t say anything?”

“He can hear us because of the intercom, but the line from there to here is broken.”

“How long has it been broken?”

“It was working all right yesterday.”

“I’ll say it’s broken. Someone smashed it. Something is not right here. I’m going to call our locksmith to open the vault.”

“But Mr. Clipton will open it when he arrives.”

“Not if he’s in there with the night watchman. They could die from being shut up in that little thing.”

“There’s no danger of that. The vault is air conditioned.”

The officer called for the locksmith and then said, “I wish there was some way we could communicate with them in there.”

Henry said, “But there is. We can communicate the way we do with the dead.”

Clipton gasped, choked, and forced himself to do shallow breathing.

“How’s that?”

“In a seance one asks questions and spirits of the dead respond by rapping on a table or something. I’ll show you.” Then his, voice changed to a hollow wail as he said, “Give one rap for No and two for Yes. Do you understand?”

Clipton pounded twice.

“See? He hears us. Are you all right?”

Clipton slammed the shoe against the door violently.

“I imagine he is a bit upset, maybe even afraid. Is that you, Renelle?”

Clipton hit the door again.

“Did you hear two raps, Officer? I thought I only heard one.”

“There was just one. It was clear enough. That’s not your night watchman in there. Maybe it’s Mr. Clipton. Give it a try.”

“Are you Mr. Clipton?”

He pounded twice.

“Are you alone?”

Two more blows.

“Then where is Renelle?”

Clipton, trying to do shallow breathing, found himself cursing in a way that used up precious oxygen.

“He can’t answer that yes or no.”

“That’s right. I forgot. I get so excited when I speak with the dead that I sometimes make mistakes.”

“Ask if the night watchman locked him in there.”

“He wouldn’t have done that. He leaves as soon as the day watchman arrives and Mr. Clipton doesn’t open the vault until...”

“Just ask him.”

“Oh, all right. Did Renelle lock you in?”

Clipton pounded twice.

“That sounded like two raps.”

“It was two raps. Your night watchman locked your boss in there and ran away. I’m going to report this to the lieutenant. We’ll look for this Renelle.”

At that point other steps sounded and the officer explained the situation to the lieutenant and a locksmith.