“But considering it was Mrs. Stratton,” Roger added shrewdly, “I shouldn’t be surprised if she wasn’t in the sun-parlour at all. It would have been far more typical for her to have been out on the cold, cold roof, pretending to commit suicide by pneumonia, and praying for someone to come up and catch her at it, for a little more glorification.”
“Now, you’re at your guesswork again.”
“Oh, admittedly. But if you’re going to call every theory guesswork, even when I can argue it from observed facts and reasonable inferences, we’re not going to get much further.”
“No, no. I won’t do that. But I would like to hear a little more evidence to support your theories. I don’t deny that you’ve put up quite a possible case against Chalmers, but it all depends on one thing, doesn’t it? And that is that he did it before he went out on that call.”
Roger considered. “Yes, that’s right. The time of death shows that she must have died within half an hour at most of leaving the ballroom, and Chalmers was away an hour. Yes, if he did it, it must have been before he went.”
Colin heaved himself up in his chair, stretched, and grinned.
“Well, I didn’t say anything before, because I didn’t want to spoil your fun; but I’m afraid your case falls to the ground, Roger. I’m willing to bet you five pounds to a sixpence that Chalmers went out on that call before Mrs. Stratton ever left the ballroom at all. What do you say to that?”
Roger’s face fell. “Oh! My goodness, yes, I believe you’re right Colin. You would be, of course. Yes, I remember distinctly. She only began saying she wanted to go home after Chalmers had gone out, and that was what led up to the scene. Dash you, Colin, that seems to have scuppered it.”
“Ah!” said Colin complacently.
“Does it, though? Wait a minute. It was only because of the time of death that I said Chalmers must have done it before he went out. Supposing the presumed time of death isn’t correct. It’s Chalmers’s own word we’ve got for that you see, and if it suited him he could have pronounced a false time of death quite easily.”
“No, you’re wrong again, Roger. Mitchell supported him.”
“He did?”
“Yes, they were talking about it up here while you were downstairs with the inspector.”
“Oh !” Roger considered.
“But that might have been a case of unconscious suasion, Colin,” he went on eagerly. “I should think that a second doctor is always prejudiced in favour of the opinion of the one who made the examination first. Mitchell knows Chalmers is a sound man; he’d be perfectly ready to accept Chalmers’s opinion, especially in a matter like this, where there’s a certain amount of latitude.
“Yes, the more I think of it, the more it fits in. The point may be a small one, but Chalmers has been gently rubbing his alibi into all of us, hasn’t he? I remember now, he took the very first opportunity of mentioning to me that the ballroom scene occurred after he’d been called out. It may have been quite a natural thing to say; but it may equally have been rather gratuitous.
“And look,” Roger continued quite excitedly, “how quickly he got here after Ronald telephoned. He does live nearer than Mitchell, it’s true. But why hadn’t he gone to bed? He must have been home very nearly an hour—three-quarters, at any rate. Three-quarters of an hour, at that time in the morning, and he hasn’t even gone to bed. Or, apparently, undressed. Doesn’t that look as if he might have been waiting for the telephone call which he knew very well would come? Obviously he wanted to get here first, before any other doctor or the police, to have a good look at the body in the light, and remove any possibly suspicious or incriminating traces. Well? Isn’t that all perfectly reasonable?”
“Ach, come now, Roger,” Colin shook his head. “Your case against Chalmers won’t hold water, and you can’t twist it into doing so.”
“Perhaps you still believe I’m the man?” Roger asked unpleasantly.
“I wouldn’t be surprised. Though if you say not, I’ll help you look for another. But Chalmers won’t do. He won’t do at all.”
“I still think he’s got a lot to explain away,” Roger said obstinately. “Yes, I’d very much like to ask friend Chalmers a few questions. No, it’s no good shaking your head like a mantelpiece mandarin; there is a case against Chalmers. If he is the man, we can assume that he could cook the time of death to make it appear that Mrs. Stratton was dead half an hour before he got back to the house, can’t we? Can’t we, Colin?”
“Yes; but wait a minute, Roger. I …”
“No, you wait a minute. Well, if we can assume that, there’s a very big hole in his defence. In that case the theory is that he came back from his visit, and instead of coming into the ballroom to the rest of us, went straight up to the sun-parlour to get his pipe. Then everything else as before. He knows he’s pretty safe, because not a soul has seen him go up on the roof. Well, all he’s got to do then is to wait till the coast is clear, run downstairs again, and then walk up, singing loudly, and announce himself. And he could know when the coast was clear because the roof-door can’t be seen from the bar-room or the landing. He’d, only have to slip inside it and wait. How’s that?”
“Oh, very neat, no doubt; but listen to me. I—”
“No, you listen to me. Therefore, the objection you made just now has no point, and the case against Chalmers remains as strong as ever it did. Stronger, if anything. And what’s more, it may be quite easy to test it. All we’ve got to do is to find out where that call of his came from, and then very gently and subtly get to know at what exact time Chalmers left there to come back here. Of course they may not—”
“Will you listen to me, Roger!” Colin shouted. “I’ve just thought of something.”
“Well done, Colin,” Roger said kindly.
“It’s your theory that whoever killed Mrs. Stratton held her up with one arm and pulled the noose round her neck with the other. That’s right, isn’t it?”
“Certainly. For a strong man …”
“Never mind about your strong men. That’s how you say Chalmers did it, and he couldn’t have done it any other way?”
“Yes. Well?”
“He couldn’t, for instance, have done it without using both arms?”
“No. What about it? — Oh …” said Roger in a dying kind of voice.
“Exactly,” Colin cried, with tactless triumph. “Why Roger, man, where were your eyes? You know as well as I do that Chalmers has a dud arm. He couldn’t have held a fly with it that didn’t want a noose round its neck, let alone a great strapping wench like Mrs. Stratton. Now perhaps you’ll have the sense to admit that whoever did it, Chalmers couldn’t? Will you?”
“Dash you, Colin,” said Roger, annoyed, “must you rub it in?”
He tried to look on the bright side. At any rate, the discussion had not been totally useless. Chalmers, as well as David Stratton, was now eliminated.
But at this rate it looked like being a long job.
Colin was lighting a fresh cigarette.
“Well, Roger,” he said, “you’ve got to show me.”
“Show you what?”
“That it wasn’t you who strung up Mrs. Stratton,” Colin said calmly.
CHAPTER X
THE CASE AGAINST DAVID STRATTON
I
In spite of Roger’s prophecy, he and Colin did get to bed that night, some time after five o’clock. When Roger got down the same morning Colin had already breakfasted. The women and Williamson had not yet appeared. Roger was rather annoyed that he had got up so early.
Ronald Stratton found him in the dining-room, toying in a somewhat disaffected way with a tired-looking egg and some bacon.
“Look here, Roger, I don’t know if you were thinking you ought to hurry away this morning, but I don’t want anyone to go unless they really prefer. I don’t think there’s the least need, and though the police haven’t definitely said so, I think they’d rather that the party remained here intact till tomorrow.”
“The body was taken away this morning, to my brother’s house,” Ronald explained. “The inspector gave permission.”
“Oh, I see. That was very quick, wasn’t it, for a Sunday morning?”
“Very. David made the arrangements himself. I offered to let her stay here till the funeral, considering the boy and everything, but David thought better not.”
“And the inquest?”
“Eleven o’clock tomorrow morning, here. I rather think the police will want you to give evidence.”
“Yes. The inquest’s to be here, is it? Then wouldn’t it have been more convenient in that case for…?”
“For Ena to stop here? Yes, I should have thought so, but David imagined it might upset my arrangements for you people.”
“I see. That was very thoughtful of him. Is he…?” Roger appeared to himself to be putting most of his questions in the form of dots.
“Is he all right? Oh, yes, perfectly. It’s an open secret between ourselves that Ena’s death is just nothing but a huge relief—to him more than to anyone else. But, of course, we don’t want to advertise the fact at the inquest.”
“No, of course not. The police hadn’t gone, by the way, when I went to bed this morning. I suppose they’re perfectly satisfied?” said Roger in a casual voice, helping himself to another cup of coffee.
“Oh, quite. Here, let me do that. After all, why shouldn’t they be?”
“Why, indeed? But you seemed a little worried last night about the nature of the party.”
Ronald smiled. “Yes, I’m afraid I kept quiet about that. I just said that some of the guests were in fancy dress. I don’t think it’s likely to come out before the inquest; but if it does, I really can’t help it. After all, we’re not children. One can’t be expected to take precautions against the word ‘murderer,’ or the sight of a gallows suggesting someone into suicide, can one?”
“Not really, but you must anticipate a possible howl from the sensational press if it does come. It sounds like jam for them. ‘Morbid Amusements at House-Party’ ‘Ghoulish Jests Lead to Tragedy.’”
Ronald made a grimace. “Yes, I know. It all rather depends on the coroner. Luckily, I know him pretty well, and he’s quite a decent fellow.”
“Then you ought to be fairly safe. But you’ll have to explain away the gallows, in any case. How are you going to do that?”
“The gallows,” said Ronald with a grin, “were a subtle compliment to the presence among us of the Great Detective.”
“In dam’ bad taste, I’ve no doubt. Were the police shocked?”
“Not so much as I expected. In fact, the inspector was really rather amused, I think. If anything though, of course he had to hide it. He’s a good chap.”
“Well, well.”
“Hullo,” said Ronald. “Wasn’t that the telephone? Excuse me a minute.”
He was away for some minutes.
“Margot,” he explained briefly, “wanted to know how we all were this morning, so I broke the news.”
“I shouldn’t imagine she was very distressed to hear it?”
“No,” Ronald smiled. “She seemed a little more agitated than I’d have expected, but I suppose that was the surprise.”
“And your sister?” asked Roger. “How’s she this morning?”
“I haven’t had her disturbed. The poor girl was quite whacked. She practically collapsed while the inspector was interviewing her, and I had to call down Agatha to help me get her to bed. She hadn’t anything of the least importance to tell the police, of course, so it didn’t really matter. I shall keep her in bed till lunch.”
“Yes, I should,” said Roger mechanically, and took another piece of toast.
II
Roger found Colin smoking his morning pipe in the rose garden.
“Ah, Roger,” Colin greeted him; and added, a little pointedly, “How did you sleep?”
“My guilty slumbers were perfectly sound, thank you,” Roger replied coldly. “I hope your position as accessory after the fact didn’t interfere with yours?”
“Nothing could have interfered with them last night,” Colin said simply. “I wonder why Ronald built his rose garden just like a ruined Roman temple?”
Roger looked round. The sunken oval of lawn in the centre, surrounded by a wide, raised bed within little walls of red brick and enclosed by tall brick columns beyond to carry the ramblers, did look like a ruined Roman temple. At the moment, however, Roger was not interested in Roman temples.
“I couldn’t tell you, Colin.” He seated himself in the sun on the brick parapet. “Look here, when I left you and David last night by the bar, to go up on the roof (a thing I wish most sincerely now that I’d never done), what happened to the two of you? When I came down you weren’t there. In fact, that room was empty. Had you gone back to the ballroom?”
Colin made the face of one trying to chase an elusive memory. “I’m not sure. Why? Are you still on the trail, Roger?”
“I am,” Roger said grimly. “And that’s your fault. So kindly rack those things of yours you call brains, and answer my question.”
Colin thoughtfully scratched the top of his slightly bald head. “Deuce take it, I don’t know. Does it matter?”
“Of course it matters. I want to trace the movements of every single person with a motive for Mrs. Stratton’s death, from the time the woman left the ballroom till the time David came back to say she hadn’t gone home.”
“The devil you do. That’s not an easy job. Well, I’ll do my best for you. Wait now, and let me think again.”
Roger waited, fiddling with a wireworm which had been illegally investigating the roots of one of the rose-bushes.
“If you kept still,” said Colin, “I might have a chance to think.”
Roger kept still.
“I believe I’ve got it! I went back to the ballroom—yes, that’s how it was, because I remember Lilian asking me how wee David was, and I said I thought the drink had done him good. Yes, I went back to the ballroom, and David didn’t.”
“Where did David go?”
“How on earth should I know?”
“But we must know. Can’t you see how important it is? “Roger said excitedly. “Did he go up on the roof?”
“Why should he do that?”
“Look here, Colin,” Roger said patiently, “is it lack of sleep that’s made you this way this morning, or are you deliberately trying to be obstructive? Can’t you see that after I came down, someone went up on the roof, and that someone killed Ena Stratton?”
“After you came down. Yes. Well? Who was it?”
“That’s what I’m asking you. Because can’t you see, too, that of all the people who had motives for putting Mrs. Stratton out of the way, her husband had the biggest? So far as motive goes, David Stratton is it.”
III
“No, no, no. You’ll not persuade me. It’s no good, Roger. No good at all. You’ll never persuade me that wee David strung his wife up on that gallows.”
“Colin, will you talk sense,” said Roger, exasperated. “I’m not trying to ‘persuade’ you. I’m only asking you to consider the possibility, and then see if there’s any evidence to support it. We must keep open minds if we’re to get anywhere in this job at all. You’re just one lump of prejudices.”
“David wouldn’t have the heart to squash a slug.”
“I can quite believe that several people who hadn’t the heart to squash slugs have found they had the heart to commit murder.”
“Ach, come now, Roger. Do you mean to tell me you consider that wee David a potential murderer?”
“Most certainly I do, and all criminological history supports me—as you ought very well to know. David Stratton’s just exactly the type that does commit murder.”
“I thought you were saying last night that Chalmers was? They’re as different as—as—”
“Ch
alk from cheese. Yes, of course they are. Don’t be so dense, Colin!” Roger thumped the brick parapet beside him, and hurt his hand. “Can’t you see the difference in what I’m suggesting for them? Chalmers could never possibly commit a murder on his own behalf; David Stratton couldn’t conceivably commit one for somebody else. But Jonathan Chalmers can be imagined as doing for his David what he wouldn’t do for himself; and David, as I said, is own brother to hundreds of excellent, long-suffering husbands married to domestic pests, who just couldn’t stand it any longer and reached for the meat-chopper.”
“Well, I’ll be fair with you,” Colin conceded. “I’ll grant you that. Crippen.”
“Crippen, precisely. A charming little man, driven completely off his balance by that terrible wife of his. Though in his case of course there was the extra motive in—
“Colin!” Roger stared at the other with sparkling eyes.
“What’s the matter now?”
“I happen to know that David’s in love with another woman. My goodness, and he had motive enough without that.”
“How do you know?”
“I was told, last night. As a matter of fact someone let it out, I needn’t say who. But I’d stake my income on its truth.”
“Now see here, Roger,” Colin said, not without heat, “I’m not going on with this. If you’re going to try to fasten it on that poor chap, I’m not going on with it, and that’s flat.”
“You didn’t in the least mind it being fastened on me, though,” Roger said bitterly.
“You fastened it on yourself. But if you’re going to prove that David did it, then let’s not do anything of the kind. I don’t want to know if he did or he didn’t; but if he did, in heaven’s name let’s leave him in peace. He must have been goaded pretty far.”
“Ah, so you’re beginning to admit the possibility?”
“I just don’t want to have anything more to do with it.”
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