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Head of a Traveller

Page 24

by Nicholas Blake


  And then Robert went on, ‘I don’t believe in that Prince. He’d never have got through the thorns. It’d take the Beast to do that. Some rough beast.’ And the Beast did turn up. Oswald Seaton. And Robert jumped at the opportunity: it gave him the chance (with a perfectly good conscience, for Oswald was after all its rightful owner) to leave Plash Meadow, to break the cataleptic trance it had thrown upon his Muse, to return to the conditions under which—however grim they had been—he had in the past produced poetry. To kill Oswald would be to destroy his last chance of freeing the creator in himself.

  Yet how could I convince Blount of this? He’s an exceptionally able and broad-minded man, but no Scotland Yard officer, no layman at all perhaps, can be expected to understand the motive force of the creative artist—how he is compelled by this unpredictable force to subject himself and any one connected with him to hardship, to indignity, to apparent caprice or an inhuman routine, so that a few precious drops of immortality may be squeezed out.

  I was deceived myself, for some time, by Robert’s insouciance about the crime. I took it for innocence: and of course he was innocent of the actual killing. Possibly, being human, he got a certain kick from the altruism of his own conduct in helping Janet conceal her crime. But the great change I noticed from the Robert Seaton of June—the new briskness, vitality, clarity which I felt in him—was the result of his having begun to write poetry again. As he says, this was the ironical effect of Oswald’s death; for him, its prime effect. And the fact that, at last, he was re-engaged upon the work for which nature had designed him, and knew it was good, gave him an extraordinary detachment: in his interviews with Blount and myself, he seemed to maintain the attitude of an intelligent but dispassionate observer. Compared with the poem he was writing, the criminal investigation was secondary—a game which he now had enough spare energy to take part in, to play with a certain impudent ease, to relish almost. This culminated in his audacious, yet literally accurate statement, ‘I am willing to swear, on my oath, that I never saw Oswald alive after that day, ten years ago, when he disappeared.’

  It would not do to exaggerate this. Robert was not behaving irresponsibly. It was just that, for a while, his social responsibility yielded place to a more urgent one: he had to get his poem written. If he seemed to treat Oswald’s death, and its inevitable consequences, with a sort of impish disrespect, it was only as a man upon whom sentence of death has been passed finds the ordinary world unreal: he may be excused a certain levity. I am sure Robert knew that the case could, for him, have only one ending. His was a heart of gold. He tried to arrange it so that no one else should permanently suffer for the crime. I can’t forget how the editor of the local paper said of Robert’s first wife, ‘It was his poetry, when you get down to the bottom of it, which killed her.’ Robert must have felt the same about Oswald and Janet: if he hadn’t invited Oswald down, with the intention of getting the paralysing weight of Plash Meadow lifted from his shoulders, Janet would never have gone in danger of the gallows. History had repeated itself: the destructive potentiality in genius was vindicated once again . . .

  Lord, how he would chuckle at all this solemn stuff! ‘I’ve written my confession, so for God’s sake get on with it and spare us your pretentious analyses and moralisings!’—I can hear him say it. But the ‘confession’ does pose me a difficult moral problem. On the one hand, it’s basically untrue, it might quite possibly fail to convince the police, and to make it public would be to tarnish unjustly the fame of a great, good man. On the other hand, if the police did accept the confession, it would mean Lionel’s being let off comparatively lightly, Janet’s being saved from hanging or life imprisonment (though the case of her conspiracy in Oswald’s ‘suicide’ would be pursued, no doubt), and therefore Robert’s last wishes would have been respected.

  How could I bring myself to disregard them? But then, how could I bear to dishonour his name? Who am I to conceal truth or to falsify justice? But which would serve truth and justice the better—to destroy his confession or to hand it over to the authorities?

  I wish someone could tell me . . .

  1 This was later to be substantially confirmed. N.S.

  MORE FROM VINTAGE CLASSIC CRIME

  MARGERY ALLINGHAM

  Mystery Mile

  Police at the Funeral

  Sweet Danger

  Flowers for the Judge

  The Case of the Late Pig

  Dancers in Mourning

  The Fashion in Shrouds

  Traitor’s Purse

  Coroner’s Pidgin

  More Work for the Undertaker

  The Tiger in the Smoke

  The Beckoning Lady

  Hide My Eyes

  The China Governess

  The Mind Readers

  Cargo of Eagles

  E.F. BENSON

  The Blotting Book

  The Luck of the Vails

  NICHOLAS BLAKE

  A Question of Proof

  Thou Shell of Death

  There’s Trouble Brewing

  The Beast must Die

  The Smiler with the Knife

  Malice in Wonderland

  The Case of the Abominable Snowman

  Minute for Murder

  Head of a Traveller

  The Dreadful Hollow

  The Whisper in the Gloom

  End of Chapter

  The Widow’s Cruise

  The Worm of Death

  The Sad Variety

  The Morning After Death

  EDMUND CRISPIN

  Buried for Pleasure

  The Case of the Gilded Fly

  Holy Disorders

  Love Lies Bleeding

  The Moving Toyshop

  Swan Song

  A.A. MILNE

  The Red House Mystery

  GLADYS MITCHELL

  Speedy Death

  The Mystery of a Butcher’s Shop

  The Longer Bodies

  The Saltmarsh Murders

  Death and the Opera

  The Devil at Saxon Wall

  Dead Men’s Morris

  Come Away, Death

  St Peter’s Finger

  Brazen tongue

  Hangman’s Curfew

  When Last I Died

  Laurels are Poison

  Here Comes a Chopper

  Death and the Maiden

  Tom Brown’s Body

  Groaning Spinney

  The Devil’s Elbow

  The Echoing Strangers

  Watson’s Choice

  The Twenty-Third Man

  Spotted Hemlock

  My Bones Will Keep

  Three Quick and Five Dead

  Dance to your Daddy

  A Hearse on May-Day

  Late, Late in the Evening

  Faults in the Structure

  Nest of Vipers

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  Epub ISBN 9781446476628

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  Published by Vintage 2012

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  Copyright © The Estate of C. Day Lewis 1949

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  First published in Great Britain in 1949 by Collins

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