The Piccadilly Murder

by Anthony Berkeley

  That the impersonator had, after all, not so difficult a part to play as one might think. Not only could Miss Sinclair not see him very well, but during the interview it was she who did nearly all the talking; he had little to do but listen. Assuming that he had some such excuse ready, such as a sore throat, to account for his altered voice, there is no reason, so far as Miss Sinclair is concerned, why he should not have carried off the deception successfully.

  That, on examining my own memory as closely as possible, I am more than ever of the opinion that the murderer’s action with regard to Miss Sinclair’s cup may be described as ostentatious rather than surreptitious. His hand remained in position over it much longer than would be necessary just to drop something in, or even pour a few drops from a phial. He would, of course, be expected to jerk the poison in with the greatest possible despatch.

  That, endeavouring to the best of my ability to re-enact the scene in my own mind, I am strongly inclined to think that after directing Miss Sinclair’s attention to the distant object and continuing during the next few moments to do so, the murderer did not keep his gaze fixed as one would expect on the cup over which his hand was poised, but glanced up once or twice. This confirms my theory that he was glancing up at the mirror to make sure that I was still watching him. (N.B. I could not possibly swear to this impression, but on balance it remains with me.)

  Deductions from the Phial.

  That the murderer must be a man, not only in touch with Miss Sinclair (to know of the appointment for half-past three in the Piccadilly Palace), but also, in view of the fingerprints, with Major Sinclair also.

  That the fact that the murderer was able to obtain an impression of Major Sinclair’s fingerprints on the phial may be of the greatest assistance in checking his identity.

  That it is quite possible that the phial is not only a trap to incriminate Major Sinclair, but also a trap for the police too, and that the poison was never administered from it at all. In that case . . .

  At this point in his task Mr. Chitterwick sat bolt upright in his chair, and his mouth dropped open. He gazed with unseeing eyes at the blotting paper in front of him, and his jaw sagged lower and lower; the pen dropped from his fingers and made a large blot on the immaculate neatness of his manuscript. He continued to present this remarkable picture for nearly a whole minute. Then he literally bounded up from his chair, dashed out of the room, tore upstairs, and burst open the door of the ducal chamber without so much as a single respectful tap.

  “Mouse,” he squeaked, “I—I have been guilty of the most unpardonable blunder. I—I—— Really, I cannot imagine how I can have overlooked such a glaring piece of evidence.”

  Mouse had been sitting gloomily in a chair poring over his notebook prior to Mr. Chitterwick’s unceremonious intrusion. Now he jumped up, no less excited. “What?” he demanded. “You haven’t cleared Lynn, have you?”

  Mr. Chitterwick beamed at him triumphantly over his glasses. “Well, perhaps not altogether. But I think so. I think so. At the very least, I may say I have destroyed a particularly damning fact against him. That piece of evidence which was to render a conviction impossible! It’s been staring us in the face all the time—you, me, the police, everyone. And yet nobody saw it, and probably never would have, had we not had our own convictions about the case. Dear me, dear me.”

  “What is it then, man?”

  “Why,” said Mr. Chitterwick, “that phial. If the man impersonating Major Sinclair left the lounge just after I did, when Miss Sinclair was alive and well (a fact we can surely prove from those same witnesses who saw him go), how could he possibly, and equally, for the benefit of the police, Major Sinclair himself, have placed the phial in her already nerveless fingers?”

  The two men looked at each other.

  “Oh, neat,” whispered Mouse. “Dam’ neat.”

  “So simple,” crowed Mr. Chitterwick, “and yet so subtle.”

  “This lets Lynn out,” Mouse grinned.

  “I really believe it does,” Mr. Chitterwick grinned back. “It would be quite impossible for the jury, you see, to exclude the possibility of suicide beyond all doubt. Well, well.”

  They stared at each other again.

  “Then who,” said Mouse, “did put it there?”

  Mr. Chitterwick’s jaw dropped lower than it had done in his aunt’s study. His glasses fell off his nose, and he positively goggled at the other.

  “God bless my soul!” gasped Mr. Chitterwick. “I—I never thought of that.”

  The proceedings of the next half-hour may perhaps be best expressed as follows:

  * * * * * *

  Back in his aunt’s study, Mr. Chitterwick, though with some difficulty, proceeded with his summary.

  The question posed by Mouse had disconcerted him considerably, and the two of them had discussed possible answers to it for some time. Had the murderer an accomplice? That was a possibility which Mr. Chitterwick had examined before, and rejected; the job had looked to him like a one-man affair. Since Moresby’s statement that his four witnesses were ready to swear that no one at all had visited the old lady’s table between the red-haired man’s departure and Mr. Chitterwick’s own arrival, the possibility of an accomplice had seemed quite ruled out. It still seemed so; yet who, as the red-haired man could not conceivably have done so, had placed that phial in Miss Sinclair’s already unconscious fingers?

  After half an hour’s discussion no credible explanation had emerged. In the end it was left at the agreement that, shelving the matter of any such explanation for the time being, Mr. Chitterwick must have the two vital points definitely and irrevocably confirmed by an unsuspecting Moresby, that his four witnesses really were convinced of that fact and that Miss Sinclair really must have been unconscious when the phial was slipped into her loosely clenched hand. With that, at a few minutes past one o’clock, Mr. Chitterwick had again taken his leave.

  It was not till more than an hour later that his summary was completed. Mr. Chitterwick had intended to proceed with the remainder without taking account of this latest momentous question, simply recording the state which the case had reached before that had been posed; but even as he wrote, speculations and possibilities occurred to him which he had to incorporate. Reading it through to himself, he decided that he had produced on the whole a not unhelpful document.

  Deductions Regarding the Murderer.

  That he must be an exceptionally intelligent, capable and self-reliant man. To work out a plan in which a murder is made to look like suicide and yet with such a small degree of clumsiness that the police will be bound to see through it without, however, suspecting that they are meant to do anything of the sort, and at the same time to throw all suspicion on another person, and then to put that plan into operation without a hitch, implies a combination of intelligence and determination almost unsurpassed in the records of crime.

  That he must have an interest in the deaths of both Miss and Major Sinclair, the former most directly, the latter less urgently. (N.B. This narrows the field of suspicion and search to a most remarkable degree.)

  That he must have been in contact with Miss Sinclair, either personally or by correspondence, or with a member of her household, and similarly with Major Sinclair (vide supra). (N.B. This also should prove an invaluable pointer.)

  That both to plan and successfully to carry through so close an impersonation he must have had some previous experience on these lines; it is obvious that he has confidence in his powers as a mimic.

  That from his voice on the telephone he would seem to be a man of culture and breeding. (N.B. His representation of himself as Eccles gives further proof of his cognizance of Major Sinclair’s affairs. Might he be looked for among the friends of Sinclair’s Oxford days? But what interest could any such friend have in Miss Sinclair’s death?)

  That we have a fair idea of his physical appearance. He must be a big ma
n, tall, and only slightly less broad than Major Sinclair himself, if at all, with an unmistakably aquiline nose, and very much like Major Sinclair in face. He may have red hair (though this might equally have been a wig), a pronounced drawl (though this might have been adopted to suit the representation as Eccles), be several years younger than Major Sinclair (this is only my impression, and I could not swear to it), and be somewhat slipshod in his manners and personal bearing (this again is only my impression, and a vague one at that).

  That from all these indications it should not be impossible, or even difficult, to identify him should suspicion from other sources be strong enough. (N.B. The nose, of course, is the real test.)

  Speculations Regarding the Murderer’s Methods and Intentions.

  That one difficulty may be the probability that the full benefit to himself would not become apparent until after Major Sinclair’s execution.

  That in view of the other ingenuity shown in his plan, a particularly ingenious method of administering the poison (and also of ensuring the marked phial being found in Miss Sinclair’s possession) remains to be discovered.

  That if, as we have seen, the murderer could not have placed the phial in Miss Sinclair’s hand while he was still with her and under the observation of the four witnesses, he may equally have found some method of substituting a poisoned coffee cup on the table for Miss Sinclair’s own; in other words the poisoned cup may be just as much of a trap as the phial itself, and the fact that it was poisoned must not be taken as proving that the coffee was the vehicle by which the prussic acid was administered; and in this case, the real vehicle would have been removed at the same time.

  (Dear me, thought Mr. Chitterwick at this point, this is becoming extremely involved; but really, with such an ingenious mind . . .)

  That the whole plan seems to have had as its aim not only the deaths of Miss and Major Sinclair, but above all security for the murderer. One might almost say that “Safety First” was the latter’s motto, and if Miss Sinclair could not have been poisoned with perfect security (or apparently perfect security) for the criminal, he would have been ready to drop the whole affair at any point. If that is the case, one must look for a means of introducing the phial into Miss Sinclair’s hand which would not appear to involve the murderer at all. An accomplice might be indicated here; but not only have we evidence that no accomplice approached her, but it is my estimate of the cautious mentality behind this crime that the necessity of trusting an accomplice would be entirely ruled out. If I were the murderer I should have been satisfied with the affair up to the time of leaving the table; the phial I should regard as a master card to be played only if certain circumstances permitted, and in perfect safety to myself; that circumstances apparently did so permit might possibly help to show (a) what those circumstances were, (b) how this very difficult task was accomplished.

  That the murderer’s motive, at present obscure, might be found by an examination of all persons who would benefit by the joint deaths of both Miss and Major Sinclair.

  That in view of the clever way in which Major Sinclair was deprived of his alibi we may suppose that the murderer would not have overlooked the question of an alibi for himself. We should be prepared to find that he has one, and a good one, which will need to be broken down.

  That we may expect the murderer to be vehement in defence of Major Sinclair, and anyone so vehement, whose physical characteristics correspond roughly with what we know of the murderer’s, may be viewed with the greatest suspicion.

  Obscure Points Requiring Explanation.

  Why the interview was arranged by Miss Sinclair for the Piccadilly Palace.

  How the poison was administered.

  How Major Sinclair’s fingerprints were obtained on the phial.

  How the phial was conveyed to Miss Sinclair’s hand.

  Why Miss Goole is disguised.

  “Not unhelpful, no,” murmured Mr. Chitterwick, and read the whole thing through again.

  “Yes, that’s the truth, undoubtedly,” observed Mr. Chitterwick, at the end of another five minutes. “The difficulty, no doubt, will be to prove it. Dear me, what a depraved creature he must be.” Mr. Chitterwick shook his head sadly over the unnamed creature’s depravity and, gathering his sheets up into a neat stack, folded it across the middle and carried it soberly up to bed with him.

  XII

  A LITTLE DETECTING

  After profound meditation in the small hours of the morning Mr. Chitterwick had arrived at the decision to say nothing to Judith and Mouse of his own private conviction that he had solved the problem. That conviction had still to be tested, and Mr. Chitterwick was diffident enough to recognize the possibility of its falling down badly. In that case he had no wish to raise hopes which might only be crushed later, and slightly guilty though he felt in doing so, particularly as regards Mouse, he thought it better to confine to the dark lantern of his own consciousness the illumination which he felt had been vouchsafed him.

  The next morning, therefore, he was exceedingly cunning. Saying at breakfast, and even with an air of carelessness, that as there were one or two points he wished to look up, matters simply of dull routine such as fall to every amateur detective, he would not return with them to Dorsetshire that day, he intimated that there was nothing whatever to detain the other two in London. Mouse offered eagerly to stay up too and help him. Miss Chitterwick, who had broken the custom of years and appeared at her own breakfast table, gruffly extended invitation after invitation, each more pressing than the last, to her guests to remain at least another night; but Mr. Chitterwick, who wanted a free hand and was really alarmed lest he might let some of his great idea slip out if the opportunity remained with him to do so, succeeded in shepherding them gently off the premises by eleven o’clock, with the hypocritical promise of following them down to Dorsetshire the very instant he discovered anything of importance.

  Before they went he did, however, show them his summary, both out of mere fairness and also because he was much interested to see whether either of them would arrive at the same tentative conclusion as his own. Both of them read it with interest and agreed that it was quite a remarkable document and would probably be of the very greatest service; but though they commented freely on some of the points raised in it, neither appeared to notice the particular signficances which had so struck Mr. Chitterwick.

  The rest of the morning that astute detective spent on his matters of routine. Moresby had to be seen and, without being made suspicious, delicately questioned as to the phial in the dead woman’s hand. The result was quite satisfactory. Moresby was not suspicious at all, only jocular; he seemed now to derive such hearty amusement from the idea of Mr. Chitterwick investigating things on his own account that he was ready to part with any information required for the sake of an extra laugh. Moresby, it seemed, now regarded Mr. Chitterwick not only as a performing pet, but as a pet performing a particularly hilarious turn. Mr. Chitterwick’s conscience, it appeared to Moresby, was a wow.

  Mr. Chitterwick beamed his acquiescence in this view. He did not mind in the least in what capacity Moresby regarded him and his conscience so long as the chief inspector was willing to assure him, as he did, that the police doctor had definitely stated, with a view to excluding the suggestion of suicide, that the phial must have been placed in Miss Sinclair’s hand by some other person after she had lost consciousness, and could not possibly have been in her own grasp when she did so. Moresby also very kindly confirmed in the strongest terms (between guffaws) that his four witnesses, who were now six, because he had succeeded in finding two more people at another table, were all ready to swear by their immortal souls that no other living soul had approached Miss Sinclair’s table between the red-haired man’s departure and Mr. Chitterwick’s advent.

  Mr. Chitterwick marvelled that the relation between these two facts, the perfectly obvious inference which there was really no gainsaying, shoul
d miraculously remain hidden from Chief Inspector Moresby—oblivious of the fact that it had up to a few hours ago remained equally hidden from himself.

  If Mr. Chitterwick had had time he might also have found a moment to marvel at these six witnesses, who were all ready to swear to such a trifling incident that had happened weeks ago. Doubtless they were perfectly correct in such readiness, but if so, what an enviable attention to detail must have been theirs. They were of the same breed as that which infests semidetached villas and makes life miserable for the occupants of their twin. Never can the latter poke their innocent noses out of the front door or back, garden gate or French window without being aware of another nose pressed whitely against one of their twin’s windows and two piercing eyes following avidly their every movement; and never do the owners of those piercing eyes walk past the front of their twin’s house, or even out into their own back gardens, without gorming up at the other’s windows in an effort to penetrate the modesty of the curtains and violate every secret that any of the rooms may hold. A noisome type.

  Mr. Chitterwick, however, who had never had experience of a semi-detached villa, marvelled uncomprehendingly.

  Close acquaintance with crime certainly does enlarge one’s horizon. For about the first time since he went to live with her Mr. Chitterwick had not implicitly asked his aunt’s permission to absent himself for a meal. He had simply and calmly, and without even realizing the magnitude of the step he was taking, announced that he would not be in to lunch. Miss Chitterwick, subdued by her nephew’s familiarity with the Great, had meekly accepted this pronouncement.

  Having satisfactorily concluded his interview with Moresby, therefore, Mr. Chitterwick took himself and his amusing conscience out to lunch. He chose the Piccadilly Palace, as he had business there afterwards. Having demolished in the immense dining room a sizable meal (not excluding poulet roti, salade) for the ridiculous sum of two shillings, Mr. Chitterwick betook himself to the lounge and seated himself at the very table where Miss Sinclair had met her death. It was not the instinct of morbidity which causes perfectly respectable citizens to gaze for hours up at the uninteresting exterior of a house in which a particularly unpleasant murder has been committed that caused him to do so; simply a wish to get hold of the waitress who had served Miss Sinclair with coffee.