'Even then in my musing density it never occurred to me to look at that clock and wonder, just as in their excitement it never occurred to the three witnesses last night. Just afterwards, you recall, Somers and O'Rourke summoned us up to Burnaby's flat. We made quite a long investigation, and then had a talk with O'Rourke. And while O'Rourke was speaking, I noticed that the earlier dead quiet of the day - the quiet when in the street we heard only the wind - had a new sound. I heard church bells.
'Well, what time do church bells begin to ring? Not after eleven o'clock; the service has begun. Usually before eleven, for a preparatory bell. But, if I accepted the evidence of that German clock, it must then be a very long time past eleven o'clock. Then my dull mind woke up. I remembered Big Ben and our drive to Cagliostro Street. The combination of those bells and Big Ben - against (hem!) a trumpery foreign clock. Church and State, so to speak, couldn't both be wrong - In other words, the clock in that jeweller's window was more than forty minutes fast. Hence the shooting in Cagliostro Street the night before could not have taken place at twenty - five minutes past ten. Actually it must have taken place a short time previous to a quarter to ten. Say, roughly, at nine - forty.
'Now, sooner or later somebody would have noticed this; maybe somebody has noticed it already. A thing like that would be bound to come out in a coroner's court. Somebody would come forward to dispute the right time. Whether you'd have instantly seen the truth then (as I hope), or whether it would have confused you even more, I don't know ... But the solid fact remains that the affair in Cagliostro Street took place some minutes before the man in the false face rang the bell of this house at nine - forty - five.'
'But I still don't see -!' protested Hadley.
'The impossible situation? No, but I have a clear course now to tell you the whole story from the beginning.'
'Yes, but let me get this straightened out. If Grimaud, as you say, shot Fley in Cagliostro Street just before nine - forty - five -'
'I didn't say that,' said Dr Fell.
'What?'
'You'll understand if you follow my patient elucidation from the beginning. On Wednesday night of last week - when Fley first appeared out of the past, apparently out of his grave to confront his brother with rather a terrible threat at the Warwick Tavern - Grimaud resolved to kill him. In the whole case, you see, Grimaud was the only person with a motive for killing Fley. And, my God! Hadley, but he did have a motive! He was safe, he was rich, he was respected; the past buried. And then, all of a sudden, a door blows open to admit this thin grinning stranger who is his brother Pierre. Grimaud, in escaping from prison, had murdered one of his brothers by leaving him buried alive; he would have murdered the other except for an accident. He could still be extradited and hanged - and Pierre Fley had traced him.
'Now, bear in mind exactly what Fley said when he suddenly flew in to confront Grimaud that night at the tavern. Study why he said and did certain things, and you will see that even shaky - minded Fley was very far from being as mad as he liked to pretend. Why, if he were intent merely on private vengeance, did he choose to confront Grimaud in the presence of a circle of friends and speak in just the innuendoes he used? He used his dead brother as a threat; and it was the only time he did speak of that dead brother. Why did he say, "He can be much more dangerous to you than I can"? Because the dead brother could hang Grimaud! Why did he say, "I don't want your life; he does"? Why did he say, "Shall I have him call on you?"? And then why, just afterwards, did he hand Grimaud his card on which his own address was carefully written? The giving of that card, combined with his words and later fictions, is significant. What Fley really meant, veiled so that he could throw a scare into Grimaud before witnesses, was just this; "You, my brother, are fat and rich on the proceeds of a robbery we both committed when we were young. I am poor - and I hate my work. Now will you come and call on me at my address, so that we can arrange this matter, or shall I set the police on you?"'
'Blackmail,' said Hadley, softly.
'Yes. Fley had a bee in his bonnet, but Fley was far from being a fool. Now mark how he twisted round his meaning in his last threatening words to Grimaud. "I also am in danger when I associate with my brother, but I am prepared to run that risk." And in that case, as always afterwards, he was referring in strict truth to Grimaud. "You, my brother, might also kill me as you killed the other, but I will risk it. So shall I call on you amiably, or will my other dead brother come to hang you?"
'For think of his behaviour afterwards, on the night of his murder. Remember the glee he had of smashing up and getting rid of his illusion - properties? And what words did he use to O'Rourke? Words which, if you look at them squarely in the light of what we now know, can have only one explanation. He said:
'"I shall not need them again. My work is finished. Didn't I tell you? I am going to see my brother. He will do something that will settle an old affair for both of us."
'Meaning, of course, that Grimaud had agreed to come to terms. Fley meant that he was leaving his old life for good; going back to his grave as a dead man with plenty of money; but he couldn't be more specific without blowing the gaff. Still, he knew that his brother was tricky; he'd had good reason in the past to know it. He couldn't leave behind him a big warning when he spoke with O'Rourke, in case Grimaud really meant to pay; but he threw out a hint:
'"In case anything happens to me, you will find my brother in the same street where I myself live. That is not where he really resides, but he has a room there."
'I'll explain that last statement in just a moment. But go back to Grimaud. Now, Grimaud never had any intention of coming to terms with Fley. Fley was going to die. That wily, shrewd, theatrical mind of Grimaud's (who, as you know, was more interested in magical illusions than anybody else we have met) was determined not to suffer any nonsense from this inconvenient brother of his. Fley must die - but this was more difficult than it looked.
'If Fley had come to him in private, without anybody in the world ever being able to associate Fley's name with his, it would have been simple. But Fley had been too shrewd for that. He had blazoned forth his own name and address, and hinted at mysterious secrets concerning Grimaud, before a group of Grimaud's friends. Awkward! Now if Fley is found obviously murdered, somebody is likely to say, "Hullo! Isn't that the chap who -?" And then presently there may be dangerous inquiries; because Lord knows what Fley may have told other people about Grimaud. The only thing he isn't likely to have confided to somebody else is his last deadly hold over Grimaud; and that is the thing about which he must be silenced. Whatever happens to Fley, however he dies, there are likely to be inquiries concerning Grimaud. The only thing to do is frankly to pretend that Fley is after his life; to send himself threatening letters (not too obviously); to stir up the household in an ingenious way; finally, to inform everybody that Fley has threatened to call on him on the night he himself intends to call on Fley. You will see very shortly just how he planned to work out a very brilliant murder.
'The effect he intended to produce was this: The murderous Fley should be seen calling on him on Saturday night. There should be witnesses to this. The two should be together alone when Fley goes into his study. A row is heard, the sound of a fight, a shot, and a fall. The door being opened, Grimaud should be found alone - a nasty - looking but superficial wound from a bullet scratched along his side. No weapon is there. Out of the window hangs a rope belonging to Fley, by which Fley is assumed to have escaped. (Remember, it had been predicted that there would be no snow that night, so it would have been impossible to trace footprints.) Grimaud says: "He thought he killed me; I pretended to be dead; and he escaped. No, don't set the police on him, poor devil. I'm not hurt." And the next morning Fley would have been found dead in his own room. He would have been found, a suicide, having pressed his own gun against his chest and pulled the trigger. The gun is beside him. A suicide note lies on the table. In despair at thinking he has killed Grimaud, he has shot himself ... That, gentlemen, was the illusion
Grimaud intended to produce.'
'But how did he do it?' demanded Hadley. 'And, anyway, it didn't turn out like that!'
'No. You see, the plan miscarried badly. The latter part of the illusion of Fley calling on him in his study when actually Fley would already have been dead in the Cagliostro Street house - I'll deal with in its proper place. Grimaud, with the aid of Madame Dumont, had already made certain preparations.
'He had told Fley to meet him at Fley's room on the top floor over the tobacconist's. He had told Fley to meet him there at nine o'clock on the Saturday night, for a cash settlement. (You recall that Fley, gleefully throwing up his job and burning his properties, left the theatre in Limehouse at about eight - fifteen.)
'Grimaud had chosen Saturday night because that night, by inviolable custom, he remained alone all evening in his study without anyone being allowed to disturb him for any reason whatsoever. He chose that night because he needed to use the areaway door, and go and come by way of the basement; and Saturday night was the night out for Annie, who had her quarters there. You'll remember that, after he went up to his study at seven - thirty, nobody did see him until, according to the evidence, he opened the study door to admit the visitor at nine - fifty. Madame Dumont claimed to have spoken to him in the study at nine - thirty, when she gathered up the coffee things. I'll tell you shortly why I disbelieved that statement - the fact is, he was not in the study at all: he was in Cagliostro Street. Madame Dumont had been told to lurk round the study door at nine - thirty, and to come out for some excuse. Why? Because Grimaud had ordered Mills to come upstairs at nine - thirty, you see, and watch the study door from the room down the hall. Mills was to be the dupe of the illusion Grimaud meant to work. But if - as he came upstairs near the study door - Mills had for any reason taken it into his head to try to speak with Grimaud, or see him, Dumont was there to head him off. Dumont was to wait in the archway, and keep Mills away from that door if he showed any curiosity.
'Mills was chosen as the dupe of the illusion: why? Because, although he was so meticulously conscientious that he would carry out his instructions to the tick, he was so afraid of "Fley" that he would not interfere when the hollow man came stalking up those stairs. It was not only that he must not attack the man in the false face in those dangerous few moments before the man got into the study (as, for instance, Mangan or even Drayman might have done), but also that he must not even venture out of his room. He had been told to stay in that room, and he would. Finally, he had been chosen because he was a very short man, a fact which will presently become clear.
'Now, he was told to go upstairs and watch at nine - thirty. This was because the hollow man was timed to make his appearance only a little afterwards; although, in fact, the hollow man was late. Mark one discrepancy. Mills was told nine - thirty - but Mangan was told ten o'clock! The reason is obvious. There was to be somebody downstairs to testify that a visitor had really arrived by the front door, confirming Dumont. But Mangan might be inclined towards curiosity about this visitor; he might be inclined to challenge the hollow man - unless he had first been jokingly told by Grimaud that the visitor would probably not arrive at all, or, if he did arrive, it could not possibly be before ten o'clock. All that was necessary was to throw his mind off, and make him hesitate long enough, for the hollow man to gel upstairs past that dangerous door. And, if the worst came to the worst, Mangan and Rosette could always be locked in.
'For everybody else: Annie was out. Drayman had been supplied with a ticket to a concert, Burnaby was unquestionably playing cards, and Pettis at the theatre. The field was clear.
'At some time before nine o'clock (probably about ten minutes) Grimaud slipped out of the house, using the area door up to the street. Trouble had already started. It had been snowing heavily for some time, contrary to rules. But Grimaud did not regard it as serious trouble. He believed he could do the business and return by half - past nine, and that it would still be snowing heavily enough to glass over any footprints that he would make or cause no comment on the absence of any footprints the visitor later should have made when the visitor would be supposed to have swung down from his window. In any case, his plans had been carried too far for him to back out.
'When he left the house he was carrying an old and untraceable Colt revolver, loaded with just two bullets. The sort of hat he wore I don't know, but his overcoat was a light yellow, glaring tweed with chicken - pox spots. He bought this coat several sizes too large. He bought it because it was the sort of coat he had never been known to wear and because nobody would recognize him in it if he were to be seen. He - '
Hadley intervened.
'Stop a bit! What about that business of the overcoats changing colour? That would come earlier in the evening. What had happened there?'
'Again I've got to ask you to wait until we get to the last illusion he worked; that's part of it.
'Well, Grimaud's purpose was to call on Fley. There he would speak with Fley amiably for a time. He would say something like: "You must leave this hovel, brother! You will be comfortably off now; I will see to that. Why not leave these useless possessions behind and come to my house? Let your landlord have the damned things in place of notice!" - Any sort of speech, you see, the purpose being to make Fley write one of his ambiguous notes for the landlord. "I am leaving for good." "I am going back to my grave." Anything that could be understood as a suicide note when Fley was found dead with a gun in his hand.'
Dr Fell leaned forward. 'And then Grimaud would take out his Colt, jam it against Fley's chest, and smilingly pull the trigger.
'It was the top floor of an empty house. As you have seen, the walls are astonishingly thick and solid. The landlord lived far down in the basement, and was the most incurious man in Cagliostro Street. No shot, especially a muffled shot with the gun held against Fley, could have been heard. It might be some time before the body was discovered; it would certainly not be before morning. And in the meantime, what will Grimaud do? After killing Fley he will turn the same gun on himself to give himself a slight wound, even if he has to imbed the bullet - he had, as we know from that little episode of the three coffins years before, the constitution of an ox and the nerve of hell. He would leave the gun beside Fley. He would quite coolly dap a handkerchief or cotton - wool across this wound, which must be inside the coat and across the shirt; bind it with adhesive tape until the time came to rip it open - and go back home to work his illusion, which should prove that Fley came to see him. That Fley shot him, and then returned to Cagliostro Street and used the same gun for suicide, no coroner's jury would afterwards doubt. Do I make it clear so far? It was crime turned the wrong way round.
'That, as I say, was what Grimaud intended to do. Had he performed it as he intended, it would have been an ingenious murder; and I doubt whether we should ever have questioned Fley's suicide.
'Now, there was only one difficulty about accomplishing this plan. If anybody - not anybody recognizable as himself, but anybody at all - were seen visiting Fley's house, the fat would be in the fire. It might not appear so easily as suicide. There was only one entrance from the street - the door beside the tobacconist's. And he was wearing a conspicuous coat, in which he had reconnoitred the ground beforre. (By the way, Dolberman, the tobacconist, had seen him hanging about previously.) He found the solution of his difficulty in Burnaby's secret flat.
'You see, of course, that Grimaud was the likeliest person of all to have known of Burnaby's flat in Cagliostro Street? Burnaby himself told us that, some months before, when Grimaud suspected him of having an ulterior motive in painting that picture, Grimaud had not only questioned him - he had watched him. From a man who was in such fancied danger, it would have been real watching. He knew of the flat. He knew from spying that Rosette had a key. And so, when the time came and the idea occurred to him, he stole Rosette's key.
'The house in which Burnaby had his flat was on the same side of the street as the house where Fley lived. All I hose houses are built side by
side, with flat roofs; so that you have only to step over a low dividing wall to walk on the roofs from one end of the street to the other. Both men, remember, lived on the top floor. You recall what we saw when we went up to look at Burnaby's flat - just beside the door to the flat?'
Hadley nodded. 'Yes, of course. A short ladder going to a trap - door in the roof.'
'Exactly; And on the landing just outside Fley's room, there is a low skylight also communicating with the roof. Grimaud had only to go to Cagliostro Street by the back way, never appearing in the street itself, but going up the alley which we saw from Burnaby's window. He came in the back door (as we saw Burnaby and Rosette do later) he went up to the top floor and thence to the roof. Then he followed the roofs to Fley's lodgings, descended from the skylight to the landing, and could both enter and leave the place without a soul seeing him. Moreover, he knew absolutely that that night Burnaby would be playing cards elsewhere.
'And then everything went wrong.
'He must have got to Fley's lodgings before Fley arrived there himself; it wouldn't do to make Fley suspicious by being seen coming from the roof. But we know that Fley had some suspicions already. This may have been caused by Grimaud's request for Fley to bring along one of his long conjuring - ropes ... Grimaud wanted that rope as a piece of evidence to use later against Fley. Or it may have been caused by Fley's knowledge that Grimaud had been hanging about in Cagliostro Street for the past couple of days; possibly seeing him duck across the roofs towards Burnaby's after one reconnoitring, and thereby making Fley believe he had taken a room in the street.
The Hollow Man Page 24
