“I admit that I have kept my knowledge of the cure secret from the public, in case the police should find out that I attended William Featherstone in his illness and failed to administer the cure.
“I admit that in the spring of 1924, when I had reached the height of my career as a doctor in Bombay, I fell in love with a girl. I was a fairly old man then; but I was passionately in love with her. An old man always falls in love more desperately than a youth. She was friendly with me until William Featherstone, coming out from England in May, set up as a solicitor in Bombay. She was infatuated with him. I finally decided, when the knowledge of the flower-disease bacillus and the cure came into my hands, to kill him.
“On the morning that William Featherstone died I learned that she, also, had died from pneumonia.
“From that date I tried to atone for my vile deed. I tried to live the life of a true Christian. I spent my money and my affection on Joan Nevinson, giving her the best of everything that money could buy. I did much research and accomplished many secret cures. In Bombay I cured of the flower-disease a young lady named Sanders and a tall man who was her friend. One must have infected the other by natural means. The man’s real name I did not know at the time of his affliction, and in talk with him I let slip the information that I had found the secret of the cure in August, 1924.
“And so my sin discovered me.
“Nine years after the death of William Featherstone, his brother, Konrad Featherstone, came to Bombay in answer to an advertisement. Sealed documents left by his brother were to be handed to Konrad Featherstone, but nine years had passed before Konrad was discovered by his brother's legal representatives.
“After examining those secret papers Konrad Featherstone came to me, and I trembled when I recognized him as the tall man to whom I had brought healing. He told me that his brother, before he died, had scrawled a few words on a scrap of paper, accusing me of murdering him. He told me that, having learned from myself that I was aware of the cure at the time of his brother's death, he had come to the conclusion that his brother's accusation was a true one.
“He showed me the paper left by William Featherstone. The latter stated that he remembered having observed me empty the contents of a phial into a dose of medicine, previous to the first appearance on his legs and face of the pink flowers. I had thought him asleep at the time. He stated also that I had been his rival for a girl.
“In a fit of remorse I admitted the crime to Konrad Featherstone, and the fact that I was aware of a cure for the flower-disease. I put myself at his mercy. He has asked me to write out this statement in return for his silence.”
*
“That’s the lot,” concluded Spike. “What d’you think of it, sir?”
McGonagle and Spring were rather pale. They waited, almost without breathing, for the answer of the Assistant Commissioner.
Sir Percival coughed.
“A very old story,” he remarked. “Blackmail, Spike?”
“I think so. sir. The roots of the McIntee case go pretty far back into the past. ... Isn’t it queer how the old doctor discovered the secret of the flower-disease, when he had in contemplation the death of William Featherstone? Can’t you imagine him wondering, wondering how he could destroy his rival without being found out? And then, just as he has almost given up the idea, he isolates the bacillus and lights upon the perfect mode of murder ... ”
“Temptation,” remarked McGonagle, “always comes at a man’s weakest moment.”
Spike grinned.
“Well said, inspector me bhoy. So it does. And I’m tempted at this time to point out how very much more than fiction fact is like fiction.”
“I shall note down your saying,” murmured the Assistant Commissioner, “and unravel it at my convenience. Continue please.”
“I was goin’ to say,” resumed Spike unabashed, “how very fictional Dr. McIntee’s story sounds. First of all he has nine years in which to repent of his crime. Then, strivin’ to expiate the murder of William Feather-stone, by helping in every possible way sufferin’ humanity, he cures an unknown man and by doin’ so busts up his own alibi. Good Lord! It’s like a Dostoievski tragedy ... and what’s more, Konrad Featherstone turns out to be Stranger alias ‘Black and White’ — ”
“Alias — ” began Spring.
“Hush!” pleaded Spike. “Be artistic, old boy ... As I was tryin’ to point out, Konrad Featherstone is a thoroughly bad hat. He is naturally anxious to avenge his brother: but he bides his time. Before he carries out his revenge he will milk the old boy thoroughly. He will blackmail him, in other words. He will blackmail him until he finds he can do without the help of his brother’s murderer. He makes him type and sign the statement, so that Dr. McIntee will be unable to cheat.”
“Yes,” agreed the Assistant Commissioner, “Konrad Featherstone is a thoroughly bad hat. And I admit that I gave him very little consideration among the list of suspects ... Now, Spike, I think you said you had other discoveries — besides this document — to tell me about?”
Spike nodded.
“With the document — in the japanned box — I found the formulae relative to the flower-disease and its cure. As you know, sir, Simpson and the doctors are workin’ from those formulae at this moment. Ten minutes before you asked to see us, I was workin’ with them. ... The victims of the disease will be on the road to recovery in a few hours ... In the secret cavity of the mantelpiece I discovered, too, a culture of the flower-disease bacillus, swimming in white human blood. I found a false beard. I left those in their places, in case Stranger might take it into his head to flip open the shutter and peer into his hidey-hole ... I scarcely think, however, that he’ll unlock his precious box this evening.”
“It was good work, Spike,” commented Sir Percival. “And you discovered the mantelpiece cavity, of course, in — er — in Stranger’s room at Arundel house?”
“Yes.”
The Assistant Commissioner smiled benignly.
“Now then: you mentioned work done to-day by McGonagle and Spring. What was that work, specifically?”
Spike pretended to frown.
“Isn’t it your turn, sir, to tell us about the cables from the East?”
Sir Percival laughed. McGonagle and Spring had never seen him in such expansive humour. They admired deeply the manner in which Spike handled him.
“You know, Spike,” said the Assistant Commissioner, “there’s something in your suggestion. I’ll play the game. I’ll read you the cable from the Burmese police.”
“It would have to be that one!” grumbled Spike. “At the same time, thank you, sir!”
Fumbling delightedly with his eyeglass, Sir Percival lifted a sheet of paper from his desk.
*
“Here it is,” he said, “INVESTIGATED LIFE-STORY ANDREW FAYNE FATHER KENNETH FAYNE STOP NO CRIMINAL RECORD STOP NO CONNECTION DISCOVERABLE MCINTEE STOP KENNETH FAYNE ISSUE SHORT-LIVED AFFAIR WITH NATIVE WOMAN STOP AS OLDER MAN ANDREW FAYNE OF EXEMPLARY CHARACTER DEVOTED TO SON GAVE HIM EXCELLENT EDUCATION STOP FLOODS RUINED HIS TEA-PLANTATION FOUR YEARS AGO CAUSED HIM DIE OF SHOCK AT SUDDEN POVERTY MESSAGE ENDS.”
“Huh!” said Spike. “Pretty feeble. Kipling this time instead of Dostoievski ... The Bombay report, on the other hand, sir —”
“Ah, yes,” murmured Sir Percival. “The Bombay report is meatier.”
“It says ... ?”
“No, Spike. I’m afraid you won’t get it out of me just yet. I’ve played fair. Given you one of my items of information. Now it’s your turn again ... The turn of McGonagle and Spring, rather.”
“Well, sir,” began the inspector heavily, “on Spike’s suggestion I —”
There was a sudden whirr from the telephone on the desk. The Assistant Commissioner started, leaned forward and put the receiver to his ear.
“Listen, Spike,” he said at last, “this is for you ... From Walsh. He’s phoning from Blaan in Argyllshire.”
“I was expectin’ the message, sir. You
remember I told you I’d taken the liberty of sendin’ Walsh to root out Dr. McIntee’s family history?”
Spike gripped the receiver and pulled the heavy mouthpiece nearer.
“Hullo, Walsh! Got anything?”
The detective’s voice came thin and distorted over miles of sea and land; but the head of Department Q7 recognized easily the ring of triumph which it possessed.
“By Jove! I think I have, sir — er — Spike.”
“Good man! Spill it.”
“As you instructed me, I asked questions in the village here. Everyone knows the history of everyone else’s ancestors since the time of Noah. The McIntee family used to be well known and respected. Dr. McIntee’s father was a blacksmith, his mother a farmer’s daughter. Both were natives of Blaan. They had one child, Abraham McIntee. He spent his schooldays in Blaan. Then the old dominie persuaded his parents to send their clever son to a university. Abraham got a bursary for Glasgow, decided to be a doctor ... That’s all, Spike. And I think you’ll agree that it’s pretty significant. I went to the local registrar of course, and had a look at the register of births, deaths and marriages. I spent four hours to-day studying it. Thing’s quite definite. Abraham McIntee was the only child of Bartholomew and Sarah McIntee. And neither parent had any illegitimate children. No previous or subsequent marriages ... ”
“Oh, well done, Walsh!” Spike’s rather wide mouth was twitching joyfully. “You cottoned on to the idea rather smartly, old scout. Hurry back! You’ve presented us here with the last nail in the murderer’s coffin.”
He snapped down the receiver and gave the news to his companions. Sir Percival smiled slantwise.
“Cast iron,” he murmured. “Cast iron.”
“I know we’ve a cast iron case,” returned Spike suddenly less gay. “But you’ll agree, sir, that the man will probably escape hangin’.”
“Oh, well — yes. I agree. Insanity, eh?”
“Exactly. And in ten years — twenty years — he may be judged sane again. That utter villain may be judged sane. He may be let loose —”
“I scarcely think —”
“Well, sir, perhaps you’re right. The man’s mental state is, after all, none of our business. We’re here to present him to justice.”
McGonagle and Spring glanced narrowly at the head of Department Q7. They perceived in his voice a note of irony. The Assistant Commissioner, however, nodded happily, as if suddenly relinquishing a burden.
“Of course, Spike,” he returned. “We’re not responsible for the man after we lock him up.”
“No,” said Spike.
Sir Percival shifted in vague discomfort. He glanced at the clock and saw that the time was wearing on. It was already half past five. Why was Spike’s talk so deliberately philosophical and slow? The head of Department Q7 was notoriously a lover of his own voice; but on this occasion the Assistant Commissioner almost believed that his expert was trying to waste time.
“But look here, Spike,” he said, “your phone call interrupted McGonagle ... Continue, please, inspector.”
The big Irishman coughed.
“As I was about to say, sir,” he replied, “I visited a phone box and rang up Seale. I learned from him that Fayne was out on a round of professional visits. Then I invited Seale to come at once and speak to me in a little restaurant in Soho. He said he was pretty busy, as they were short-handed in Arundel House, but he promised to meet me in half an hour. Then I went to the home of Miss Senga de Montfiore and persuaded her to ask Lancaster to take her out for lunch. I showed her my card. She agreed to ring up the actor at once and she assured me that she would not let him know of my visit to her. She is a sensible kind of a girl ... The way was now clear for Spike to make his search of Arundel House. I met Seale and put a number of vague questions to him about the night of the murder. I learned nothing new; but I kept him in conversation until I thought Spike would have quitted Arundel House. Then I let him go. Afterwards I went down to the Paternoster Theatre. I made a number of inquiries there, ultimately establishing the fact that the Hon. Miss Nancy Sanders was a member of the Othello audience on the evening before the murder. The barman, not previously interrogated by the police, remembered having seen her drink a gin and ginger during the interval ... That’s my story, sir.”
“I see ... What about your discovery, Spring?”
“It was something I remembered, sir —”
Spike waved a lean hand.
“Isn’t it your turn, sir, to read the Bombay cablegram?”
The Assistant Commissioner shook his head.
“Dear me!” he chuckled. “The man will have his pound of flesh ... Well, then: here it is. I’ll read it to you.
*
“REQUESTED INVESTIGATION COMPLETE STOP MCINTEE HIGHLY RESPECTED MEMBER BOMBAY SOCIETY TWENTY-SEVEN YEARS KEEN STUDENT EASTERN DISEASES STOP FRIEND NEVINSONS KILLED DHULIA RAILWAY DISASTER TOOK DAUGHTER JOAN NEVINSON AS WARD STOP SEALE DEVOTED SERVANT CLEAN RECORD STOP FROM 1933 MCINTEE HAD STRANGE ASSOCIATION ONE KONRAD FEATHERSTONE STOP KONRAD FEATHERSTONE SUSPECTED MEMBER WHITE-SLAVE GANG BUT NO DEFINITE EVIDENCE SUSPECTED DEALINGS UNDER ALIAS STRANGER WITH THREE CRIMINALS MEXICO MADGE ITALIAN GEORGE PETER PASSOS BUT AGAIN NO DEFINITE EVIDENCE STOP KONRAD FEATHERSTONE HAD AS CONSTANT COMPANION GIRL NAMED SANDERS BELIEVED MEMBER LONDON SOCIETY STOP GIRL LEFT BOMBAY AFTER ILLNESS FEATHERSTONE ENTERTAINED AS NEPHEW BY MCINTEE STOP KONRAD FEATHERSTONE BELIEVED TO BE AN ACTOR MCINTEE HOUSEHOLD KNEW HIM UNDER STAGE NAME MERVYN LANCASTER MESSAGE ENDS.”
*
“Well, well!” said Spike. “The Bombay police certainly found out a thing or two. Lancaster would scarcely think they’d discovered so much of his past history ... ”
CHAPTER XXV
THE Assistant Commissioner looked at the clock. It was now after six.
“Don’t you believe,” he said tentatively, “that McGonagle and Spring should go now and make the arrest? I’ve the warrant here.”
Spike’s eyebrows went up.
“I’d thought, now that we have the evidence complete, of summarizin’ the whole case as it appears in the light of our discoveries ... After all, there’s no chance of Lancaster makin’ a getaway. He’s quite unsuspicious. The plain-clothes men are keepin’ an eye on him. And why deprive the Paternoster Theatre of another night of Othello? Mad or sane, Lancaster is a magnificent actor ... ”
“Oh. very well, then.” Sir Percival inclined his head. “But I've never seen you so reluctant to get your man.”
“Old age creeps on,” murmured Spike. “I’m becomin’ lazy, sir.”
“Tell that to the ducks! But come, my dear Spike, let us hear the full tale of your feats of deduction. I am aware already of a few.”
The room was quiet for a moment. McGonagle and Spring kept their eyes on Spike. The head of Department Q7 was in no hurry to begin, and it seemed as if he were marshalling his thoughts. At last, however, he spoke with deliberation.
“I must thank a talk I had with Miss Nevinson,” he explained, attempting to keep the colour from rising to his cheeks, “for leading me to the conclusion that Lancaster must be ‘Black and White’. We were discussin’ the Hon. Nancy. Miss Nevinson said that Lancaster had told her of my association some time ago with the daughter of the Naval Minister. Now, as you know, the general public could never have known of my pretended friendship with the Hon. Nancy. The Yard knew. Presumably the Hon. Nancy’s most intimate friends knew. But she would never tell the story — of which, no doubt, she had cause to be ashamed — to a casual acquaintance. Lancaster, therefore, must have been an intimate friend of the Hon. Nancy, for he would not learn of my association with the girl from Scotland Yard ... And by this stage of the case we were fairly certain that the Hon. Nancy had been an accessary before the fact of the murder.
“Our reasons for this belief were numerous.
“One, she was a shady character.
“Two, she had called once, accordin’ to the evidence of Seale, at Arundel House.
“Three,
she had a tiny scar on her neck, which, it occurred to me, might have been caused by an operation to rid her of the flower-disease — an operation bringin’ her into contact with Dr. McIntee and the murderer. (As we may infer from Dr. McIntee’s confession, she was actually Lancaster’s mistress and while they were in Bombay the actor probably infected her, quite unwittingly, with the disease.)
“Four, among the flowers scattered over the library and dead body of Dr. McIntee there were discovered blooms of the ‘Lady Charlotte Hamilton’ rose — a rare specimen to be found only in half-a-dozen gardens in England, one of which is the garden of Sanders Grange.
“Five, she had bought, as Spring learned from Allbert the Piccadilly florist, spikes of spiraea and a few blooms of hollyhock on the day previous to the murder. She had sent those to Dr. Fayne, with a card enclosed stating that they were an offerin’ from ‘a grateful patient.’
“Six, Fayne denied point-blank that he had ever known the Hon. Nancy, and when I visited her the same afternoon at Sanders Grange she gave a very lame explanation of her action in sending the flowers to the doctor. It looked, therefore, as if she were trying, on the instructions of the murderer, to make the police suspect an innocent man.
“Seven, she admitted later that she had something to tell me and made an appointment with me at Harpagon’s for the evening.
“Eight, she was murdered before she could speak to me.
“In parenthesis, I may put forward the theory that she phoned up Lancaster shortly after my visit, to give him a chance to escape — after all, she was his mistress — and thereby signed her own death warrant. You will remember Seale stating that Lancaster received a phone message late on Wednesday afternoon — a phone message, however, which Lancaster was able to identify as a call from his theatre, but which was probably that from the Hon. Nancy.
“Now, then, I had got a start. I had established to my own satisfaction that Lancaster was an intimate friend of the Hon. Nancy, and Lancaster had not revealed that he had knowledge of her existence. Suspicion was definitely directed against him.
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