“Then who did commit it?”
Dr. Fell turned his head round ponderously. He blew another film of ash off the bowl of his pipe. His little eyes, with a quizzical twinkle behind the eyeglasses, fixed steadily on me.
“As a matter of fact,” he said, “you did.”
Pause.
“I fear I startled you,” he resumed, as the metaphorical black specks ceased to whirl, and my breath crept back to my lungs. “But don’t misunderstand me. This is not Roger Ackroyd all over again. I am not accusing you of being the villain who planned the murder, consummated it, and concealed any facts in your manuscript. But, d’ye see, you really did shoot Logan.
“Andy Hunter is the wrong type of man for a murderer. He couldn’t have done it, and at the last moment knew he couldn’t do it. He planned the trap, got ready, stood by the window—and realized he hadn’t the stomach for it.
“Don’t you remember, he was not even looking at Logan when the shot was fired? He had made up his mind to give it up. He was going to tell you all about it. He turned away from the window, started to fill his pipe, and began: ‘It’s about this haunted house’—but he got no further. You, as you say, crowded after him. You trod on the board which completed the electric circuit. The revolver jumped and struck Logan dead. Then, as you later say, Andy Hunter turned slightly green and refused to say anything more. Archons of Athens! Can you wonder?”
Birds were bickering down at the end of the garden. It was some minutes before I could fully appreciate exactly what all this meant.
“Do you mean,” I said, more than a trifle queasy about the stomach, “That I’ve been a murderer for over two years and have never known anything about it?”
Dr. Fell chuckled.
“In the technical sense, yes,” he replied. “Logan’s death was the result of a tragic accident like Hunter’s own near-death. There you have the truth. I should not let the matter worry you, since no guilt could be charged to you even if the real facts were ever to come out.
“But the real truth will never come out now. Andy Hunter, alive and prosperous, is never likely to mention it. Gwyneth Logan could never tell it, because she does not know. Don’t you realize she never even suspected Hunter? To her he was the ‘nice boy’ with whom it was impossible to associate any crime of violence; and, indeed, she was right. She believed, and still believes, that the murderer is Clarke.
“There was only one person who might have spoken: Clarke himself. He dared not accuse Hunter without actual evidence; for, as we know, he never takes any chances. Since the evidence went up in that gigantic bonfire, he has prudently kept mum. Up to this week, however, there was always the possibility that something might make him betray the truth …”
“And why not now?”
Dr. Fell scowled.
“Clarke’s prophecy has been fulfilled. He always said, you remember, that there was going to be a war. He loathed and feared the prospect more than most men loathe and fear it. He decided that it was not prudent to remain in England in case of air attack.”
Very slowly Dr. Fell drew out the newspaper which had been folded in his pocket. He held it out for a moment, and then let it drop on the grass. We saw the headlines:
LINER ATHENIA: FULL LIST OF VICTIMS
Dr. Fell got to his feet, sighing gustily as he propelled himself up on his crutch-headed stick. He put on his shovel hat. He arranged the box-pleated cape round his shoulders. And he stared up at the silver barrage balloon clear and lonely in the pink September sky.
“For, as we know,” said Dr. Fell, “he never took any chances.”
About the Author
John Dickson Carr (1906–1977) was one of the most popular authors of Golden Age British-style detective novels. Born in Pennsylvania and the son of a US congressman, Carr graduated from Haverford College in 1929. Soon thereafter, he moved to England where he married an Englishwoman and began his mystery-writing career. In 1948, he returned to the US as an internationally known author. Carr received the Mystery Writers of America’s highest honor, the Grand Master Award, and was one of the few Americans ever admitted into the prestigious, but almost exclusively British, Detection Club.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1940 by John Dickson Carr
Copyright © renewed 1967 by John Dickson Carr
Cover design by Jason Gabbert
978-1-4804-7278-5
This edition published in 2014 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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THE DR. GIDEON FELL
MYSTERIES
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The Man Who Could Not Shudder (Dr. Gideon Fell series Book 12) Page 21
