by Paul Halter
Twist shot the inspector a mischievous glance.
‘And here I must confess, Hurst, that you were a great help.’ The inspector puffed out his chest, despite being perplexed. ‘Thanks to you throwing one of my envelopes onto the fire and then spilling tea on my tablecloth, I found the solution to that particular puzzle, which was staggeringly simple.
‘Let’s pose the problem another way: what could have affected the peaceful great-uncle Harvey in such a way that his heart gave out? His death threats are also very significant… Do you still not see? Come, come, my friends, there’s only one possibility: a member of his family, tired of his eccentricities, decides to destroy all his manuscripts by making a huge bonfire of them. Can you imagine the shock? The work of so many years, so many sleepless nights, his life’s work burning before his eyes! Try to put yourself in the place of that poor, unfortunate man coming back to his room to find his entire life’s work going up in flames!
‘We know from Brian that Harvey kept a supply of water in his room to help him replenish the large glass he used to concentrate his thoughts. Water, which he uses in vain to try and extinguish the roaring flames. Not a single trace of the manuscripts remains in the grate. The carpet, on the other hand, on which he’d splashed a lot of water in his attempts to fight the fire, is wet. Our man is heartbroken, literally by the mortal blow administered by one, if not all, of his relatives.
‘Mad with pain, impotent rage and vengeful fury, he rushes to the door, where he collapses in front of the others who arrive and see him there on the floor. He finds the strength to put a curse on them and threaten that they will perish in the same way they have sinned, that is to say, by fire. I don’t expect those responsible had wished for him to die, but that’s what had happened. An awkward situation. Very awkward.
‘They hastily remove all the ashes from the grate, which could betray what they’d done, but they can’t remove the wet patch on the carpet. That will be seen later by the maid, but the family won’t mention it, for obvious reasons. And that’s all there is to say about that event.
‘Now let’s move on to Brian’s predictions. There’s no doubt the man possesses some sort of gift, which I don’t wish to disparage. There are too many troubling testimonies. From my long experience, I believe that most clairvoyants are fine psychologists and remarkable observers who have found a way to exploit those qualities for money. Brian’s case is different. It’s more of an instinct, that’s to say his senses are very sharp, but he doesn’t do any analysis, simply storing away scores of little details about each person who consults him. Women, for example—.’
‘Here we go. Why not say we’re all idiots?’ protested Bessie.
Dr. Twist smiled and said gently:
‘I’d call that female intuition, dear Miss Bessie. But back to Brian. One thing that’s easy to notice, whether one’s clairvoyant or not, is budding love. The two principals are not even aware of it themselves, more often than not. But there’s a special atmosphere about them which any sensitive person can detect.
‘So that if someone announces that the two turtledoves are soon going to experience great love, that in itself creates the opportunity for them to confess their love because it’s written in the stars. What do you think, Miss Blount?’
Bessie responded with a cynical shrug of her shoulders and a slight nod of agreement.
‘So much for the first prediction,’ continued Twist, bucked up by the reaction. ‘The second one, announcing a misfortune to befall Harris Thorne, is likewise perfectly understandable in view of the circumstances. Brian is convinced that his great-uncle’s room is cursed and that its reopening will bring on a terrible cataclysm. So when his brother announces he’s going to turn it into a study, it’s hardly surprising that Brian warns him. Not to have done so would have been more of a surprise, quite frankly. At that point in time we know that relations between Harris and his wife were already stormy and they frequently had violent quarrels. At the centre of the debate was Dr. Meadows, whom the master of the house suspected of trying to seduce Sarah. All of which created considerable tension, and what was inevitably due to happen, happened.
‘The other day, my friend Hurst observed that: “To see or not to see, that is the question.” Judicious words because, while we were all lost in conjecture about what must have frightened Sarah Thorne to such a point, she hadn’t in fact, seen anything at all. She’d stared at the carpet and she’d seen nothing. It’s been proven that there was nobody in the room at that moment. Nobody, absolutely nobody. I won’t burden you with all the theories that went through my mind as I tried to prove the contrary, explaining how an intruder could have got out of there. I thought of a dozen ways, but none of them satisfactory. So I started to examine the only hypothesis left: Sarah hadn’t in fact seen anything. So, then, why had she fainted? I could only think of one explanation: she was expecting to see something in that spot, but it wasn’t there any more. Needless to say, it would have to be something of crucial importance: a question of life or death.’
Twist stopped to pick up a folder from the coffee table and pull out a sheet of paper.
‘This summarises everyone’s movements during that tragic evening. And there’s something on here which has never been cleared up. At 9.05, Sarah Thorne and you, Miss Blount, are walking near the front gate of the property when you see an unidentified person who flees. Is there anyone here who can shed light on this?’ asked Twist, staring hard at Patrick.
‘It was I,’ confessed Blue Reed, turning scarlet. ‘But I swear it’s of no importance, at least as far as it concerns any of this business. I…we…no importance.’
Dr. Twist gave a half-mischievous, half-tender smile which briefly cheered Paula up. Then he continued:
‘These notes were taken last year and already, at that time, something struck me. Something jumped out at me. Listen. “8.00… Noises of quarrel upstairs start to be heard.” That would be Harris and Sarah, who were upstairs in the study. Everyone heard them. Then: “8.30… The loud noises have stopped.” Shortly after that: “8.45 The Thornes go out. They’ve hardly left when the quarrel starts again. Mrs. Thorne returns overwrought and goes to salon. Husband rushes in and goes upstairs.”
‘No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t think of any explanation for such behaviour. They quarrel for half an hour, make up for the next quarter of an hour, go out without saying a word, and hardly has the door closed behind them when they start again. They haven’t had time to exchange one word and the dispute starts again, even worse. But nobody explodes from one second to the next, except in the theatre, and even then… To be frank, I found such behaviour to be very suspicious and… theatrical is the word. By the way, let me remind you that a wig and a false beard, both red, had disappeared from Sarah’s theatrical accessories.
‘But I’m not going to leave you in suspense as to what really happened. The quarrel between the Thornes stops suddenly at half past eight. Tragically, as it happens. Harris is a violent man, but Sarah doesn’t allow herself to be bullied. He shakes her, she pushes him away. He falls down. His head hits the base of the fireplace. Dead. The doctors who examine the body later put the time of death as just before nine. They’re mistaken, of course, their diagnosis having been affected by the fact that Harris Thorne had been seen alive at ten minutes to nine.
‘At the time of the accident, Francis is roaming around upstairs. He goes into the study and realises straight away what’s happened. He also understands that his sister’s situation is far worse than it seems. Harris is a rich man, very rich. Sarah, on the other hand, is from a far more modest background and her recent marriage has made her aware of the advantages of a large fortune. A marriage too recent, in fact, for anyone to accept without question the assumption of an unfortunate accident. And the rumours about a possible affair between his sister and Meadows don’t help matters. To cap it all, the couple’s constant fighting is widely known. In a word, the fabulous inheritance due to his sister might not go to her at
all. And in that case, he wouldn’t see any of it either.
‘Needless to say, all those thoughts race through Francis’s mind in less time than it takes to tell. And he finds the answer: if Sarah has an alibi, her version of the accident will be accepted without objection. Therefore, she has to have an alibi. Admittedly, the one he’s about to create from scratch in mere minutes might not hold water, but with such a prize at stake, it’s worth trying. He sends Sarah away to find the red wig, the false beard and one of the deceased’s blue jackets. The illusion he’s about to create has every chance of succeeding. All that’s needed is for people to see a mane of red hair and a blue jacket, which will immediately make them think of Harris. The plan is simplicity itself: to prove that Harris is still alive at that moment. From then on, and until the discovery of the body, Sarah has to be in the company of one or more trustworthy witnesses. And the body must be found as soon as possible. Sarah must therefore go back up to the study under the watchful eye of several witnesses.
‘At a quarter to nine, Sarah and her “husband” appear to leave the manor. They link arms and press against each other, in order for people to catch no more than a glimpse of the false Harris. Once outside, Sarah simulates a new quarrel, complete with loud cries, in order to give her a reason to return alone to the salon and join the others—after which “Harris” is seen crossing the hall rapidly. So far, so good. But then things start to get tricky. Brian decides to follow him—at a discreet distance, luckily for Francis. Brian calls out to him and we can understand why Francis doesn’t answer. As he enters the study, he knows he’s only got a few seconds to dispose of the body. The only solution is to throw it out of the window. When Brian enters, he sees the false Harris leaning out of the window, breathing heavily like a man beside himself with rage. Brian, too distressed to notice the trickery, leaves. And we can imagine Francis’s deep sigh of relief. He’s had a narrow escape and now he must think. The body is below the window at present. Which is not such a bad thing. Harris, in one of his many fits of jealousy, has finally committed suicide by throwing himself out of the window. It’s actually more believable than if he’d been found in front of the fireplace as originally planned. The fireplace… Catastrophe! Blood on the edge of the stone! He quickly fetches some water to clean it up.’
‘The water on the carpet,’ murmured Bessie.
‘That’s right,’ agreed Dr. Twist. ‘You can imagine the scene. There’s no time to lose. Water’s sprinkled around the spot, it gets scrubbed vigorously and then wiped down with the first piece of cloth which comes to hand to remove the moisture… but the carpet inevitably stays wet.
‘After all that effort, our impromptu house cleaner escapes via the spiral staircase and the service exit, so as to inspect the body and arrange it in such a way as to give credibility to the idea of a fall. Luckily, the stones from the rock garden are to hand, and one of them will be used to inflict a second mortal wound to Harris’s temple. Francis hasn’t forgotten about Sarah, who will soon find the study empty, but that shouldn’t pose too much of a problem. She’ll be surprised, of course, but that’s all. He thinks about Paula as well, who’s been gone for quite some time. He wanders about the property shouting her name. As luck would have it, he finds her just as she’s climbing over the railings by the entrance gate and….’ Twist coughed and Patrick smiled wanly.
‘But that’s of no importance. Let’s go back to Sarah, who enters the study at a quarter past nine in the company of Dr. Meadows and Miss Blount, fully expecting to emit horrified shrieks upon discovering her husband in the place where he’s supposed to be. Sarah, who’s begun the day with a heart murmur, who’s still affected by the quarrel with her husband—whom she’s just killed accidentally almost an hour earlier—and who’s gathering all her strength to play a sensitive and difficult role. She opens the door and… horror of horrors: she doesn’t see anything! Her husband’s body, which should have been lying in front of the fireplace, has disappeared! Need I say more?’
‘No,’ mumbled Redfern. ‘Looked at from that point of view, everything seems clear.’
Hurst nodded his agreement with intense satisfaction. For once in his career, he wasn’t the one playing student to Twist’s teacher.
‘So much for the first act of the drama,’ continued Dr. Twist. ‘As the burial arrangements for Harris are being prepared, Francis’s little grey cells are working overtime. His sister’s now rich, but what does the future hold for him? Such a beautiful woman won’t remain a widow for long. And when she remarries, who knows what’ll happen? His twisted mind soon conceives a Machiavellian plan. His sister has to die before her second wedding, so that her fortune will revert to Francis and his parents—which is to say him, in practice. I won’t reveal the key to his sinister plan right now—Mr. Nolan will take care of that in a few minutes—all you need to know for the moment is that it required a small amount of preparation in the days following his brother-in-law’s death and a bit of regular maintenance afterwards.
‘The perfect crime he prepared is well worthy of such a description, for several reasons. Sarah’s death wouldn’t arouse any suspicion—as we’ve already seen. He wouldn’t run much of a risk before the fatal day, even if he were to be caught in the act. Nor afterwards, either. He might have difficulty justifying his actions, but in the eyes of the law it wouldn’t constitute a criminal offence. A perfect crime, then, but one which, curiously, isn’t enough to satisfy him. He wants to confuse the situation in a masterly fashion by arranging for his sisters’ forthcoming death to be announced by means of one of Brian’s notorious predictions. And in the meantime, he’ll amuse himself by reinforcing Brian’s reputation as a prophet. Give Francis his due: Brian’s predictions, following on those of Harvey, did muddle the case to such a degree that we didn’t know which way to turn in the face of such an avalanche of mysteries. Needless to say, he’ll also exploit the reputation of the “madman’s room,” not forgetting the detail of the wet carpet. In its way, it’s a masterpiece of misdirection, and Sarah’s death—a natural death, albeit caused by a diabolical machination—will seem perfectly understandable. She’ll be the tree hidden in the forest. The question to consider now is how Francis managed to lead Brian to make such prophecies.
‘And that takes us to the second act, which begins as soon as Francis learns that Sarah and Meadows have fallen for each other. Bound together as they are by the secret of her husband’s death, his sister hides nothing from him and so he’s fully aware of her feelings. To cut a long story short, he initiates the next phase of his plan, namely the fulfilment of two of Brian’s prophecies. The soothsayer announces that Francis will win a small fortune and also that he will suffer a small incident which will, in its own way, be a prelude to Sarah’s death. It’s quite clear by now that Francis’s fainting on the sill of the cursed room was staged, and that he deliberately hit his head on the doorframe to cause blood to flow and add a touch of realism to the proceedings. There was a row of pewter pots on the mantelpiece, one of which had been filled with water ahead of time. It was emptied onto the carpet just before the simulated fainting. I haven’t any proof of that, but it’s the only time the carpet could have been wetted.’
‘Fair enough,’ said the chief superintendent. ‘But what about winning on the horses? You’re not going to tell us it was pure luck, I hope?’
‘Obviously not. But ask yourself the question: is there any way to bet on horses to be absolutely certain to win?’
There was silence and then Patrick raised a finger:
‘There is a way. It’s very simple but very costly. You bet on all the horses.’
‘Bravo, young man, take a bow,’ replied Dr. Twist. ‘It cost him a large sum of money, but you must admit it was worth it. And he made sure there were witnesses present when he placed the bet, when he presented the winning ticket, and when he collected his prize, in case any sceptic demanded proof. He was determined to preserve Brian’s reputation as a seer of the first order.’
The chief superintendent wasn’t satisfied and regarded the criminologist with suspicion:
‘You’ve answered a lot of questions, but what about Brian’s predictions? How did Francis manipulate him to make the pronouncements that he, Francis, wanted?’
‘The double prediction, my dear Redfern, happened as the result of a session with Brian in his room. I questioned him at length yesterday afternoon about that about that particular meeting, about another evening, and about the importance generally of cards in his predictions. Brian, like most clairvoyants, often uses Tarot cards to predict the future, and occasionally ordinary playing cards. Even though he doesn’t take the individual Tarot messages literally—as you know, each card has a precise significance—he does use them for guidance. And when certain cards pop up frequently, he’s likely to be influenced by their message. And that’s what happened when Francis came to visit. To put it more bluntly, all Francis needed to do to get the prediction he wanted was to use his expertise as a card-sharper.
‘And, if you need further convincing, consider this: Francis was almost never defeated at bridge, a record that even the greatest masters of the discipline never equalled. There’s only one way to achieve such a result, and that’s to cheat. And, if memory serves, Harris Thorne accused him of it a couple of times. But, since he was never caught red-handed, he must have been very good at it.’
Dr. Twist asked for a glass of water. Bessie went to fetch one. His thirst quenched, the criminologist continued:
‘It’s not hard to imagine how he tricked Brian. He probably brought along two or three decks identical to Brian’s, pre-arranged in a particular order and waited for a moment of inattention to switch decks. And when he pretended to cut them, he actually put the decks back in the same order.
‘As I say, I questioned Brian and he admits it’s all quite possible. I also asked him about the evening, following which he predicted a grave misfortune for Sarah. There was a bridge party in full swing, with Dr. Meadows, Sarah, Francis, Brian and you, Mrs. Hilton, but you didn’t actually take part, do you remember?’
