"What an interesting country!" exclaimed Cornelius Latimer Leydon, eyeing his surroundings with some interest.

"Why did you come here?" asked the hotel proprietor sharply.

"Why?" Cornelius repeated dreamily. "Well...why does anyone come here? I just felt like a vacation, that's all."

Actually, the reason that he had come to Morocco was because while he was in Denmark during a particularly cold weather spell, he found that every night he dreamed the same dream: he found himself in Morocco and something fantastic happened except he didn't remember what the fantastic thing was that happened because every time he woke up he forgot what it was. But after a while, he got tired of dreaming that same dream, and his curiosity provoked him to go to Morocco just to see whether there was anything of interest there.

"Well," the proprietor went on doubtfully. "Here is your room in this hotel, room 13. I hope you find it comfortable," he added, before scurrying away.

Cornelius found the room a little small, but other than that it was perfectly fine. It was night time right now, and he decided to go out on his balcony and take a look at the city lights (a favorite hobby of his which he rarely was able to indulge in since in Denmark the weather was usually too cold to allow anyone to go out of doors at night). Palm trees gave the city an exotic look, and the buildings were all made in stucco.

"Nice," sighed Cornelius. "Though this doesn't really resemble my dream very much. Nothing fantastic has happened yet."

"At that moment, a voice on the balcony next to his said, "Well, did you get the information I asked for?"

"Not really," another voice said sulkily. "That hard-boiled detective got in my way every time I tried to."

"You at least found out something about each guest, though, right?" the other voice asked.

"Oh, yeah, that was easy," snickered the other voice. "It seems that everyone in this hotel is either part of your devious plot or against your plot except for-"

"Except for who?" the first voice said sharply.

"Except for this silly little Dutch mystery writer by the name of Cornelius Latimer Leydon," the other voice said. "He doesn't have a clue yet about what's going on."

"That's good," the first voice breathed a sigh of relief. "Do you know anything about the other characters in this hotel?"

"There's a woman named Debra Norman," the other voice thought for a moment. "And of course the hard-boiled detective I told you about. His name is Phillip Marlowe."

"Marlowe!" groaned the first voice. "What's he doing here? It was bad enough when I had to deal with-with that closemouthed Sam Spade, but Phillip Marlowe...this is too much. Is there anyone else?"

"Yes," the first voice said. "There's an assassin here too, and I have no idea why he's here."

"You mean," the first voice said slowly. "That he isn't one of my people?"

"No," the other voice said. "Now that I've told you everything, can I have my money now?"

"Wait!" the first voice said. "Who is this assassin?"

"Well," the other voice said. "It's a little complicated but the name is-"

At that critical moment, Mr. Cornelius Latimer Leydon felt the urgent need to sneeze. He tried to suppress it, but a stifled sneeze managed to escape.

"What was that?" the second voice said nervously.

"Someone was listening in to our conversation," the first voice said gravely. "Who lives in that room that that balcony over there belongs to?"

"That mystery writer!" the second voice exclaimed. "So he's on Marlowe's side after all?"

"Mr. Leydon," the first voice called. "If I were you, I wouldn't just crouch in that corner and I would come out and tell us why you thought it would be a good idea to listen to our conversation."

"I wasn't listening to your conversation," Cornelius said defensively. "I was just standing here enjoying the air and watching the street lights, a favorite hobby of mine that I don't often get to indulge in when I'm in Denmark," he added parenthetically.

"You were just watching the street lights," snickered the second voice. "You expect us to believe that story?"

"It's the only story I've got," muttered Cornelius. "But if you don't believe the truth when you hear it, then that's your own problem."

"We're just being careful, Mr. Leydon," the first voice said. "Now will you please go back to your room?"

"Yeah, sure," Cornelius said peevishly. "If you're so shy about talking about your devious plot out loud."

Going back into his room, Cornelius was feeling a trifle irritated. He decided to have dinner, and was just going downstairs, when he accidentally bumped into a tall man with a hat. Immediately, the tall man seized him by the collar.

"What were you doing?" he asked suspiciously. "Are you a criminal?"

"N-no," stammered Cornelius, and then suddenly he felt a little annoyed and pulled away from the man. "And who may I ask are you?" he demanded.

"I am Phillip Marlowe?" the man said gruffly. "And who are you?"

"Why, my name is Cornelius Latimer Leydon," Cornelius replied.

"Aren't you a mystery writer?" asked Marlowe.

"That's right," Cornelius began. "I'm glad if you liked my books-"

"I didn't," the man interrupted. "They were much too silly for me. Give me Raymond Chandler any day compared to the frivolous fluff that you are spewing."

"Ahem!" Cornelius eyed the man distastefully. "As a writer, I have certain inhibitions about my works, but-"

"Well, keep them then," the man said irritably. "Look, little guy, I don't have time to chew the fat with you. We can talk some other time, but with a hotel infested with crooks, this is no time to make small talk." And the tall man hurried off.

"Really!" Cornelius sniffed. "No appreciation for fine works of art!"

Cornelius walked a little more slowly this time, for fear of tripping over some other disreputable characters, but this time someone else ran into him.

This fellow was a slight little man who seemed a little worried about something. "Excuse me," he said quickly and hurried off before Cornelius could get a better look at him.

Cornelius glanced over his shoulder at the fellow scurrying away, and almost ran into a fat man who was ambling by at a slow rate.

"Excuse me," began Cornelius.

"Aren't you the fellow who was spying on my conversation?" chuckled the Sinister Fat Man.

"That's me," Cornelius blurted out before he could stop himself.

"Ha, ha, I thought so," the Sinister Fat Man chortled.

"And who are you?" Cornelus asked.

"My name is Mr. Peters," the fat man said.

"Pleased to meet you," Cornelius said. "I'm just on my way to dinner," he added, and hurried off.

Cornelius managed to reach the restaurant downstairs without running into anyone else, but when he reached his chair, a sinister looking woman in a red dress slunk over to him.

"Aren't you Cornelius Latimer Leydon?" the woman asked.

"Yes," Cornelius said, this time a little more slowly for fear that this was another person who had no appreciation for his books. "Have you read any of my books?"

"No," the woman said. "My name is Debra Norman."

"I see," Cornelius said. "Well, pleased to meet you, ma'am," and he proceeded to eat, feeling very hungry after all of these confusing encounters with all of these people.

The woman looked a little annoyed with him for some reason and slunk off somewhere else, and Cornelius was fortunately left in peace, until Phillip Marlowe ambled over to him again.

"Hello," Cornelius said cautiously, for fear of rousing the ire of the irritable private detective.

"Hi," Marlowe sighed wearily. "You know, in a place like this you can't be too careful."

"You can't?" Cornelius sighed. "This is a really nice hotel, isn't it? And a beautiful city. If only the people were nice..."

Marlowe said. "The reason I came here was because I'm chasing a few crooks myself."

"You are?" Cornelius said absent-mindedly. He was finding it very difficult to pay attention to anything Marlowe was saying.

"Yes," Marlowe replied. "There's someone named Mr. Peters here who may or may not be part of some devious plot, and then there's this fellow named Marko (the owner of a nightclub) who is also not the most innocent person in the world. Then there's this woman named Debra something-or-other who is probably the worst criminal of them all."

"Oh, yeah, her," Cornelius said sleepily. "She came over here and talked to me for a bit."

"Oh, yeah?" Marlowe sounded interested. "What did she say?"

"She asked me if I was Cornelius Latimer Leydon, and I said I was, and then I asked her if she had read any of my books or not and she said no and then I started eating and she left."

"I see," Marlowe chuckled. "It probably irritated her when you just ignored her like that."

"I was hungry," Cornelius said defensively.

"Don't feel bad, little guy," Marlowe said patronizingly. "Those femme fatales are always the worst prima donnas around. They always want attention all the time. You just keep acting sweet and innocent and stay out of trouble, all right?"

Cornelius felt a little annoyed. "Look," he said irritably. "We can be pals, but you can't call me 'little guy', and you have to stop treating me like I am twenty years younger than you."

"Sorry about that, little guy," Marlowe snickered. "But I can't help it. In a way, you are twenty years younger than me and everyone else in this hotel."

"I am a mystery writer-" began Cornelius.

"So what?" Marlowe retorted. "That doesn't mean that you know what's going on here. You just better stay out of trouble."

"I think I'm already in trouble," Cornelius said, and proceeded to tell Marlowe how he had accidentally overheard the conversation between Mr. Peters and someone else.

Marlowe listened intently, and then said, "You might be able to stay out of trouble if you just try to pretend that you didn't understand what you overheard. After all, they fortunately didn't say anything incriminating in front of you, so they might feel that they can get away with letting you off this time."

"I see," Cornelius said. "Do you think that you know who the person talking to Mr. Peters was?"

"That was almost certainly Marko," Marlowe said. "A clever little fellow, he's trying to make some extra money by acting as Mr. Peters' go-between."

"Should we call the police on him or something?" Cornelius asked.

"No," Marlowe said sharply.

"Why not?" Cornelius asked, a little annoyed.

"Because he happens to be acting as my go-between too," Marlowe returned.

Chapter 2: In which Marlowe tries to explain everything to Cornelius and gives up, and in which Cornelius takes an interest in the strange affairs going on in the Morocco hotel...

"Your go-between?" Cornelius exclaimed. "I don't know what you mean."

"No," Marlowe nodded. "I didn't think you would. But Marko isn't on anyone's side. He works for anyone who will give him some money."

"I see," Cornelius said. "And I suppose that Mr. Peters doesn't know that Marko is working for you?"

"Yes, he does," Marlowe said.

"And he doesn't do anything about it?" Cornelius asked.

"No," Marlowe replied. "Why should he? Marko is innocent enough."

"That's not what you said before about him," Cornelius pointed out. "You are full of inconsistencies. If you were one of my characters in my mystery novels..."

"Which, thank goodness, I am not," Marlowe muttered. "All of your characters are either menacing or stupid."

"If you were one of my characters," repeated Cornelius doggedly. "Then I would be very confused with every thing you said. For one thing, one moment you say that Marko is not the most innocent person in the world, and then you say that Marko is 'innocent enough'."

"I'm sorry if that disturbs you, little guy," Marlowe drawled. "But I just meant that Marko, even though he is a criminal himself, is not one of the top criminals."

"And who do you consider a top criminal?" Cornelius returned.

"You know," Marlowe mused. "It would be hilarious if you were the leader of this underworld conspiracy, because if you are, then I congratulate you on being a great actor."

"I did take drama class when I was younger," Cornelius said absent-mindedly.

"Aha!" exclaimed Marlowe. "So you are the leader of the underworld gang bent on stealing the-" then he stopped himself and didn't say anymore.

"The what?" Cornelius prompted. "The Hope Diamond?"

Marlowe snorted. "Some mystery writer you are! You don't even know that the Hope Diamond is all the way in Washington DC, I suppose?"

"Of course I knew that!" Cornelius exclaimed, a little offended. "I just thought that...it might be on one of its tours around the world so that other people could see it!"

"They don't need to do that," Marlowe yawned. "There are plenty of diamonds in Africa as it is without another diamond coming in."

"How interesting!" Cornelius said. "I think I'm going to go to bed now."

"Before you go," Marlowe said suddenly. "Do you want to help me catch these criminals?"

"What criminals?" Cornelius muttered.

"I'll explain everything in more depth tomorrow," Marlowe said. "But I thought that since you are a mystery writer and all, you might be interested."

"I suppose I'll help you," Cornelius said, feeling sleepier and sleepier.

"Watch out!" Marlowe snickered. "I think that you've had one drink too many."

Cornelius had been thinking the same thing, which made Marlowe's comment all the more irritating.

"I think I can handle how many drinks I drink, thank you very much," Cornelius said stiffly.

"See you later, little guy," Marlowe went on. "I hope I can see you some other time."

Cornelius walked slowly back to his room. "'Little guy'!" he muttered angrily to himself as he bumped right into Mr. Peters who was pacing the hallways, deep in thought.

"Excuse me," Cornelius said hastily.

"Why hello, Mr. Leydon," Mr. Peters shook Cornelius' hand heartily. "Pleased to meet you! Sorry about being so hostile and all about your accidentally overhearing a private conversation, but I was a little taken-aback-that's all!"

"But-" began Cornelius.

"In fact," went on Mr. Peters jovially. "I would like to have a talk with you right now."

"Here in this hallway?" Cornelius said.

"Yes!" Mr. Peters exclaimed. "Right here! Because if we do it right here, then if someone is trying to overhear our conversation, then we can see them."

"Indeed," Cornelius was a little taken aback by Mr. Peters' sudden good humor.

"You see," Mr. Peters said in a conspiratorial tone. "I am the leader of an underworld plot to steal an African diamond worth at the very least six million dollars."

"Really?" Cornelius said curiously.

"That's right," Mr. Peters said, pleased by Cornelius' interest. "I was wondering if you are interested in helping us find the diamond."

"I suppose so," Cornelius said. He was feeling sleepy and slightly intoxicated, and had completely forgotten that he had promised Marlowe that he would help him catch these criminals. "I sounds like it would be interesting..."

"I see that you are tired," Mr. Peters went on. "You may go to your room and think about the whole thing when your head is a little clearer and you are a little more aware of your faculties. Good night, Mr. Leydon."

Chapter 3: In which Mr. Cornelius Leydon realizes that he has committed a grave error in promising to help both the detectives and the criminals...

Cornelius woke up the next morning with a profound headache. He wished that he had listened to his mother when she told him that one glass of wine was sufficient for one evening. But, Cornelius sighed, I suppose that I got a little carried away. Besides, he hadn't seen much of his mother the past few months.

"She hasn't," he sniffed. "Even attended my book signings or my literary seminars."

He wallowed in self-pity for a few sweet moments, until suddenly he remembered what had happened last night: how when he had been under the influences of five glasses of wine he had promised to help Marlowe catch the criminals and Mr. Peters steal some diamond.

Suddenly, a small discreet tap sounded on his door. Before, Cornelius had been feeling only slightly regretful that he had decided to help the two opposing sides, but now he felt genuinely irritated.

"If helping these people out means that I will have to get up at eight in the morning instead of nine, then they've got another thing coming," Cornelius muttered.

Cornelius was timid by nature, but on certain points he could become quite obstinate, and the one thing that Cornelius resented the most was being forced to get up early.

Opening the door, Cornelius found himself face to face with a small man. Immediately when the man saw Cornelius' hostile expression, he assumed an ingratiating air.

"Er, I hope I haven't disturbed you," he said cautiously. Cornelius recognized the voice as that of the other person Mr. Peters had been talking to on the balcony. He guessed that this person was Marko.

"What time is it?" Cornelius interrupted.

"Seven o' clock," Marko replied. "Why?"

"Please wake me up at nine for any other secret meetings to discuss devious plots," yawned Cornelius.

"If you want to go back to bed..." Marko said uncertainly.

"No, you've already gotten me up now," Cornelius assured him. "But I like lying in bed and imagining what kind of plot I want my next story to have."

"You're the mystery writer, aren't you?" Marko asked.

"Yes..." Cornelius answered, once again a little cautiously, for fear that Marko also detested his books like Marlowe.

"Your books are exquisite," sighed Marko. "I could read them all day. My favorite was called The Cat Will Mew."

"Why?" Cornelius asked.

"There was a shifty-eyed nightclub owner in it. He reminded me of..." he sighed. "Me."

"I enjoy putting shifty-eyed characters into my stories," Cornelius said.

"Are you working on another story?" Marko asked hopefully.

"Ah, yes," Cornelius said. He enjoyed talking about his stories to an admiring listener. Suddenly, Mr. Peters ambled down the hallway.

"Aha, there you are, Mr. Leydon," he chuckled. "I am glad that your colleague Marko is an admirer of your mystery novels. I am myself, you know."

"You are? " Cornelius said weakly.

"Ah, yes," Mr. Peters chuckled. "I especially enjoy the number of sinister fat men in your books. I must say, that they do remind me an awful lot of me.

"But," he went on. "Why don't we schedule our next meeting? We are meeting at Marko's nightclub tonight at nine."

"You mean you got me up at seven in the morning just to schedule the meeting?" Cornelius groaned.

"Really, Mr. Leydon," Mr. Peters shook his head mournfully. "You shouldn't be so impatient. Besides, rising early in the morning is good for the soul. I also wanted to tell you that I want you to keep an eye on my nemesis Mr. Phillip Marlowe."

"Sure," Cornelius said. "In fact, I wanted to tell you that he wanted me to help-"

"We can talk some other time now, Mr. Leydon," Mr. Peters interrupted. "Remember: Marko's nightclub at nine tonight."

"But-" Cornelius began, but Mr. Peters and Marko had already gone downstairs for breakfast. "Drat." Cornelius muttered irritably.

He went down to the restaurant of the hotel, feeling annoyed with himself. Now that Mr. Peters had already told him why he was in Morocco-to steal some African diamond worth a million dollars-it would be impossible to tell him that he was also working for Phillip Marlowe because then Mr. Peters might think that he knew too much and decide that the best thing to do would be to dispose of him before he was able to tell the police what was going on.

Glancing around at the other people in the restaurant, Cornelius noticed that Marlowe was talking to someone he didn't recognize.

Marlowe noticed Cornelius too. "Oh, so you finally came down to eat?"

"Yes," Cornelius said ruefully. "Though I was meaning to wait until nine to get up."

"Why so late?" Marlowe exclaimed. "We have a client already!"

"What do you mean, 'we have a client'?" Cornelius asked.

"I mean that the owner of this hotel, Rick, wants us to investigate what's going on in this hotel," Marlowe explained.

"I thought we were already-" Cornelius began, but Marlowe gave him a look and he quickly stopped talking.

"Rick," Marlowe went on. "Is paying us each a thousand dollars if we can solve what's going on."

"Oh," Cornelius said.

"That's right," Rick spoke for the first time. He was a tall man who looked like he didn't get enough sleep. "I would rather not get the police involved."

"I don't blame you," Cornelius said. "But what is this case that you are so interested in us solving? What is it you want us to investigate?"

"I suspect," Rick returned. "That my hotel is crawling with criminals. Besides myself and you two, of course. I think that Mr. Peters is a criminal, for instance. Also, I have noticed that a shady little nightclub owner is prowling around my hotel, though he never tries to book a room or anything. For some reason, he seems alarmingly familiar, though I don't know why. The whole thing is making me a little annoyed, and I would appreciate it if you guys would get enough evidence to prove that these two men are criminals."

"That won't be too hard," Marlowe said, and Rick left the restaurant.

"A thousand dollars each," Cornelius said dreamily.

"Don't start thinking about that already," Marlowe said warningly. "First we have to solve the case."

"They're trying to steal-" began Cornelius, when suddenly Mr. Peters and Marko entered the restaurant. "Er, never mind," he said quickly.

Marlowe looked at him suspiciously, but said nothing.

The two criminals went over to Cornelius and Marlowe.

"I see," Mr. Peters chuckled. "That Rick has already asked you to find out if there are any criminals at his hotel."

"How did you know?" Marlowe asked suspiciously.

"Well," Marko sneered. "You were talking so loudly, anyone could hear it. Some detective you are."

Marlowe ignored that comment, and said, "I believe that I know what you two are up to. You are going to try to assassinate someone, aren't you?"

"Assassinate?" chuckled Mr. Peters. "Dear me, no. We're just trying to steal something, that's all."

"Yeah, that's all," chimed in Marko.

"Well, that makes it all a lot better, then," sighed Cornelius with relief. " At least you two aren't assassins."

"No, we aren't assassins," Mr. Peters replied. "Just thieves. Well, anyway, the clock is ticking. I better get going now."

And he quickly left the hotel, followed by Marko.

"What made you think that those two were trying to assassinate someone?" Cornelius asked.

"Because there's an assassin here," Marlowe answered. "By the name of Zalini."

"An assassin!" Cornelius exclaimed. "Why, in one of my books-"

"And," went on Marlowe, interrupting him. "There seems to be something else suspicious going on here. For one thing, there is Countess Haetenschwieler-"

"German?" Cornelius asked.

"Yes," Marlowe replied. "And she has a prized ruby with her."

"Is it on a necklace, or what?" Cornelius asked.

"Yes, it is on a necklace," Marlowe replied. "For another thing, there are two suspicious fellows, one named Polo and the other named Andre. I've done a little researching on these two, and I've discovered that they are both very clever con-artists who make a living cheating people out of their money."

"How...incredible!" exclaimed Cornelius. "Why if this was one of my books-"

"Which it isn't," Marlowe muttered.

"The cast of characters is so interesting," Cornelius sighed. "As a mystery writer..."

"Well, anyway, I just have one job for you," Marlowe said. "Keep an eye on Mr. Peters and Marko for me, will you?"

"Oh, sure," Cornelius replied. "Where is he?"

"I don't know," Marlowe yawned boredly. "Just follow him and see what he does."

"I've got a better idea," retorted Cornelius. "Why don't you follow him and I interview the other suspects like Countess whatever-her-name-is and those two con-artists."

"No, I already decided that I'd do that," Marlowe said.

Cornelius had a determined look in his eye, though, and Marlowe finally said, "Oh, all right, little guy, you can investigate those other people. Don't forget to investigate Debra Norman too. We don't know where she fits in yet, and it might be important."

And Marlowe hurried out of the hotel after Mr. Peters and Marko.

Cornelius hurried over to the sitting room to see whether there was anyone interesting to interview there. There was an artist who was painting something, there was a woman with expensive jewelry on who Cornelius assumed to be the Countess Haetenschwieler, there was the woman Cornelius recognized as Debra Norman, and there were two other men whom Cornelius took to be Polo and Andre, the con-artists that Marlowe had told him about. Cornelius did not see anyone else, and wondered where Zalini the assassin was, but decided that he didn't really want to interview an assassin anyway.

He decided to start with the artist. On closer examination, he saw that the painting he was drawing was a lurid cover for a mystery novel. Blood covered a rain-soaked pavement in unrealistic quantities, and a mutilated corpse was in the middle of the picture.

"Er, nice painting," Cornelius began.

The artist glanced at the painting. "You think it's good?" he said dubiously. "I don't think there's enough blood."

"Oh, there's quite enough," Cornelius assured him. "So you are a crime novel illustrator?"

"That's right," the artist said proudly. "My name is Victor Emmric. Have you heard of me?"

"No, I don't think so," Cornelius said apologetically. "Don't you find it hard to buy paint here in Morocco?"

"Not really," Victor Emmric answered. "I only need the color red, after all, and I took buckets and buckets of it with me from England."

"What mystery book are you illustrating?" Cornelius asked curiously.

"Let me see," the artist thought for a moment. "I don't really remember the name of the author, but I remember that the title of the book was Murder in Morocco. Ah, yes," the artist exclaimed. "Now I remember the name of the author. He was Cornelius Latimer Leyden."

Cornelius was horrified. "And you drew that picture for my book?"

"You mean, you are Mr. Leydon?" Victor Emmric looked equally horrified.

"I could sue you for this," Cornelius said between his teeth. "So you are the one who has been ruining my stories with your horrible covers. Do you realize that because of the lurid covers on my books, my books are being sold for 25 cents in the cheap bins in bookstores?"

"But-but-" stammered Victor. He took a hasty sip from his wine glass. "I thought that was the way you liked it."

Cornelius was about to say something more, when suddenly some piano music started playing in the background.

"Ah," Victor sighed blissfully. "Music. Wine. Women. What more could anyone ask for?"

Cornelius eyed the artist with some disgust, and turned his attention to the person who was playing the music. He was singing some song which Cornelius recognized as the song entitled As Time Goes By. It sounded okay, but suddenly Rick, the owner of the hotel appeared.

"I thought I told you to stop playing that song!" he said angrily, and quickly the pianist left.

"That barbarian," muttered Victor Emmric, casting a baleful glance on Rick. "No appreciation for music..."

Cornelius noticed that Marko and Mr. Peters had entered the hotel through the back door and entered the sitting room. He wondered how the two had eluded Marlowe.

Marko absent-mindedly began whistling As Time Goes By, and Rick strode over to him angrily.

"Will you stop whistling that song?" he said through clenched teeth.

The nightclub owner deliberately began whistling it louder, making Rick even angrier.

Seizing Marko by the collar, he hissed, "I'll teach you to whistle that song. I'll throw you out of this hotel right now."

"Now, now," Mr. Peters spoke up. "Rick, please be understanding with Marko. He doesn't know too much English, and he may not have understood you."

"He understood me all right," Rick said, giving Marko a malevolent glare.

"But why did it bother you?" Marko asked, trying to sound innocent and failing miserably. "It's just a little song..."

"It's not just a little song," Rick snapped. "You're just a little swine."

Marko looked taken aback. "My, my, are all hotel owners like this?" he snickered.

Mr. Peters, seeing that trouble was brewing, quickly hurried past Rick over to Cornelius, Marko following behind.

"Really, Mr. Leydon," Mr. Peters sounded a little irritated. "I don't see why you weren't trying to get clues from Marlowe. He's been following me and Marko for a half an hour, and we only just now managed to evade him."

"Well, I couldn't follow him too," Cornelius retorted. "Then everyone would think a parade was going by, with us all lined up following each other."

"I suppose you're right," Mr. Peters sighed. "What are you doing now?"

"I'm interviewing the other suspects," Cornelius replied. "To, er, see if any of them are on Marlowe's side. I thought that would be a good idea."

"Quite right, quite right," Mr. Peters nodded. "Tell us if you find anything interesting."

And Mr. Peters and Marko left the sitting room.

There wasn't really much Cornelius felt he could get out of the mystery illustrator. At the same time, he noticed the two men whom he had guessed were Polo and Andre, the con-artists Marlowe had told him about. One of them, the smaller of the two, seemed to be cleverly extracting the purse of Debra Norman, while pretending to be listening intently to what his fellow criminal was saying.

Cornelius, seeing that he was the only one who had noticed this little fact, was in a quandary about what to do. He didn't, of course, want the two criminals to get away with the purse, but at the same time he wanted to interview them without any hard feelings against him. Cornelius didn't really know how one could politely tell an experienced criminal that they shouldn't steal a purse, but was determined to try.

"Excuse me," he said in as low a voice as he could so that Debra Norman wouldn't notice. "Do you mind not stealing that purse?"

The pickpocket looked startled and so did his fellow criminal.

"Of course, we don't mind," the larger of the two criminals said. He spoke with a sharp, military-like voice, and with a slight German accent. "That's just Polo...he's always stealing things."

"I can't help it," sniveled Polo. "I'm a kleptomaniac. Those uncontrollable urges..."

"It's quite all right," Cornelius said, relieved that he had managed to start an interview with the two criminals and save the purse at the same time. "I suppose," he added. "That I should introduce myself: I am Cornelius Latimer Leyden."

"Oh, yes," Andre nodded. "You are the mystery writer, I suppose?"

"Yes..." Cornelius said cautiously.

"I've never actually read your books," Andre said. "I don't read any fiction as a general rule. Polo does all the reading."

"Yes, and how I love your books!" Polo smiled ingratiatingly. "I have read them all, you know."

"I don't like them much," Andre said. "They give Polo weird ideas. Like the time he suddenly came up with the idea to-"

"Never mind that," Polo muttered. "I got a little carried away, that's all. Your books are excellent. I love mysteries the best. Though," he added. "I don't see why you never write any other kinds of books. Why not science fiction? Or fantasy? Maybe even comedy."

"Well," Cornelius replied. "Some of the critics accidentally mistake my serious works for comedy."

"I don't blame them," snickered Andre.

Cornelius decided to surprise the two criminals. "I know that you two are really con-artists who like to cheat rich people out of their money."

He waited to see what they would do. Polo and Andre glanced at each other nervously. Andre was the first to speak. He leaned forward menacingly.

"And how did you find that out?" Andre returned.

Polo was gesturing frantically behind him. "Hey, Andre," he whispered. "Aren't we supposed to deny all accusations?"

"Oh, yes, that's right," Andre remembered. He began again. "I have no idea what you are talking about," he said once again to Cornelius. "And if that is your idea of a joke then I think it is in very bad taste."

Now it was Cornelius' turn to be annoyed. "Now look here," he retorted. "I'm no fruitcake, and I've figured out that you two are criminals."

"Well, you don't have any evidence," muttered Polo. "And why are we talking about something as important as this in front of complete strangers?" he added, glancing nervously at the other people in the sitting room.

"I have no idea," Andre glared at Cornelius.

"I'm not going to have you two arrested," Cornelius said.

"That makes it all a lot better, doesn't it?" Andre said sarcastically.

"Yes, it does," Cornelius said irritably. "I just wanted to ask you two, though I doubt that you will give me a straight answer: do you have any idea what is going on in this hotel?"

Once again Andre and Polo exchanged furtive glances.

"Er, what do you mean?" Polo asked nervously.

"Haven't you noticed that there's something strange going on in this hotel?" Cornelius persisted.

"Well," Andre said. "Not really."

Cornelius saw that he wasn't going to get anything else out of Polo and Andre, and glanced at the rest of the guests. He didn't really feel like interviewing Debra Norman and Countess Haetenschwieler. He glanced at his watch and saw that it was about time for lunch anyway.

Chapter 4: In which Cornelius takes part in Mr. Peters and Marko's secret meeting to discuss their devious plot...

Cornelius spent the rest of the day in the library reading one of his mysteries, until Mr. Peters and Marko came in.

"We are going to have our secret meeting at Marko's nightclub now," Mr. Peters said.

"It's only seven," muttered Cornelius. "I thought we were supposed to have it at nine."

"Yes," agreed Mr. Peters. "But I changed my mind and decided it would be better to do it now."

"You'll like my nightclub," Marko sighed blissfully. "It's better than all the other nightclubs in Casablanca."

"It's the only nightclub in Casablanca," reminded Mr. Peters.

"Yes," agreed Marko. "But it wasn't always like that. Rick used to own a nightclub, but when I set mine up, he went out of business."

"He didn't go out of business," Mr. Peters returned. "He just decided that he'd get more money from running a hotel than a nightclub. And he was right."

Marko sniffed. "I think not. But you can think that if you like."

They reached Marko's nightclub, a tidy little place, compared to most other nightclubs. A sign on the door read: ONLY DISREPUTABLE CHARACTERS ALLOWED.

"I'm not a disreputable character," Cornelius frowned.

"Nonsense, Mr. Leyden," chuckled Mr. Peters. "All mystery writers are disreputable in one form or another."

"They are?" Cornelius muttered, but Mr. Peters and Marko were already entering the nightclub.

"Where should we sit?" Marko asked nervously.

"This is your nightclub," Cornelius said impatiently. "You should know where to sit..."

"Choose the place where not many people would be able to overhear our conversation," Mr. Peters suggested.

Marko chose a shadowy corner of the nightclub, and lit a cigarette expectantly. Mr. Peters also was puffing on a cigar, and Cornelius was getting a little bored.

"Well?" Cornelius finally said. "What are we going to talk about?"

"Please, Mr. Leydon," Mr. Peters looked pained. "We have to gather our thoughts together before we begin discussing."

"Yes, well I'd like to start talking right now," Cornelius retorted.

"I think," Mr. Peters said to Marko. "I think that since we have decided to take Mr. Leyden into our confidence, we should tell him what we are really after."

He stopped dramatically, and turned to Cornelius. "I suppose that you've never heard of the Tiger Ruby, have you?"

"The Tiger Ruby?" Cornelius repeated.

"The history of the Tiger Ruby-" began Mr. Peters.

"I beg your pardon," interrupted Marko. "But since I am the one who discovered the history of the ruby, I ought to be the one who gets to tell it to Mr. Leyden."

"Oh, very well," Mr. Peters gave in grudgingly.

"It used to belong," Marko explained. "To an Indian maharaja in Trivandrum. But Arab merchants stole it and smuggled it all the way to Grenada. Many years later, the ruby was found by Nazi agents who proceeded to take it by U-boat to Casablanca where it is right now. But it was stolen along the way, and now no one knows where it is."

"Though," Mr. Peters added. "I have my suspicions. Someone in Rick's hotel is a criminal, besides me of course, and has that ruby. And I'm going to find it. I certainly hope that you will aid us in our Quest to find the ruby."

"Oh, sure," Cornelius agreed. "I remember when I was interviewing a detective named Spade who worked in San Francisco. He was given a similar offer to help find some priceless falcon with jewels encrusted on it, but he declined. He told me that sometimes he wakes up in the middle of the night wondering what would have happened if he had decided to find the falcon."

"Well," Marko snickered. "That's the price you pay for indecisiveness."

Chapter 5: In which strange and startling things develop...

"Well," Cornelius said. "I'm certainly not being indecisive..."

"I hope not," Mr. Peters said. "Well, I suppose that we ought to get down to the business at hand. We need you, Mr. Leydon, to wake up at midnight and meet me and Marko in the sitting room. From there, we will begin our search for the diamond."

"Sounds all right to me," Cornelius said doubtfully. "But what if we get caught? Rick will be pretty angry if he catches us snooping around."

"I assure you," Marko snickered. "That Rick won't have any chance to worry about all of that."

"Are you going to kill him?" Cornelius asked nervously.

"What strange ideas come into your head, Mr. Leydon!" Mr. Peters looked shocked. "Maybe it's because you're a mystery writer. Anyway, I hope you'll be able to get up at midnight."

Cornelius said, "I better go to bed now, since I'll be getting up at midnight."

"That's right," Mr. Peters nodded jovially. "Dear me, look at the time! I hope to meet you soon!"

And Mr. Peters and Marko left the nightclub. Cornelius went back to the hotel also, and tried to make himself go to sleep, but he was far too excited. The clock ticked by slowly, but finally the Zero Hour was reached. A watchtower somewhere in the distance rang. Once...twice...finally, twelve times. Cornelius shivered uncontrollably, and quickly got out of bed, not feeling sleepy at all. He quietly crept out of his room.

The hotel was almost pitch black, and Cornelius felt more afraid of ghosts than of criminals. He had a very active imagination, and at that moment, it was beginning to paint pictures that would have made Victor Emmric's illustrations look like Sunday School artwork.

Finally, he made it downstairs to the restaurant. He knew that the sitting room was somewhere off towards the left of the restaurant, and he inched his way carefully in the darkness towards the general direction of the lounge.

Suddenly, a hand touched his shoulder. Cornelius jumped out of sheer fright.

"Hey, stop making so much noise!" it was Marlowe who was talking. "What are you doing up at this time of night?"

"What are you doing up at this time of night?" Cornelius returned.

"I heard someone leave their room and come down here," Marlowe replied. "I just thought I'd investigate."

"Er, well, I'm investigating too!" Cornelius said. "In fact, I'm going in the lounge right now. You can go back to your room now...I'll tell you if anything interesting pops up."

"All right, sure," Marlowe said, and left.

Cornelius breathed a sigh of relief, and thanked his lucky stars that Mr. Peters and Marko hadn't seen him with Marlowe. They would have certainly been suspicious then.

Creeping towards the lounge, Cornelius noticed a lamp burning on one of the tables. He hurried inside.

"So you've finally come," Mr. Peters said, relieved. "Marko hasn't arrived yet. The silly fellow is always late," he added wearily.

The minutes ticked by, and Mr. Peters grew more impatient. The creaking sound of the front door in the hotel was heard.

"This is infuriating," Mr. Peters muttered. "I will have to have a sharp word with him when he comes here."

Finally, Marko appeared in the lounge, though he deliberately opened the door directly behind Mr. Peters to startle him.

"Hello, Marko," Mr. Peters said sourly. "Your love of the melodramatic tends to cloud your judgment, though. Was it necessary to keep us waiting so long just so that you could sneak up behind me?"

Marko blinked apologetically. "I suppose not," he said. "But, you know, I knew that you wouldn't mind very much. After all, without me, you wouldn't be able to search this hotel very effectively, especially since I'm legally dead..."

Cornelius was getting a little confused with Marko's cryptic statements, when all of a sudden, a crash was heard coming from the restaurant.

"What in the world is that?" Marko asked nervously.

"I don't know," Mr. Peters frowned. "But we should investigate at once. Mr. Leyden and Marko will inspect the restaurant at once."

"What about you?" Cornelius asked.

"I'll stay here and guard the lounge," Mr. Peters replied.

Cornelius followed Marko, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. Suddenly, Marko gave an exclamation of triumph.

"It's Marlowe!" he exclaimed. "And I've got him, though I'll need some help getting him into the lounge. Cornelius, will you give me a hand here?"

Cornelius felt trapped, and though he didn't want to get his friend in trouble, didn't know how he could help him since they were both outnumbered.

"All right," he said grudgingly, and they both managed to drag Marlowe into the lounge.

Marlowe, of course, being a hard-boiled detective, was used to this sort of thing and even looked a little bored when he finally reached the lounge, though he gave Cornelius an "Et tu, Brute?" glance before he sat in one of the chairs.

"I'm dreadfully sorry," Cornelius said.

"That's what they always say," Marlowe muttered.

Mr. Peters chuckled malevolently. "Now, now, Marlowe, what do you have to say for yourself?"

"Will you stop talking please?" Marlowe interrupted. "I want your friend Marko to explain what he means when he says that he is legally dead."

"I meant," Marko continued, pleased that someone was interested. "I meant that everyone thinks I am dead and I'm not really. Everyone thinks that I was executed by the Nazi police for stealing exit visas."

"I read all about it in the papers, though," Marlowe said, confused. "The Nazis considered it one of their greatest triumphs when they caught you."

"What are you two talking about?" Cornelius asked.

"I suppose that you wouldn't have heard of it," Marlowe said. "You see, your little friend Marko stole some exit visas and began selling them on the black market, and the Nazis were really annoyed. So they arrested him, and he was supposedly shot."

"Except I wasn't," Marko said. "Because that happened to be the same week that Mr. Peters flew over from Istanbul to Casablanca in search of the Tiger Ruby."

"This is so complicated," Cornelius muttered.

"Then," Mr. Peters took up the story. "I heard of Marko's plight. I remembered that I had met Marko once before when we were in college and that he had displayed a remarkable talent for hypnosis."

"Now I'm really getting confused," Marlowe said.

"Hold on just a minute," Cornelius interrupted. "Supposing, just supposing, that your story is true. Then if Marko really was rescued by you two, how come the newspapers said that Marko had been shot, and when anyone asked to speak to him, they were told he was dead?"

"Really, Mr. Leydon," Mr. Peters snickered. "The Nazis wouldn't have wanted everyone to know that they had been defeated like that. It would have been a public embarrassment. So they pretended that Marko had been done away with to save face."

"It sounds like the truth to me," Cornelius said. "Er, what do you think, Marlowe?"

Marlowe glared at Cornelius.

"Now, now, Marlowe," Mr. Peters chuckled. "You shouldn't be so angry at your poor friend. He really had no choice but to help us. He already knows too much."

Cornelius fidgeted nervously.

"He does?" Marko asked. "You know, I could use my hypnotic powers on him, and then suddenly he forgets everything!"

"I suppose that might work," Mr. Peters said thoughtfully. "Speaking of your hypnotic powers, though, I would like it if you would summon your latest victim."

"All right," Marko snickered, and disappeared from the lounge.

"I thought Marko was acting as your go-between too," Cornelius said.

"Well, as I said before," Marlowe said irritably. "He only helps whoever is in charge at the moment."

"A remarkable character," Mr. Peters. "It's a pity that after we find the diamond there won't be much use for him anymore."

Cornelius felt even more nervous after that comment.

"Do any of you have any guns?" Cornelius asked abruptly.

"Er, well," Mr. Peters was slightly taken aback by the question.

"Some thieves you guys are," Marlowe muttered. "You don't even know whether you're armed or not!"

"I have one!" Peters frowned. "And I believe I took one away from Marlowe. I don't know whether Marko has one or not."

"That probably means he does," Marlowe said. "That sort aren't usually caught without a gun. And besides, he's a nightclub owner. He's sure to have at least a small pistol."

Marko returned with someone following close behind. Cornelius was amazed to see Rick of all people following him. He looked like he was in a hypnotic trance.

"Now I've seen everything," Cornelius said, though he hadn't yet.

Chapter 6: In which the criminals and the detectives get a surprise, and one mystery is solved while another is introduced only to be solved as well...

"Clever, huh?" Marko said. "With the hotel owner out of the way, we can go about our business without any interference."

"But doesn't he recognize you?" Marlowe asked.

"No," Marko retorted. "Because I hypnotized him."

"You can hypnotize people into not recognizing you?" Marlowe asked skeptically.

"You better believe it," Marko said. "I can get this fellow to do anything I want when he's in this state."

"Sounds good," Cornelius yawned. "But isn't it about time we searched everyone's rooms?"

"Oh, yes, I almost forgot," Marko sneered. "Rick is going to be the one who does that also."

"But, what if he gets caught?" Mr. Peters asked in alarm.

"So what if he gets caught?" Marko returned. "He won't be able to give away any information about us because he doesn't know any information."

And, after giving Rick his orders to search every room, Marko beamed on everyone else delightedly.

"I don't like this much at all," muttered Mr. Peters. "You say that you can get him to do anything you want? Does he respond to anyone else's commands?"

"No," Marko smiled. "Only mine."

"This is absurd," Mr. Peters muttered. "You could get him to do anything you want!"

"I'm not going to get him to interfere with what you're up to," Marko said slowly.

"Yes, but how can I know?" there was a dangerous ring in Mr. Peter's voice, and Cornelius could see Marko's hand edging towards the pocket.

"I must warn you," Marko said carefully. "That I have a gun, and I've used it before too."

"I've used mine before," Mr. Peters said, getting defensive.

"What for?" snickered Marko. "Showcase display?"

Suddenly, Rick came back in the room. There was something in his hand that was red and glittered. The Tiger Ruby! Cornelius gasped as he saw the rainbow colors that bounced off of the ruby.

Marko took the ruby necklace almost reverentially with trembling hands.

"You're going to split it with me," he said slowly. "Right?"

"I'm sorry," Mr. Peters said, pulling out his own gun. "But this is just too much money."

Marko stared as if transfixed at the revolver. Cornelius looked nervous. Even Marlowe seemed at a loss for words.

"You wouldn't shoot," Marko said defiantly. "The shot would be heard all over the hotel."

"Yes," agreed Mr. Peters. "But I have ways of making it look like Rick did it. It wouldn't be too hard, you know."

"But, but," he sniveled. "If it hadn't been for me, you wouldn't even have the diamond-"

"I'm sorry," Mr. Peters said again. He took the safety off the revolver, and was just squeezing the trigger, when suddenly a voice said, "What are you doing with our ruby?"

Mr. Peters froze.

"That's right, our ruby," continued the voice, and Cornelius was shocked, though glad, to see Andre step out from the shadows of the restaurant into the lounge, Polo close behind him like a shadow.

"We want it back, please," Polo added politely, though he also was holding a tiny silver revolver.

Marlowe groaned in agony. "All of these people have their guns out except me!"

"Quiet please, Marlowe," Mr. Peters said tensely. "What do you mean this is your ruby?"

"I mean what I said," Andre retorted. "I heard this fellow," he added, pointing to the dazed Rick. "Creeping along the hallways, so I opened my door, and I was surprised to see him disappearing from Countess Haetenschwieler's room with the ruby necklace."

"If it was in Countess Haetenschwieler's room," Mr. Peters pointed out. "Then why does that mean it's yours?"

"Because she isn't a countess at all!" Andre said impatiently. "We just hooked up with her because she's part of our plot to cheat people out of money. One way we cheat them is by pretending that we have historical necklaces so that they'll pay us a lot of money for them."

"You mean," Marko said for the first time. "That this necklace is a fake?"

"That's right," Andre said. "And it's a pretty good one too. You see, Polo came across this article in a newspaper about an Indian Tiger Ruby that was worth more than the Hope Diamond. In fact, it was the most valuable treasure in the world!"

"The article was wrong," Mr. Peters said. "The Maltese Falcon is still the most valuable."

"The Maltese Falcon?" Polo repeated. "I've never heard of it. Anyway, we decided we might get a lot of money if we tricked people into thinking that we had this Indian ruby. So we circulated the rumor that a Nazi general had lost the necklace. We also put a few clues around that would make us look suspicious."

"Now why in the world did you do that?" Marlowe asked.

Polo shrugged. "We decided that if someone was really desperate for the necklace, they would confront us and ask us how much we wanted for it."

"No, you decided that," Andre retorted. "I always told you that was a stupid idea, and that if someone really wanted it, they would steal it from us."

Gutman stared at the two con-artists coldly. "How long have you been doing this sort of thing?"

"Well, let me see," Polo thought for a moment. "We started in Berlin, didn't we, Andre?"

"That's right," Andre nodded.

"And after that we left for Vienna," Polo continued. "So that means that we've been doing it for ten years. We have a ruby that was once on Catherine of Russia's crown, we have a nice duplicate of the Hope Diamond (I made it myself)," he added parenthetically. "And we also have the crown that Napoleon gave his wife."

Marlowe whistled. "So you two are experts."

"Well," Polo said modestly. "You know what Abraham Lincoln said: whatever you are, be a good one."

"I thought I heard a rumor, though," Marlowe said. "That someone was trying to assassinate the ambassador of England who was staying here in Casablanca for a visit at some other hotel. Are you two also part of that plot?"

At the same time as Marlowe said this, the two thought they heard a creaking of the hotel door opening. Cornelius boldly got up to check and see who it was, feeling a little more comfortable now that Polo and Andre were there to keep an eye on Mr. Peters and Marko. He was surprised to see Victor Emmric enter the sitting room. He glanced at them all with boredom.

"I heard someone creeping outside my room," he said. "And I thought I may as well come down and have a drink."

Marlowe stared at him in surprise. "But no one has left their room in the last hour, except Rick."

"Oh, no, I know who it was who was up," Victor assured him. "It was Countess Haetenshweiler."

"What?" Andre looked startled.

"I know what's going on," Marlowe said grimly. "Now we know who Zalini really is."

"What-me?" Polo started at Marlowe in horror. "I'm no assassin."

"No, not you," Marlowe said impatiently. "Countess Haetenshweiler."

"But Zalini is a man," Cornelius pointed out.

"No, she isn't," Marlowe said. "And I know exactly where she went. There's another hotel here in Casablanca, the Purple Flamingo. The English ambassador is staying there, and Zalini is going to assassinate him."

"Well, we have to stop her," Victor said uneasily. "By the way, Marko, do you have a cork opener?"

"Oh, yeah, sure," Marko absent-mindedly took one out of his pocket.

"You three have to leave this hotel now!" Marlowe exclaimed. "Marko: put down that necklace and help us out."

Marko, Victor Emmric, and Cornelius left the hotel. They could already see the retreating figure of the assassin.

"Oh, can't anyone get a moment's peace around this joint?" groaned Cornelius.

"I suppose we ought to follow her," Marko said, a little confused about why he, a criminal, was supposed to be concerned about the welfare of an ambassador at all.

"Yes, I suppose," Cornelius said. Both he, Marko, and Victor raced after the assassin who had jumped into a black car and drove off. Quickly, the two hailed a taxi and followed her to a hotel.

They followed the black car to the Purple Flamingo and the assassin was by this time well ahead of them. Leaving the car, they saw that she was already taking aim and was going to shoot the ambassador through the window.

Marko shot twice at her, and missed both times. After that, he was out of bullets.

"Oh, well," sighed Victor. "I suppose since there's no hope to stop the assassination, I may as well open this bottle."

He started uncorking the bottle, but as he started to screw it off, a deafening explosion surrounded the three. Through the black smoke, Cornelius could see the remains of the assassin.

"Er, did I do something?" Victor asked nervously.

"Oh, I forgot," Marko exclaimed. "I handed you my tiny cannon designed to look like a bottle opener."

"Well, thanks for nothing," Victor said peevishly. "Now what am I going to drink?"

Suddenly, two Moroccan police approached them.

"What's going on here?" a Moroccan policeman demanded.

"You've heard of an assassin named Zalini, right?" Cornelius asked. "Well, that's Zalini and she was about to shoot the English ambassador."

"Why, that could cause a World War!" exclaimed the policeman. "Thank you very much for stopping her. Which one is the one who shot at her?"

"I'm not taking any responsibility for it," sniffed Victor. "It was Marko who came up with the deadly bottle opener."

Marko had been trying to avoid the policeman, but one policeman caught sight of him.

"Ah, so it's you who helped stopped the assassin?" the policeman smiled paternally. "Now, now, don't be shy." He rummaged in his wallet and came out with a few crisp bills. "There you go," he said. "Thank you for what you have done for our city of Casablanca."

"You know," one of the policeman frowned. "I feel like I recognize that fellow."

"The face of heroism takes on many different guises," the first policeman waxed philosophically. "But you can always see that recognizable gleam in the eyes."

Cornelius and Marko hurried away from the hotel. They caught sight of the black car that had hurried the assassin over to the hotel, and noticed a man in the passenger's seat smoking a cigarette and eyeing the policeman. He caught sight of Cornelius and Marko.

"Foiled again!" he smiled cheerfully, and drove off.

"Who was that?" Cornelius asked.

"The arch-villain!" Marko answered. "Who else?"

They reached the hotel again, and Marlowe smiled in a congratulatory manner.

"Pretty good," he said. "Seeing as how the only three people who stood in the way of a World War were a mystery novelist, a crime novel illustrator, and a black-market dealer."

Cornelius sighed blissfully. He wasn't really too worried about anything right at that moment, until the hotel door started creaking open.

The next moment, all of the criminals were staring in horror at an old lady who had entered the room.

"Cornelius!" she called.

Cornelius blanched. It was his mother!

"Yes?" he said tentatively.

"Who in the world are these people you are associating with?" she asked sharply, glancing at Marko who had an uneasy smile on his face and at Polo and Andre who were still holding their revolvers.

"They're my friends," Cornelius said nervously, not wanting to get his mother involved.

"Your friends?" she exclaimed. "How come you're always hanging around with disreputable characters? Why can't you be like your cousin Marlowe?"

"What?!" both Cornelius and Marlowe exclaimed.

"That's right," she said. "I thought you knew that Phillip Marlowe was your cousin. Now how come he never associates with people like this?"

"Ahem!" Mr. Peters cleared his throat. "And what is wrong with us, may I ask?"

"Be silent!" she said shortly. "I am speaking to my son at this moment. I will get to you shortly."

At this last statement, Mr. Peters looked extremely disturbed, and Marko began edging his way out of the lounge.

"Wait just a moment, ma'am," Polo suddenly said. "You know, we have this beautiful ruby necklace that we showed Cornelius, and he told us that he wished that he could afford something like that so that he could give it to his mother. He talks about his dear mother all the time."

Mrs. Leydon looked slightly appeased. "Oh, Cornelius, I know that you're a disobedient son, but at least you don't forget your mother."

Tears of emotion welled up in Cornelius' eyes. The criminals felt slightly embarrassed.

"You can have it, though," Andre said quickly. "The necklace, I mean."

"Thank you very much," Mrs. Leydon said. "Well, I better be going back to Denmark now. I just wanted to see how my son was doing, but now that I see that his Cousin Marlowe is here to keep an eye on him, I suppose I should get going."

Cornelius' mother left the hotel, and the criminals breathed a sigh of relief.

"Now, we have some phone calls to make," Marlowe said authoritatively. "We need to tell the police about you people."

"Wait just a minute, Marlowe!" Mr. Peters said. "You forget that you have no evidence, no evidence at all."

Marlowe stopped. "What do you mean I don't have any evidence?"

"You have no witnesses except yourself and Mr. Leydon," Mr. Peters reminded him. "And I assure you that the rest of us will deny everything you say."

"What about Marko?" Marlowe asked. "Won't he be able to act as a witness against you?"

"I hardly think that he will be so foolish as to do that," Mr. Peters said. "Since if he does, we will immediately tell the police who he really is. I doubt the police will let him get away a second time."

"And the same thing for Polo and Andre too, I suppose?" Marlowe asked grimly.

"Correct," Mr. Peters said. "They hardly want to be thrown in jail when they're doing so well in forgery."

"Well," Marlowe said. "You crooks may have gotten away from justice for now, but sooner or later, I'll get evidence against you."

"Well, I suppose I really ought to be going to bed now," Cornelius muttered. It had been an interesting mystery, much more interesting than anything he could have come up with in his mystery novels, but now it was over. That's the worst of these mysteries, thought Cornelius regretfully. They always end much too quickly.

"I wonder," Mr. Peters thought aloud to himself. "I wonder if it wouldn't be such a bad idea to start my own Quest for the falcon."

He left the lounge feeling depressed.

Polo poured himself a cup of tea and dumped seven and a half lumps of sugar in it. As he stirred the contents, he said, "You know, Andre, that fellow talking about a falcon makes me think about that funny little figurine we picked up in Istanbul. Remember, the one we stole from some Turkish fellow?"

"Oh, yeah," Andre said. "Didn't we sell it in Beijing?"

"Yes, I believe so," Polo laughed. "It wasn't worth anything, after all!"

© Copyright 2003 by Colin Azariah-Kribbs
All rights reserved.