"And not leave it again—?" Spinelli asked the question after a very brief pause; he seemed almost to have stopped breathing.
"And not leave it again. There, my friend, is your corroboration."
After this thundering lie, Dr. Fell looked as benevolent as Old King Cole. Spinelli's shoulders jerked.
"You mean — I can go? You're not going to hold me? Even as a material witness?"
"You may go. Get out of the country in forty-eight hours, and you shall not be held."
A sort of wild, malignant hope was in Spinelli's face.
He had drawn himself back, with one hand against his chest. You could see that he was thinking fast, sifting chances, wondering, feeling for a trap; but he could not help saying: "Say, you told me a week! A week to leave the country, that's what you said. A week—"
"Man," interposed Dr. Fell softly, "will you never let well-enough alone? There are a number of dangerous questions I could have insisted on your answering; and you evaded them. Very well. Since I don't believe you shot Depping, I am willing to let that pass. But, by God, my friend! — if you question me, or argue with me, or try to quibble about time limits, you will get no mercy at all" He struck the handle of his stick on the table. "Speak up! What's it to be? Freedom, or gaol?"
"Oh, I’ll go! Listen, governor, please! I didn't mean anything. I wasn't trying to give you any back-talk…" The man spoke with a sort of eager and slobbering whine. "All I meant was — well, it's sudden. And I'd like," here he spoke slowly, as though he were watching the doctor with furtive care to see the effect of his words, "I'd naturally like to speak with my mouthpiece — my lawyer — and sort of — arrange things, you know; but he's tied up here, and I thought maybe I might have more time. That's all I meant."
For an instant, as the doctor bent over to pick up a matchbox he had knocked on the floor, Hugh saw the faintest twitch of a smile under his moustache. With a grunt Dr. Fell hoisted himself again.
"Humph. Well, I see no objection to that. Unless, of course, it comes from Mr. Langdon? I think he said a while ago that your conduct was insufferable, and that he was inclined to wash his hands of—"
Langdon was instantly all smiles and deprecation.
For some reason he seemed as relieved as Spinelli at the turn matters had taken. He almost clucked. Rolling bis dog's eyes about, talking with a glutinous ease, he assured them that his first duty (after all) was to his client; that he had spoken with unintentional warmth, and under pardonable stress; finally, that he would be most happy to assist his client with any advice in his power.
"I mean," insisted Spinelli, still watching Dr. Fell, "could you let us talk now — in private? Listen, if Fve got to get out of England in a hurry, then I won't have time to see him…!"
The doctor seemed reluctant, but allowed himself to be persuaded. Murch, who was plainly mystified, agreed. The drawing-room was put at the disposal of Spinelli and Langdon, and they were ushered out by the constable. Langdon stood in the doorway to deliver a little speech, flashing his smile and assuring them that he would be only a few minutes; then he faded out after Spinelli with a rather ghostly effect of disappearance. The door closed.
Inspector Murch watched it close. He swung round on Dr. Fell.
"Well, sir! You'm got some idea in this! What is it? Ah, but now yon pair do have a chance to put their heads together!"
"Yes," agreed the doctor. "Never have I accomplished a design with less trouble. They clamored for it. Gentlemen, the game is getting rapid now, and somebody is going to lose a number of tricks in a very short time. I wonder—"
"Eh, sir?"
"I wonder," said the doctor musingly, and poked at the table with his cane, "whether Spinelli is still wearing his bullet-proof vest? I rather suspect he will find it valuable before long. Steady, now! In the meantime, I want to talk about ladies’
CHAPTER XIV
The Devil and Maw Standish
Uneasily Murch rubbed a hand across his sandy cropped hair. He glanced at the bishop, as though he wondered whether such matters should be discussed in the episcopal presence.
"About ladies, sir? You mean — what Mr. Langdon said about a lady from hereabouts? Ah, ah! S'help me, I hate to say it—!"
The bishop, who all this time had been staring at the windows, turned heavily. His face looked dull and uncertain.
"Is all this necessary?" he asked. "I confess, doctor, that I am — much troubled. And confused. Villainy— ah — in general I have always regarded as an abstract thing, like a chemical reaction. Seeing it here…"
"Nevertheless, we have got to talk about it. Those remarks between Spinelli and Langdon, especially the things they didn't say, were the most revealing clues we have had up to this time. I am interested now not so much in what things were said, as why they were said.
H'm." A thoughtful sniff rumbled in the doctor's nose. "For instance, Langdon's insistent statement that a lady from what he calls 'your charming community' was prepared to run away with Depping. True or untrue— why did he say it? Definitely he had some purpose, in desiring that everybody should know he knew it. I don't think we can doubt that Langdon knew a great deal more about Depping than he was willing to tell us. But he chose that little item to parade before us."
To throw suspicion on a woman, one would think," suggested the bishop. To let us know he knew more about the murder than he was wilting to tell."
"And yet I doubt it. Surely it leads in another direction as well… It's an unpleasant business, but I think we shall have to listen to a little gossip and opinion. Humph, brr-r, yes. Preferably strong-minded gossip and opinion. Inspector, will you step outside and tell the buder to ask Mrs. Standish to step downstairs? We haven't yet heard her views. And I lack something. I know who the murderer, is, but—"
The bishop.lifted his head. "You know, doctor?"
"I'm afraid I do. I knew it this afternoon. You see," Dr. Fell's hands slid out and played with the silver inkstand, "you see, the murderer made one terrific slip, which has not received the proper attention… Never mind. We can discuss that later. Stop a bit, Inspector! Before you go, in case Spinelli and Langdon should get through their conversation prematurely, you must have your instructions."
"Yes, sir?" said Murch gruffly.
"When Spinelli comes back to this room, you will be informed that neither you nor your constable will be needed further tonight. Both of you will leave here, ostentatiously…" "Ah! And follow Spinelli?"
"Tut, tut, Nothing of the kind. Those uniforms of yours would be spotted half a mile, especially if Spinelli has reason to believe he is under surveillance. The constable will go home. You, after pretending to do so, will take a long way round and go to the Guest House. This is merely a guess of mine, but we shall have to play a long chance."
Murch stroked his moustache. "But there's nobody at the Guest House, sir! You be and sent the man Storer away to the 'Bull'—"
"Exactly. You won't go inside, but keep in concealment close to the house, and watch what may happen. Meanwhile…"
He turned to Hugh Donovan, and smiled quizzically. "You look like a stout young fellow who could take care of himself if it came to trouble. So I’ll tell you why I wanted you here to listen to what we've heard tonight. You've — hum — studied academic criminology, they tell me." He coughed meaningly, and as Hugh met the glance over the doctor's spectacles he knew that this fat bandit knew his own particular guilty secret. "Would you like to try a little practical work?"
"Would I!" said Hugh fervently.
"Think you could follow Spinelli wherever he went, and keep out of sight?"
"Absolutely."
"I don't like to do this, but you're the only person here who might conceivably do it. And before you agree, I want to impress on you exactly what you're doing." Dr. Fell looked sharply at him, at the bishop, and at the scowling Inspector Murch. "If I'm right, you see, that man Spinelli is going to walk straight into a death trap."
He waited to let that statement sink in
, and for his listeners to use their imaginations on it. The bright, hot library had become full of suggestion.
In other words, my boy, this placid little rustic corner — where nobody has any motive — contains a killer who would just as soon put a bullet into you as into Spinelli. A killer possibly without deep intelligence, but a quick thinker with an incredible amount of nerve. I can't say for certain whether Spinelli will try the same tactics as he tried with Depping, but I believe he will. And if he attempts it at all, it will have to be immediately, because I've forced his hand; he has got to leave England, and he must act at once… Do you understand?"
"Enough to try it, doctor."
"Very well." He turned and nodded towards the closed portieres over the doorway at the far end of the library. "I don't want Spinelli to see you when he comes back. Go into the billiard-room there, and keep watch behind those curtains. Well maneuver him out the same way he came in: through the windows to the terrace. The terrace runs all the way round this side of the house, including the billiard-room, and there's a door opening on it from there. When you see Spinelli leave, slip out the door from the billiard-room to the terrace, and follow. Whatever you do, for God's sake don't lose him. That's all. Very well, Inspector; go and see if you can find Mrs. Standish."
Hugh was already feeling the excitement of the thing, as though it had been a game. He had a wholesome love of play-acting, and he could not even yet bring himself to believe that following people was anything else. If he had not seen that dead man… but the image flashed across his mind as he put his hand on the portieres at the end of the room. It was effective.
There was a bright moon that night. Its light fell into the dark billiard-room through a row of diamond-paned windows high up on the wall to the right, and there were other windows at the far end. In the right-hand wall there was also a glass-panelled door standing open on the terrace. Like the library, this room was high and narrow. He could dimly see the billiard table in the middle, and the marking-board and racks of cues against the wall.
It was cool here, after the stuffy air of the other room. The portieres had a sound-deadening effect; he could hear his father's voice only faintly as the bishop expounded something to Dr. Fell. Parting the curtains about half an inch, he groped into the shadows after a chair. Cool here, and a faint breeze. The glass door moved slightly; a swish of trees went murmuring round the house; and the thin line of light from between the portieres trembled across the billiard table. This, it occurred to him, would be an excellent house in which to play any sort of game that entailed wandering about in the dark; say that noble pastime called sardines. Which suggestion turned his thoughts inevitably to Patricia Standish and the pleasures of darkness. But he had to attend to business. Discovering a chair, he had just drawn it up to the opening between the curtains when a new voice rose, commanding and majestic, from the library.
"I do not ask to know what this means," it proclaimed; "but I demand to know what it means. Certain remarks and hints have been made to me, which, in justice to the memory of dear, dear Septimus — to say nothing of poor, poor Betty — I will have explained. Furthermore…"
Hugh peered through the opening. Standing before Dr. Fell was the handsome and aggressive figure of Maw Standish. Her chin was up, her ash-blonde head and square face determined; she was a Matterhom in white lace, staring down over the icy slopes of herself. She stood with her arm round the shoulders of a pretty little brown-haired girl who, Maw's gesture indicated, was Betty Depping. Betty Depping looked tired, and nervous, and, most of all, embarrassed. Instinctively Hugh liked her. In appearance she would not have qualified for the name of Ginch: despite her neatness, her pale fine face, and dark blue eyes set rather wide apart, she looked sturdy and capable. Her lips were full, but her chin strong. The brown hair was drawn back severely behind her ears, and — had he been closer — Hugh would have expected to find a freckle or two round her nose. As she glanced at Maw Standish, there was in her eyes a sort of weary cynicism. You felt that she would never shed many tears; but that they would be bitter ones.
Her presence complicated matters. Hugh could only see the back of Dr. Fell's head, but he could imagine the doctor rumbling and scowling at bringing in Depping's daughter at this juncture. However, Maw Standish was giving nobody a chance to protest.
furthermore," she continued, shaking Betty by way of emphasis in spite of the girl's efforts to free herself, "I demand to know the reason why this house
has been filled with objectionable people. In the drawing-room at this minute — at this very minute" said Maw Standish, as though that made the fact more sinister, "there is a horrible creature with a fawn-colored hat and a red pin stripe in his suit. Why must this house be filled with objectionable people? Think of the dear, dear bishop's feelings. Think of my own feelings. I am sure the dear, dear bishop must be outraged…"
The dear, dear bishop made a coughing noise, and backed his chair away.
"Ma'am," said Dr. Fell urbanely, "one of the most unfortunate features of police work is that it brings us into contact with people whom we should otherwise run a mile to avoid. Pray accept my assurance, ma'am, that nobody appreciates this more than I do."
Maw sniffed, and after considering this she looked at him sharply.
"Is it possible, Dr. Fell; can it be possible — and in the presence of the dear, dear bishop at that — that I scent an ulterior meaning in what you say?"
"Ma'am, ma'am," said the doctor, with a touch of reproof. "Heh. Heh-heh-heh. Pray control yourself. I am sure His Reverence must resent your statement that his presence stimulates your olfactory senses. I must ask you to respect his cloth."
Maw stared at him as though she could not believe her ears. She stiffened, turned livid, and emitted a sound like the whistle of a peanut vendor's machine on a cold day.
"Well, of all-!" she gasped, "of all the-of all-Go-rooo! Sir, will you trifle with me?" "Madam!" rumbled Dr. Fell. He chuckled. Hugh could imagine his wide-open eyes as he looked at her. "Reluctantly, I am afraid I must decline. I trust you are familiar with that classic anecodote which concludes, 'Ma'am, I am a married man myself, and I would rather have a glass of beer?'Just so. Nunquam nimis quod nunquam satis. Speaking of beer—"
Maw was in a dangerous condition. She turned to the bishop, as though to appeal for assistance. That worthy gentleman narrowly missed doing something which would forever have condemned him in the maternal presence; he turned mirth into a cough at just the right time. Then he looked very ecclesiastial.
"Of all," said Maw, breathlessly, "of all the insufferable-"
"Yes. So Mr. Langdon said. Now, I’ll tell you what it is, Mrs. Standish," said Dr. Fell sharply. "You are here for the purpose of giving evidence; not orders. You were expressly instructed to come here alone, furthermore. Certain things we have discovered today will not make very pleasant hearing for Miss Depping."
Betty Depping looked up. There had been a sort of weary humor in her eyes; but now she spoke dully, in a pleasant voice which always seemed to ask a question of her future mother-in-law.
"Isn't that," she said, "why I have a right to be here?"
Subdy, it brought a new element into the conversation. You could feel in what she was thinking a vitality, an intensity, even a tragedy about which nobody had bothered to think. Maw's attack was broken, but she went on in a lower voice:
"I wish this nonsense dispelled, that is all. If you cannot be sufficiently courteous—! I refer to hints. From Patricia, and especially (in a mealy-mouthed fashion, which I detest) from Morley. As though to prepare me for something." Maw shut-her jaws hard, and looked from Dr. Fell to the bishop. If I must speak of it, it concerns rumors of poor dear Mr. Depping's past life."
Again Betty Depping looked at her, curiously. "Could it make any difference?" she asked in a low voice.
For a time Hugh could hear the slow tapping of Dr. Fell's pencil on the table. "My dear," he said suddenly, "since you are here… did you ever have any knowledge of your f
ather's past life?"
"N-no. No knowledge. I — suspected something. I don't know what."
"Did you tell this suspicion to anybody?"
"Yes. I told Morley. I thought it was only fair." She hesitated, and a sort of puzzled, protesting fierceness came into her face. "All I wanted to know is, why should it matter? If father had lived — if he were living now — nobody would have known it or asked questions about it. Now that he's dead, if there's anything against him it's bound to come out…"
She looked away, at a corner of one window, and added in a very low voice: "I never had a great deal of happiness, you see. I thought that I was going to have it, now. Why should — somebody — have spoiled it?"
Again the night breeze went wandering through the trees round the house, with a rustling of turmoil far away; and you knew that it was agitating the beeches and maples round the Guest House as well. All the time Dr. Fell's pencil was slowly clicking against the desk; tap — tap — tap — as though it were a brain endlessly asking the same question.
"How long have you suspected anything in your father's past, Miss Depping?0
She shook her head. There never was anything definite. But I think I started to wonder as much as five years ago. You see, he sent for me to join him in London suddenly. I thought he had always been there; I wrote him once a week, in care of Mr. Langdon, and he would reply about once a month, with a London postmark. So I came over from France; naturally I was pleased to get away from school. He told me he was retiring from whatever it was he did in the City, and going into the publishing business with a Mr. Standish and a Mr. Burke.
Then — we were sitting in the lobby of the hotel one afternoon, and all of a sudden he caught sight of somebody walking towards us, and he was — I don't know — flustered. He said, That's Burke; he didn't say he was coming here. Listen: don't be surprised at anything I say to him in the way of business. So far as you know, I've spent a year in India, where — remember this — where my closest friend was a Major Pendleton.' Then he hushed me." She brushed a hand back across her shining brown hair. It was as though she had an insupportable headache, and tried to smile in spite of it. "You… well, you wonder about things like that. But I never knew. That's why I say I have a right to know."
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