Halfway house [antikvár]

FOREWORDIf my own case is a criterion, that persistent breed of mystery-fiction addicts who have so faithfully followed the fortunes of Mr. Ellery Queen must discover in his latest exploit cause for considerable astonishment.As one of Ellery Queen's more fanatical admirers I have long felt that if there was anything in this world surer than death and its concomitant it was the perpetuity of his title-scheme. From the Fall of 1929, when he wrote The Roman Hat Mystery, until last year, when The Spanish Cape Mystery appeared, the artful sequence of his book-titles has remained intact. I suppose it was their sheer repetition that made me expect an unbroken line of similar titles ad infinitum or at least a line approaching infinity with the finite restrictions of terrestrial geography as the only limit.And suddenly, like snow in July . . . Halfway House!"It's your own fault," I told Ellery, as soon as I could reach him after hearing the news. "Studying those blasted plots of yours has trained me to ask 'why' to evervthing. Wellwhy?"Ellery seemed mildly surprised. "But what difference can it make, J J.?""I suppose none; none of importance, anyway. It's only thatwell, it's like reading a new short story by G.K.C. and suddenly finding Father Brown exclaiming: 'Nuts!' ""That's a pretty feeble analogy," retorted Ellery. "I'm sure Chesterton wouldn't be flattered." Then he chuckled. "Although I could easily evolve a situation in which itv