‘Not a very nice man, no,’ said Reggie sadly. ‘You get ’em everywhere.’ He opened the door of his room. ‘Well—without prejudice—what about it?’
Stein spread himself in a big chair and undid his waistcoat. ‘My friend, I do not understand. It is possible all happened as Mr Trove says and we trouble ourselves for nothing. Yes, it is possible. But I do not think so.’
‘For any particular reason?’
‘No, for many particular reasons. If you ask, will I make a theory how it happened, I cannot, I have not begun to try. I am not sure in my mind that it happened at all. When we search to-morrow, I am ready to find that this Dr Butler he is not by the couloir, he is not on the mountain at all. Perhaps he desired to vanish from Sir Ulyett—from the world—and he is gone quite safe.’
‘It could be,’ said Mr Fortune slowly.
‘You do not believe it? But we have had cases like that: deaths upon the mountain which were not deaths at all. We could prove nothing, but we knew. I do not believe it of this Dr Butler yet. But I believe nothing. What is most hard to believe is what Mr Trove says.’
‘Yes. Yes. He does make things difficult.’
‘Difficult! My God! Either he tells us not all the truth, or he is an imbecile.’
‘Behaviour not normal, no.’
‘My friend! He is knocked down, as he says, by stones, he is stunned, he is wounded on the head. But he will not show the wound to a doctor, no! His friend is swept away by the stones. He does not come down to the place where he is staying, where his other friends are, he goes back where nobody knows him. He sends men to search from there. He gives it up quick and goes back again to come round by train. So it is thirty-six hours after his friend is lost before his other friends can know of it. For he does not telephone, oh no. That is most wonderful. He gets down to Mürren, having lost Dr Butler. But he sends no message to the friends at Kandersteg. He searches, he finds nothing, he goes back to Mürren and still he does not telephone. He thinks Butler may have come here; but he will not ask by telephone, no, he must drag round by train to see. Righteous God! It is as if he had not lived in this century. Had he never heard of the telephone? Ach, he may be an honest man, the Mr Trove, but if he is, he is an idiot.’
‘There’s an answer to all that, you know,’ said Reggie wearily.
‘Then I shall be glad to hear it.’ Stein was annoyed.
‘Well, you’re using the professional fallacy.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ said Stein.
‘My dear fellow, I’m a policeman myself. We find a man caught in very abnormal circumstances and if he don’t act normally we suspect him. It’s the custom of the trade: but delusive. The one thing certain about Trove is he’s had a shock. People suffering from shock won’t be reasonable. He says, he’s lost an old friend in a queer accident which nearly killed him too. Well, that ought to upset a fellow. Quite natural he should just drive on blundering, fumbling, groping blind after his friend. Quite human.’
‘So. You acquit the Mr Trove?’
‘My dear fellow, what’s the charge?’ Reggie smiled.
‘God in heaven! Do I know?’
‘It might be murder, but we haven’t got a body. It might be manslaughter. Still you’d want a body. It might be assistin’ an escape from justice. But we don’t know Butler was running away. No. Preserve an open mind.’
‘And I do so,’ Stein cried. ‘I believe nothing. It is you who have not the open mind. You believe this story that he tells.’
‘I didn’t say that. No. Acceptin’ his story, Trove’s quite natural. My trouble is that if you do accept it, it don’t explain the rest.’
Stein laughed. ‘In effect we know nothing. I confess to you, I thought perhaps the Mr Trove was lying when he said he searched from Mürren. But it is true. I do not despise the telephone myself. I have talked to Mürren tonight. Some guides went with him and searched all up to the couloir that side. Nothing! They think either Trove took them to the wrong place or Butler did not fall. That also is very possible. Almost anything is possible.’ He put his head on one side and looked at Reggie.
‘That Butler put up a sham accident? Butler set the stones falling on Trove?’ Reggie said. ‘Yes. A skilled mountaineer and a novice. I suppose it could be worked.’
‘A climber with a fool, yes. Anything could be. And Butler was a good climber. But this pass is easy, it is nothing. If Butler wished to make away with the Mr Trove, he could find a hundred better places. There is no reason to do it like this. But I see no reason for anything.’
‘No. We haven’t got to the reasons yet. Why did they all come here, Stein?’
‘Ach, my friend!’ Stein laughed. ‘What do I know? Why do the English come to Switzerland?’
‘My wife says I came to eat ices,’ said Reggie sadly. ‘Butler came to spend a holiday with his old friend Ulyett. But when he got to Kandersteg his old friend Ulyett had gone off for a day or two. That’s why Butler went on the mountains.’
‘So. Let me understand, my friend. You think Sir Ulyett planned for them to go this expedition?’
‘No. Oh no. I don’t think anything. But his daughter says he’d run off to Zürich, so Butler being keen on mountains took Trove climbing.’
‘To Zürich? That is a very good alibi.’ Stein pulled his moustache. ‘I shall test it.’
‘Yes. Woodham’s got an alibi too. He went to Brigue. Just after he’d seen Butler and Trove off. Neither Ulyett nor Woodham was here while the thing was happening. They only came back to-day.’
‘So. That is most interesting.’
‘Yes, I think so.’ Mr Fortune smiled. ‘Lots of facts, aren’t there?’
Stein groaned. ‘Facts? What is a fact? I have not found one that I believe in.’ He stood up. ‘Ach, let us sleep. Where they were, I will find that out. And if Butler is upon the mountain I will find him. But then—I do not know. I do not understand anything.’
Mr Fortune is aware of his limitations. He did not feel that he would be any use to a party of guides searching mountains. When Herr Stein tramped along the corridor at 1 a.m. he turned over and went to sleep again. His conscience was satisfied with him when he was drinking coffee at six. Upon a melancholy mule which a frowsy boy exhorted, he climbed slowly towards the glittering snows of the Blumlisalp, and with the sweet morning air mingled the pungent scents of mule and boy. Some hours of solemn progress brought them to a little dark lake laughing in the sunshine. A fir wood came down to its pleasant beaches on one side, from the other the mountains rose in bare slopes and cliff.
By a little inn the mule stopped with determination. ‘He go no more,’ the boy grinned. ‘We go up now.’ He pointed to the dark cliffs.
‘My only aunt!’ Reggie moaned.
The boy disposed of his mule and strode into the wood, and Reggie followed delicately. Walking is a pursuit which he considers obsolete. The path having got out of the wood went up steep, hot pastures. The frowsy boy took it in a swinging stride and Reggie’s internal organs heaved and he melted. They came out on the edge of the cliff above the lake. There he dropped: to discover, when his sad sensations allowed him, the detestable boy gazing at him with surprise and contempt. The boy pointed up to the blue pitiless sky. ‘Oh, my aunt!’ Reggie groaned.
He laboured on up endless slopes of rich grass enamelled with gentians and violas and anemones, populated with cheery choirs of grasshoppers and bland cows, and the abominable boy drew further and further away. He passed a cluster of châlets, he drank milk from the hands of a horrible cool girl who pitied him intolerably, he toiled on over stony ground in which the stars of edelweiss were thick-set and was again in rich pasture.
Then he began to see men like flies on the slopes above and heard faint calls. The boy turned. ‘Der Herr is found,’ he announced.
Reggie sat down. ‘You go on,’ he said. ‘Tell Herr Stein I’m here.’ He s
tretched himself out on the grass, arms and legs wide.
Stein came in long strides. ‘I have found him, Fortune. He is dead.’
‘Well, well,’ Reggie murmured. ‘Have you moved him?’
‘No one has touched him. I wait for you. Come and see.’
Reggie arose and climbed after him. A little party of men stood together bareheaded, looking up at the crags above, talking softly. Aloof from them Trove sat with his face hidden. It was a steep slope on which the grass grew rich but scattered with many stones.
‘See. There above, that is the couloir.’ Stein pointed. ‘And we find him here.’ He looked at Reggie. ‘Yes. It is possible.’
Reggie knelt by the dead man. He lay upon his face, almost hidden in the long grass, and about him was the vanilla scent of the red-brown mountain flower they call Faith-of-men.
Reggie turned the body over. The clothes bore dark stains of blood, there was blood dried upon the face and hair. His slow, careful hands moved here and there. He bent close.…
Trove got on his feet and came to see what was being done and saw the dead man’s face. ‘Oh, my God!’ he cried.
‘What, then?’ said Stein quietly. ‘Is it not Dr Butler?’
‘What do you mean?’ Trove stared with wild eyes. ‘Of course, it’s Butler.’
‘So,’ said Stein with satisfaction.
‘Oh, why do you keep him lying here? It’s so ghastly! You can’t do anything. You can’t do anything, can you, Fortune?’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Reggie, and rose and nodded to Stein. He spoke to the guides and the body was gathered up and borne away. Trove stood watching a moment, then hurried after, went ahead and plunged on down.
‘So. He is in a hurry,’ said Stein.
‘Perhaps he wants to tell Ulyett,’ Reggie suggested. ‘Or perhaps he wants to catch a train.’
Stein stared at him. ‘You think—? Ach, no. But do not fear. I have men at Kandersteg by now.’
‘I dare say you’re right,’ Reggie murmured, and began to wander about the mountain-side.
‘You wonder how it happened?’ Stein said.
‘Yes. Yes. I’m no good on the mountains. Same like our Mr Trove.’ He contemplated Stein in dreamy wonder. ‘How did it happen, Stein?’
‘Come to the couloir.’ They climbed to that corridor in the ridge of rock and the other slope of the mountains opened before them. ‘See, there has been a new fall of stones. Those are all fresh. What Trove said, it is very possible. Here was more than enough to kill men, to sweep them away. Some of the stones have come to this side, some that. If Trove lay here if he was swept down towards Mürren, he would not see Butler. It is quite natural he should think Butler was carried down on the Mürren side. Also it is natural Butler should have been swept to the other.’
‘Yes. Yes. But Trove’s search party ought to have looked both sides, oughtn’t they?’
Stein shrugged. ‘He told them it happened on the Mürren side. When they could not find anything there, he was in a hurry to go back. They said so. Then he is a fool, yes. I always said that. But if he is a fool, it is all very possible, more possible as I thought.’
Reggie turned back and, slowly wandering here and there, made a devious way down. ‘See. Here are new stones also.’ Stein rolled them over. ‘The grass is quite fresh beneath.’
‘Yes. I noticed that. Grass is a good deal beaten down, isn’t it?’
‘But it should be. The stones have rolled. The poor Butler has rolled down here. We found his rucksack here.’
‘Did you though?’ Reggie looked at him. ‘Straps torn off?’
‘No, nothing was torn. It was dragged off as he rolled. That also happens, my friend. Yes, it is all like a most natural accident.’ Still Reggie gazed at him and he burst out laughing. ‘Pardon, my dear friend. It is that you look so wondering, so sad. Like a child that is disappointed of something nice, with your round face so innocent.’
‘Yes. Yes. I have a sweet face,’ said Reggie. ‘Rolled rather a long way, didn’t he?’
‘What do I know?’ Stein shrugged. ‘It could happen. It happened.’
‘Oh, yes. He did roll.’ Reggie smiled.
‘You think something else?’
‘Well, I was thinking it was quite a nice good accident. But they had no luck.’
‘How do you mean that?’
‘All quite simple and accidental—and then Trove goes and has tea with Herr Stein, and there’s the deuce to pay.’
‘We make trouble for nothing, yes?’
‘I wonder,’ Reggie said. ‘Well, let’s get on.’ He started down the slope and Herr Stein, accommodating his trained stride to Reggie’s careful little steps, gave a lecture upon falls of stones, their habits and effects. Reggie said nothing to it. Reggie said nothing at all till they reached the châlets again. Then he called forth the maternal damsel, then he said, ‘Another little drink wouldn’t do us any harm,’ and over his glass of milk surveyed Stein, who did not drink, benignly. ‘Yes. Very lucid and interesting. And what happens next?’
Stein shrugged. ‘Mr Trove’s story goes on the records. I write a report how I found the body. There is no more to do.’
‘And they all live happily ever after.’ Reggie smiled, said something pretty to the girl and went on.
Stein caught him up in two strides. ‘You are not fair with me, my friend. You are not frank. There is something in your mind you do not say.’
‘My dear fellow! Oh, my dear fellow! I told you. I said they had bad luck.’
‘Bad luck? Because Trove brought us here? What does it matter? We find nothing.’
‘I wouldn’t say that. We haven’t found enough. That’s all. But Trove bumping into us wasn’t the first bit of bad luck. The trouble began when the falling stones didn’t kill poor Butler.’
‘Righteous God! But the man was dead, he had been long dead.’
‘Oh yes, a day or two. I think he died soon after the stones fell. Those wounds were made while he was still alive, probably by falling stones. But the wounds weren’t enough to kill him.’
‘So. So. What then? He died lying out on the mountain at night.’ Stein shuddered dramatically. ‘B-r-r-r, the cold up there! You do not know the mountains, my dear Fortune. I promise you, it is enough to kill a man who is hurt. Or if he is not hurt, often. And he was not young, the poor Butler.’
‘Yes. Exposure. It could be. But why did he lie exposed? Why didn’t he get on his legs again and come down, same like Trove? No just cause or impediment. No bones broken. No bad wound.’
‘What do you mean, then? What killed him?’
‘I wonder. Do you have a medical examination in Switzerland when a man is found dead on the mountains?’
‘But, of course. If there is any doubt.’
‘Well, I think you’d better doubt, Stein. But you needn’t say so.’
‘My God, I say nothing. Only that I do not understand.’
‘Yes. And you needn’t say that either.’
‘So. That is to tell me you suspect foul play, and by this man Trove. Ach, I remember, you hinted at that before. My dear Fortune, if you would only speak out.’
Reggie smiled. ‘Well, speakin’ broadly, I suspect them all. Trove, Ulyett, Woodham, person or persons unknown. Several obscure factors. Keep an open mind and look about. And I’ll have a look at the body.’
Stein rumbled and muttered. Stein had trouble in keeping his pace down to Reggie’s dainty careful gait, and at last, ‘You forgive me, my friend? You are a little slow. I do better to go on.’
‘Don’t mind me,’ Reggie smiled. ‘I don’t suppose they’ve thought of doing me in yet.’
‘My God!’ Stein said and turned about and surveyed the mountain-side, whereon nothing moved but cows. ‘I do not know whether you joke or not, Fortune.’
‘That was a joke
, Stein.’
‘So!’ Herr Stein was not pleased. ‘I go then. You cannot miss the path, I think. Not even you. But I send some one up from the inn.’ He swung into his stride.
Reggie went the slower without him, but rather for meditation than watching of steps, and when the mule boy climbed up, was found sitting above the lake contemplating nature with dreamy eyes. Thereafter he was led down, he was set upon the mule and that animal exhorted to a jolting speed.
Stein had a doctor waiting for him with the body, a bearded, bustling doctor, who was honoured to assist Mr Fortune. ‘Oh, no, no. It’s your opinion we want, doctor,’ Reggie smiled. The doctor rubbed his hands. He had heard, of course, the story of the accident—how the body was found—these disasters were very sad—in such cases, though the injuries were not grave, shock and exposure often caused death.
‘Yes. We could certify death from exposure, couldn’t we?’ said Reggie. They moved to the body together.
The doctor worked upon it. ‘All points to that, Mr Fortune.’
Reggie opened the dead man’s mouth.…
It was long after when they made an end. ‘You’re satisfied, doctor?’ Reggie smiled.
The doctor wiped his face. ‘There is no doubt, Mr Fortune. There is no doubt. But it is inhuman.’
‘Not a nice case, no. That’s why every one had better think it’s quite normal. Except Stein. Good-bye. I’ll go and tell him.’
He found Herr Stein drinking beer in the hotel garden. ‘How doth the little busy bee improve each shining hour!’ he said sadly and went in.
Stein followed him to his room. ‘And now, my friend?’
‘Well, you’ll have to send some of your guides up that beastly mountain again.’
‘So. Why is that?’
‘I want ’em to go up again and see if they can find any trace how that fall of stones started.’
‘Still you will not believe it was a natural accident?’
‘No, not natural. Not accidental. Not originally. The accidents intervened: when Butler wasn’t killed, that had to be put right; when Trove tumbled into you and me. That couldn’t.’
Resorting to Murder Page 18
