"I grant and can prove the first two, that the murderer must have at least an elementary knowledge of chemistry and criminology, but I disagree with both parts of the third; I don't think a good education is really essential, and I should certainly not rule out any one with a public - school or university education, for reasons which I'll explain later. Nor do I agree with the fourth, that he or she must have had possession of or access to Mason's note - paper. It was an ingenious idea of Bradley's that the possession of the notepaper suggested the method of the crime, but I think it mistaken; a previous case suggested the method, chocolates were decided on (for a very good reason indeed, as I'll show later) as the vehicle, and Mason's as being the most important firm of chocolate manufacturers. It then became necessary to procure a piece of their notepaper, and I'm in a position to show how this was done.
"The fifth condition I would qualify. I don't agree that the criminal must have possession of or access to a Hamilton No. 4 typewriter, but I do agree that such possession must have existed. In other words, I would put that condition in the past tense. Remember that we have to deal with a very astute criminal, and a very carefully planned crime. I thought it most unlikely that such an incriminating piece of evidence as the actual typewriter would be allowed to lie about for anyone to discover. Much more probably that a machine had been bought specially for the occasion. It was clear from the letter that it wasn't a new machine which had been used. With the courage of my deduction, therefore, I spent a whole afternoon making inquiries at secondhand typewriter - shops till I ran down the place where it had been bought, and proved the buying. The shopman was able to identify my murderer from a photograph I had with me."
"And where's the machine now?" asked Mrs. Fielder - Flemming eagerly.
"I expect at the bottom of the Thames. That's my point. This criminal of mine leaves nothing to chance at all.
"With the sixth condition, about being near the post - office during the critical hour, of course I agree. My murderer has a mild alibi, but it doesn't hold water. As to the next two, the fountain - pen and the ink, I haven't been able to check them at all, and while I agree that their possession would be rather pleasing confirmation I don't attach great importance to them; Onyx pens are so universal, and so is Harfield's ink, that there isn't much argument there either way. Besides, it would be just like my criminal not to own either of them but to have borrowed the pen unobtrusively. Lastly, I agree about the creative mind, and the neatness with the fingers, and of course with the prisoner's peculiar mentality, but not with the necessity for methodical habits."
"Oh, come," said Mr. Bradley, pained. "That was rather a sound deduction, I thought. And it stands to reason, too."
"Not to my reason," Roger retorted. Mr. Bradley shrugged his shoulders. "It's the notepaper I'm interested in," said Sir Charles. "In my opinion that's the point on which the case against any one must hang. How do you prove possession of the notepaper, Sheringham?"
"The notepaper," said Roger, "was extracted about three weeks ago from one of Webster's books of sample notepaper - headings. The erasure would be some private mark of Webster's, the price, for instance: 'This style, 5s. gd.' There are three books at Webster's, containing exactly the same samples. Two of them include a piece of Mason's paper; from the third it's missing. I can prove contact of my suspect with the book about three weeks ago."
"You can, can you?" Sir Charles was impressed. "That sounds pretty conclusive. What put you on the idea of the sample books?"
"The yellowed edges of the letter," Roger said, not a little pleased with himself. " I didn't see how a bit of paper that had been kept in a pile could get its edges quite so discoloured as all that, so concluded that it must have been an isolated piece. Then it struck me that walking about London, one does see isolated pieces of notepaper stuck on a board in the windows of printing - firms. But this piece showed no drawing - pin holes or any other signs of having been fixed to a board. Besides, it would be difficult to remove it from a board. What was the next best thing? Obviously, a sample - book, such as one usually finds inside the same shops. So to the printers of Mason's notepaper I went, and there, so to speak, my piece wasn't."
"Yes," muttered Sir Charles, "certainly that sounds pretty conclusive." He sighed. One gathered that he was gazing wistfully in his mind's eye at the diminishing figure of Lady Pennefather, and the beautiful case he had built up around her. Then he brightened. This time one had gathered that he had switched his vision to the figure, equally diminishing, of Sir Charles Wildman, and the beautiful case that had been built up around him too.
"So now," said Roger, feeling he could really put it off no longer, "we come to the fundamental mistake to which I referred just now, the trap the murderer laid for us and into which we all so neatly fell."
Everybody sat up. Roger surveyed them benignly. "You got very near seeing it, Bradley, last night, with your casual suggestion that Sir Eustace himself might not have been the intended victim after all. That's right enough. But I go further than that."
"I fell in the trap, though, did I?" said Mr. Bradley, pained. "Well, what is this trap? What's the fundamental mistake we all side - slipped into? " "Why," Roger brought out in triumph, "that the plan had miscarried - that the wrong person had been killed!"
He got his reward. "What!" said every one at once. "Good heavens, you don't mean . . .? "
"Exactly," Roger crowed. "That was just the beauty of it. The plan had not miscarried. It had been brilliantly successful. The wrong person had not been killed. Very much the right person was."
"What's all this?" positively gaped Sir Charles. "How on earth do you make that out? "
"Mrs. Bendix was the objective all the time," Roger went on more soberly. "That's why the plot was so ingenious. Every single thing was anticipated. It was foreseen that, if Bendix could be brought naturally into Sir Eustace's presence when the parcel was being opened, the latter would hand the chocolates over to him. It was foreseen that the police would look for the criminal among Sir Eustace's associates, and not the dead woman's. It was probably even foreseen, Bradley, that the crime would be considered the work of a woman, whereas really, of course, chocolates were employed because it was a woman who was the objective."
'"Well, well well!" said Mr. Bradley.
"Then it's your theory," pursued Sir Charles, "that the murderer was an associate of the dead woman's, and had nothing to do with Sir Eustace at all?" He spoke as if not altogether averse from such a theory.
"It is," Roger confirmed. "But first let me tell you what finally opened my eyes to the trap. The vital piece of information I got in Bond Street was this: that Mrs. Bendix had seen that play, The Creaking Skull, before. There's no doubt about it; she actually went with my informant herself. You see the extraordinary significance, of course. That means that she already knew the answer to that bet she made with her husband about the identity of the villain."
A little intake of breath testified to a general appreciation of this information.
"Oh! What a marvellous piece of divine irony." Miss Dammers was exercising her usual faculty of viewing things from the impersonal aspect. "Then she actually brought her own retribution on herself. The bet she won virtually killed her."
"Yes," said Roger. "The irony hadn't failed to strike even my informant. The punishment, as she pointed out, was so much greater than the crime. But I don't think," - Roger spoke very gently, in a mighty effort to curb his elation - "I don't think that even now you quite see my point."
Everybody looked inquiringly. "You've all heard Mrs. Bendix quite minutely described. You must all have formed a tolerably close mental picture of her. She was a straightforward, honest girl, making if anything (also according to my informant) almost too much of a fetish of straight dealing and playing the game. Does the making of a bet to which she already knew the answer, fit into that picture or does it not?"
"Ah!" nodded Mr. Bradley. "Oh, very pretty."
"Just so. It is (with apologies to Sir
Charles) a psychological impossibility. It really is, you know, Sir Charles; one simply can't see her doing such a thing, in fun or out of it; and I gather that fun wasn't her strong suit, by any means.
"Ergo," concluded Roger briskly, "she didn't. Ergo, that bet was never made. Ergo, there never was such a bet. Ergo, Bendix was lying. Ergo, Bendix wanted to get hold of those chocolates for some reason other than he stated. And the chocolates being what they were, there was only one other reason.
"That's my case."
CHAPTER XIV
WHEN the excitement that greeted this revolutionary reading of the case had died down, Roger went on to defend his theory in more detail.
"It is something of a shock, of course, to find oneself contemplating Bendix as the very cunning murderer of his own wife, but really, once one has been able to rid one's mind of all prejudice, I don't see how the conclusion can possibly be avoided. Every item of evidence, however minute, goes to support it."
"But the motive!" ejaculated Mrs. Fielder - Flemming.
"Motive? Good heavens, he'd motive enough. In the first place he was frankly - no, not frankly; secretly! - tired of her. Remember what we were told of his character. He'd sown his wild oats. But apparently he hadn't finished sowing them, because his name has been mentioned in connection with more than one woman even since his marriage, usually, in the good old - fashioned way, actresses. So Bendix wasn't such a solemn stick by any means. He liked his fun. And his wife, I should imagine, was just about the last person in the world to sympathise with such feelings.
"Not that he hadn't liked her well enough when he married her, quite possibly, though it was her money he was after all the time. But she must have bored him dreadfully very soon. And really," said Roger impartially, "I think one can hardly blame him there. Any woman, however charming otherwise, is bound to bore a normal man if she does nothing but prate continually about honour and duty and playing the game; and that, I have on good authority, was Mrs. Bendix's habit.
"Just look at the menage in this new light. The wife would never overlook the smallest peccadillo. Every tiny lapse would be thrown up at him for years. Everything she did would be right and everything he did wrong. Her sanctimonious righteousness would be forever being contrasted with his vileness. She might even work herself into the state of those half - mad creatures who spend the whole of their married lives reviling their husbands for having been attracted by other women before they even met the girl it was their misfortune to marry. Don't think I'm trying to blacken Mrs. Bendix. I'm just showing you how intolerable life with her might have been.
"But that's only the incidental motive. The real trouble was that she was too close with her money, and that too I know for a fact. That's where she sentenced herself to death. He wanted it, or some of it, badly (it's what he married her for), and she wouldn't part.
"One of the first things I did was to consult a Directory of Directors and make a list of the firms he's interested in, with a view to getting a confidential report on their financial condition. The report reached me just before I left my rooms. It told me exactly what I expected - that every single one of those firms is rocky, some only a little but some within sight of a crash. They all need money to save them. It's obvious, isn't it? He's run through all his own money, and he had to get more. I found time to run down to Somerset House and again it was as I expected: her will was entirely in his favour. The really important point (which no one seems to have suspected) is that he isn't a good business - man at all; he's a rotten one. And half - a - million . . . Well!
"Oh, yes. There's motive enough."
"Motive allowed," said Mr. Bradley. "And the nitrobenzene? You said, I think, that Bendix has some knowledge of chemistry."
Roger laughed. "You remind me of a Wagner opera, Bradley. The nitrobenzene motif crops up regularly from you whenever a possible criminal is mentioned. However, I think I can satisfy even you in this instance. Nitrobenzene as you know, is used in perfumery. In the list of Bendix's businesses is the Anglo - Eastern Perfumery Company. I made a special, and dreadful, journey out to Acton for the express purpose of finding out whether the Anglo - Eastern Company used nitrobenzene at all, and, if so, whether its poisonous qualities were thoroughly recognised. The answer to both questions was in the affirmative. So there can be no doubt that Bendix is thoroughly acquainted with the stuff.
"He might easily enough have got his supply from the factory, but I'm inclined to doubt that. I think he'd be cleverer than that. He probably made the stuff himself, if the process is as easy as Bradley told us. Because I happen to know that he was on the modern side at Selchester (that I heard quite by chance too), which presupposes at any rate an elementary knowledge of chemistry. Do you pass that, Bradley?"
"Pass, friend nitrobenzene," conceded Mr. Bradley.
Roger drummed thoughtfully on the table with his finger - tips. "It was a well - planned affair, wasn't it?" he meditated. "And so extremely easy to reconstruct. Bendix must have thought he'd provided against every possible contingency. And so he very nearly had. It was just that little bit of unlucky grit that gets into the smooth machinery of so many clever crimes: he didn't know that his wife had seen the play before. He'd decided on the mild alibi of his presence at the theatre, you see, just in case suspicion should ever impossibly arise, and no doubt he stressed his desire to see the play and take her with him. Not to spoil his pleasure, she would have unselfishly concealed from him the fact that she had seen the play before and didn't much want to see it again. That unselfishness let him down. Because it's inconceivable that she would have turned it to her own advantage to win the bet he pretends to have made with her.
"He left the theatre of course during the first interval, and hurried as far as he dare go in the ten minutes at his disposal, to post the parcel. I sat through the dreadful thing myself last night just to see when the intervals came. The first one fits excellently. I'd hoped he might have taken a taxi one way, as time was short, but if he did no driver of such taxis as did make a similar journey that evening can identify him. Or possibly the right driver hasn't come forward yet. I got Scotland Yard to look into that point for me. But it really fits much better with the cleverness he's shown all through, that he should have gone by 'bus or underground. Taxis, he'd know, are traceable. But if so he'd run it very fine indeed, and I shouldn't be surprised if he got back to his box a few minutes late. The police may be able to establish that."
"It seems to me," observed Mr. Bradley, "that we made something of a mistake in turning the man down from membership here. We thought his criminology wasn't up to standard, didn't we? Well, well."
"But we could hardly be expected to know that he was a practical criminologist rather than a mere theoretical one," Roger smiled. " It was a mistake, though. It would have been pleasant to include a practical criminologist among our members."
"I must confess that I thought at one time that we did," said Mrs. Fielder - Flemming, making her peace. "Sir Charles," she added unnecessarily, "I apologise, without reserve."
Sir Charles inclined his head courteously. "Please don't refer to it, madam. And in any event the experience for me was an interesting one."
"I may have been misled by the case I quoted," said Mrs. Fielder - Flemming, rather wistfully. "It was a strangely close parallel."
"It was the first parallel that occurred to me, too," Roger agreed. "I studied the Molineux case quite closely, hoping to get a pointer from it. But now, if I were asked for a parallel, I should reply with the Caylyle Harris case. You remember, the young medical student who sent a pill containing morphine to the girl Helen Potts, to whom it turned out that he had been secretly married for a year. He was by way of being a profligate and a general young rotter too. A great novel, as you know, has been founded on the case, so why not a great crime too?"
"Then why, Mr. Sheringham," Miss Dammers wanted to know, "do you think that Mr. Bendix took the risk of not destroying the forged letter and the wrapper when he had the chance?"
>
"He very carefully didn't do so," Roger replied promptly, "because the forged letter and the wrapper had been calculated not only to divert suspicion from himself but actually to point away from him to somebody else - an employee of Mason's, for instance, or an anonymous lunatic. Which is exactly what they did."
"But wouldn't it be a great risk, to send poisoned chocolates like that to Sir Eustace?" suggested Mr. Chitterwick diffidently. "I mean. Sir Eustace might have been ill the next morning, or not offered to hand them over at all. Suppose he had given them to somebody else instead of Bendix."
Roger proceeded to give Mr. Chitterwick cause for his diffidence. He was feeling something of a personal pride in Bendix by this time, and it distressed him to hear a great man thus maligned.
"Oh, really! You must give my man credit for being what he is. He's not a bungler, you know. It wouldn't have had any serious results if Sir Eustace had been ill that morning, or eaten the chocolates himself, or if they'd been stolen in transit and consumed by the postman's favourite daughter, or any other unlikely contingency. Come, Mr. Chitterwick! You don't imagine he'd send the poisoned ones through the post, do you? Of course not. He'd send harmless ones, and exchange them for the others on the way home. Dash it all, he wouldn't go out of his way to present opportunities to chance."
"Oh! I see," murmured Mr. Chitterwick, properly subdued.
"We're dealing with a very great criminal," went on Roger, rather less severely. "That can be seen at every point. Take the arrival at the club, just for example - that most unusual early arrival (why this early arrival at all, by the way, if he isn't guilty?). Well, he doesn't wait outside and follow his unconscious accomplice in, you see. Not a bit of it. Sir Eustace is chosen because he's known to get there so punctually at half - past ten every morning; takes a pride in it; boasts of it; goes out of his way to keep up the good old custom. So Bendix arrives at ten thirty - five, and there things are. It had puzzled me at the beginning of the case, by the way, to see why the chocolates had been sent to Sir Eustace at his club at all, instead of to his rooms. Now it's obvious."
The Poisoned Chocolates Case rs-5 Page 15
