The Blind Barber (Dr. Gideon Fell series Book 4)

by John Dickson Carr

Mr. Nemo bowed very gravely, and the doctor’s eye twinkled.

  “ … to what I called the Clue of Suggestion. It conveyed the idea. It opened the door on what first seemed a mad notion. During a heated argument between you, Morgan, and your friend Warren, while Warren was enthusiastically pleading the guilt of Dr. Kyle on the basis of detective fiction, you yourself said: ‘Oh, and get rid of the idea that somebody may be impersonating him … That may be all right for somebody who seldom comes in contact with anyone, but a public figure like an eminent physician won’t do.’1

  “It wasn’t evidence. It only struck me as a curious coincidence that there really was aboard the ship somebody who seldom came in contact with anyone; who was known, I think, you said, as ‘The Hermit of Jermyn Street.’ ‘He’ll see nobody,’ you remarked; ‘he has no friends; all he does is collect rare bits of jewellry.’2 These were only supporting facts to my real clue of suggestion; but undeniably Lord Sturton filled the qualifications of the radiogram. Merely a coincidence …

  “Then I remembered another coincidence: Lord Sturton was in Washington. A Sturton, real or bogus, had called on Uncle Warpus and told him of the purchase of the emerald elephant, which is the Clue of Opportunity.3 Whether he was at the reception on the night of Uncle Warpus’s indiscretion some time later, and learned about the moving-picture film … ”

  “He was,” said Mr. Nemo, and chortled suddenly.

  “ … this I didn’t know. But what we do know is that the Stelly affair occurred next in Washington, as Warren explained. This account of the Stelly business is what I call the Clue of Fraternal Trust.4 It was described as a crime that looked like magic and was connected with the British Embassy. Stelly was a shrewd, careful, well-known jewel-collector who didn’t omit any precautions against thieves, ordinary or extraordinary, as he thought. He left the Embassy one night, and was robbed without fuss. What looked like magic was his being decoyed or robbed by any ordinary criminal, and also how the criminal should have known of the necklace to begin with … But it is not at all magical if two well-known jewel-collectors exhibit their treasures to each other and have a tendency to talk shop. It is not at all magical for an eminent peer, even if he is so hermit-like that nobody knows him, to be welcomed at the Embassy in a foreign country, provided he has the documents to prove his identity. These coincidences, you see, are piling up.

  “But this peer doesn’t travel entirely alone. He is known to have a secretary. The first glimpse we have of him in the narrative is his rushing up the gangplank of a ship (so notoriously eccentric that he can wrap himself round in concealing comforters) and accompanied by this secretary.5 In the passenger-list I find a Miss Hilda Keller occupying the same suite as Lord Sturton, as I think you yourselves found later.6 But for the moment I put that aside … ”

  There was a gurgling noise as Dr. Fell chuckled into his pipe.

  “Definitely, things began to happen after some days out (during all of which time Lord Sturton has kept entirely to his cabin, and the secretary with him).7 The first part of the film was stolen. The mysterious girl appeared, obviously trying to warn young Warren of something. There was the dastardly attack on Captain Whistler—the absence of the attackers on deck for some half an hour—and the subsequent disappearance of the girl. You believed (and so did I) that she had been murdered and thrown overboard. But, putting aside the questions of who the girl was and why she was killed, we have that curious feature of the bed being remade thoroughly, a soiled towel even being replaced. That is what I call, from deductions you will see in a moment, the Clue of Invisibility … ”8

  Mr. Nemo wriggled back in the chair. He put down his glass, his face had gone more pale and his mouth twitched—but not from fear at all. He had nothing to conceal. He was white and poisonous from some emotion Morgan did not understand. You felt the atmosphere about him, as palpably as though you could smell a drug.

  “I was crazy about that little whore,” he said, suddenly, with such a change in voice and expression that they involuntarily started. “I hope she’s in hell.”

  “That’s enough,” said Dr. Fell, quietly. He went on: “If somebody wished (for whatever reason) to kill her, why was she not merely killed and left there? The inference first off was that she would be more dangerous to the murderer if her body were discovered than if she were thrown overboard. But why should this be. Disappearance or outright murder, there would still be an investigation … Yet observe! What does the murderer do? He carefully makes up the berth and replaces the towel. This could not be to make you think the stunned girl had recovered and gone to her own cabin. It would have exactly the opposite effect. It means that the murderer was trying to make those in authority think—meaning Captain Whistler—that the girl was nothing but a mythical person; a lie invented for some reason by yourselves.

  “Behind the apparent madness of this course, since four people had seen her, consider what the murderer’s reasons must have been. To begin with, he knew what had happened on C deck; he hoped Whistler would spot young Warren as the man who had attacked him, and yourselves as the people who had stolen the emerald; he knew that Whistler would not be likely to credit any story you told, and give short shrift to your excuses. But to adopt such a dangerous course as pretending she was a myth meant (a) that the girl would be traced straight to him if she were found dead, and that he could not stand the light of any investigation whatever by police authorities afterwards. It also meant (b) it was far less dangerous to conceal her absence, and that he had good reason to think he could conceal it.

  “Now, this, gentlemen, is a very remarkable choice indeed, when you try to conceal an absence from a community of only a hundred passengers. Why couldn’t he stand any investigation? How could he hope to convince investigators that nobody was missing?

  “First ask yourself who this girl could have been. She could not have been travelling alone: a solitary passenger is not connected closely enough with anybody else to lead absolutely damning evidence straight to him among a hundred people, and to make it necessary to pretend the girl had never existed; besides, a solitary passenger would be the first to be missed. She was not travelling in a family party, or, as Captain Whistler shrewdly pointed out, there might possibly have been complaint at her disappearance. She was travelling then, with just one other person—the murderer. She was travelling as wife, companion, or what you like. The murderer could hope to conceal her disappearance, first, because she must have made no acquaintances and have been with him every moment of the time. That means the murderer seldom or never had left his cabin. He might conceal it, second, because he was so highly placed as to be above suspicion—not otherwise—and because he himself was the victim of a theft that directed attention away from him. But, if he were all this, why couldn’t he stand any investigation whatever? The not-very-complicated answer is that he was an impostor who had enough to do in concealing his imposture. If you then musingly consider what man was travelling with a single female companion, what man had kept to his cabin every moment of the time, what man was so highly-placed as to be above suspicion; what man had been the victim of a theft; and, finally, what man there is whom we have some slight reason to think as an impostor; then it is remarkable how we swing round again to Lord Sturton. All this is built up on the clue of a clean towel, the clue of invisibility. But it is still coincidence without definite reason, though we find rapid support for it.

  “I mean that razor incautiously left behind in the berth …”

  Mr. Nemo, who had been mouthing his cigar for some time, twitched round and looked at each in turn. His pale, bony face had worn an absent look, but now it had such a wide smile of urbanity and charm that Morgan shivered. “I cut the little bitch’s throat,” offered Mr. Nemo, making a gesture with the cigar. “Much better for her. And more satisfactory for me. That’s right, old man,” he said to the staring Hamper; “write it down. It’s much better to damage their skulls. A surgeon showed me all about that once. If you practise, you can find the right spot. But
it wouldn’t do for her. I had to take one of Sturton’s set of razors to do it, and throw the others away. It hurt me. That case of razors must have cost a hundred-odd pound.”

  He jerked with laughter, lifted his bowler off his head as though in tribute, smirked, kicked his heels, and asked for another drink.

  “Yes,” said Dr. Fell, staring at him curiously, “that’s what I mean. I asked my young friend here not to think of one razor, but of seven in a set. I asked him to think of a set of razors as enormously expensive as those carven, silver-studded, ebony-handled rarities, which were obviously made to order.9 No ordinary man would have had them. The person likeliest to have them, said my Clue of Seven Razors, was the man who went after costly trinkets, who bought the emerald elephant, ‘because it was a curiosity and a rarity, of enormous intrinsic value.’ … 10 And the razors bring us back again to the question of who the girl was.

  “Her solitary appearance in public was in the wireless-room, where she was described by the wireless-operator as ‘having her hands full of papers’; and this I call, symbolically, my Clue of Seven Radiograms.11 What does that appearance sound like? Not a joyous tourist dashing off an inconsequential message home. There is a businesslike look to it. A number of messages—a businessnesslike look—and we begin to think of a secretary. The edifice rears. Our Blind Barber becomes not only an impostor masquerading as a highly placed recluse who kept to his cabin, and travelled with a female companion; but the girl becomes a secretary and the recluse an enormously wealthy man with a taste for grotesque trinkets …”

  Dr. Fell lifted his stick and pointed suddenly.

  “Why did you kill her?” he demanded. “Was she an accomplice?”

  “You’re telling the story,” shrugged Mr. Nemo. “And while I’m bored, I’m bored as hell with it, because just at the moment I feel like talking, still—your brandy’s not at all bad. Ha-ha-ha. Ought to get hospitality. Go on. You talk. Then I’ll talk, and I’ll surprise you. Give you a little hint, though. Yes. Sporting run for your money, like old Sturton would … Didn’t I come down on old Whistler, though! Ho-ho! Yes … Hint is, she was what you’d call virtuous in the way of being honest. She wouldn’t step into my game with me when she found out who I was. And when she tried to warn that young fellow—Tcha! Bloody little fool! Ha-ha! Eh?” inquired Mr. Nemo, putting back his cigar with a portentous wink.

  “Did you know,” said Dr. Fell, “that a man named Woodcock saw you when you stole the first part of that film?”

  “Did he?” asked Mr. Nemo, lifting one shoulder. “What did I care? Remove sideburns—they’re detachable—little wax in mouth; strawberry mark on the cheek; who’ll identify me afterwards, eh?”

  Dr. Fell slowly drew a line through one line on a sheet of paper.

  “And there we had the first direct evidence: of Elimination.12 Woodcock said definitely that you were a person he’d never seen before. Now, Woodcock hadn’t been sea-sick. He’d been in the dining-room at all times, and after the sea-sick passengers came out of their lairs he would have spotted the thief—if the thief hadn’t been still among the very, very few who kept to their cabins. Humf! Ha! I was wondering whether anybody had fantastic suspicions of—well, say Perrigord or somebody of the sort. But it ruled out Perrigord, it ruled out Kyle, it ruled out nearly everybody. The thing is plain enough, but where everybody went off on the wrong scent was over that radiogram from New York.” Dr. Fell wrote rapidly on a sheet of paper and pushed it across to Morgan.

  Federal agent thinks crook responsible for Stelly and MacGee jobs. Federal agent thinks also physician is impostor on your ship …

  “Well?” said Morgan. The doctor made a few marks, and held it out again.

  “The Clue of Terse Style,” said Dr. Fell, “indicates that the word “also” is a supernumerary, is out of place, is a word merely wasted in an expensive radiogram if what it means is, “Federal agent also thinks … But read it thus.”13

  Federal agent thinks—also physician—is impostor on your ship …

  “Meaning,” said Dr. Fell, crumpling up the paper, “an entirely different thing. The remark about ‘medical profession influential’ simply means that the doctor in attendance is making a row; he is insisting that, despite the patient at the hospital being apparently out of his head in insisting he is Sturton, the doctor believes it and they mustn’t disregard it. But, good God! Do you seriously think that, if he had meant Dr. Kyle was a murderer, the whole medical profession would have wanted to shield him? The idea was so absurd that I wonder anybody considered it. It refers to Sturton! Sweep away the whole flimsy tangle, now. Let’s have one point piled on top of the other until you’ll realise it couldn’t have been anybody else; let’s come at last to the gigantic and damning proof.”

  He flung the paper on the table with an angry gesture.

  “You visit Sturton to pacify him over the loss of the emerald. Do you see his secretary? No! You hear him apparently talking to somebody behind a door in the bedroom.14 But, though you don’t make any noise or speak, out he darts to see you and closes the door.15 He knew you were there already, and he put on that show for your benefit. The mistake, the Clue of Wrong Rooms, was—why in the bedroom? It wasn’t in the drawing-room where he’d been apparently lying, with his medicine-bottles around; that was his haunt. But he had to be out of sight … ”16

  Morgan heard Mr. Nemo’s shrill laughter and the steady scratching of a pencil; but Dr. Fell went on:

  “Then there was the business of Lights: curtains always drawn, shawl round his shoulders, hat on, always back to the light.17 There was the straight suggestion of his Personal Taste: the toy trinket with real rubies for eyes, winking and leering at you as he deliberately tapped it while he bamboozled you; and still you didn’t see the connection between the wagging Mandarin-head and the costly trinket of the razor.18 And what happened,” said Dr. Fell, rapping his stick sharply on the table, “when you and Captain Valvick and Mrs. Perrigord went round with the grim intention of finding the missing girl? You combed the boat through—but yet in sublime innocence of heart you did not demand to see Sturton’s secretary; you went there, you asked a question, and you let him rush you out of the cabin without ever going any further!” … 19 After a pause Dr. Fell wheeled round and looked at Inspector Jennings. “I’m going off my base, Jennings. I suppose you don’t understand any of this?”

  The inspector smiled grimly. “I understand every word of it, sir. That’s why I haven’t interrupted you. Nemo here regaled us with a whole account of it on the train. It’s fine. Eh, Nemo?”

  “Rubbish rubbish rubbish!” squeaked Nemo, in repulsive glee at his successful imitation. “Mad Captain Whistler. Prosecute the line! And all the while I was wondering … Eh, Inspector?”

  The inspector studied him curiously. He seemed to wish he were farther away than handcuffed to Nemo’s wrist.

  “Oh, it’s a great joke,” he said coolly. “But you’ll hang for all of it, you filthy swine. Go on, Dr. Fell.”

  Nemo straightened up.

  “I’ll kill you for that, one day,” he remarked, just as coolly. “Maybe to-morrow, maybe next day, maybe a year from now.” His eye wandered round the room; his face was slightly paler, and he breathed hard. Morgan felt he was keeping his spirits up with desperate jocularity. “Shall I talk now?” he asked suddenly.

  1. (Numbers indicating major clues.) Page 96.

  2. (Markings indicate minor clues.) Page 11.

  3. Page 11.

  4. Page 49.

  5. Page 12.

  6. Page 92.

  7. Page 12.

  8. Page 79.

  9. Page 100.

  10. Page 2.

  11. Page 117.

  12. Page 133.

  13. Page 154.

  14. Page 181.

  15. Page 181.

  16. Page 181.

  17. Page 181.

  18. Page 183.

  19. Page 202.

  22

  Exit Nemo

 
IT WAS GROWING SHADOWY in the room. Nemo took off his hat and brushed its brim across his forehead. He gestured with it.

  “I’ll tell you,” he said, “why you can’t beat what’s cut out for you at birth. I’ll fill up your story. I’ll show you how a trick nobody could help cheated me out of the cushiest soft spot on earth. And those kids—they thought it was funny …

  “I won’t tell you who I am,” he said, looking round at them with a curious expression which reminded Morgan of Woodcock squinting at the ceiling in the writing-room. “I might be anybody. You’ll never know. I could say I was Harry Jones of Surbiton, or Bill Smith of Yonkers—or maybe somebody not very much different from the man I was impersonating. I’ll tell you what I am, though—I’m a ghost. Reason that out how you like; I’m not telling. I’ll never have any occasion to tell.”

  He grinned. Nobody spoke. The yellow twilight outside showed in queer colour his face peering at Dr. Fell, at Jennings, at Morgan.

  “Or maybe I’m only Mad Tommy, of … who’s going to tell? But what I will tell you is that I put through that trick neatly. I passed as Sturton without anybody being suspicious, but I won’t tell you how I managed it, because it might get others in trouble. I deceived his secretary. I admit she’d only been with him for a month or two—but I deceived her. If I was an eccentric who couldn’t remember my business affairs, she took care of it. She was nice.” He stroked the air and chortled. “I did it so well that I thought, ‘Nemo, you only intended to impersonate Sturton long enough to make a haul: but why not keep on?’

  “I kept her with me. I shouldn’t have killed MacGee in New York; but he was a diamond man, and I couldn’t resist diamonds. When I sailed aboard that ship I had unlimited cash of Sturton’s—ever see me imitate a signature?—and nearly five hundred thousand pounds in jewels. The only thing people knew I had was the emerald elephant. And what did I intend to do? Pay duty on it, like an honest man; no fuss at all. For the rest, I was the well-known Sturton; I wouldn’t smuggle in other things, and they’d be very careless about my luggage. I knew that, being close to me aboardship, Hilda—Miss Keller, my Hilda—might find out who I was. But I wanted her to. I was going to say: ‘You’re in deep; too deep; I’m the one you’ll have to stick with; so’”—he made a gesture and spoke in a rather, thick ghastly voice—“‘so move your belongings into my berth, Hilda,’ I’d say to her. “Ha! …”