The Campus Murders by Ellery Queen Page A

McCall’s tone. It seemed to mollify Thornton. When he spoke again it was more rationally. “Laura was obviously involved in something with someone.” He turned the glare on the door of her room. “The question is in what? With whom? Have you found out anything at all?”
    â€œI just got here this morning, Mr. Thornton. I’m afraid not yet.”
    Thornton turned on his heel, muttering. The door opened and Dr. Edgewit came out of Laura’s room.
    Thornton pounced. “Any change?”
    â€œNo change, Mr. Thornton. She isn’t responding as yet. But she’s not losing ground, either.”
    â€œIsn’t there a competent doctor in this hole?” Thornton howled.
    â€œDr. Madigan, our chief of staff, has taken personal charge. He’s in there now, sir.” Dr. Edgewit plodded off.
    McCall followed him, leaving Laura’s father alone. He was thinking what a mercy it was that the governor had been unable to fly down. The mere sight of Sam Holland in this hospital corridor might have brought on a physical attack from Thornton and made headlines all over the state.
    A young nurse crossed McCall’s path, smiling at him. He paused to watch her crisp walk, listen to the swish of her starched uniform. After Thornton, it was a joy.

9
    At the Gunther home a uniformed man stood at the door.
    â€œSorry. No visitors.”
    McCall told him who he was.
    â€œOh. Then I guess it’s okay, Mr. McCall.”
    McCall went in. Another officer stood in the hallway, a heavyset older man. McCall identified himself and asked, “Where’s Mrs. Gunther, officer?”
    â€œUpstairs in bed. A doctor’s with her.”
    â€œThen she’s been informed about her husband?”
    The man nodded. “Worst case of hysterics I ever saw. She’s under heavy sedation. They got a nurse up there with her, too.”
    McCall made for Floyd Gunther’s study. The light over the desk was still on. The shadows in the room hung heavier than before.
    McCall stood there.
    This was where Gunther would come when he wanted to get away from people (from himself?).
    He began to prowl the study.
    He finally settled on the desk. Nothing on top of significance. He checked the drawers, with their freight of folders pertaining to college matters and Gunther’s duties as dean of men.
    He had the bottom right-hand drawer open and was running through the folders there when he was struck with something. The drawer itself seemed short; it came little more than halfway out. It must be stuck.
    He pulled, but it would not budge. He reached in and under the top of the drawer, felt around, and touched a steel bar. He jiggled it and thought he detected a slight sideward movement. He pushed the bar to the right as far as it would go and heard a click. He yanked, and the drawer slid out.
    There was a rear compartment, which had a lid that was secured by a miniature padlock.
    McCall glanced toward the door. He could not see the officer in the hall, but the man was still out there—McCall heard him clear his throat.
    It wasn’t much of a lock.
    On the desktop lay a large lump of clear heavy plastic shaped to resemble a boulder. Protruding from the boulder was a little Excalibur, King Arthur’s sword in miniature. Gunther’s letter-opener. It was made of stainless steel, and McCall thought it would do. He drew it from its sheath and inserted it under the lid of the secret compartment close to the little padlock. He listened for the cop, heard nothing, and jerked. The lock snapped with a loud snap.
    He heard footsteps and sat down in Gunther’s leather chair. The police officer appeared.
    â€œOh. Yes, officer?” McCall said, looking up. From the policeman’s position he could not see the open drawer.
    â€œI thought I heard something break in here.”
    â€œBreak?” McCall said. “Oh, it must have been this letter-opener. I was sitting here thinking and playing