`And at this juncture,' continued the other, `everything blew up. The manuscript was stolen. And I, you notice, I was the loser.
`Now, gentlemen.' He sat back and gazed about, fixing the eye of each in turn. `Now you will understand why I have gone into such thorough explanations, and why I wish to establish the ownership of that manuscript. Bitton undoubtedly thinks I stole it. I am not particularly concerned with what he thinks; but I cannot have the police thinking so.’
`I was away over the week-end during which the manuscript was stolen, and I arrived back only this morning. I was visiting Mr and Mrs Spengler, some friends of mine who live close to that cottage of my own I mentioned, at Golders Green. "Ah," says the cunning Bitton; "an alibi." And he has the impudence to telephone them in order to confirm it. "Ah," he says then; "it was done by somebody in his employ."
`Now, all this might be at least remotely possible in Bitton's wild imagination. But why, in the name of Heaven, should I go to all the trouble of stealing a manuscript which was already mine?'
There was a silence. Hadley, who had perched himself on the edge of the desk, nodded.
`I suppose, Mr Arbor,' he said, `you are prepared to prove this claim of yours?'
`Naturally. An agreement between Mr McCartney and myself was drawn up by my lawyer in New York and duly attested. A copy of this agreement is now filed with my solicitors in London.'
Hadley lifted his shoulders. `In that case, Mr Arbor, there is nothing more to, be said. Sir William simply took a chance that his discovery would go unnoted.' Hadley spoke coldly and levelly. `Even if you had abstracted the manuscript, to avoid trouble at Sir William's hands, the law could do nothing.’
Mr Arbor's aura radiated a sort of sputter, like a muffled wireless-key.
`We'll let that pass,' be observed, with an effort. `The absurdity of your suggestion is as evident as — ah your somewhat noticeable manners. That a man of my well-known standing. 'The aura sputtered again. Then Mr Arbor recovered himself. 'It would amuse some, of my associates in New York,' he said. `Ha, ha. Ha. Very amusing. But, as I think we agreed to begin with, perfectly legal.'
'Not if it concerned.a murder,' said Dr Fell.
There was an abrupt and rather terrible silence.
The doctor had spoken in a casual tone. In the stillness they could all hear the last rattle of coals falling in the grate, and, very faintly, the thin sudden note of a bugle from the parade-ground.
Arbor had been gathering his coat about him to rise, and his hand jerked on the lapel. `I–I beg your pardon?' he said.
`I said, "Not if it concerned a murder,"' Dr Fell repeated in a louder voice. `Don't get up, Mr Arbor. Were going to talk about the murder now. That doesn't surprise you, does it?' His half-closed eyes opened wide. `Don't you know who was murdered, Mr Arbor?' he pursued.
`I–I heard them talking over there,' the other answered, regarding his interrogator fixedly.;'I think I heard somebody say his name was Drakell or Driscoll or something of the sort.'
`The name was Driscoll, Philip Driscoll. He was Sir William Bitton's nephew.'
Whatever sort of effect Dr Fell had hoped to produce, there was no question about an effect. Arbor's swarthy face turned white; literally white, for mottled blotches stood out against; his pallor. The thin eyeglasses jerked on his nose, and he covered them with a shaking hand. Undoubtedly Arbor had a weak heart. The effect was as much physical as nervous.
`You must — you must excuse me, gentlemen, he muttered. His voice grew stronger. `I it was the shock of hearing the name of — somebody — I did know. This — this Driscoll, was he a small young man, with — let me see — with reddish hair?'
`Yes,' said Dr Fell. `You did know him, then?'
'I met him — ah- Sunday before last, at dinner in Bitton's house. It was the day. I arrived. I hadn't caught his last name. They all called him Phil; that's how I remembered. How did he die?'
`He was stabbed with this crossbow bolt,' said Dr Fell, picking it up. `It comes from Bitton's house.'
The other said, `Most interesting — ' in a way that sounded like a horrible burlesque. But he was better now. `I don't want you to think, gentlemen, that I know anything of the poor boy's murder because I seemed — ah — upset when you mentioned it. After all, murderers don't do that, do they? `It would be too easy if they did. A person with courage enough to use one of those vicious-looking things isn't apt to faint when it's produced afterwards.. Bitton… poor devil. Does he know?'
`He knows, Mr Arbor. But about young Driscoll: you can't think of any reason for his murder?'
`My dear sir, no! No, of course not. I only met him once, at that dinner. I haven't seen him since.'
`He was killed, at the Traitors' Gate out there,' pursued Dr Fell, nodding, `and his body thrown on the steps. I don't suppose you noticed anything suspicious while you were there?'
`No. What I — er — wanted to tell you when I first came in was that it was only by chance I was detained here at all. You see, I wanted to examine that copy of Sir Walter Raleigh's History o f the World which is on display at the Bloody Tower, in the room where he wrote it. I arrived here shortly after one o'clock, and went directly to the Bloody Tower. I presented my card to the warder on duty, and asked whether I might make a detailed examination. He said he was sorry, but that it was a part of the Tower exhibits and that I couldn't handle it without a written order from the resident governor or deputy governor. Even then, he said, it was doubtful whether I could get the order. But I asked to be directed to where I might find either one. He sent me across the way… '
`Inside the ballium wall?' Hadley interrupted.
'Yes. To a row of buildings facing up towards; the Green and the parade-ground. But it was foggy, and there were several doors, and I was uncertain. When I hesitated, a man came out of one of the doors.'
`A man in knickerbockers and a cap?' Dr Fell inquired.
`I don't know. Er — yes, I believe he did wear knickerbockers I recall it because they seemed a bit absurd on such a day. But it was foggy, and I could not swear to it. I spoke to him to find out which door I should use, but he brushed past me without listening. Then another warder hailed me and told me that visitors were not permitted on the side of the grounds where I was walking. I explained. He then said he was positive neither of the persons I wanted to see were in their quarters at the time.'
`Quite correct,' said General Mason, dryly.
`But surely, gentlemen!' Arbor protested, wetting his lips, `surely you can't be interested…. You are? Well, let me see. I returned to the Bloody Tower and tried the judicious use of a bank-note. It was not accepted. So I determined to leave. On my way out to Water Lane I collided with a young lady who had just come under the arch of the gate from Water Lane and was walking very rapidly up the incline that goes towards the parade-ground.!
'Could you describe this young lady?'
'No, I'm afraid 'not. I scarcely glanced at her. All I remember is that she was in a great hurry, and that she wore some sort of fur collar, and that she seemed ah uncommonly solid. It gave me a jar when we bumped. My wristwatch was a bit loose, and I thought it had slipped off. Well, I walked through the arch of the Bloody Tower, into Water Lane…. ‘
'Now, Mr Arbor, for the Lord's sake think! Think! Was there anybody near the railing around Traitors' Gate then? Did you see anybody standing there?'
Arbor sat back. `I begin to see the drift,' he answered, nervously. 'I didn't go close to the rail, or look over. But there was nobody standing near it, Inspector. Nobody!'
`And could you remember the time then?'
'I can tell you the time precisely,' said the other. `It was just twenty-five minutes to two.'
9. The Three Hints
It was the placid Hadley who was momentarily jarred out of his calm then. `But look here!' he protested, `the police surgeon said he died at a quarter to….'
'Hold on!' bellowed Dr Fell. He struck the top of the desk such a sharp blow with his cane that the sheet of m
auve notepaper fluttered, off. `That's what I was hoping and waiting for. And to think I never took this man's testimony of the murder before! I nearly passed it up; My friend, I am grateful. I am profoundly grateful… Now, you're absolutely positive of that time, are you?'
`Positive. As I told you, my encounter with the young lady had jarred my watch. I stepped back into the door of the Wakefield Tower to see whether it was in danger of slipping off, and I noted the time just before I walked down to Water Lane.'
`Get out your watches, gentlemen,' rumbled Dr Fell, `and let's compare notes. Eheu! So! it's a quarter past six.
That's what I have, anyhow. What about the rest of you?' `Quarter past six,' said General Mason. `Thirteen and a half minutes past,' said Rampole.
`And I?' concluded Arbor. `Fifteen and one half minutes past, to the second. I never am wrong. This watch was made by…'
`Never mind,' interposed Dr Fell. `We shan't row about half a minute. There is, however, one thing I should like to ask. You said you were on your way out at this time, Mr Arbor. But the murder wasn't discovered until half-past two. How is it you were caught here when the detention order was issued?'
`I left one of my gloves behind, on the railing round the Raleigh first-edition in the Bloody Tower. They're — ah — rather special gloves,' he explained, carelessly. `Carter of Fifth Avenue does them for me, and I have no other pair of exactly this sort.'
General Mason looked pained, and Arbor lifted the shiny grey hat from his lap and indicated the gloves.
`I was all the way to the Strand in my cab before I remembered, and I returned. It was about twenty minutes to three when I arrived, and then I couldn't, get out.'
`I hope that cabby isn't still waiting,' the General mused. `It would be unfortunate,' Mr Arbor, if such an unfortunate witness got his head bashed in. Hold on! Wait! I remember now. There s something I wanted to ask, you.'
`With pleasure.' Arbor frowned. `You are…?'
'I'm the man you wanted to see,' the General replied, with some asperity. `I'm the deputy governor of the Tower. And what's more, sir, I'm damned if I let you paw over that Raleigh book. General Sir Ian Hamilton presented that to us. What was I saying? Oh yes. About the Raleigh. You said you had never seen it. Is this your first visit to the Tower?'
'It is.'
`The reason I asked is that you have all the names down pat. You speak familiarly of "Water Lane", and the Green, and all the rest of it, when you didn't go any farther than the Bloody Tower.'
`Perfectly simple,' said, Arbor, with the air of a detective speaking to his dull-witted assistant. `I dislike, asking directions.' From his pocket he produced one of the green pamphlets. `This little guide, with a map, which I studied before entering the Tower at all, gave me a thorough working knowledge.'
Dr Fell pulled at his moustache.
`I've got just one more question, my friend, and then you are free to go. Are you acquainted with Mrs Lester Bitton, your host's sister-in-law?'
`Unfortunately, no. You see, as I told you, I have never before stopped at Bitton's house. Mr and Mrs Bitton were away when I first arrived. They returned last night. I am told, but I only came back from my week-end this morning, and both were out of the house.'
`You wouldn't recognize her, then, if you saw her?'
`I'm afraid not.'
'Before you go, though,' Hadley suggested, `isn't there something you want to tell us?'
Arbor had risen with almost a shake of relief. He was buttoning his coat slowly, so as not to `seem in a hurry; but he stopped. `Tell you? I don't understand.'
`Any hints, or instructions, Mr Arbor? A valuable manuscript virtually belonging to you has been stolen, you know. Aren't you interested in, recovering it? It would seem that you are very easily diverted from the loss of a ten-thousand pound possession, considering the trouble you took to acquire it. Aren't you making any inquiries at all?'
Arbor, Rampole sensed, had been dreading that question. But he did not immediately speak. He adjusted his hat to a nicety, drew on his gloves, and hooked his umbrella over his arm.
`Just so,' he agreed. `But you are forgetting something. I want no unpleasantness in this matter, gentlemen; I have already outlined my reasons. I prefer not to use the assistance of the police. But I assure you I have not been idle. I have made certain contacts and leads which are — excuse me — not open to you. Good day, gentlemen.'
After he had gone there was a long silence. An expression of malignancy was on General Mason's face. He moved his hands in the air after the fashion of a burlesque hypnotist.
`Hocus-pocus,' he muttered. 'Allagazam. I hope you haven't got any more witnesses, Hadley. That's enough. First hats, and then love-affairs, and now manuscripts; It hasn't helped any. It's only mixed us up worse… What did you make of our aesthete?'
`As a witness,' said Hadley, `he was either too difficult or too easy, at various times. He started off smoothly enough. Then he went, into a complete funk at the mention of the murder. Finally, I'd swear he was, telling the truth when he described what he knew of the happenings here.'
`Meaning?' prompted the General.
'He obviously didn't know it was Driscoll who had been murdered here. At least, he didn't know it was the young chap he'd met at Sir William's. And it nearly knocked him over when he heard. Why?
`Put it this way. Arbor's clever, and he's tricky. He dislikes unpleasantness, because it upsets his own self-conscious dignity; but he has no more courage than a rabbit. You could see that in everything he said. Agreed?'
`Without a struggle,' said the General.
`All right. Now, he tried to make a joke out of the suggestion that he himself might have stolen that manuscript. But when you know Arbor's character, and Sir William's, it isn't quite so fantastic as it sounds. He knew the old man would raise thirty-eight different kinds of hell if he demanded his manuscript. But if the thing were stolen, Sir William could whistle for it. He had no case. Arbor could point all this out to him (by telephone, if necessary) after he'd safely got the manuscript and left the house.'
`I doubt whether Arbor would actually pinch the manuscript himself,' said the General, shaking his head. `He wouldn't dare?
'Wait a minute. Now, he wasn't worried about that theft. He wasn't exerting himself, you see. Well, who might have stolen it for him?'
The General whistled. `You mean…'
`It can't be!' snapped the chief inspector. `It would be too much. But the possibility stares us right in the face. I mean this. Arbor said he talked Poe in that house until even the family began to wonder; broader and broader hints. He also said that with the dark and mysterious hints Sir William constantly let fall, everybody must have known about, the manuscript. Certainly a clever young fellow like Driscoll couldn't', have failed to know it. And. Driscoll was there to dinner when Arbor did much of his talking….'
`Oh, look here!' General Mason protested. `An infernal counter-jumper like Arbor might have done it, of course. But if you're suggesting young Driscoll… Out of the question.'
`I didn't say it was true,' Hadley said, patiently. `But consider, Driscoll was discontented. Driscoll was always short of money. So suppose he takes Arbor aside and says, "Look here, if you happened to find that manuscript under your pillow one morning, what would it be worth to you?",' Hadley raised his eyebrows. `Perhaps Arbor then explained, as he might, that he was really the owner. Perhaps that didn't matter to Driscoll. But, since Arbor would have had to pay some sort of price to the old man if he bought it outright well? It was a good chance for a stroke of business.'
`NO!' boomed a thunderous voice.
Hadley jumped. There had been in that voice not only protest, but a sort of agonized appeal. They all turned to see Dr Fell lumbering to his feet.
`I beg of, you,' he said, almost imploringly — `I beg; and plead with you, whatever else you think of, anything in this case, not to get that absurd idea. If you do, Hadley, I warn you, you'll never, see the truth. Say whatever else you like. Say that
the thief was Arbor, if you like. Say that it was General Mason or Father Christmas or Mussolini. But don't, I entreat you ever for a moment believe it was Driscoll.'
The chief inspector was peevish'. `Well, why not?'
`Cast your minds back a couple of hours. Damn it, where's my pipe? Ah. Well, we were speaking of Driscoll. And Sir William said he wasn't a coward. But one thing he most definitely did fear.'
And that?'
`He feared his uncle,' said Dr Fell. After a pause, while he spilled a considerable amount of tobacco in filling his pipe, he went on wheezily: `Look, here. Driscoll was an improvident sort, with expensive tastes. He lived entirely off his uncle's bounty. He got precious little from what freelance newspaper work he did, and Bitton helped him get along even with that.
'But — Bitton wasn't an' indulgent uncle. Quite to the contrary. He was always quarrelling with his nephew on some point or other. And why? Because he was so fond of him.
He had no son of his own. He had risen from small beginnings, and he wanted to see the boy exhibit some of his own violent energy. And do you think Driscoll didn't know that? Ha!' said the doctor, snorting. `Of course he did. The old man might squeeze the purse strings tighter than a slip knot.' But: Driscoll knew he was the old man's favourite. And when it came to the last. I rather suspect Driscoll figured conspicuously in the old man's will Didn't he, General Mason?'
`I happen to know,' the General said, rather guardedly, `that he wasn't forgotten.'
`So, Hadley, are you really mad enough to think the; boy would have endangered all that? Why, that manuscript was literally Bitton's most cherished possession. You saw how he gloated. If Driscoll had stolen it, and he ever had the faintest suspicion Driscoll had stolen it, out the boy would have gone for ever. You know Bitton's temper and, above all, his stubbornness. And what had Driscoll to gain? At most a few pounds from Arbor. Why should Arbor, a good man of business, give money to a thief for his own property? He would simply smile in that mincing way of his. "A thousand guilders? Come, take fifty! Or I might tell your uncle where you got this manuscript." — No, Hadley. The last thing in the world Driscoll would have done would have been to dare steal it. The person he feared most, I tell you, was his uncle.'
The Mad Hatter Mystery dgf-2 Page 9
