The Mad Hatter Mystery dgf-2

by John Dickson Carr

  But, good God!' muttered the General. `You mean to say there's something between Driscoll and.. H'm. Yes. It fits, I suppose. But where's your proof?'

  `I haven't any proof. As I say, it's only a suspicion.' Hadley rubbed his chin, 'Still, let's take it as a hypothesis for the moment, and work back. Let's assume Larkin was shadowing Mrs Bitton…. Now, this White Tower, General. That's the biggest and most important one isn't it? And it's some distance away from the Bloody Tower, isn't it?'

  `Well, yes… it stands alone; it's in the middle of the inner ballium walls just beside the parade-ground.'

  `And the tower where the Crown jewels are kept is directly beside the Bloody Tower?'

  `The Wakefield Tower. Yes. Wait a minute!' said Mason, excitedly. `I've got it. Mrs Bitton went to see the Crown Jewels. So did Larkin. Mrs Bitton said she wandered up through the arch of the Bloody Tower; and up to the parade-ground…. Larkin' went to the Bloody Tower. She couldn't keep too close to Mrs Bitton. And if she went up the stairs of the Bloody Tower to Raleigh's Walk, she could have seen from a height where Mrs Bitton was going.'

  `That's what I wanted to ask you,' said Hadley, knocking his fists against his temples. `She couldn't have seen very far in the mist, of course. It's more probable she did that — if she did — to keep up the illusion of being a tourist. Or she might, have thought Mrs Bitton had gone into the Bloody Tower. It's all supposition. But neither of them went to the White Tower, you see…. Those may be coincidences, but when you couple them with the presence of those two women here, and the statements of Mrs Bitton and Larkin, they sound pretty plausible indications.'

  `You're assuming,' said the General, pointing to the table, `that Mrs Bitton wrote that note?' -

  `And all the time,' Hadley mused, `suspecting she was being watched, see what the note says: "Be careful. Suspect. Vital." The letter was posted at ten-thirty last night in Mrs Bitton' s district, after Driscoll had paid a short visit that evening. Mrs Bitton had just come back from a walking tour of Cornwall…, and why, in God's name, a walking tour in Cornwall in the worst part of March, unless somebody wanted to get her away from a dangerous infatuation?’

  'I'm running on, I suppose. Still, if we assume all this, we must assume it was a dangerous infatuation. For here's a private detective who has been planted in a flat opposite Driscoll for some weeks, even during the time she and her husband were away!… Does that mean anything? And who planted her there? Offhand, of course, the husband.!

  'But the name, "Mary"?' suggested General Mason.

  `I've heard many more hilariously funny nicknames whatd'yecallem pet names… in my time,' Hadley said, grimly. 'And the handwriting's undoubtedly disguised. Even if it were stolen, it couldn't be used as evidence against her. She's a clever woman.

  `Do you see the deep waters we're in now? Come along, Mr Rampole,' he prompted, turning so suddenly that the American jumped; `do you see how it mixes everything up?'

  Rampole hesitated. `I can see plenty of difficulties,' he returned. `That letter would have been delivered fairly early this morning. Now we've been assuming all along that the reason why Driscoll telephoned Mr Dalrye had something to do with the hat-thief and his pursuit of the hat-thief. But Driscoll never actually said it did. Dalrye asked him jokingly, if I remember it right, whether he was afraid of his hat being stolen. But all Driscoll actually answered was, "It's not my hat I'm afraid of; it's my head." Dalrye thought it referred to the hat affair; but did it?'

  He looked bewilderedly at the chief inspector.

  `I don't know,' snapped Hadley. `But he makes that appointment with Dalrye for one o'clock. The appointment in the letter is for one-thirty. He has received the letter that morning; it's scared him, and he wants Dalrye's help. Then some other person sends Dalrye on a wild-goose chase to Driscoll's flat. Driscoll arrived here, in a bad state. He is seen by Parker looking out o f the window, and later somebody touches him on the arm by Traitors' Gate.

  `What went on in the merry-go-round composed of Driscoll, Mrs Bitton, Larkin, and a possible fourth party? Was it some sort of crime passionel? And if it was, can anybody on this' side of sanity inform me why Driscoll's body should be found wearing Sir William's stolen top-hat? It's the hat thief angle that's mad and impossible.'

  There was a pause. Dr Fell took!he pipe out of his mouth and spoke rather plaintively.

  'I say, Hadley,' he remonstrated. 'You're working yourself up into a lather. Be calm, It'll come out all right. Just keep on in your normal course.'

  The chief inspector regarded him bitterly.

  `Unless our questioning of the other visitors turns up. something,' he said, `we have only one other person to interview. And thank God. I need a brandy. Several brandies. But for the next few minutes, Doctor, you are going to be the chief inspector. With the next witness it becomes your case. In other words, you are going to examine Julius Arbor.?

  'With pleasure,' said the doctor, `if you'll give me your chair.' He hauled himself to his feet as Hadley summoned the warder on guard and gave instructions. `It's what I should have asked to do, in any case, Hadley. Because why? Because a good part of the case depends on it. And that side of the case — shall I tell you what that side of the case hinges on, Hadley?'

  `You will, anyhow. Well?'

  `It hinges on a stolen manuscript,' said Dr Fell.

  8. Mr Arbor's Aura

  Dr Fell hung his cloak over the back of the chair: Then he squeezed himself into the chair and arranged his various ridges of stomach.

  'I don't know whether I ought to let you do this,' said, Hadley. 'I don't want the, General to think we're both mad. And for the love of God try to control your deplorable sense of humour. This is serious business.' He massaged his chin uncomfortably. 'You see, General, in his own way Doctor Fell is invaluable. But he gets his ideas of police procedure from the cinema, and he is under the impression that he can act any sort of part. Whenever I let him question anybody in my presence he tries to give an imitation of me. The result sounds like a schoolmaster with homicidal mania trying to find out what fourth-former spread the axle grease on the, stairs when the headmaster was coming down to dinner

  Dr Fell grunted. 'Ha,' he said. 'Your analogy, while classical, supports me rather than you. It seems to me, Hadley, that you are the one who is going about grimly determined to discover who put the barrister's wig on the cabhorse. I'm exactly the detective you want. Besides schoolboys; are much more ingenious than that. Now, an outhouse of medium weight, carefully substituted for the statue of the headmaster on the night before the public unveiling of the latter'

  General Mason shook his head. 'Personally,' he observed, frowning at his cigar, 'I remember my own schoolboy holidays in France. And I have always maintained that there is nothing more edifying than the experiment of placing a red lamp over the door of, the mayor's house in a district full of sailors. Ahem!'

  'Go ahead,' Hadley said, bitterly. 'Have a good time. I suppose if this case hadn't wound up in a murder you'd be stealing hats yourself, and thinking up new places to hang them!'

  There was a knock at the door.

  `Pardon me,' said a calm, slightly edged voice. `I've knocked several times, and there seemed to be no answer. You sent for me, I think.'

  Rampole had been wondering what to expect from the enigmatic Mr Julius Arbor. He remembered Sir William's description earlier that afternoon: 'Reserved, scholarly, a trifle sardonic.' The, American had been vaguely expecting someone tall and thin and swarthy, with a hooked nose. The man who entered now, slowly drawing off his gloves and looking about with cool curiosity, was somewhat swarthy. And in every movement he, was austere. But that was all.

  Mr Arbor was not above middle height, and he was inclined towards pudginess. He was perfectly dressed, too well dressed: there was a white pique edging to the front of his waistcoat, and a small pearl pin in his tie… His face was flattish, with heavy black eyebrows; and the rimless eye-glasses were such delicate shells that they seemed to blend with his eyes.
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  'Am I addressing Chief Inspector Hadley?' he inquired.

  'Good day,' said Dr Fell, waving his hand affably. 'I'm in charge of the investigation, if that's what you mean. Sit down. I presume you're Mr Arbor.'

  Arbor shifted his umbrella from the crook of one arm to hang it over the other; he moved across to the chair, inspected it for dust, and sat down.

  'That's better,' said the doctor. 'Now we can begin.' From his pocket he took his battered cigar-case and extended it. 'Smoke!'

  `Thank you no' the other answered. He waited until Dr Fell had replaced the disreputable, case. Then he produced an elaborately chased silver cigarette-case of his own, containing long and slender cigarettes with a cork tip. Snapping on a silver lighter, he applied it to a cigarette with nicety.

  Dr Fell studied him sleepily, hands folded over his stomach. Arbor seemed to grow a trifle restless. He cleared his throat.

  'I do not wish to hurry you, Inspector,' he said at length, `but I should like to point out that I have been put to considerable inconvenience this afternoon. If you will tell me what you wish to know, I shall be happy to assist you in any way I can?

  Dr Fell nodded. `Got any Poe manuscripts?' he inquired, rather like a customs officer asking for contraband.

  The question was so sudden that Arbor stiffened. A faint frown ruffled his swarthy forehead. 'I don't think I quite understand you. At my home in New York I certainly have a number of first editions of Edgar Allan Poe, and a few of the manuscript originals. But I scarcely think they would be of interest to you. I understand you wished to question me concerning a murder.'

  `Oh, the murder!' grunted Dr Fell, with a careless wave of his hand. `Never mind that.'

  `Indeed?' said Arbor. `I had supposed that the police might have some curiosity concerning it. However, that is none of my affair. I must remark, with Pliny "Quot homines, tot sententiae'.'

  `It wasn't Pliny,' said the doctor, testily. `That's an inexcusable blunder. And if you must use that deplorable platitude, try to pronounce it correctly. The "o" in homines is short, and there's no long. nasal sound to the "en" in sententiae But never mind that. What do you know about Poe?'

  Hadley was making weird noises in the corner. Mr Arbor's flattish face had stiffened; the aura about him conveyed anger.

  `I am not sure,' he said, quietly, `that I know what you are driving at or whether this is an elaborate joke. If so, kindly tell me.?

  'I'll put it this way, then. Are you interested in Poe? If you were offered the authentic manuscript of one of his stories would you buy it?'

  This sudden swoop to the practical put Arbor right again. There was a trace of a smile on his face.,

  `Now I see, Mr Hadley,' he said to Dr Fell. `This tribunal, then, was called because of Sir William Bitton's stolen manuscript. I was a bit puzzled at first.' He smiled again, a mere wrinkle on his pudgy face. Then he considered. 'Yes, I should certainly buy a Poe item if it were offered to me.'

  `H'm, yes. You know there has been a theft at Bitton's house, then?'

  `Oh yes. And you, Inspector, know that I am stopping at Bitton's home. I should say,' Arbor corrected himself, impassively, `I was stopping there. To-morrow I shall remove

  myself to the "Savoy".'

  `Why?'

  `Let's be frank, Mr Inspector. I am aware of what. Bitton thinks. I am not insulted. We must accept these little things. But I dislike awkwardness. You see; or don't you?'

  `Do you know the nature of the manuscript that was stolen?'

  `Perfectly. In point of fact, I had some intention of intending to buy it?

  'He told you about it, then, did he?'

  The flattish face was a polite mask of deprecation. `You know he didn't. But Bitton is like a child, if I may say so. I have heard him let fall enough mysterious hints at the dinner table for even his family to guess the nature of his find. However, I knew all about the manuscript before I left the States.'

  He chuckled. It was the first human, sound Rampole had heard out of him.

  `I dislike commenting on the infantile nature of some of these gentlemen, but I fear Doctor Robertson, who had been Bitton's confidant, was indiscreet'

  Dr Fell thoughtfully took the handle of his stick, which was lying across the desk, and poked at the crossbow bolt. Then he glanced up amiably.

  `Mr Arbor, would you have stolen that manuscript, if you were given the opportunity?'

  Across the room Rampole saw the despairing expression on Hadley's face. But Arbor was not in the least perturbed.

  'No, Inspector, I don't think I would,' he replied. `It would entail so much awkwardness, you see. And I dislike violating hospitality in that fashion. Don't misunderstand me. I have no moral scruples, and it might seriously be questioned as to whether Bitton has any right to it at all.'

  `But suppose somebody offered to sell you that manuscript, Mr Arbor?'

  Arbor took off his delicate eyeglasses and polished them with a white silk handkerchief. He was easy, smug, and half smiling now. The black eyebrows were wrinkled with amusement.

  'Let me tell you a story, Inspector. The police should know; it, to support, my claim in case it is — ah — successful.' Before I came to England I went to Philadelphia and looked up Mr Joseph McCartney, of Mount Airy Avenue, who owns the property on which the manuscript was found. For the fact that it was found there I had the testimony of three honest labouring men. I laid my case with a tolerable degree of frankness before Mr McCartney. He was the owner. I informed him that if he would give me three months' written option on that manuscript, wherever it might be, I would hand him one thousand dollars in cash. There was also — another agreement. It specified that, if the manuscript proved to be what I wanted (the decision to rest with me), I should pay him four thousand dollars for a complete sale.'

  'Actually, Mr Arbor, what is the manuscript worth?' Dr Fell asked, leaning forward.

  `I should be willing to go as high as, say, ten thousand pounds.'

  General Mason, who had been scowling and pulling at his imperial, interrupted. `But, my God! man, that's fantastic! No Poe manuscript… '

  'I venture to predict,' Arbor said, placidly, `that this one would. It is the first analytic detective story in the history of the world. It antedates Poe's own Murders in the Rue Morgue. Dr Robertson informs me that even from an artistic point of view it surpasses Poe's other three Dupin crime tales…, I could name you offhand three fellow collectors who would go as high as twelve or fifteen. And I enjoy thinking what it would fetch at auction — where, I need not tell you, I intend to place it'

  Dr Fell cleared his throat with a rumbling noise.

  `How do you know this? Have you seen the manuscript?'

  'I have the word of Dr Robertson, the greatest living authority on Poe. He only told me all this because — well, Inspector, my wine-cellar is considered excellent. And even Imperial Tokay is cheap at the price. Of course, he regretted his indiscretion next day; he had promised Bitton, and he begged me to take no action. I was sorry.'

  `Then,' said Dr Fell, `it wasn't a mere matter of a find you were interested in? You were after this, manuscript to sell it?

  'It was, my dear Inspector. The manuscript — wherever it is — happens to belong to me. I may remind you. Shall I, go on?'

  By all means'

  `My business with Mr McCartney was easily settled,' Arbor continued comfortably. `He seemed staggered. It was incredible to him that any written document could be worth five thousand dollars. I found in Mr McCartney a great reader of sensational fiction…. My next move — you follow it, Inspector?’

  `You got yourself, invited to Bitton's house,' grunted Dr Fell.;

  `Not exactly. I had a standing invitation there. As a rule, I do not stay with friends when I am in London. I own a cottage in the suburbs, at which I often stay in summer; and in winter I go to a hotel. But, you see, I had to be tactful. He was a friend.

  `I could not, of course, say to him, "Bitton, I think you have a manuscript of mine. Hand it ov
er." That would have been distasteful, and, I thought, unnecessary. I expected him to show me his find voluntarily. Then I would lead up to my subject by gradual degrees, explain the unfortunate " circumstances, and make him a fair offer. '

  `Now, Inspector — and gentlemen — that was difficult. You know Bitton? Ah. I knew him as a headstrong, stubborn, f and secretive fellow; rather a monomaniac on cherishing his discoveries. But I had not expected him to be quite so difficult. He did not speak of his find, as I had expected. For some days I hinted. I thought he was merely obtuse, and I fear my hints grew so outrageously broad that they puzzled even his family. But I am aware now that he must have known, and suspected me. He merely kept his mouth more tightly closed. It was distasteful to me — but I was coming to the point where I should have to claim my rights.' Under the law,' said Arbor, his leisurely voice growing suddenly harsh, `I was not required to pay him a penny for my property.!’

  'The sale had not been concluded between you and Mc Cartney, had it?' inquired Dr Fell.;

  Arbor shrugged. `Virtually. I had my option. Of course, I was not willing to hand over five thousand dollars on a manuscript I had never seen, even on the word of Dr Robertson; and a manuscript, besides, which might conceivably have been lost or destroyed by the time I came to claim it. However, to all intents and purposes it was mine.'

  `Did you tell Bitton you were the owner, then?'

  Arbor's nostrils tightened with anger. `Obviously not. Or would he have been so mad as to do what he did — seek the aid of the police when it was stolen?

  `But before that. Consider the difficulty of my position. I began to see that, if I asked him outright, this — ah — this, lunatic might make all sorts of trouble. He would probably refuse, and question my rights. My rights could be proved; but it would mean delay and, all sorts of unpleasantness. He might maintain he, had lost the manuscript, and that would be worse.'

  Mr Arbor's aura conveyed an acute spasm of anguish at this thought. General Mason coughed, and Dr Fell contrived to twist his moustache with a hand that hid his mouth.