diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/infrb10.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/infrb10.txt | 9321 |
1 files changed, 9321 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/old/infrb10.txt b/old/infrb10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2eb1eb9 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/infrb10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9321 @@ +*The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Innocence of Father Brown* + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations* + +Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and +further information is included below. We need your donations. + + +The Innocence of Father Brown, by G. K. Chesterton + +January, 1995 [Etext #204] +[Date last updated: August 20, 2004] + + +**The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Innocence of Father Brown** +******This file should be named infrb10.txt or infrb10.zip****** + +Corrected EDITIONS of our etexts get a new NUMBER, infrb11.txt. +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, infrb10a.txt. + + +This etext was created by Judith Boss, Omaha, Nebraska. +The equipment: an IBM-compatible 486/50, a Hewlett-Packard +ScanJet IIc flatbed scanner, and Calera Recognition Systems' +M/600 Series Professional OCR software and RISC accelerator board +donated by Calera Recognition Systems. + + +We are now trying to release all our books one month in advance +of the official release dates, for time for better editing. + +Please note: neither this list nor its contents are final till +midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement. +The official release date of all Project Gutenberg Etexts is at +Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A +preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment +and editing by those who wish to do so. To be sure you have an +up to date first edition [xxxxx10x.xxx] please check file sizes +in the first week of the next month. Since our ftp program has +a bug in it that scrambles the date [tried to fix and failed] a +look at the file size will have to do, but we will try to see a +new copy has at least one byte more or less. + + +Information about Project Gutenberg (one page) + +We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The +fifty hours is one conservative estimate for how long it we take +to get any etext selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright +searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. This +projected audience is one hundred million readers. If our value +per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $4 +million dollars per hour this year as we release some eight text +files per month: thus upping our productivity from $2 million. + +The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away One Trillion Etext +Files by the December 31, 2001. [10,000 x 100,000,000=Trillion] +This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers, +which is 10% of the expected number of computer users by the end +of the year 2001. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +All donations should be made to "Project Gutenberg/IBC", and are +tax deductible to the extent allowable by law ("IBC" is Illinois +Benedictine College). (Subscriptions to our paper newsletter go +to IBC, too) + +For these and other matters, please mail to: + +Project Gutenberg +P. O. Box 2782 +Champaign, IL 61825 + +When all other email fails try our Michael S. Hart, Executive +Director: +hart@vmd.cso.uiuc.edu (internet) hart@uiucvmd (bitnet) + +We would prefer to send you this information by email +(Internet, Bitnet, Compuserve, ATTMAIL or MCImail). + +****** +If you have an FTP program (or emulator), please +FTP directly to the Project Gutenberg archives: +[Mac users, do NOT point and click. . .type] + +ftp mrcnext.cso.uiuc.edu +login: anonymous +password: your@login +cd etext/etext90 through /etext95 +or cd etext/articles [get suggest gut for more information] +dir [to see files] +get or mget [to get files. . .set bin for zip files] +GET INDEX?00.GUT +for a list of books +and +GET NEW GUT for general information +and +MGET GUT* for newsletters. + +**Information prepared by the Project Gutenberg legal advisor** +(Three Pages) + + +***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS**START*** +Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers. +They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with +your copy of this etext, even if you got it for free from +someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our +fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement +disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how +you can distribute copies of this etext if you want to. + +*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS ETEXT +By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +etext, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept +this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive +a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this etext by +sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person +you got it from. If you received this etext on a physical +medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request. + +ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM ETEXTS +This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG- +tm etexts, is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor +Michael S. Hart through the Project Gutenberg Association at +Illinois Benedictine College (the "Project"). Among other +things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright +on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and +distribute it in the United States without permission and +without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth +below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this etext +under the Project's "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark. + +To create these etexts, the Project expends considerable +efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain +works. Despite these efforts, the Project's etexts and any +medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other +things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged +disk or other etext medium, a computer virus, or computer +codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. + +LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES +But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below, +[1] the Project (and any other party you may receive this +etext from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext) disclaims all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including +legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR +UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT, +INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE +OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE +POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES. + +If you discover a Defect in this etext within 90 days of +receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) +you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that +time to the person you received it from. If you received it +on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and +such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement +copy. If you received it electronically, such person may +choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to +receive it electronically. + +THIS ETEXT IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS +TO THE ETEXT OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A +PARTICULAR PURPOSE. + +Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or +the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the +above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you +may have other legal rights. + +INDEMNITY +You will indemnify and hold the Project, its directors, +officers, members and agents harmless from all liability, cost +and expense, including legal fees, that arise directly or +indirectly from any of the following that you do or cause: +[1] distribution of this etext, [2] alteration, modification, +or addition to the etext, or [3] any Defect. + +DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm" +You may distribute copies of this etext electronically, or by +disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this +"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg, +or: + +[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this + requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the + etext or this "small print!" statement. You may however, + if you wish, distribute this etext in machine readable + binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form, + including any form resulting from conversion by word pro- + cessing or hypertext software, but only so long as + *EITHER*: + + [*] The etext, when displayed, is clearly readable, and + does *not* contain characters other than those + intended by the author of the work, although tilde + (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may + be used to convey punctuation intended by the + author, and additional characters may be used to + indicate hypertext links; OR + + [*] The etext may be readily converted by the reader at + no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent + form by the program that displays the etext (as is + the case, for instance, with most word processors); + OR + + [*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at + no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the + etext in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC + or other equivalent proprietary form). + +[2] Honor the etext refund and replacement provisions of this + "Small Print!" statement. + +[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Project of 20% of the + net profits you derive calculated using the method you + already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Association / Illinois + Benedictine College" within the 60 days following each + date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare) + your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time, +scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty +free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution +you can think of. Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg +Association / Illinois Benedictine College". + +This "Small Print!" by Charles B. Kramer, Attorney +Internet (72600.2026@compuserve.com); TEL: (212-254-5093) +*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + +THE INNOCENCE OF FATHER BROWN + + + + Contents + + + The Blue Cross + The Secret Garden + The Queer Feet + The Flying Stars + The Invisible Man + The Honour of Israel Gow + The Wrong Shape + The Sins of Prince Saradine + The Hammer of God + The Eye of Apollo + The Sign of the Broken Sword + The Three Tools of Death + + + + The Blue Cross + +Between the silver ribbon of morning and the green glittering +ribbon of sea, the boat touched Harwich and let loose a swarm of +folk like flies, among whom the man we must follow was by no means +conspicuous--nor wished to be. There was nothing notable about +him, except a slight contrast between the holiday gaiety of his +clothes and the official gravity of his face. His clothes +included a slight, pale grey jacket, a white waistcoat, and a +silver straw hat with a grey-blue ribbon. His lean face was dark +by contrast, and ended in a curt black beard that looked Spanish +and suggested an Elizabethan ruff. He was smoking a cigarette +with the seriousness of an idler. There was nothing about him to +indicate the fact that the grey jacket covered a loaded revolver, +that the white waistcoat covered a police card, or that the straw +hat covered one of the most powerful intellects in Europe. For +this was Valentin himself, the head of the Paris police and the +most famous investigator of the world; and he was coming from +Brussels to London to make the greatest arrest of the century. + +Flambeau was in England. The police of three countries had +tracked the great criminal at last from Ghent to Brussels, from +Brussels to the Hook of Holland; and it was conjectured that he +would take some advantage of the unfamiliarity and confusion of +the Eucharistic Congress, then taking place in London. Probably +he would travel as some minor clerk or secretary connected with +it; but, of course, Valentin could not be certain; nobody could be +certain about Flambeau. + +It is many years now since this colossus of crime suddenly +ceased keeping the world in a turmoil; and when he ceased, as they +said after the death of Roland, there was a great quiet upon the +earth. But in his best days (I mean, of course, his worst) +Flambeau was a figure as statuesque and international as the +Kaiser. Almost every morning the daily paper announced that he +had escaped the consequences of one extraordinary crime by +committing another. He was a Gascon of gigantic stature and +bodily daring; and the wildest tales were told of his outbursts of +athletic humour; how he turned the juge d'instruction upside down +and stood him on his head, "to clear his mind"; how he ran down +the Rue de Rivoli with a policeman under each arm. It is due to +him to say that his fantastic physical strength was generally +employed in such bloodless though undignified scenes; his real +crimes were chiefly those of ingenious and wholesale robbery. But +each of his thefts was almost a new sin, and would make a story by +itself. It was he who ran the great Tyrolean Dairy Company in +London, with no dairies, no cows, no carts, no milk, but with some +thousand subscribers. These he served by the simple operation of +moving the little milk cans outside people's doors to the doors of +his own customers. It was he who had kept up an unaccountable and +close correspondence with a young lady whose whole letter-bag was +intercepted, by the extraordinary trick of photographing his +messages infinitesimally small upon the slides of a microscope. A +sweeping simplicity, however, marked many of his experiments. It +is said that he once repainted all the numbers in a street in the +dead of night merely to divert one traveller into a trap. It is +quite certain that he invented a portable pillar-box, which he put +up at corners in quiet suburbs on the chance of strangers dropping +postal orders into it. Lastly, he was known to be a startling +acrobat; despite his huge figure, he could leap like a grasshopper +and melt into the tree-tops like a monkey. Hence the great +Valentin, when he set out to find Flambeau, was perfectly aware +that his adventures would not end when he had found him. + +But how was he to find him? On this the great Valentin's +ideas were still in process of settlement. + +There was one thing which Flambeau, with all his dexterity of +disguise, could not cover, and that was his singular height. If +Valentin's quick eye had caught a tall apple-woman, a tall +grenadier, or even a tolerably tall duchess, he might have +arrested them on the spot. But all along his train there was +nobody that could be a disguised Flambeau, any more than a cat +could be a disguised giraffe. About the people on the boat he had +already satisfied himself; and the people picked up at Harwich or +on the journey limited themselves with certainty to six. There +was a short railway official travelling up to the terminus, three +fairly short market gardeners picked up two stations afterwards, +one very short widow lady going up from a small Essex town, and a +very short Roman Catholic priest going up from a small Essex +village. When it came to the last case, Valentin gave it up and +almost laughed. The little priest was so much the essence of +those Eastern flats; he had a face as round and dull as a Norfolk +dumpling; he had eyes as empty as the North Sea; he had several +brown paper parcels, which he was quite incapable of collecting. +The Eucharistic Congress had doubtless sucked out of their local +stagnation many such creatures, blind and helpless, like moles +disinterred. Valentin was a sceptic in the severe style of +France, and could have no love for priests. But he could have +pity for them, and this one might have provoked pity in anybody. +He had a large, shabby umbrella, which constantly fell on the +floor. He did not seem to know which was the right end of his +return ticket. He explained with a moon-calf simplicity to +everybody in the carriage that he had to be careful, because he +had something made of real silver "with blue stones" in one of his +brown-paper parcels. His quaint blending of Essex flatness with +saintly simplicity continuously amused the Frenchman till the +priest arrived (somehow) at Tottenham with all his parcels, and +came back for his umbrella. When he did the last, Valentin even +had the good nature to warn him not to take care of the silver by +telling everybody about it. But to whomever he talked, Valentin +kept his eye open for someone else; he looked out steadily for +anyone, rich or poor, male or female, who was well up to six feet; +for Flambeau was four inches above it. + +He alighted at Liverpool Street, however, quite conscientiously +secure that he had not missed the criminal so far. He then went +to Scotland Yard to regularise his position and arrange for help +in case of need; he then lit another cigarette and went for a long +stroll in the streets of London. As he was walking in the streets +and squares beyond Victoria, he paused suddenly and stood. It was +a quaint, quiet square, very typical of London, full of an +accidental stillness. The tall, flat houses round looked at once +prosperous and uninhabited; the square of shrubbery in the centre +looked as deserted as a green Pacific islet. One of the four +sides was much higher than the rest, like a dais; and the line of +this side was broken by one of London's admirable accidents--a +restaurant that looked as if it had strayed from Soho. It was an +unreasonably attractive object, with dwarf plants in pots and +long, striped blinds of lemon yellow and white. It stood specially +high above the street, and in the usual patchwork way of London, a +flight of steps from the street ran up to meet the front door +almost as a fire-escape might run up to a first-floor window. +Valentin stood and smoked in front of the yellow-white blinds and +considered them long. + +The most incredible thing about miracles is that they happen. +A few clouds in heaven do come together into the staring shape of +one human eye. A tree does stand up in the landscape of a +doubtful journey in the exact and elaborate shape of a note of +interrogation. I have seen both these things myself within the +last few days. Nelson does die in the instant of victory; and a +man named Williams does quite accidentally murder a man named +Williamson; it sounds like a sort of infanticide. In short, there +is in life an element of elfin coincidence which people reckoning +on the prosaic may perpetually miss. As it has been well +expressed in the paradox of Poe, wisdom should reckon on the +unforeseen. + +Aristide Valentin was unfathomably French; and the French +intelligence is intelligence specially and solely. He was not "a +thinking machine"; for that is a brainless phrase of modern +fatalism and materialism. A machine only is a machine because it +cannot think. But he was a thinking man, and a plain man at the +same time. All his wonderful successes, that looked like conjuring, +had been gained by plodding logic, by clear and commonplace French +thought. The French electrify the world not by starting any +paradox, they electrify it by carrying out a truism. They carry a +truism so far--as in the French Revolution. But exactly because +Valentin understood reason, he understood the limits of reason. +Only a man who knows nothing of motors talks of motoring without +petrol; only a man who knows nothing of reason talks of reasoning +without strong, undisputed first principles. Here he had no +strong first principles. Flambeau had been missed at Harwich; and +if he was in London at all, he might be anything from a tall tramp +on Wimbledon Common to a tall toast-master at the Hotel Metropole. +In such a naked state of nescience, Valentin had a view and a +method of his own. + +In such cases he reckoned on the unforeseen. In such cases, +when he could not follow the train of the reasonable, he coldly +and carefully followed the train of the unreasonable. Instead of +going to the right places--banks, police stations, rendezvous-- +he systematically went to the wrong places; knocked at every empty +house, turned down every cul de sac, went up every lane blocked +with rubbish, went round every crescent that led him uselessly out +of the way. He defended this crazy course quite logically. He +said that if one had a clue this was the worst way; but if one had +no clue at all it was the best, because there was just the chance +that any oddity that caught the eye of the pursuer might be the +same that had caught the eye of the pursued. Somewhere a man must +begin, and it had better be just where another man might stop. +Something about that flight of steps up to the shop, something +about the quietude and quaintness of the restaurant, roused all +the detective's rare romantic fancy and made him resolve to strike +at random. He went up the steps, and sitting down at a table by +the window, asked for a cup of black coffee. + +It was half-way through the morning, and he had not +breakfasted; the slight litter of other breakfasts stood about on +the table to remind him of his hunger; and adding a poached egg to +his order, he proceeded musingly to shake some white sugar into +his coffee, thinking all the time about Flambeau. He remembered +how Flambeau had escaped, once by a pair of nail scissors, and +once by a house on fire; once by having to pay for an unstamped +letter, and once by getting people to look through a telescope at +a comet that might destroy the world. He thought his detective +brain as good as the criminal's, which was true. But he fully +realised the disadvantage. "The criminal is the creative artist; +the detective only the critic," he said with a sour smile, and +lifted his coffee cup to his lips slowly, and put it down very +quickly. He had put salt in it. + +He looked at the vessel from which the silvery powder had +come; it was certainly a sugar-basin; as unmistakably meant for +sugar as a champagne-bottle for champagne. He wondered why they +should keep salt in it. He looked to see if there were any more +orthodox vessels. Yes; there were two salt-cellars quite full. +Perhaps there was some speciality in the condiment in the +salt-cellars. He tasted it; it was sugar. Then he looked round +at the restaurant with a refreshed air of interest, to see if +there were any other traces of that singular artistic taste which +puts the sugar in the salt-cellars and the salt in the sugar-basin. +Except for an odd splash of some dark fluid on one of the +white-papered walls, the whole place appeared neat, cheerful and +ordinary. He rang the bell for the waiter. + +When that official hurried up, fuzzy-haired and somewhat +blear-eyed at that early hour, the detective (who was not without +an appreciation of the simpler forms of humour) asked him to taste +the sugar and see if it was up to the high reputation of the hotel. +The result was that the waiter yawned suddenly and woke up. + +"Do you play this delicate joke on your customers every +morning?" inquired Valentin. "Does changing the salt and sugar +never pall on you as a jest?" + +The waiter, when this irony grew clearer, stammeringly assured +him that the establishment had certainly no such intention; it +must be a most curious mistake. He picked up the sugar-basin and +looked at it; he picked up the salt-cellar and looked at that, his +face growing more and more bewildered. At last he abruptly +excused himself, and hurrying away, returned in a few seconds with +the proprietor. The proprietor also examined the sugar-basin and +then the salt-cellar; the proprietor also looked bewildered. + +Suddenly the waiter seemed to grow inarticulate with a rush of +words. + +"I zink," he stuttered eagerly, "I zink it is those two +clergy-men." + +"What two clergymen?" + +"The two clergymen," said the waiter, "that threw soup at the +wall." + +"Threw soup at the wall?" repeated Valentin, feeling sure this +must be some singular Italian metaphor. + +"Yes, yes," said the attendant excitedly, and pointed at the +dark splash on the white paper; "threw it over there on the wall." + +Valentin looked his query at the proprietor, who came to his +rescue with fuller reports. + +"Yes, sir," he said, "it's quite true, though I don't suppose +it has anything to do with the sugar and salt. Two clergymen came +in and drank soup here very early, as soon as the shutters were +taken down. They were both very quiet, respectable people; one of +them paid the bill and went out; the other, who seemed a slower +coach altogether, was some minutes longer getting his things +together. But he went at last. Only, the instant before he +stepped into the street he deliberately picked up his cup, which +he had only half emptied, and threw the soup slap on the wall. I +was in the back room myself, and so was the waiter; so I could +only rush out in time to find the wall splashed and the shop +empty. It don't do any particular damage, but it was confounded +cheek; and I tried to catch the men in the street. They were too +far off though; I only noticed they went round the next corner +into Carstairs Street." + +The detective was on his feet, hat settled and stick in hand. +He had already decided that in the universal darkness of his mind +he could only follow the first odd finger that pointed; and this +finger was odd enough. Paying his bill and clashing the glass +doors behind him, he was soon swinging round into the other +street. + +It was fortunate that even in such fevered moments his eye was +cool and quick. Something in a shop-front went by him like a mere +flash; yet he went back to look at it. The shop was a popular +greengrocer and fruiterer's, an array of goods set out in the open +air and plainly ticketed with their names and prices. In the two +most prominent compartments were two heaps, of oranges and of nuts +respectively. On the heap of nuts lay a scrap of cardboard, on +which was written in bold, blue chalk, "Best tangerine oranges, +two a penny." On the oranges was the equally clear and exact +description, "Finest Brazil nuts, 4d. a lb." M. Valentin looked +at these two placards and fancied he had met this highly subtle +form of humour before, and that somewhat recently. He drew the +attention of the red-faced fruiterer, who was looking rather +sullenly up and down the street, to this inaccuracy in his +advertisements. The fruiterer said nothing, but sharply put each +card into its proper place. The detective, leaning elegantly on +his walking-cane, continued to scrutinise the shop. At last he +said, "Pray excuse my apparent irrelevance, my good sir, but I +should like to ask you a question in experimental psychology and +the association of ideas." + +The red-faced shopman regarded him with an eye of menace; but +he continued gaily, swinging his cane, "Why," he pursued, "why are +two tickets wrongly placed in a greengrocer's shop like a shovel +hat that has come to London for a holiday? Or, in case I do not +make myself clear, what is the mystical association which connects +the idea of nuts marked as oranges with the idea of two clergymen, +one tall and the other short?" + +The eyes of the tradesman stood out of his head like a +snail's; he really seemed for an instant likely to fling himself +upon the stranger. At last he stammered angrily: "I don't know +what you 'ave to do with it, but if you're one of their friends, +you can tell 'em from me that I'll knock their silly 'eads off, +parsons or no parsons, if they upset my apples again." + +"Indeed?" asked the detective, with great sympathy. "Did they +upset your apples?" + +"One of 'em did," said the heated shopman; "rolled 'em all +over the street. I'd 'ave caught the fool but for havin' to pick +'em up." + +"Which way did these parsons go?" asked Valentin. + +"Up that second road on the left-hand side, and then across +the square," said the other promptly. + +"Thanks," replied Valentin, and vanished like a fairy. On the +other side of the second square he found a policeman, and said: +"This is urgent, constable; have you seen two clergymen in shovel +hats?" + +The policeman began to chuckle heavily. "I 'ave, sir; and if +you arst me, one of 'em was drunk. He stood in the middle of the +road that bewildered that--" + +"Which way did they go?" snapped Valentin. + +"They took one of them yellow buses over there," answered the +man; "them that go to Hampstead." + +Valentin produced his official card and said very rapidly: +"Call up two of your men to come with me in pursuit," and crossed +the road with such contagious energy that the ponderous policeman +was moved to almost agile obedience. In a minute and a half the +French detective was joined on the opposite pavement by an +inspector and a man in plain clothes. + +"Well, sir," began the former, with smiling importance, "and +what may--?" + +Valentin pointed suddenly with his cane. "I'll tell you on +the top of that omnibus," he said, and was darting and dodging +across the tangle of the traffic. When all three sank panting on +the top seats of the yellow vehicle, the inspector said: "We could +go four times as quick in a taxi." + +"Quite true," replied their leader placidly, "if we only had +an idea of where we were going." + +"Well, where are you going?" asked the other, staring. + +Valentin smoked frowningly for a few seconds; then, removing +his cigarette, he said: "If you know what a man's doing, get in +front of him; but if you want to guess what he's doing, keep +behind him. Stray when he strays; stop when he stops; travel as +slowly as he. Then you may see what he saw and may act as he +acted. All we can do is to keep our eyes skinned for a queer +thing." + +"What sort of queer thing do you mean?" asked the inspector. + +"Any sort of queer thing," answered Valentin, and relapsed +into obstinate silence. + +The yellow omnibus crawled up the northern roads for what +seemed like hours on end; the great detective would not explain +further, and perhaps his assistants felt a silent and growing doubt +of his errand. Perhaps, also, they felt a silent and growing +desire for lunch, for the hours crept long past the normal luncheon +hour, and the long roads of the North London suburbs seemed to +shoot out into length after length like an infernal telescope. It +was one of those journeys on which a man perpetually feels that +now at last he must have come to the end of the universe, and then +finds he has only come to the beginning of Tufnell Park. London +died away in draggled taverns and dreary scrubs, and then was +unaccountably born again in blazing high streets and blatant +hotels. It was like passing through thirteen separate vulgar +cities all just touching each other. But though the winter +twilight was already threatening the road ahead of them, the +Parisian detective still sat silent and watchful, eyeing the +frontage of the streets that slid by on either side. By the time +they had left Camden Town behind, the policemen were nearly +asleep; at least, they gave something like a jump as Valentin +leapt erect, struck a hand on each man's shoulder, and shouted to +the driver to stop. + +They tumbled down the steps into the road without realising +why they had been dislodged; when they looked round for +enlightenment they found Valentin triumphantly pointing his finger +towards a window on the left side of the road. It was a large +window, forming part of the long facade of a gilt and palatial +public-house; it was the part reserved for respectable dining, and +labelled "Restaurant." This window, like all the rest along the +frontage of the hotel, was of frosted and figured glass; but in +the middle of it was a big, black smash, like a star in the ice. + +"Our cue at last," cried Valentin, waving his stick; "the +place with the broken window." + +"What window? What cue?" asked his principal assistant. +"Why, what proof is there that this has anything to do with them?" + +Valentin almost broke his bamboo stick with rage. + +"Proof!" he cried. "Good God! the man is looking for proof! +Why, of course, the chances are twenty to one that it has nothing +to do with them. But what else can we do? Don't you see we must +either follow one wild possibility or else go home to bed?" He +banged his way into the restaurant, followed by his companions, +and they were soon seated at a late luncheon at a little table, +and looked at the star of smashed glass from the inside. Not that +it was very informative to them even then. + +"Got your window broken, I see," said Valentin to the waiter +as he paid the bill. + +"Yes, sir," answered the attendant, bending busily over the +change, to which Valentin silently added an enormous tip. The +waiter straightened himself with mild but unmistakable animation. + +"Ah, yes, sir," he said. "Very odd thing, that, sir." + +"Indeed?" Tell us about it," said the detective with careless +curiosity. + +"Well, two gents in black came in," said the waiter; "two of +those foreign parsons that are running about. They had a cheap +and quiet little lunch, and one of them paid for it and went out. +The other was just going out to join him when I looked at my +change again and found he'd paid me more than three times too +much. `Here,' I says to the chap who was nearly out of the door, +`you've paid too much.' `Oh,' he says, very cool, `have we?' +'Yes,' I says, and picks up the bill to show him. Well, that was +a knock-out." + +"What do you mean?" asked his interlocutor. + +"Well, I'd have sworn on seven Bibles that I'd put 4s. on that +bill. But now I saw I'd put 14s., as plain as paint." + +"Well?" cried Valentin, moving slowly, but with burning eyes, +"and then?" + +"The parson at the door he says all serene, `Sorry to confuse +your accounts, but it'll pay for the window.' `What window?' I +says. `The one I'm going to break,' he says, and smashed that +blessed pane with his umbrella." + +All three inquirers made an exclamation; and the inspector +said under his breath, "Are we after escaped lunatics?" The waiter +went on with some relish for the ridiculous story: + +"I was so knocked silly for a second, I couldn't do anything. +The man marched out of the place and joined his friend just round +the corner. Then they went so quick up Bullock Street that I +couldn't catch them, though I ran round the bars to do it." + +"Bullock Street," said the detective, and shot up that +thoroughfare as quickly as the strange couple he pursued. + +Their journey now took them through bare brick ways like +tunnels; streets with few lights and even with few windows; +streets that seemed built out of the blank backs of everything and +everywhere. Dusk was deepening, and it was not easy even for the +London policemen to guess in what exact direction they were +treading. The inspector, however, was pretty certain that they +would eventually strike some part of Hampstead Heath. Abruptly +one bulging gas-lit window broke the blue twilight like a +bull's-eye lantern; and Valentin stopped an instant before a little +garish sweetstuff shop. After an instant's hesitation he went in; +he stood amid the gaudy colours of the confectionery with entire +gravity and bought thirteen chocolate cigars with a certain care. +He was clearly preparing an opening; but he did not need one. + +An angular, elderly young woman in the shop had regarded his +elegant appearance with a merely automatic inquiry; but when she +saw the door behind him blocked with the blue uniform of the +inspector, her eyes seemed to wake up. + +"Oh," she said, "if you've come about that parcel, I've sent +it off already." + +"Parcel?" repeated Valentin; and it was his turn to look +inquiring. + +"I mean the parcel the gentleman left--the clergyman +gentleman." + +"For goodness' sake," said Valentin, leaning forward with his +first real confession of eagerness, "for Heaven's sake tell us +what happened exactly." + +"Well," said the woman a little doubtfully, "the clergymen +came in about half an hour ago and bought some peppermints and +talked a bit, and then went off towards the Heath. But a second +after, one of them runs back into the shop and says, `Have I left +a parcel!' Well, I looked everywhere and couldn't see one; so he +says, `Never mind; but if it should turn up, please post it to +this address,' and he left me the address and a shilling for my +trouble. And sure enough, though I thought I'd looked everywhere, +I found he'd left a brown paper parcel, so I posted it to the +place he said. I can't remember the address now; it was somewhere +in Westminster. But as the thing seemed so important, I thought +perhaps the police had come about it." + +"So they have," said Valentin shortly. "Is Hampstead Heath +near here?" + +"Straight on for fifteen minutes," said the woman, "and you'll +come right out on the open." Valentin sprang out of the shop and +began to run. The other detectives followed him at a reluctant +trot. + +The street they threaded was so narrow and shut in by shadows +that when they came out unexpectedly into the void common and vast +sky they were startled to find the evening still so light and +clear. A perfect dome of peacock-green sank into gold amid the +blackening trees and the dark violet distances. The glowing green +tint was just deep enough to pick out in points of crystal one or +two stars. All that was left of the daylight lay in a golden +glitter across the edge of Hampstead and that popular hollow which +is called the Vale of Health. The holiday makers who roam this +region had not wholly dispersed; a few couples sat shapelessly on +benches; and here and there a distant girl still shrieked in one +of the swings. The glory of heaven deepened and darkened around +the sublime vulgarity of man; and standing on the slope and looking +across the valley, Valentin beheld the thing which he sought. + +Among the black and breaking groups in that distance was one +especially black which did not break--a group of two figures +clerically clad. Though they seemed as small as insects, Valentin +could see that one of them was much smaller than the other. +Though the other had a student's stoop and an inconspicuous manner, +he could see that the man was well over six feet high. He shut +his teeth and went forward, whirling his stick impatiently. By +the time he had substantially diminished the distance and +magnified the two black figures as in a vast microscope, he had +perceived something else; something which startled him, and yet +which he had somehow expected. Whoever was the tall priest, there +could be no doubt about the identity of the short one. It was his +friend of the Harwich train, the stumpy little cure of Essex whom +he had warned about his brown paper parcels. + +Now, so far as this went, everything fitted in finally and +rationally enough. Valentin had learned by his inquiries that +morning that a Father Brown from Essex was bringing up a silver +cross with sapphires, a relic of considerable value, to show some +of the foreign priests at the congress. This undoubtedly was the +"silver with blue stones"; and Father Brown undoubtedly was the +little greenhorn in the train. Now there was nothing wonderful +about the fact that what Valentin had found out Flambeau had also +found out; Flambeau found out everything. Also there was nothing +wonderful in the fact that when Flambeau heard of a sapphire cross +he should try to steal it; that was the most natural thing in all +natural history. And most certainly there was nothing wonderful +about the fact that Flambeau should have it all his own way with +such a silly sheep as the man with the umbrella and the parcels. +He was the sort of man whom anybody could lead on a string to the +North Pole; it was not surprising that an actor like Flambeau, +dressed as another priest, could lead him to Hampstead Heath. So +far the crime seemed clear enough; and while the detective pitied +the priest for his helplessness, he almost despised Flambeau for +condescending to so gullible a victim. But when Valentin thought +of all that had happened in between, of all that had led him to +his triumph, he racked his brains for the smallest rhyme or reason +in it. What had the stealing of a blue-and-silver cross from a +priest from Essex to do with chucking soup at wall paper? What +had it to do with calling nuts oranges, or with paying for windows +first and breaking them afterwards? He had come to the end of his +chase; yet somehow he had missed the middle of it. When he failed +(which was seldom), he had usually grasped the clue, but +nevertheless missed the criminal. Here he had grasped the +criminal, but still he could not grasp the clue. + +The two figures that they followed were crawling like black +flies across the huge green contour of a hill. They were evidently +sunk in conversation, and perhaps did not notice where they were +going; but they were certainly going to the wilder and more silent +heights of the Heath. As their pursuers gained on them, the +latter had to use the undignified attitudes of the deer-stalker, +to crouch behind clumps of trees and even to crawl prostrate in +deep grass. By these ungainly ingenuities the hunters even came +close enough to the quarry to hear the murmur of the discussion, +but no word could be distinguished except the word "reason" +recurring frequently in a high and almost childish voice. Once +over an abrupt dip of land and a dense tangle of thickets, the +detectives actually lost the two figures they were following. +They did not find the trail again for an agonising ten minutes, +and then it led round the brow of a great dome of hill overlooking +an amphitheatre of rich and desolate sunset scenery. Under a tree +in this commanding yet neglected spot was an old ramshackle wooden +seat. On this seat sat the two priests still in serious speech +together. The gorgeous green and gold still clung to the darkening +horizon; but the dome above was turning slowly from peacock-green +to peacock-blue, and the stars detached themselves more and more +like solid jewels. Mutely motioning to his followers, Valentin +contrived to creep up behind the big branching tree, and, standing +there in deathly silence, heard the words of the strange priests +for the first time. + +After he had listened for a minute and a half, he was gripped +by a devilish doubt. Perhaps he had dragged the two English +policemen to the wastes of a nocturnal heath on an errand no saner +than seeking figs on its thistles. For the two priests were +talking exactly like priests, piously, with learning and leisure, +about the most aerial enigmas of theology. The little Essex +priest spoke the more simply, with his round face turned to the +strengthening stars; the other talked with his head bowed, as if +he were not even worthy to look at them. But no more innocently +clerical conversation could have been heard in any white Italian +cloister or black Spanish cathedral. + +The first he heard was the tail of one of Father Brown's +sentences, which ended: "... what they really meant in the Middle +Ages by the heavens being incorruptible." + +The taller priest nodded his bowed head and said: + +"Ah, yes, these modern infidels appeal to their reason; but +who can look at those millions of worlds and not feel that there +may well be wonderful universes above us where reason is utterly +unreasonable?" + +"No," said the other priest; "reason is always reasonable, +even in the last limbo, in the lost borderland of things. I know +that people charge the Church with lowering reason, but it is just +the other way. Alone on earth, the Church makes reason really +supreme. Alone on earth, the Church affirms that God himself is +bound by reason." + +The other priest raised his austere face to the spangled sky +and said: + +"Yet who knows if in that infinite universe--?" + +"Only infinite physically," said the little priest, turning +sharply in his seat, "not infinite in the sense of escaping from +the laws of truth." + +Valentin behind his tree was tearing his fingernails with +silent fury. He seemed almost to hear the sniggers of the English +detectives whom he had brought so far on a fantastic guess only to +listen to the metaphysical gossip of two mild old parsons. In his +impatience he lost the equally elaborate answer of the tall cleric, +and when he listened again it was again Father Brown who was +speaking: + +"Reason and justice grip the remotest and the loneliest star. +Look at those stars. Don't they look as if they were single +diamonds and sapphires? Well, you can imagine any mad botany or +geology you please. Think of forests of adamant with leaves of +brilliants. Think the moon is a blue moon, a single elephantine +sapphire. But don't fancy that all that frantic astronomy would +make the smallest difference to the reason and justice of conduct. +On plains of opal, under cliffs cut out of pearl, you would still +find a notice-board, `Thou shalt not steal.'" + +Valentin was just in the act of rising from his rigid and +crouching attitude and creeping away as softly as might be, felled +by the one great folly of his life. But something in the very +silence of the tall priest made him stop until the latter spoke. +When at last he did speak, he said simply, his head bowed and his +hands on his knees: + +"Well, I think that other worlds may perhaps rise higher than +our reason. The mystery of heaven is unfathomable, and I for one +can only bow my head." + +Then, with brow yet bent and without changing by the faintest +shade his attitude or voice, he added: + +"Just hand over that sapphire cross of yours, will you? We're +all alone here, and I could pull you to pieces like a straw doll." + +The utterly unaltered voice and attitude added a strange +violence to that shocking change of speech. But the guarder of +the relic only seemed to turn his head by the smallest section of +the compass. He seemed still to have a somewhat foolish face +turned to the stars. Perhaps he had not understood. Or, perhaps, +he had understood and sat rigid with terror. + +"Yes," said the tall priest, in the same low voice and in the +same still posture, "yes, I am Flambeau." + +Then, after a pause, he said: + +"Come, will you give me that cross?" + +"No," said the other, and the monosyllable had an odd sound. + +Flambeau suddenly flung off all his pontifical pretensions. +The great robber leaned back in his seat and laughed low but long. + +"No," he cried, "you won't give it me, you proud prelate. You +won't give it me, you little celibate simpleton. Shall I tell you +why you won't give it me? Because I've got it already in my own +breast-pocket." + +The small man from Essex turned what seemed to be a dazed face +in the dusk, and said, with the timid eagerness of "The Private +Secretary": + +"Are--are you sure?" + +Flambeau yelled with delight. + +"Really, you're as good as a three-act farce," he cried. +"Yes, you turnip, I am quite sure. I had the sense to make a +duplicate of the right parcel, and now, my friend, you've got the +duplicate and I've got the jewels. An old dodge, Father Brown-- +a very old dodge." + +"Yes," said Father Brown, and passed his hand through his hair +with the same strange vagueness of manner. "Yes, I've heard of it +before." + +The colossus of crime leaned over to the little rustic priest +with a sort of sudden interest. + +"You have heard of it?" he asked. "Where have you heard of +it?" + +"Well, I mustn't tell you his name, of course," said the +little man simply. "He was a penitent, you know. He had lived +prosperously for about twenty years entirely on duplicate brown +paper parcels. And so, you see, when I began to suspect you, I +thought of this poor chap's way of doing it at once." + +"Began to suspect me?" repeated the outlaw with increased +intensity. "Did you really have the gumption to suspect me just +because I brought you up to this bare part of the heath?" + +"No, no," said Brown with an air of apology. "You see, I +suspected you when we first met. It's that little bulge up the +sleeve where you people have the spiked bracelet." + +"How in Tartarus," cried Flambeau, "did you ever hear of the +spiked bracelet?" + +"Oh, one's little flock, you know!" said Father Brown, arching +his eyebrows rather blankly. "When I was a curate in Hartlepool, +there were three of them with spiked bracelets. So, as I +suspected you from the first, don't you see, I made sure that the +cross should go safe, anyhow. I'm afraid I watched you, you know. +So at last I saw you change the parcels. Then, don't you see, I +changed them back again. And then I left the right one behind." + +"Left it behind?" repeated Flambeau, and for the first time +there was another note in his voice beside his triumph. + +"Well, it was like this," said the little priest, speaking in +the same unaffected way. "I went back to that sweet-shop and +asked if I'd left a parcel, and gave them a particular address if +it turned up. Well, I knew I hadn't; but when I went away again I +did. So, instead of running after me with that valuable parcel, +they have sent it flying to a friend of mine in Westminster." +Then he added rather sadly: "I learnt that, too, from a poor +fellow in Hartlepool. He used to do it with handbags he stole at +railway stations, but he's in a monastery now. Oh, one gets to +know, you know," he added, rubbing his head again with the same +sort of desperate apology. "We can't help being priests. People +come and tell us these things." + +Flambeau tore a brown-paper parcel out of his inner pocket and +rent it in pieces. There was nothing but paper and sticks of lead +inside it. He sprang to his feet with a gigantic gesture, and +cried: + +"I don't believe you. I don't believe a bumpkin like you +could manage all that. I believe you've still got the stuff on +you, and if you don't give it up--why, we're all alone, and I'll +take it by force!" + +"No," said Father Brown simply, and stood up also, "you won't +take it by force. First, because I really haven't still got it. +And, second, because we are not alone." + +Flambeau stopped in his stride forward. + +"Behind that tree," said Father Brown, pointing, "are two +strong policemen and the greatest detective alive. How did they +come here, do you ask? Why, I brought them, of course! How did I +do it? Why, I'll tell you if you like! Lord bless you, we have +to know twenty such things when we work among the criminal classes! +Well, I wasn't sure you were a thief, and it would never do to +make a scandal against one of our own clergy. So I just tested +you to see if anything would make you show yourself. A man +generally makes a small scene if he finds salt in his coffee; if +he doesn't, he has some reason for keeping quiet. I changed the +salt and sugar, and you kept quiet. A man generally objects if +his bill is three times too big. If he pays it, he has some motive +for passing unnoticed. I altered your bill, and you paid it." + +The world seemed waiting for Flambeau to leap like a tiger. +But he was held back as by a spell; he was stunned with the utmost +curiosity. + +"Well," went on Father Brown, with lumbering lucidity, "as you +wouldn't leave any tracks for the police, of course somebody had +to. At every place we went to, I took care to do something that +would get us talked about for the rest of the day. I didn't do +much harm--a splashed wall, spilt apples, a broken window; but I +saved the cross, as the cross will always be saved. It is at +Westminster by now. I rather wonder you didn't stop it with the +Donkey's Whistle." + +"With the what?" asked Flambeau. + +"I'm glad you've never heard of it," said the priest, making a +face. "It's a foul thing. I'm sure you're too good a man for a +Whistler. I couldn't have countered it even with the Spots myself; +I'm not strong enough in the legs." + +"What on earth are you talking about?" asked the other. + +"Well, I did think you'd know the Spots," said Father Brown, +agreeably surprised. "Oh, you can't have gone so very wrong yet!" + +"How in blazes do you know all these horrors?" cried Flambeau. + +The shadow of a smile crossed the round, simple face of his +clerical opponent. + +"Oh, by being a celibate simpleton, I suppose," he said. "Has +it never struck you that a man who does next to nothing but hear +men's real sins is not likely to be wholly unaware of human evil? +But, as a matter of fact, another part of my trade, too, made me +sure you weren't a priest." + +"What?" asked the thief, almost gaping. + +"You attacked reason," said Father Brown. "It's bad theology." + +And even as he turned away to collect his property, the three +policemen came out from under the twilight trees. Flambeau was an +artist and a sportsman. He stepped back and swept Valentin a great +bow. + +"Do not bow to me, mon ami," said Valentin with silver +clearness. "Let us both bow to our master." + +And they both stood an instant uncovered while the little Essex +priest blinked about for his umbrella. + + + + The Secret Garden + +Aristide Valentin, Chief of the Paris Police, was late for his +dinner, and some of his guests began to arrive before him. These +were, however, reassured by his confidential servant, Ivan, the +old man with a scar, and a face almost as grey as his moustaches, +who always sat at a table in the entrance hall--a hall hung with +weapons. Valentin's house was perhaps as peculiar and celebrated +as its master. It was an old house, with high walls and tall +poplars almost overhanging the Seine; but the oddity--and +perhaps the police value--of its architecture was this: that +there was no ultimate exit at all except through this front door, +which was guarded by Ivan and the armoury. The garden was large +and elaborate, and there were many exits from the house into the +garden. But there was no exit from the garden into the world +outside; all round it ran a tall, smooth, unscalable wall with +special spikes at the top; no bad garden, perhaps, for a man to +reflect in whom some hundred criminals had sworn to kill. + +As Ivan explained to the guests, their host had telephoned +that he was detained for ten minutes. He was, in truth, making +some last arrangements about executions and such ugly things; and +though these duties were rootedly repulsive to him, he always +performed them with precision. Ruthless in the pursuit of +criminals, he was very mild about their punishment. Since he had +been supreme over French--and largely over European--policial +methods, his great influence had been honourably used for the +mitigation of sentences and the purification of prisons. He was +one of the great humanitarian French freethinkers; and the only +thing wrong with them is that they make mercy even colder than +justice. + +When Valentin arrived he was already dressed in black clothes +and the red rosette--an elegant figure, his dark beard already +streaked with grey. He went straight through his house to his +study, which opened on the grounds behind. The garden door of it +was open, and after he had carefully locked his box in its official +place, he stood for a few seconds at the open door looking out upon +the garden. A sharp moon was fighting with the flying rags and +tatters of a storm, and Valentin regarded it with a wistfulness +unusual in such scientific natures as his. Perhaps such scientific +natures have some psychic prevision of the most tremendous problem +of their lives. From any such occult mood, at least, he quickly +recovered, for he knew he was late, and that his guests had +already begun to arrive. A glance at his drawing-room when he +entered it was enough to make certain that his principal guest was +not there, at any rate. He saw all the other pillars of the +little party; he saw Lord Galloway, the English Ambassador--a +choleric old man with a russet face like an apple, wearing the +blue ribbon of the Garter. He saw Lady Galloway, slim and +threadlike, with silver hair and a face sensitive and superior. +He saw her daughter, Lady Margaret Graham, a pale and pretty girl +with an elfish face and copper-coloured hair. He saw the Duchess +of Mont St. Michel, black-eyed and opulent, and with her her two +daughters, black-eyed and opulent also. He saw Dr. Simon, a +typical French scientist, with glasses, a pointed brown beard, and +a forehead barred with those parallel wrinkles which are the +penalty of superciliousness, since they come through constantly +elevating the eyebrows. He saw Father Brown, of Cobhole, in Essex, +whom he had recently met in England. He saw--perhaps with more +interest than any of these--a tall man in uniform, who had bowed +to the Galloways without receiving any very hearty acknowledgment, +and who now advanced alone to pay his respects to his host. This +was Commandant O'Brien, of the French Foreign Legion. He was a +slim yet somewhat swaggering figure, clean-shaven, dark-haired, +and blue-eyed, and, as seemed natural in an officer of that famous +regiment of victorious failures and successful suicides, he had an +air at once dashing and melancholy. He was by birth an Irish +gentleman, and in boyhood had known the Galloways--especially +Margaret Graham. He had left his country after some crash of +debts, and now expressed his complete freedom from British +etiquette by swinging about in uniform, sabre and spurs. When he +bowed to the Ambassador's family, Lord and Lady Galloway bent +stiffly, and Lady Margaret looked away. + +But for whatever old causes such people might be interested in +each other, their distinguished host was not specially interested +in them. No one of them at least was in his eyes the guest of the +evening. Valentin was expecting, for special reasons, a man of +world-wide fame, whose friendship he had secured during some of +his great detective tours and triumphs in the United States. He +was expecting Julius K. Brayne, that multi-millionaire whose +colossal and even crushing endowments of small religions have +occasioned so much easy sport and easier solemnity for the +American and English papers. Nobody could quite make out whether +Mr. Brayne was an atheist or a Mormon or a Christian Scientist; +but he was ready to pour money into any intellectual vessel, so +long as it was an untried vessel. One of his hobbies was to wait +for the American Shakespeare--a hobby more patient than angling. +He admired Walt Whitman, but thought that Luke P. Tanner, of +Paris, Pa., was more "progressive" than Whitman any day. He liked +anything that he thought "progressive." He thought Valentin +"progressive," thereby doing him a grave injustice. + +The solid appearance of Julius K. Brayne in the room was as +decisive as a dinner bell. He had this great quality, which very +few of us can claim, that his presence was as big as his absence. +He was a huge fellow, as fat as he was tall, clad in complete +evening black, without so much relief as a watch-chain or a ring. +His hair was white and well brushed back like a German's; his face +was red, fierce and cherubic, with one dark tuft under the lower +lip that threw up that otherwise infantile visage with an effect +theatrical and even Mephistophelean. Not long, however, did that +salon merely stare at the celebrated American; his lateness had +already become a domestic problem, and he was sent with all speed +into the dining-room with Lady Galloway on his arm. + +Except on one point the Galloways were genial and casual +enough. So long as Lady Margaret did not take the arm of that +adventurer O'Brien, her father was quite satisfied; and she had +not done so, she had decorously gone in with Dr. Simon. +Nevertheless, old Lord Galloway was restless and almost rude. He +was diplomatic enough during dinner, but when, over the cigars, +three of the younger men--Simon the doctor, Brown the priest, +and the detrimental O'Brien, the exile in a foreign uniform--all +melted away to mix with the ladies or smoke in the conservatory, +then the English diplomatist grew very undiplomatic indeed. He +was stung every sixty seconds with the thought that the scamp +O'Brien might be signalling to Margaret somehow; he did not +attempt to imagine how. He was left over the coffee with Brayne, +the hoary Yankee who believed in all religions, and Valentin, the +grizzled Frenchman who believed in none. They could argue with +each other, but neither could appeal to him. After a time this +"progressive" logomachy had reached a crisis of tedium; Lord +Galloway got up also and sought the drawing-room. He lost his way +in long passages for some six or eight minutes: till he heard the +high-pitched, didactic voice of the doctor, and then the dull +voice of the priest, followed by general laughter. They also, he +thought with a curse, were probably arguing about "science and +religion." But the instant he opened the salon door he saw only +one thing--he saw what was not there. He saw that Commandant +O'Brien was absent, and that Lady Margaret was absent too. + +Rising impatiently from the drawing-room, as he had from the +dining-room, he stamped along the passage once more. His notion +of protecting his daughter from the Irish-Algerian n'er-do-weel +had become something central and even mad in his mind. As he went +towards the back of the house, where was Valentin's study, he was +surprised to meet his daughter, who swept past with a white, +scornful face, which was a second enigma. If she had been with +O'Brien, where was O'Brien! If she had not been with O'Brien, +where had she been? With a sort of senile and passionate +suspicion he groped his way to the dark back parts of the mansion, +and eventually found a servants' entrance that opened on to the +garden. The moon with her scimitar had now ripped up and rolled +away all the storm-wrack. The argent light lit up all four corners +of the garden. A tall figure in blue was striding across the lawn +towards the study door; a glint of moonlit silver on his facings +picked him out as Commandant O'Brien. + +He vanished through the French windows into the house, leaving +Lord Galloway in an indescribable temper, at once virulent and +vague. The blue-and-silver garden, like a scene in a theatre, +seemed to taunt him with all that tyrannic tenderness against +which his worldly authority was at war. The length and grace of +the Irishman's stride enraged him as if he were a rival instead of +a father; the moonlight maddened him. He was trapped as if by +magic into a garden of troubadours, a Watteau fairyland; and, +willing to shake off such amorous imbecilities by speech, he +stepped briskly after his enemy. As he did so he tripped over +some tree or stone in the grass; looked down at it first with +irritation and then a second time with curiosity. The next +instant the moon and the tall poplars looked at an unusual sight +--an elderly English diplomatist running hard and crying or +bellowing as he ran. + +His hoarse shouts brought a pale face to the study door, the +beaming glasses and worried brow of Dr. Simon, who heard the +nobleman's first clear words. Lord Galloway was crying: "A corpse +in the grass--a blood-stained corpse." O'Brien at last had gone +utterly out of his mind. + +"We must tell Valentin at once," said the doctor, when the +other had brokenly described all that he had dared to examine. +"It is fortunate that he is here"; and even as he spoke the great +detective entered the study, attracted by the cry. It was almost +amusing to note his typical transformation; he had come with the +common concern of a host and a gentleman, fearing that some guest +or servant was ill. When he was told the gory fact, he turned +with all his gravity instantly bright and businesslike; for this, +however abrupt and awful, was his business. + +"Strange, gentlemen," he said as they hurried out into the +garden, "that I should have hunted mysteries all over the earth, +and now one comes and settles in my own back-yard. But where is +the place?" They crossed the lawn less easily, as a slight mist +had begun to rise from the river; but under the guidance of the +shaken Galloway they found the body sunken in deep grass--the +body of a very tall and broad-shouldered man. He lay face +downwards, so they could only see that his big shoulders were clad +in black cloth, and that his big head was bald, except for a wisp +or two of brown hair that clung to his skull like wet seaweed. A +scarlet serpent of blood crawled from under his fallen face. + +"At least," said Simon, with a deep and singular intonation, +"he is none of our party." + +"Examine him, doctor," cried Valentin rather sharply. "He may +not be dead." + +The doctor bent down. "He is not quite cold, but I am afraid +he is dead enough," he answered. "Just help me to lift him up." + +They lifted him carefully an inch from the ground, and all +doubts as to his being really dead were settled at once and +frightfully. The head fell away. It had been entirely sundered +from the body; whoever had cut his throat had managed to sever the +neck as well. Even Valentin was slightly shocked. "He must have +been as strong as a gorilla," he muttered. + +Not without a shiver, though he was used to anatomical +abortions, Dr. Simon lifted the head. It was slightly slashed +about the neck and jaw, but the face was substantially unhurt. It +was a ponderous, yellow face, at once sunken and swollen, with a +hawk-like nose and heavy lids--a face of a wicked Roman emperor, +with, perhaps, a distant touch of a Chinese emperor. All present +seemed to look at it with the coldest eye of ignorance. Nothing +else could be noted about the man except that, as they had lifted +his body, they had seen underneath it the white gleam of a +shirt-front defaced with a red gleam of blood. As Dr. Simon said, +the man had never been of their party. But he might very well +have been trying to join it, for he had come dressed for such an +occasion. + +Valentin went down on his hands and knees and examined with +his closest professional attention the grass and ground for some +twenty yards round the body, in which he was assisted less +skillfully by the doctor, and quite vaguely by the English lord. +Nothing rewarded their grovellings except a few twigs, snapped or +chopped into very small lengths, which Valentin lifted for an +instant's examination and then tossed away. + +"Twigs," he said gravely; "twigs, and a total stranger with +his head cut off; that is all there is on this lawn." + +There was an almost creepy stillness, and then the unnerved +Galloway called out sharply: + +"Who's that! Who's that over there by the garden wall!" + +A small figure with a foolishly large head drew waveringly +near them in the moonlit haze; looked for an instant like a +goblin, but turned out to be the harmless little priest whom they +had left in the drawing-room. + +"I say," he said meekly, "there are no gates to this garden, +do you know." + +Valentin's black brows had come together somewhat crossly, as +they did on principle at the sight of the cassock. But he was far +too just a man to deny the relevance of the remark. "You are +right," he said. "Before we find out how he came to be killed, we +may have to find out how he came to be here. Now listen to me, +gentlemen. If it can be done without prejudice to my position and +duty, we shall all agree that certain distinguished names might +well be kept out of this. There are ladies, gentlemen, and there +is a foreign ambassador. If we must mark it down as a crime, then +it must be followed up as a crime. But till then I can use my own +discretion. I am the head of the police; I am so public that I +can afford to be private. Please Heaven, I will clear everyone of +my own guests before I call in my men to look for anybody else. +Gentlemen, upon your honour, you will none of you leave the house +till tomorrow at noon; there are bedrooms for all. Simon, I think +you know where to find my man, Ivan, in the front hall; he is a +confidential man. Tell him to leave another servant on guard and +come to me at once. Lord Galloway, you are certainly the best +person to tell the ladies what has happened, and prevent a panic. +They also must stay. Father Brown and I will remain with the +body." + +When this spirit of the captain spoke in Valentin he was obeyed +like a bugle. Dr. Simon went through to the armoury and routed +out Ivan, the public detective's private detective. Galloway went +to the drawing-room and told the terrible news tactfully enough, +so that by the time the company assembled there the ladies were +already startled and already soothed. Meanwhile the good priest +and the good atheist stood at the head and foot of the dead man +motionless in the moonlight, like symbolic statues of their two +philosophies of death. + +Ivan, the confidential man with the scar and the moustaches, +came out of the house like a cannon ball, and came racing across +the lawn to Valentin like a dog to his master. His livid face was +quite lively with the glow of this domestic detective story, and +it was with almost unpleasant eagerness that he asked his master's +permission to examine the remains. + +"Yes; look, if you like, Ivan," said Valentin, "but don't be +long. We must go in and thrash this out in the house." + +Ivan lifted the head, and then almost let it drop. + +"Why," he gasped, "it's--no, it isn't; it can't be. Do you +know this man, sir?" + +"No," said Valentin indifferently; "we had better go inside." + +Between them they carried the corpse to a sofa in the study, +and then all made their way to the drawing-room. + +The detective sat down at a desk quietly, and even without +hesitation; but his eye was the iron eye of a judge at assize. He +made a few rapid notes upon paper in front of him, and then said +shortly: "Is everybody here?" + +"Not Mr. Brayne," said the Duchess of Mont St. Michel, looking +round. + +"No," said Lord Galloway in a hoarse, harsh voice. "And not +Mr. Neil O'Brien, I fancy. I saw that gentleman walking in the +garden when the corpse was still warm." + +"Ivan," said the detective, "go and fetch Commandant O'Brien +and Mr. Brayne. Mr. Brayne, I know, is finishing a cigar in the +dining-room; Commandant O'Brien, I think, is walking up and down +the conservatory. I am not sure." + +The faithful attendant flashed from the room, and before +anyone could stir or speak Valentin went on with the same +soldierly swiftness of exposition. + +"Everyone here knows that a dead man has been found in the +garden, his head cut clean from his body. Dr. Simon, you have +examined it. Do you think that to cut a man's throat like that +would need great force? Or, perhaps, only a very sharp knife?" + +"I should say that it could not be done with a knife at all," +said the pale doctor. + +"Have you any thought," resumed Valentin, "of a tool with +which it could be done?" + +"Speaking within modern probabilities, I really haven't," said +the doctor, arching his painful brows. "It's not easy to hack a +neck through even clumsily, and this was a very clean cut. It +could be done with a battle-axe or an old headsman's axe, or an +old two-handed sword." + +"But, good heavens!" cried the Duchess, almost in hysterics, +"there aren't any two-handed swords and battle-axes round here." + +Valentin was still busy with the paper in front of him. "Tell +me," he said, still writing rapidly, "could it have been done with +a long French cavalry sabre?" + +A low knocking came at the door, which, for some unreasonable +reason, curdled everyone's blood like the knocking in Macbeth. +Amid that frozen silence Dr. Simon managed to say: "A sabre-- +yes, I suppose it could." + +"Thank you," said Valentin. "Come in, Ivan." + +The confidential Ivan opened the door and ushered in Commandant +Neil O'Brien, whom he had found at last pacing the garden again. + +The Irish officer stood up disordered and defiant on the +threshold. "What do you want with me?" he cried. + +"Please sit down," said Valentin in pleasant, level tones. +"Why, you aren't wearing your sword. Where is it?" + +"I left it on the library table," said O'Brien, his brogue +deepening in his disturbed mood. "It was a nuisance, it was +getting--" + +"Ivan," said Valentin, "please go and get the Commandant's +sword from the library." Then, as the servant vanished, "Lord +Galloway says he saw you leaving the garden just before he found +the corpse. What were you doing in the garden?" + +The Commandant flung himself recklessly into a chair. "Oh," +he cried in pure Irish, "admirin' the moon. Communing with +Nature, me bhoy." + +A heavy silence sank and endured, and at the end of it came +again that trivial and terrible knocking. Ivan reappeared, +carrying an empty steel scabbard. "This is all I can find," he +said. + +"Put it on the table," said Valentin, without looking up. + +There was an inhuman silence in the room, like that sea of +inhuman silence round the dock of the condemned murderer. The +Duchess's weak exclamations had long ago died away. Lord +Galloway's swollen hatred was satisfied and even sobered. The +voice that came was quite unexpected. + +"I think I can tell you," cried Lady Margaret, in that clear, +quivering voice with which a courageous woman speaks publicly. "I +can tell you what Mr. O'Brien was doing in the garden, since he is +bound to silence. He was asking me to marry him. I refused; I +said in my family circumstances I could give him nothing but my +respect. He was a little angry at that; he did not seem to think +much of my respect. I wonder," she added, with rather a wan +smile, "if he will care at all for it now. For I offer it him +now. I will swear anywhere that he never did a thing like this." + +Lord Galloway had edged up to his daughter, and was +intimidating her in what he imagined to be an undertone. "Hold +your tongue, Maggie," he said in a thunderous whisper. "Why +should you shield the fellow? Where's his sword? Where's his +confounded cavalry--" + +He stopped because of the singular stare with which his +daughter was regarding him, a look that was indeed a lurid magnet +for the whole group. + +"You old fool!" she said in a low voice without pretence of +piety, "what do you suppose you are trying to prove? I tell you +this man was innocent while with me. But if he wasn't innocent, +he was still with me. If he murdered a man in the garden, who was +it who must have seen--who must at least have known? Do you +hate Neil so much as to put your own daughter--" + +Lady Galloway screamed. Everyone else sat tingling at the +touch of those satanic tragedies that have been between lovers +before now. They saw the proud, white face of the Scotch +aristocrat and her lover, the Irish adventurer, like old portraits +in a dark house. The long silence was full of formless historical +memories of murdered husbands and poisonous paramours. + +In the centre of this morbid silence an innocent voice said: +"Was it a very long cigar?" + +The change of thought was so sharp that they had to look round +to see who had spoken. + +"I mean," said little Father Brown, from the corner of the +room, "I mean that cigar Mr. Brayne is finishing. It seems nearly +as long as a walking-stick." + +Despite the irrelevance there was assent as well as irritation +in Valentin's face as he lifted his head. + +"Quite right," he remarked sharply. "Ivan, go and see about +Mr. Brayne again, and bring him here at once." + +The instant the factotum had closed the door, Valentin +addressed the girl with an entirely new earnestness. + +"Lady Margaret," he said, "we all feel, I am sure, both +gratitude and admiration for your act in rising above your lower +dignity and explaining the Commandant's conduct. But there is a +hiatus still. Lord Galloway, I understand, met you passing from +the study to the drawing-room, and it was only some minutes +afterwards that he found the garden and the Commandant still +walking there." + +"You have to remember," replied Margaret, with a faint irony +in her voice, "that I had just refused him, so we should scarcely +have come back arm in arm. He is a gentleman, anyhow; and he +loitered behind--and so got charged with murder." + +"In those few moments," said Valentin gravely, "he might +really--" + +The knock came again, and Ivan put in his scarred face. + +"Beg pardon, sir," he said, "but Mr. Brayne has left the +house." + +"Left!" cried Valentin, and rose for the first time to his +feet. + +"Gone. Scooted. Evaporated," replied Ivan in humorous +French. "His hat and coat are gone, too, and I'll tell you +something to cap it all. I ran outside the house to find any +traces of him, and I found one, and a big trace, too." + +"What do you mean?" asked Valentin. + +"I'll show you," said his servant, and reappeared with a +flashing naked cavalry sabre, streaked with blood about the point +and edge. Everyone in the room eyed it as if it were a +thunderbolt; but the experienced Ivan went on quite quietly: + +"I found this," he said, "flung among the bushes fifty yards +up the road to Paris. In other words, I found it just where your +respectable Mr. Brayne threw it when he ran away." + +There was again a silence, but of a new sort. Valentin took +the sabre, examined it, reflected with unaffected concentration of +thought, and then turned a respectful face to O'Brien. +"Commandant," he said, "we trust you will always produce this +weapon if it is wanted for police examination. Meanwhile," he +added, slapping the steel back in the ringing scabbard, "let me +return you your sword." + +At the military symbolism of the action the audience could +hardly refrain from applause. + +For Neil O'Brien, indeed, that gesture was the turning-point +of existence. By the time he was wandering in the mysterious +garden again in the colours of the morning the tragic futility of +his ordinary mien had fallen from him; he was a man with many +reasons for happiness. Lord Galloway was a gentleman, and had +offered him an apology. Lady Margaret was something better than a +lady, a woman at least, and had perhaps given him something better +than an apology, as they drifted among the old flowerbeds before +breakfast. The whole company was more lighthearted and humane, +for though the riddle of the death remained, the load of suspicion +was lifted off them all, and sent flying off to Paris with the +strange millionaire--a man they hardly knew. The devil was cast +out of the house--he had cast himself out. + +Still, the riddle remained; and when O'Brien threw himself on +a garden seat beside Dr. Simon, that keenly scientific person at +once resumed it. He did not get much talk out of O'Brien, whose +thoughts were on pleasanter things. + +"I can't say it interests me much," said the Irishman frankly, +"especially as it seems pretty plain now. Apparently Brayne hated +this stranger for some reason; lured him into the garden, and +killed him with my sword. Then he fled to the city, tossing the +sword away as he went. By the way, Ivan tells me the dead man had +a Yankee dollar in his pocket. So he was a countryman of Brayne's, +and that seems to clinch it. I don't see any difficulties about +the business." + +"There are five colossal difficulties," said the doctor +quietly; "like high walls within walls. Don't mistake me. I +don't doubt that Brayne did it; his flight, I fancy, proves that. +But as to how he did it. First difficulty: Why should a man kill +another man with a great hulking sabre, when he can almost kill +him with a pocket knife and put it back in his pocket? Second +difficulty: Why was there no noise or outcry? Does a man commonly +see another come up waving a scimitar and offer no remarks? Third +difficulty: A servant watched the front door all the evening; and +a rat cannot get into Valentin's garden anywhere. How did the +dead man get into the garden? Fourth difficulty: Given the same +conditions, how did Brayne get out of the garden?" + +"And the fifth," said Neil, with eyes fixed on the English +priest who was coming slowly up the path. + +"Is a trifle, I suppose," said the doctor, "but I think an odd +one. When I first saw how the head had been slashed, I supposed +the assassin had struck more than once. But on examination I +found many cuts across the truncated section; in other words, they +were struck after the head was off. Did Brayne hate his foe so +fiendishly that he stood sabring his body in the moonlight?" + +"Horrible!" said O'Brien, and shuddered. + +The little priest, Brown, had arrived while they were talking, +and had waited, with characteristic shyness, till they had +finished. Then he said awkwardly: + +"I say, I'm sorry to interrupt. But I was sent to tell you +the news!" + +"News?" repeated Simon, and stared at him rather painfully +through his glasses. + +"Yes, I'm sorry," said Father Brown mildly. "There's been +another murder, you know." + +Both men on the seat sprang up, leaving it rocking. + +"And, what's stranger still," continued the priest, with his +dull eye on the rhododendrons, "it's the same disgusting sort; +it's another beheading. They found the second head actually +bleeding into the river, a few yards along Brayne's road to Paris; +so they suppose that he--" + +"Great Heaven!" cried O'Brien. "Is Brayne a monomaniac?" + +"There are American vendettas," said the priest impassively. +Then he added: "They want you to come to the library and see it." + +Commandant O'Brien followed the others towards the inquest, +feeling decidedly sick. As a soldier, he loathed all this +secretive carnage; where were these extravagant amputations going +to stop? First one head was hacked off, and then another; in this +case (he told himself bitterly) it was not true that two heads +were better than one. As he crossed the study he almost staggered +at a shocking coincidence. Upon Valentin's table lay the coloured +picture of yet a third bleeding head; and it was the head of +Valentin himself. A second glance showed him it was only a +Nationalist paper, called The Guillotine, which every week showed +one of its political opponents with rolling eyes and writhing +features just after execution; for Valentin was an anti-clerical +of some note. But O'Brien was an Irishman, with a kind of +chastity even in his sins; and his gorge rose against that great +brutality of the intellect which belongs only to France. He felt +Paris as a whole, from the grotesques on the Gothic churches to +the gross caricatures in the newspapers. He remembered the +gigantic jests of the Revolution. He saw the whole city as one +ugly energy, from the sanguinary sketch lying on Valentin's table +up to where, above a mountain and forest of gargoyles, the great +devil grins on Notre Dame. + +The library was long, low, and dark; what light entered it shot +from under low blinds and had still some of the ruddy tinge of +morning. Valentin and his servant Ivan were waiting for them at +the upper end of a long, slightly-sloping desk, on which lay the +mortal remains, looking enormous in the twilight. The big black +figure and yellow face of the man found in the garden confronted +them essentially unchanged. The second head, which had been +fished from among the river reeds that morning, lay streaming and +dripping beside it; Valentin's men were still seeking to recover +the rest of this second corpse, which was supposed to be afloat. +Father Brown, who did not seem to share O'Brien's sensibilities in +the least, went up to the second head and examined it with his +blinking care. It was little more than a mop of wet white hair, +fringed with silver fire in the red and level morning light; the +face, which seemed of an ugly, empurpled and perhaps criminal +type, had been much battered against trees or stones as it tossed +in the water. + +"Good morning, Commandant O'Brien," said Valentin, with quiet +cordiality. "You have heard of Brayne's last experiment in +butchery, I suppose?" + +Father Brown was still bending over the head with white hair, +and he said, without looking up: + +"I suppose it is quite certain that Brayne cut off this head, +too." + +"Well, it seems common sense," said Valentin, with his hands +in his pockets. "Killed in the same way as the other. Found +within a few yards of the other. And sliced by the same weapon +which we know he carried away." + +"Yes, yes; I know," replied Father Brown submissively. "Yet, +you know, I doubt whether Brayne could have cut off this head." + +"Why not?" inquired Dr. Simon, with a rational stare. + +"Well, doctor," said the priest, looking up blinking, "can a +man cut off his own head? I don't know." + +O'Brien felt an insane universe crashing about his ears; but +the doctor sprang forward with impetuous practicality and pushed +back the wet white hair. + +"Oh, there's no doubt it's Brayne," said the priest quietly. +"He had exactly that chip in the left ear." + +The detective, who had been regarding the priest with steady +and glittering eyes, opened his clenched mouth and said sharply: +"You seem to know a lot about him, Father Brown." + +"I do," said the little man simply. "I've been about with him +for some weeks. He was thinking of joining our church." + +The star of the fanatic sprang into Valentin's eyes; he strode +towards the priest with clenched hands. "And, perhaps," he cried, +with a blasting sneer, "perhaps he was also thinking of leaving +all his money to your church." + +"Perhaps he was," said Brown stolidly; "it is possible." + +"In that case," cried Valentin, with a dreadful smile, "you +may indeed know a great deal about him. About his life and about +his--" + +Commandant O'Brien laid a hand on Valentin's arm. "Drop that +slanderous rubbish, Valentin," he said, "or there may be more +swords yet." + +But Valentin (under the steady, humble gaze of the priest) had +already recovered himself. "Well," he said shortly, "people's +private opinions can wait. You gentlemen are still bound by your +promise to stay; you must enforce it on yourselves--and on each +other. Ivan here will tell you anything more you want to know; +I must get to business and write to the authorities. We can't +keep this quiet any longer. I shall be writing in my study if +there is any more news." + +"Is there any more news, Ivan?" asked Dr. Simon, as the chief +of police strode out of the room. + +"Only one more thing, I think, sir," said Ivan, wrinkling up +his grey old face, "but that's important, too, in its way. +There's that old buffer you found on the lawn," and he pointed +without pretence of reverence at the big black body with the +yellow head. "We've found out who he is, anyhow." + +"Indeed!" cried the astonished doctor, "and who is he?" + +"His name was Arnold Becker," said the under-detective, +"though he went by many aliases. He was a wandering sort of scamp, +and is known to have been in America; so that was where Brayne got +his knife into him. We didn't have much to do with him ourselves, +for he worked mostly in Germany. We've communicated, of course, +with the German police. But, oddly enough, there was a twin +brother of his, named Louis Becker, whom we had a great deal to do +with. In fact, we found it necessary to guillotine him only +yesterday. Well, it's a rum thing, gentlemen, but when I saw that +fellow flat on the lawn I had the greatest jump of my life. If I +hadn't seen Louis Becker guillotined with my own eyes, I'd have +sworn it was Louis Becker lying there in the grass. Then, of +course, I remembered his twin brother in Germany, and following up +the clue--" + +The explanatory Ivan stopped, for the excellent reason that +nobody was listening to him. The Commandant and the doctor were +both staring at Father Brown, who had sprung stiffly to his feet, +and was holding his temples tight like a man in sudden and violent +pain. + +"Stop, stop, stop!" he cried; "stop talking a minute, for I +see half. Will God give me strength? Will my brain make the one +jump and see all? Heaven help me! I used to be fairly good at +thinking. I could paraphrase any page in Aquinas once. Will my +head split--or will it see? I see half--I only see half." + +He buried his head in his hands, and stood in a sort of rigid +torture of thought or prayer, while the other three could only go +on staring at this last prodigy of their wild twelve hours. + +When Father Brown's hands fell they showed a face quite fresh +and serious, like a child's. He heaved a huge sigh, and said: +"Let us get this said and done with as quickly as possible. Look +here, this will be the quickest way to convince you all of the +truth." He turned to the doctor. "Dr. Simon," he said, "you have +a strong head-piece, and I heard you this morning asking the five +hardest questions about this business. Well, if you will ask them +again, I will answer them." + +Simon's pince-nez dropped from his nose in his doubt and +wonder, but he answered at once. "Well, the first question, you +know, is why a man should kill another with a clumsy sabre at all +when a man can kill with a bodkin?" + +"A man cannot behead with a bodkin," said Brown calmly, "and +for this murder beheading was absolutely necessary." + +"Why?" asked O'Brien, with interest. + +"And the next question?" asked Father Brown. + +"Well, why didn't the man cry out or anything?" asked the +doctor; "sabres in gardens are certainly unusual." + +"Twigs," said the priest gloomily, and turned to the window +which looked on the scene of death. "No one saw the point of the +twigs. Why should they lie on that lawn (look at it) so far from +any tree? They were not snapped off; they were chopped off. The +murderer occupied his enemy with some tricks with the sabre, +showing how he could cut a branch in mid-air, or what-not. Then, +while his enemy bent down to see the result, a silent slash, and +the head fell." + +"Well," said the doctor slowly, "that seems plausible enough. +But my next two questions will stump anyone." + +The priest still stood looking critically out of the window +and waited. + +"You know how all the garden was sealed up like an air-tight +chamber," went on the doctor. "Well, how did the strange man get +into the garden?" + +Without turning round, the little priest answered: "There +never was any strange man in the garden." + +There was a silence, and then a sudden cackle of almost +childish laughter relieved the strain. The absurdity of Brown's +remark moved Ivan to open taunts. + +"Oh!" he cried; "then we didn't lug a great fat corpse on to a +sofa last night? He hadn't got into the garden, I suppose?" + +"Got into the garden?" repeated Brown reflectively. "No, not +entirely." + +"Hang it all," cried Simon, "a man gets into a garden, or he +doesn't." + +"Not necessarily," said the priest, with a faint smile. "What +is the nest question, doctor?" + +"I fancy you're ill," exclaimed Dr. Simon sharply; "but I'll +ask the next question if you like. How did Brayne get out of the +garden?" + +"He didn't get out of the garden," said the priest, still +looking out of the window. + +"Didn't get out of the garden?" exploded Simon. + +"Not completely," said Father Brown. + +Simon shook his fists in a frenzy of French logic. "A man +gets out of a garden, or he doesn't," he cried. + +"Not always," said Father Brown. + +Dr. Simon sprang to his feet impatiently. "I have no time to +spare on such senseless talk," he cried angrily. "If you can't +understand a man being on one side of a wall or the other, I won't +trouble you further." + +"Doctor," said the cleric very gently, "we have always got on +very pleasantly together. If only for the sake of old friendship, +stop and tell me your fifth question." + +The impatient Simon sank into a chair by the door and said +briefly: "The head and shoulders were cut about in a queer way. +It seemed to be done after death." + +"Yes," said the motionless priest, "it was done so as to make +you assume exactly the one simple falsehood that you did assume. +It was done to make you take for granted that the head belonged to +the body." + +The borderland of the brain, where all the monsters are made, +moved horribly in the Gaelic O'Brien. He felt the chaotic +presence of all the horse-men and fish-women that man's unnatural +fancy has begotten. A voice older than his first fathers seemed +saying in his ear: "Keep out of the monstrous garden where grows +the tree with double fruit. Avoid the evil garden where died the +man with two heads." Yet, while these shameful symbolic shapes +passed across the ancient mirror of his Irish soul, his +Frenchified intellect was quite alert, and was watching the odd +priest as closely and incredulously as all the rest. + +Father Brown had turned round at last, and stood against the +window, with his face in dense shadow; but even in that shadow +they could see it was pale as ashes. Nevertheless, he spoke quite +sensibly, as if there were no Gaelic souls on earth. + +"Gentlemen," he said, "you did not find the strange body of +Becker in the garden. You did not find any strange body in the +garden. In face of Dr. Simon's rationalism, I still affirm that +Becker was only partly present. Look here!" (pointing to the +black bulk of the mysterious corpse) "you never saw that man in +your lives. Did you ever see this man?" + +He rapidly rolled away the bald, yellow head of the unknown, +and put in its place the white-maned head beside it. And there, +complete, unified, unmistakable, lay Julius K. Brayne. + +"The murderer," went on Brown quietly, "hacked off his enemy's +head and flung the sword far over the wall. But he was too clever +to fling the sword only. He flung the head over the wall also. +Then he had only to clap on another head to the corpse, and (as he +insisted on a private inquest) you all imagined a totally new +man." + +"Clap on another head!" said O'Brien staring. "What other +head? Heads don't grow on garden bushes, do they?" + +"No," said Father Brown huskily, and looking at his boots; +"there is only one place where they grow. They grow in the basket +of the guillotine, beside which the chief of police, Aristide +Valentin, was standing not an hour before the murder. Oh, my +friends, hear me a minute more before you tear me in pieces. +Valentin is an honest man, if being mad for an arguable cause is +honesty. But did you never see in that cold, grey eye of his that +he is mad! He would do anything, anything, to break what he calls +the superstition of the Cross. He has fought for it and starved +for it, and now he has murdered for it. Brayne's crazy millions +had hitherto been scattered among so many sects that they did +little to alter the balance of things. But Valentin heard a +whisper that Brayne, like so many scatter-brained sceptics, was +drifting to us; and that was quite a different thing. Brayne +would pour supplies into the impoverished and pugnacious Church of +France; he would support six Nationalist newspapers like The +Guillotine. The battle was already balanced on a point, and the +fanatic took flame at the risk. He resolved to destroy the +millionaire, and he did it as one would expect the greatest of +detectives to commit his only crime. He abstracted the severed +head of Becker on some criminological excuse, and took it home in +his official box. He had that last argument with Brayne, that +Lord Galloway did not hear the end of; that failing, he led him +out into the sealed garden, talked about swordsmanship, used twigs +and a sabre for illustration, and--" + +Ivan of the Scar sprang up. "You lunatic," he yelled; "you'll +go to my master now, if I take you by--" + +"Why, I was going there," said Brown heavily; "I must ask him +to confess, and all that." + +Driving the unhappy Brown before them like a hostage or +sacrifice, they rushed together into the sudden stillness of +Valentin's study. + +The great detective sat at his desk apparently too occupied to +hear their turbulent entrance. They paused a moment, and then +something in the look of that upright and elegant back made the +doctor run forward suddenly. A touch and a glance showed him that +there was a small box of pills at Valentin's elbow, and that +Valentin was dead in his chair; and on the blind face of the +suicide was more than the pride of Cato. + + + + The Queer Feet + +If you meet a member of that select club, "The Twelve True +Fishermen," entering the Vernon Hotel for the annual club dinner, +you will observe, as he takes off his overcoat, that his evening +coat is green and not black. If (supposing that you have the +star-defying audacity to address such a being) you ask him why, he +will probably answer that he does it to avoid being mistaken for a +waiter. You will then retire crushed. But you will leave behind +you a mystery as yet unsolved and a tale worth telling. + +If (to pursue the same vein of improbable conjecture) you were +to meet a mild, hard-working little priest, named Father Brown, +and were to ask him what he thought was the most singular luck of +his life, he would probably reply that upon the whole his best +stroke was at the Vernon Hotel, where he had averted a crime and, +perhaps, saved a soul, merely by listening to a few footsteps in a +passage. He is perhaps a little proud of this wild and wonderful +guess of his, and it is possible that he might refer to it. But +since it is immeasurably unlikely that you will ever rise high +enough in the social world to find "The Twelve True Fishermen," or +that you will ever sink low enough among slums and criminals to +find Father Brown, I fear you will never hear the story at all +unless you hear it from me. + +The Vernon Hotel at which The Twelve True Fishermen held their +annual dinners was an institution such as can only exist in an +oligarchical society which has almost gone mad on good manners. +It was that topsy-turvy product--an "exclusive" commercial +enterprise. That is, it was a thing which paid not by attracting +people, but actually by turning people away. In the heart of a +plutocracy tradesmen become cunning enough to be more fastidious +than their customers. They positively create difficulties so that +their wealthy and weary clients may spend money and diplomacy in +overcoming them. If there were a fashionable hotel in London +which no man could enter who was under six foot, society would +meekly make up parties of six-foot men to dine in it. If there +were an expensive restaurant which by a mere caprice of its +proprietor was only open on Thursday afternoon, it would be +crowded on Thursday afternoon. The Vernon Hotel stood, as if by +accident, in the corner of a square in Belgravia. It was a small +hotel; and a very inconvenient one. But its very inconveniences +were considered as walls protecting a particular class. One +inconvenience, in particular, was held to be of vital importance: +the fact that practically only twenty-four people could dine in +the place at once. The only big dinner table was the celebrated +terrace table, which stood open to the air on a sort of veranda +overlooking one of the most exquisite old gardens in London. Thus +it happened that even the twenty-four seats at this table could +only be enjoyed in warm weather; and this making the enjoyment yet +more difficult made it yet more desired. The existing owner of +the hotel was a Jew named Lever; and he made nearly a million out +of it, by making it difficult to get into. Of course he combined +with this limitation in the scope of his enterprise the most +careful polish in its performance. The wines and cooking were +really as good as any in Europe, and the demeanour of the +attendants exactly mirrored the fixed mood of the English upper +class. The proprietor knew all his waiters like the fingers on +his hand; there were only fifteen of them all told. It was much +easier to become a Member of Parliament than to become a waiter in +that hotel. Each waiter was trained in terrible silence and +smoothness, as if he were a gentleman's servant. And, indeed, +there was generally at least one waiter to every gentleman who +dined. + +The club of The Twelve True Fishermen would not have consented +to dine anywhere but in such a place, for it insisted on a +luxurious privacy; and would have been quite upset by the mere +thought that any other club was even dining in the same building. +On the occasion of their annual dinner the Fishermen were in the +habit of exposing all their treasures, as if they were in a +private house, especially the celebrated set of fish knives and +forks which were, as it were, the insignia of the society, each +being exquisitely wrought in silver in the form of a fish, and +each loaded at the hilt with one large pearl. These were always +laid out for the fish course, and the fish course was always the +most magnificent in that magnificent repast. The society had a +vast number of ceremonies and observances, but it had no history +and no object; that was where it was so very aristocratic. You +did not have to be anything in order to be one of the Twelve +Fishers; unless you were already a certain sort of person, you +never even heard of them. It had been in existence twelve years. +Its president was Mr. Audley. Its vice-president was the Duke of +Chester. + +If I have in any degree conveyed the atmosphere of this +appalling hotel, the reader may feel a natural wonder as to how I +came to know anything about it, and may even speculate as to how +so ordinary a person as my friend Father Brown came to find himself +in that golden galley. As far as that is concerned, my story is +simple, or even vulgar. There is in the world a very aged rioter +and demagogue who breaks into the most refined retreats with the +dreadful information that all men are brothers, and wherever this +leveller went on his pale horse it was Father Brown's trade to +follow. One of the waiters, an Italian, had been struck down with +a paralytic stroke that afternoon; and his Jewish employer, +marvelling mildly at such superstitions, had consented to send for +the nearest Popish priest. With what the waiter confessed to +Father Brown we are not concerned, for the excellent reason that +that cleric kept it to himself; but apparently it involved him in +writing out a note or statement for the conveying of some message +or the righting of some wrong. Father Brown, therefore, with a +meek impudence which he would have shown equally in Buckingham +Palace, asked to be provided with a room and writing materials. +Mr. Lever was torn in two. He was a kind man, and had also that +bad imitation of kindness, the dislike of any difficulty or scene. +At the same time the presence of one unusual stranger in his hotel +that evening was like a speck of dirt on something just cleaned. +There was never any borderland or anteroom in the Vernon Hotel, no +people waiting in the hall, no customers coming in on chance. +There were fifteen waiters. There were twelve guests. It would +be as startling to find a new guest in the hotel that night as to +find a new brother taking breakfast or tea in one's own family. +Moreover, the priest's appearance was second-rate and his clothes +muddy; a mere glimpse of him afar off might precipitate a crisis +in the club. Mr. Lever at last hit on a plan to cover, since he +might not obliterate, the disgrace. When you enter (as you never +will) the Vernon Hotel, you pass down a short passage decorated +with a few dingy but important pictures, and come to the main +vestibule and lounge which opens on your right into passages +leading to the public rooms, and on your left to a similar passage +pointing to the kitchens and offices of the hotel. Immediately on +your left hand is the corner of a glass office, which abuts upon +the lounge--a house within a house, so to speak, like the old +hotel bar which probably once occupied its place. + +In this office sat the representative of the proprietor +(nobody in this place ever appeared in person if he could help +it), and just beyond the office, on the way to the servants' +quarters, was the gentlemen's cloak room, the last boundary of the +gentlemen's domain. But between the office and the cloak room was +a small private room without other outlet, sometimes used by the +proprietor for delicate and important matters, such as lending a +duke a thousand pounds or declining to lend him sixpence. It is a +mark of the magnificent tolerance of Mr. Lever that he permitted +this holy place to be for about half an hour profaned by a mere +priest, scribbling away on a piece of paper. The story which +Father Brown was writing down was very likely a much better story +than this one, only it will never be known. I can merely state +that it was very nearly as long, and that the last two or three +paragraphs of it were the least exciting and absorbing. + +For it was by the time that he had reached these that the +priest began a little to allow his thoughts to wander and his +animal senses, which were commonly keen, to awaken. The time of +darkness and dinner was drawing on; his own forgotten little room +was without a light, and perhaps the gathering gloom, as +occasionally happens, sharpened the sense of sound. As Father +Brown wrote the last and least essential part of his document, he +caught himself writing to the rhythm of a recurrent noise outside, +just as one sometimes thinks to the tune of a railway train. When +he became conscious of the thing he found what it was: only the +ordinary patter of feet passing the door, which in an hotel was no +very unlikely matter. Nevertheless, he stared at the darkened +ceiling, and listened to the sound. After he had listened for a +few seconds dreamily, he got to his feet and listened intently, +with his head a little on one side. Then he sat down again and +buried his brow in his hands, now not merely listening, but +listening and thinking also. + +The footsteps outside at any given moment were such as one +might hear in any hotel; and yet, taken as a whole, there was +something very strange about them. There were no other footsteps. +It was always a very silent house, for the few familiar guests +went at once to their own apartments, and the well-trained waiters +were told to be almost invisible until they were wanted. One +could not conceive any place where there was less reason to +apprehend anything irregular. But these footsteps were so odd +that one could not decide to call them regular or irregular. +Father Brown followed them with his finger on the edge of the +table, like a man trying to learn a tune on the piano. + +First, there came a long rush of rapid little steps, such as a +light man might make in winning a walking race. At a certain +point they stopped and changed to a sort of slow, swinging stamp, +numbering not a quarter of the steps, but occupying about the same +time. The moment the last echoing stamp had died away would come +again the run or ripple of light, hurrying feet, and then again +the thud of the heavier walking. It was certainly the same pair +of boots, partly because (as has been said) there were no other +boots about, and partly because they had a small but unmistakable +creak in them. Father Brown had the kind of head that cannot help +asking questions; and on this apparently trivial question his head +almost split. He had seen men run in order to jump. He had seen +men run in order to slide. But why on earth should a man run in +order to walk? Or, again, why should he walk in order to run? +Yet no other description would cover the antics of this invisible +pair of legs. The man was either walking very fast down one-half +of the corridor in order to walk very slow down the other half; or +he was walking very slow at one end to have the rapture of walking +fast at the other. Neither suggestion seemed to make much sense. +His brain was growing darker and darker, like his room. + +Yet, as he began to think steadily, the very blackness of his +cell seemed to make his thoughts more vivid; he began to see as in +a kind of vision the fantastic feet capering along the corridor in +unnatural or symbolic attitudes. Was it a heathen religious dance? +Or some entirely new kind of scientific exercise? Father Brown +began to ask himself with more exactness what the steps suggested. +Taking the slow step first: it certainly was not the step of the +proprietor. Men of his type walk with a rapid waddle, or they sit +still. It could not be any servant or messenger waiting for +directions. It did not sound like it. The poorer orders (in an +oligarchy) sometimes lurch about when they are slightly drunk, but +generally, and especially in such gorgeous scenes, they stand or +sit in constrained attitudes. No; that heavy yet springy step, +with a kind of careless emphasis, not specially noisy, yet not +caring what noise it made, belonged to only one of the animals of +this earth. It was a gentleman of western Europe, and probably +one who had never worked for his living. + +Just as he came to this solid certainty, the step changed to +the quicker one, and ran past the door as feverishly as a rat. +The listener remarked that though this step was much swifter it +was also much more noiseless, almost as if the man were walking on +tiptoe. Yet it was not associated in his mind with secrecy, but +with something else--something that he could not remember. He +was maddened by one of those half-memories that make a man feel +half-witted. Surely he had heard that strange, swift walking +somewhere. Suddenly he sprang to his feet with a new idea in his +head, and walked to the door. His room had no direct outlet on +the passage, but let on one side into the glass office, and on the +other into the cloak room beyond. He tried the door into the +office, and found it locked. Then he looked at the window, now a +square pane full of purple cloud cleft by livid sunset, and for an +instant he smelt evil as a dog smells rats. + +The rational part of him (whether the wiser or not) regained +its supremacy. He remembered that the proprietor had told him +that he should lock the door, and would come later to release him. +He told himself that twenty things he had not thought of might +explain the eccentric sounds outside; he reminded himself that +there was just enough light left to finish his own proper work. +Bringing his paper to the window so as to catch the last stormy +evening light, he resolutely plunged once more into the almost +completed record. He had written for about twenty minutes, bending +closer and closer to his paper in the lessening light; then +suddenly he sat upright. He had heard the strange feet once more. + +This time they had a third oddity. Previously the unknown man +had walked, with levity indeed and lightning quickness, but he had +walked. This time he ran. One could hear the swift, soft, +bounding steps coming along the corridor, like the pads of a +fleeing and leaping panther. Whoever was coming was a very strong, +active man, in still yet tearing excitement. Yet, when the sound +had swept up to the office like a sort of whispering whirlwind, it +suddenly changed again to the old slow, swaggering stamp. + +Father Brown flung down his paper, and, knowing the office door +to be locked, went at once into the cloak room on the other side. +The attendant of this place was temporarily absent, probably +because the only guests were at dinner and his office was a +sinecure. After groping through a grey forest of overcoats, he +found that the dim cloak room opened on the lighted corridor in +the form of a sort of counter or half-door, like most of the +counters across which we have all handed umbrellas and received +tickets. There was a light immediately above the semicircular arch +of this opening. It threw little illumination on Father Brown +himself, who seemed a mere dark outline against the dim sunset +window behind him. But it threw an almost theatrical light on the +man who stood outside the cloak room in the corridor. + +He was an elegant man in very plain evening dress; tall, but +with an air of not taking up much room; one felt that he could +have slid along like a shadow where many smaller men would have +been obvious and obstructive. His face, now flung back in the +lamplight, was swarthy and vivacious, the face of a foreigner. +His figure was good, his manners good humoured and confident; a +critic could only say that his black coat was a shade below his +figure and manners, and even bulged and bagged in an odd way. The +moment he caught sight of Brown's black silhouette against the +sunset, he tossed down a scrap of paper with a number and called +out with amiable authority: "I want my hat and coat, please; I +find I have to go away at once." + +Father Brown took the paper without a word, and obediently +went to look for the coat; it was not the first menial work he had +done in his life. He brought it and laid it on the counter; +meanwhile, the strange gentleman who had been feeling in his +waistcoat pocket, said laughing: "I haven't got any silver; you +can keep this." And he threw down half a sovereign, and caught up +his coat. + +Father Brown's figure remained quite dark and still; but in +that instant he had lost his head. His head was always most +valuable when he had lost it. In such moments he put two and two +together and made four million. Often the Catholic Church (which +is wedded to common sense) did not approve of it. Often he did not +approve of it himself. But it was real inspiration--important +at rare crises--when whosoever shall lose his head the same shall +save it. + +"I think, sir," he said civilly, "that you have some silver in +your pocket." + +The tall gentleman stared. "Hang it," he cried, "if I choose +to give you gold, why should you complain?" + +"Because silver is sometimes more valuable than gold," said +the priest mildly; "that is, in large quantities." + +The stranger looked at him curiously. Then he looked still +more curiously up the passage towards the main entrance. Then he +looked back at Brown again, and then he looked very carefully at +the window beyond Brown's head, still coloured with the after-glow +of the storm. Then he seemed to make up his mind. He put one hand +on the counter, vaulted over as easily as an acrobat and towered +above the priest, putting one tremendous hand upon his collar. + +"Stand still," he said, in a hacking whisper. "I don't want +to threaten you, but--" + +"I do want to threaten you," said Father Brown, in a voice +like a rolling drum, "I want to threaten you with the worm that +dieth not, and the fire that is not quenched." + +"You're a rum sort of cloak-room clerk," said the other. + +"I am a priest, Monsieur Flambeau," said Brown, "and I am +ready to hear your confession." + +The other stood gasping for a few moments, and then staggered +back into a chair. + +The first two courses of the dinner of The Twelve True +Fishermen had proceeded with placid success. I do not possess a +copy of the menu; and if I did it would not convey anything to +anybody. It was written in a sort of super-French employed by +cooks, but quite unintelligible to Frenchmen. There was a +tradition in the club that the hors d'oeuvres should be various +and manifold to the point of madness. They were taken seriously +because they were avowedly useless extras, like the whole dinner +and the whole club. There was also a tradition that the soup +course should be light and unpretending--a sort of simple and +austere vigil for the feast of fish that was to come. The talk +was that strange, slight talk which governs the British Empire, +which governs it in secret, and yet would scarcely enlighten an +ordinary Englishman even if he could overhear it. Cabinet +ministers on both sides were alluded to by their Christian names +with a sort of bored benignity. The Radical Chancellor of the +Exchequer, whom the whole Tory party was supposed to be cursing +for his extortions, was praised for his minor poetry, or his saddle +in the hunting field. The Tory leader, whom all Liberals were +supposed to hate as a tyrant, was discussed and, on the whole, +praised--as a Liberal. It seemed somehow that politicians were +very important. And yet, anything seemed important about them +except their politics. Mr. Audley, the chairman, was an amiable, +elderly man who still wore Gladstone collars; he was a kind of +symbol of all that phantasmal and yet fixed society. He had never +done anything--not even anything wrong. He was not fast; he was +not even particularly rich. He was simply in the thing; and there +was an end of it. No party could ignore him, and if he had wished +to be in the Cabinet he certainly would have been put there. The +Duke of Chester, the vice-president, was a young and rising +politician. That is to say, he was a pleasant youth, with flat, +fair hair and a freckled face, with moderate intelligence and +enormous estates. In public his appearances were always +successful and his principle was simple enough. When he thought +of a joke he made it, and was called brilliant. When he could not +think of a joke he said that this was no time for trifling, and +was called able. In private, in a club of his own class, he was +simply quite pleasantly frank and silly, like a schoolboy. Mr. +Audley, never having been in politics, treated them a little more +seriously. Sometimes he even embarrassed the company by phrases +suggesting that there was some difference between a Liberal and a +Conservative. He himself was a Conservative, even in private +life. He had a roll of grey hair over the back of his collar, +like certain old-fashioned statesmen, and seen from behind he +looked like the man the empire wants. Seen from the front he +looked like a mild, self-indulgent bachelor, with rooms in the +Albany--which he was. + +As has been remarked, there were twenty-four seats at the +terrace table, and only twelve members of the club. Thus they +could occupy the terrace in the most luxurious style of all, being +ranged along the inner side of the table, with no one opposite, +commanding an uninterrupted view of the garden, the colours of +which were still vivid, though evening was closing in somewhat +luridly for the time of year. The chairman sat in the centre of +the line, and the vice-president at the right-hand end of it. +When the twelve guests first trooped into their seats it was the +custom (for some unknown reason) for all the fifteen waiters to +stand lining the wall like troops presenting arms to the king, +while the fat proprietor stood and bowed to the club with radiant +surprise, as if he had never heard of them before. But before the +first chink of knife and fork this army of retainers had vanished, +only the one or two required to collect and distribute the plates +darting about in deathly silence. Mr. Lever, the proprietor, of +course had disappeared in convulsions of courtesy long before. It +would be exaggerative, indeed irreverent, to say that he ever +positively appeared again. But when the important course, the fish +course, was being brought on, there was--how shall I put it? -- +a vivid shadow, a projection of his personality, which told that +he was hovering near. The sacred fish course consisted (to the +eyes of the vulgar) in a sort of monstrous pudding, about the size +and shape of a wedding cake, in which some considerable number of +interesting fishes had finally lost the shapes which God had given +to them. The Twelve True Fishermen took up their celebrated fish +knives and fish forks, and approached it as gravely as if every +inch of the pudding cost as much as the silver fork it was eaten +with. So it did, for all I know. This course was dealt with in +eager and devouring silence; and it was only when his plate was +nearly empty that the young duke made the ritual remark: "They +can't do this anywhere but here." + +"Nowhere," said Mr. Audley, in a deep bass voice, turning to +the speaker and nodding his venerable head a number of times. +"Nowhere, assuredly, except here. It was represented to me that +at the Cafe Anglais--" + +Here he was interrupted and even agitated for a moment by the +removal of his plate, but he recaptured the valuable thread of his +thoughts. "It was represented to me that the same could be done +at the Cafe Anglais. Nothing like it, sir," he said, shaking his +head ruthlessly, like a hanging judge. "Nothing like it." + +"Overrated place," said a certain Colonel Pound, speaking (by +the look of him) for the first time for some months. + +"Oh, I don't know," said the Duke of Chester, who was an +optimist, "it's jolly good for some things. You can't beat it +at--" + +A waiter came swiftly along the room, and then stopped dead. +His stoppage was as silent as his tread; but all those vague and +kindly gentlemen were so used to the utter smoothness of the +unseen machinery which surrounded and supported their lives, that +a waiter doing anything unexpected was a start and a jar. They +felt as you and I would feel if the inanimate world disobeyed-- +if a chair ran away from us. + +The waiter stood staring a few seconds, while there deepened +on every face at table a strange shame which is wholly the product +of our time. It is the combination of modern humanitarianism with +the horrible modern abyss between the souls of the rich and poor. +A genuine historic aristocrat would have thrown things at the +waiter, beginning with empty bottles, and very probably ending +with money. A genuine democrat would have asked him, with +comrade-like clearness of speech, what the devil he was doing. +But these modern plutocrats could not bear a poor man near to +them, either as a slave or as a friend. That something had gone +wrong with the servants was merely a dull, hot embarrassment. +They did not want to be brutal, and they dreaded the need to be +benevolent. They wanted the thing, whatever it was, to be over. +It was over. The waiter, after standing for some seconds rigid, +like a cataleptic, turned round and ran madly out of the room. + +When he reappeared in the room, or rather in the doorway, it +was in company with another waiter, with whom he whispered and +gesticulated with southern fierceness. Then the first waiter went +away, leaving the second waiter, and reappeared with a third +waiter. By the time a fourth waiter had joined this hurried +synod, Mr. Audley felt it necessary to break the silence in the +interests of Tact. He used a very loud cough, instead of a +presidential hammer, and said: "Splendid work young Moocher's +doing in Burmah. Now, no other nation in the world could have--" + +A fifth waiter had sped towards him like an arrow, and was +whispering in his ear: "So sorry. Important! Might the proprietor +speak to you?" + +The chairman turned in disorder, and with a dazed stare saw +Mr. Lever coming towards them with his lumbering quickness. The +gait of the good proprietor was indeed his usual gait, but his +face was by no means usual. Generally it was a genial +copper-brown; now it was a sickly yellow. + +"You will pardon me, Mr. Audley," he said, with asthmatic +breathlessness. "I have great apprehensions. Your fish-plates, +they are cleared away with the knife and fork on them!" + +"Well, I hope so," said the chairman, with some warmth. + +"You see him?" panted the excited hotel keeper; "you see the +waiter who took them away? You know him?" + +"Know the waiter?" answered Mr. Audley indignantly. "Certainly +not!" + +Mr. Lever opened his hands with a gesture of agony. "I never +send him," he said. "I know not when or why he come. I send my +waiter to take away the plates, and he find them already away." + +Mr. Audley still looked rather too bewildered to be really the +man the empire wants; none of the company could say anything except +the man of wood--Colonel Pound--who seemed galvanised into an +unnatural life. He rose rigidly from his chair, leaving all the +rest sitting, screwed his eyeglass into his eye, and spoke in a +raucous undertone as if he had half-forgotten how to speak. "Do +you mean," he said, "that somebody has stolen our silver fish +service?" + +The proprietor repeated the open-handed gesture with even +greater helplessness and in a flash all the men at the table were +on their feet. + +"Are all your waiters here?" demanded the colonel, in his low, +harsh accent. + +"Yes; they're all here. I noticed it myself," cried the young +duke, pushing his boyish face into the inmost ring. "Always count +'em as I come in; they look so queer standing up against the wall." + +"But surely one cannot exactly remember," began Mr. Audley, +with heavy hesitation. + +"I remember exactly, I tell you," cried the duke excitedly. +"There never have been more than fifteen waiters at this place, +and there were no more than fifteen tonight, I'll swear; no more +and no less." + +The proprietor turned upon him, quaking in a kind of palsy of +surprise. "You say--you say," he stammered, "that you see all +my fifteen waiters?" + +"As usual," assented the duke. "What is the matter with that!" + +"Nothing," said Lever, with a deepening accent, "only you did +not. For one of zem is dead upstairs." + +There was a shocking stillness for an instant in that room. +It may be (so supernatural is the word death) that each of those +idle men looked for a second at his soul, and saw it as a small +dried pea. One of them--the duke, I think--even said with the +idiotic kindness of wealth: "Is there anything we can do?" + +"He has had a priest," said the Jew, not untouched. + +Then, as to the clang of doom, they awoke to their own +position. For a few weird seconds they had really felt as if the +fifteenth waiter might be the ghost of the dead man upstairs. +They had been dumb under that oppression, for ghosts were to them +an embarrassment, like beggars. But the remembrance of the silver +broke the spell of the miraculous; broke it abruptly and with a +brutal reaction. The colonel flung over his chair and strode to +the door. "If there was a fifteenth man here, friends," he said, +"that fifteenth fellow was a thief. Down at once to the front and +back doors and secure everything; then we'll talk. The twenty-four +pearls of the club are worth recovering." + +Mr. Audley seemed at first to hesitate about whether it was +gentlemanly to be in such a hurry about anything; but, seeing the +duke dash down the stairs with youthful energy, he followed with a +more mature motion. + +At the same instant a sixth waiter ran into the room, and +declared that he had found the pile of fish plates on a sideboard, +with no trace of the silver. + +The crowd of diners and attendants that tumbled helter-skelter +down the passages divided into two groups. Most of the Fishermen +followed the proprietor to the front room to demand news of any +exit. Colonel Pound, with the chairman, the vice-president, and +one or two others darted down the corridor leading to the servants' +quarters, as the more likely line of escape. As they did so they +passed the dim alcove or cavern of the cloak room, and saw a +short, black-coated figure, presumably an attendant, standing a +little way back in the shadow of it. + +"Hallo, there!" called out the duke. "Have you seen anyone +pass?" + +The short figure did not answer the question directly, but +merely said: "Perhaps I have got what you are looking for, +gentlemen." + +They paused, wavering and wondering, while he quietly went to +the back of the cloak room, and came back with both hands full of +shining silver, which he laid out on the counter as calmly as a +salesman. It took the form of a dozen quaintly shaped forks and +knives. + +"You--you--" began the colonel, quite thrown off his +balance at last. Then he peered into the dim little room and saw +two things: first, that the short, black-clad man was dressed like +a clergyman; and, second, that the window of the room behind him +was burst, as if someone had passed violently through. "Valuable +things to deposit in a cloak room, aren't they?" remarked the +clergyman, with cheerful composure. + +"Did--did you steal those things?" stammered Mr. Audley, +with staring eyes. + +"If I did," said the cleric pleasantly, "at least I am bringing +them back again." + +"But you didn't," said Colonel Pound, still staring at the +broken window. + +"To make a clean breast of it, I didn't," said the other, with +some humour. And he seated himself quite gravely on a stool. +"But you know who did," said the, colonel. + +"I don't know his real name," said the priest placidly, "but I +know something of his fighting weight, and a great deal about his +spiritual difficulties. I formed the physical estimate when he was +trying to throttle me, and the moral estimate when he repented." + +"Oh, I say--repented!" cried young Chester, with a sort +of crow of laughter. + +Father Brown got to his feet, putting his hands behind him. +"Odd, isn't it," he said, "that a thief and a vagabond should +repent, when so many who are rich and secure remain hard and +frivolous, and without fruit for God or man? But there, if you +will excuse me, you trespass a little upon my province. If you +doubt the penitence as a practical fact, there are your knives and +forks. You are The Twelve True Fishers, and there are all your +silver fish. But He has made me a fisher of men." + +"Did you catch this man?" asked the colonel, frowning. + +Father Brown looked him full in his frowning face. "Yes," he +said, "I caught him, with an unseen hook and an invisible line +which is long enough to let him wander to the ends of the world, +and still to bring him back with a twitch upon the thread." + +There was a long silence. All the other men present drifted +away to carry the recovered silver to their comrades, or to consult +the proprietor about the queer condition of affairs. But the +grim-faced colonel still sat sideways on the counter, swinging his +long, lank legs and biting his dark moustache. + +At last he said quietly to the priest: "He must have been a +clever fellow, but I think I know a cleverer." + +"He was a clever fellow," answered the other, "but I am not +quite sure of what other you mean." + +"I mean you," said the colonel, with a short laugh. "I don't +want to get the fellow jailed; make yourself easy about that. But +I'd give a good many silver forks to know exactly how you fell +into this affair, and how you got the stuff out of him. I reckon +you're the most up-to-date devil of the present company." + +Father Brown seemed rather to like the saturnine candour of +the soldier. "Well," he said, smiling, "I mustn't tell you +anything of the man's identity, or his own story, of course; but +there's no particular reason why I shouldn't tell you of the mere +outside facts which I found out for myself." + +He hopped over the barrier with unexpected activity, and sat +beside Colonel Pound, kicking his short legs like a little boy on +a gate. He began to tell the story as easily as if he were +telling it to an old friend by a Christmas fire. + +"You see, colonel," he said, "I was shut up in that small room +there doing some writing, when I heard a pair of feet in this +passage doing a dance that was as queer as the dance of death. +First came quick, funny little steps, like a man walking on tiptoe +for a wager; then came slow, careless, creaking steps, as of a big +man walking about with a cigar. But they were both made by the +same feet, I swear, and they came in rotation; first the run and +then the walk, and then the run again. I wondered at first idly +and then wildly why a man should act these two parts at once. One +walk I knew; it was just like yours, colonel. It was the walk of +a well-fed gentleman waiting for something, who strolls about +rather because he is physically alert than because he is mentally +impatient. I knew that I knew the other walk, too, but I could +not remember what it was. What wild creature had I met on my +travels that tore along on tiptoe in that extraordinary style? +Then I heard a clink of plates somewhere; and the answer stood up +as plain as St. Peter's. It was the walk of a waiter--that walk +with the body slanted forward, the eyes looking down, the ball of +the toe spurning away the ground, the coat tails and napkin flying. +Then I thought for a minute and a half more. And I believe I saw +the manner of the crime, as clearly as if I were going to commit +it." + +Colonel Pound looked at him keenly, but the speaker's mild grey +eyes were fixed upon the ceiling with almost empty wistfulness. + +"A crime," he said slowly, "is like any other work of art. +Don't look surprised; crimes are by no means the only works of art +that come from an infernal workshop. But every work of art, divine +or diabolic, has one indispensable mark--I mean, that the centre +of it is simple, however much the fulfilment may be complicated. +Thus, in Hamlet, let us say, the grotesqueness of the grave-digger, +the flowers of the mad girl, the fantastic finery of Osric, the +pallor of the ghost and the grin of the skull are all oddities in +a sort of tangled wreath round one plain tragic figure of a man in +black. Well, this also," he said, getting slowly down from his +seat with a smile, "this also is the plain tragedy of a man in +black. Yes," he went on, seeing the colonel look up in some +wonder, "the whole of this tale turns on a black coat. In this, +as in Hamlet, there are the rococo excrescences--yourselves, let +us say. There is the dead waiter, who was there when he could not +be there. There is the invisible hand that swept your table clear +of silver and melted into air. But every clever crime is founded +ultimately on some one quite simple fact--some fact that is not +itself mysterious. The mystification comes in covering it up, in +leading men's thoughts away from it. This large and subtle and +(in the ordinary course) most profitable crime, was built on the +plain fact that a gentleman's evening dress is the same as a +waiter's. All the rest was acting, and thundering good acting, +too." + +"Still," said the colonel, getting up and frowning at his +boots, "I am not sure that I understand." + +"Colonel," said Father Brown, "I tell you that this archangel +of impudence who stole your forks walked up and down this passage +twenty times in the blaze of all the lamps, in the glare of all +the eyes. He did not go and hide in dim corners where suspicion +might have searched for him. He kept constantly on the move in +the lighted corridors, and everywhere that he went he seemed to be +there by right. Don't ask me what he was like; you have seen him +yourself six or seven times tonight. You were waiting with all +the other grand people in the reception room at the end of the +passage there, with the terrace just beyond. Whenever he came +among you gentlemen, he came in the lightning style of a waiter, +with bent head, flapping napkin and flying feet. He shot out on +to the terrace, did something to the table cloth, and shot back +again towards the office and the waiters' quarters. By the time +he had come under the eye of the office clerk and the waiters he +had become another man in every inch of his body, in every +instinctive gesture. He strolled among the servants with the +absent-minded insolence which they have all seen in their patrons. +It was no new thing to them that a swell from the dinner party +should pace all parts of the house like an animal at the Zoo; they +know that nothing marks the Smart Set more than a habit of walking +where one chooses. When he was magnificently weary of walking +down that particular passage he would wheel round and pace back +past the office; in the shadow of the arch just beyond he was +altered as by a blast of magic, and went hurrying forward again +among the Twelve Fishermen, an obsequious attendant. Why should +the gentlemen look at a chance waiter? Why should the waiters +suspect a first-rate walking gentleman? Once or twice he played +the coolest tricks. In the proprietor's private quarters he +called out breezily for a syphon of soda water, saying he was +thirsty. He said genially that he would carry it himself, and he +did; he carried it quickly and correctly through the thick of you, +a waiter with an obvious errand. Of course, it could not have +been kept up long, but it only had to be kept up till the end of +the fish course. + +"His worst moment was when the waiters stood in a row; but +even then he contrived to lean against the wall just round the +corner in such a way that for that important instant the waiters +thought him a gentleman, while the gentlemen thought him a waiter. +The rest went like winking. If any waiter caught him away from +the table, that waiter caught a languid aristocrat. He had only +to time himself two minutes before the fish was cleared, become a +swift servant, and clear it himself. He put the plates down on a +sideboard, stuffed the silver in his breast pocket, giving it a +bulgy look, and ran like a hare (I heard him coming) till he came +to the cloak room. There he had only to be a plutocrat again--a +plutocrat called away suddenly on business. He had only to give +his ticket to the cloak-room attendant, and go out again elegantly +as he had come in. Only--only I happened to be the cloak-room +attendant." + +"What did you do to him?" cried the colonel, with unusual +intensity. "What did he tell you?" + +"I beg your pardon," said the priest immovably, "that is where +the story ends." + +"And the interesting story begins," muttered Pound. "I think +I understand his professional trick. But I don't seem to have got +hold of yours." + +"I must be going," said Father Brown. + +They walked together along the passage to the entrance hall, +where they saw the fresh, freckled face of the Duke of Chester, +who was bounding buoyantly along towards them. + +"Come along, Pound," he cried breathlessly. "I've been looking +for you everywhere. The dinner's going again in spanking style, +and old Audley has got to make a speech in honour of the forks +being saved. We want to start some new ceremony, don't you know, +to commemorate the occasion. I say, you really got the goods back, +what do you suggest?" + +"Why," said the colonel, eyeing him with a certain sardonic +approval, "I should suggest that henceforward we wear green coats, +instead of black. One never knows what mistakes may arise when +one looks so like a waiter." + +"Oh, hang it all!" said the young man, "a gentleman never looks +like a waiter." + +"Nor a waiter like a gentleman, I suppose," said Colonel Pound, +with the same lowering laughter on his face. "Reverend sir, your +friend must have been very smart to act the gentleman." + +Father Brown buttoned up his commonplace overcoat to the neck, +for the night was stormy, and took his commonplace umbrella from +the stand. + +"Yes," he said; "it must be very hard work to be a gentleman; +but, do you know, I have sometimes thought that it may be almost +as laborious to be a waiter." + +And saying "Good evening," he pushed open the heavy doors of +that palace of pleasures. The golden gates closed behind him, and +he went at a brisk walk through the damp, dark streets in search +of a penny omnibus. + + + + The Flying Stars + +"The most beautiful crime I ever committed," Flambeau would say in +his highly moral old age, "was also, by a singular coincidence, my +last. It was committed at Christmas. As an artist I had always +attempted to provide crimes suitable to the special season or +landscapes in which I found myself, choosing this or that terrace +or garden for a catastrophe, as if for a statuary group. Thus +squires should be swindled in long rooms panelled with oak; while +Jews, on the other hand, should rather find themselves unexpectedly +penniless among the lights and screens of the Cafe Riche. Thus, +in England, if I wished to relieve a dean of his riches (which is +not so easy as you might suppose), I wished to frame him, if I +make myself clear, in the green lawns and grey towers of some +cathedral town. Similarly, in France, when I had got money out of +a rich and wicked peasant (which is almost impossible), it +gratified me to get his indignant head relieved against a grey +line of clipped poplars, and those solemn plains of Gaul over +which broods the mighty spirit of Millet. + +"Well, my last crime was a Christmas crime, a cheery, cosy, +English middle-class crime; a crime of Charles Dickens. I did it +in a good old middle-class house near Putney, a house with a +crescent of carriage drive, a house with a stable by the side of +it, a house with the name on the two outer gates, a house with a +monkey tree. Enough, you know the species. I really think my +imitation of Dickens's style was dexterous and literary. It seems +almost a pity I repented the same evening." + +Flambeau would then proceed to tell the story from the inside; +and even from the inside it was odd. Seen from the outside it was +perfectly incomprehensible, and it is from the outside that the +stranger must study it. From this standpoint the drama may be +said to have begun when the front doors of the house with the +stable opened on the garden with the monkey tree, and a young girl +came out with bread to feed the birds on the afternoon of Boxing +Day. She had a pretty face, with brave brown eyes; but her figure +was beyond conjecture, for she was so wrapped up in brown furs +that it was hard to say which was hair and which was fur. But for +the attractive face she might have been a small toddling bear. + +The winter afternoon was reddening towards evening, and +already a ruby light was rolled over the bloomless beds, filling +them, as it were, with the ghosts of the dead roses. On one side +of the house stood the stable, on the other an alley or cloister +of laurels led to the larger garden behind. The young lady, having +scattered bread for the birds (for the fourth or fifth time that +day, because the dog ate it), passed unobtrusively down the lane +of laurels and into a glimmering plantation of evergreens behind. +Here she gave an exclamation of wonder, real or ritual, and looking +up at the high garden wall above her, beheld it fantastically +bestridden by a somewhat fantastic figure. + +"Oh, don't jump, Mr. Crook," she called out in some alarm; +"it's much too high." + +The individual riding the party wall like an aerial horse was +a tall, angular young man, with dark hair sticking up like a hair +brush, intelligent and even distinguished lineaments, but a sallow +and almost alien complexion. This showed the more plainly because +he wore an aggressive red tie, the only part of his costume of +which he seemed to take any care. Perhaps it was a symbol. He +took no notice of the girl's alarmed adjuration, but leapt like a +grasshopper to the ground beside her, where he might very well +have broken his legs. + +"I think I was meant to be a burglar," he said placidly, "and +I have no doubt I should have been if I hadn't happened to be born +in that nice house next door. I can't see any harm in it, anyhow." + +"How can you say such things!" she remonstrated. + +"Well," said the young man, "if you're born on the wrong side +of the wall, I can't see that it's wrong to climb over it." + +"I never know what you will say or do next," she said. + +"I don't often know myself," replied Mr. Crook; "but then I am +on the right side of the wall now." + +"And which is the right side of the wall?" asked the young +lady, smiling. + +"Whichever side you are on," said the young man named Crook. + +As they went together through the laurels towards the front +garden a motor horn sounded thrice, coming nearer and nearer, and +a car of splendid speed, great elegance, and a pale green colour +swept up to the front doors like a bird and stood throbbing. + +"Hullo, hullo!" said the young man with the red tie, "here's +somebody born on the right side, anyhow. I didn't know, Miss +Adams, that your Santa Claus was so modern as this." + +"Oh, that's my godfather, Sir Leopold Fischer. He always +comes on Boxing Day." + +Then, after an innocent pause, which unconsciously betrayed +some lack of enthusiasm, Ruby Adams added: + +"He is very kind." + +John Crook, journalist, had heard of that eminent City magnate; +and it was not his fault if the City magnate had not heard of him; +for in certain articles in The Clarion or The New Age Sir Leopold +had been dealt with austerely. But he said nothing and grimly +watched the unloading of the motor-car, which was rather a long +process. A large, neat chauffeur in green got out from the front, +and a small, neat manservant in grey got out from the back, and +between them they deposited Sir Leopold on the doorstep and began +to unpack him, like some very carefully protected parcel. Rugs +enough to stock a bazaar, furs of all the beasts of the forest, +and scarves of all the colours of the rainbow were unwrapped one +by one, till they revealed something resembling the human form; +the form of a friendly, but foreign-looking old gentleman, with a +grey goat-like beard and a beaming smile, who rubbed his big fur +gloves together. + +Long before this revelation was complete the two big doors of +the porch had opened in the middle, and Colonel Adams (father of +the furry young lady) had come out himself to invite his eminent +guest inside. He was a tall, sunburnt, and very silent man, who +wore a red smoking-cap like a fez, making him look like one of the +English Sirdars or Pashas in Egypt. With him was his +brother-in-law, lately come from Canada, a big and rather +boisterous young gentleman-farmer, with a yellow beard, by name +James Blount. With him also was the more insignificant figure of +the priest from the neighbouring Roman Church; for the colonel's +late wife had been a Catholic, and the children, as is common in +such cases, had been trained to follow her. Everything seemed +undistinguished about the priest, even down to his name, which was +Brown; yet the colonel had always found something companionable +about him, and frequently asked him to such family gatherings. + +In the large entrance hall of the house there was ample room +even for Sir Leopold and the removal of his wraps. Porch and +vestibule, indeed, were unduly large in proportion to the house, +and formed, as it were, a big room with the front door at one end, +and the bottom of the staircase at the other. In front of the +large hall fire, over which hung the colonel's sword, the process +was completed and the company, including the saturnine Crook, +presented to Sir Leopold Fischer. That venerable financier, +however, still seemed struggling with portions of his well-lined +attire, and at length produced from a very interior tail-coat +pocket, a black oval case which he radiantly explained to be his +Christmas present for his god-daughter. With an unaffected +vain-glory that had something disarming about it he held out the +case before them all; it flew open at a touch and half-blinded +them. It was just as if a crystal fountain had spurted in their +eyes. In a nest of orange velvet lay like three eggs, three white +and vivid diamonds that seemed to set the very air on fire all +round them. Fischer stood beaming benevolently and drinking deep +of the astonishment and ecstasy of the girl, the grim admiration +and gruff thanks of the colonel, the wonder of the whole group. + +"I'll put 'em back now, my dear," said Fischer, returning the +case to the tails of his coat. "I had to be careful of 'em coming +down. They're the three great African diamonds called `The Flying +Stars,' because they've been stolen so often. All the big +criminals are on the track; but even the rough men about in the +streets and hotels could hardly have kept their hands off them. +I might have lost them on the road here. It was quite possible." + +"Quite natural, I should say," growled the man in the red tie. +"I shouldn't blame 'em if they had taken 'em. When they ask for +bread, and you don't even give them a stone, I think they might +take the stone for themselves." + +"I won't have you talking like that," cried the girl, who was +in a curious glow. "You've only talked like that since you became +a horrid what's-his-name. You know what I mean. What do you call +a man who wants to embrace the chimney-sweep?" + +"A saint," said Father Brown. + +"I think," said Sir Leopold, with a supercilious smile, "that +Ruby means a Socialist." + +"A radical does not mean a man who lives on radishes," remarked +Crook, with some impatience; "and a Conservative does not mean a +man who preserves jam. Neither, I assure you, does a Socialist +mean a man who desires a social evening with the chimney-sweep. A +Socialist means a man who wants all the chimneys swept and all the +chimney-sweeps paid for it." + +"But who won't allow you," put in the priest in a low voice, +"to own your own soot." + +Crook looked at him with an eye of interest and even respect. +"Does one want to own soot?" he asked. + +"One might," answered Brown, with speculation in his eye. +"I've heard that gardeners use it. And I once made six children +happy at Christmas when the conjuror didn't come, entirely with +soot--applied externally." + +"Oh, splendid," cried Ruby. "Oh, I wish you'd do it to this +company." + +The boisterous Canadian, Mr. Blount, was lifting his loud +voice in applause, and the astonished financier his (in some +considerable deprecation), when a knock sounded at the double +front doors. The priest opened them, and they showed again the +front garden of evergreens, monkey-tree and all, now gathering +gloom against a gorgeous violet sunset. The scene thus framed was +so coloured and quaint, like a back scene in a play, that they +forgot a moment the insignificant figure standing in the door. He +was dusty-looking and in a frayed coat, evidently a common +messenger. "Any of you gentlemen Mr. Blount?" he asked, and held +forward a letter doubtfully. Mr. Blount started, and stopped in +his shout of assent. Ripping up the envelope with evident +astonishment he read it; his face clouded a little, and then +cleared, and he turned to his brother-in-law and host. + +"I'm sick at being such a nuisance, colonel," he said, with +the cheery colonial conventions; "but would it upset you if an old +acquaintance called on me here tonight on business? In point of +fact it's Florian, that famous French acrobat and comic actor; I +knew him years ago out West (he was a French-Canadian by birth), +and he seems to have business for me, though I hardly guess what." + +"Of course, of course," replied the colonel carelessly--"My +dear chap, any friend of yours. No doubt he will prove an +acquisition." + +"He'll black his face, if that's what you mean," cried Blount, +laughing. "I don't doubt he'd black everyone else's eyes. I don't +care; I'm not refined. I like the jolly old pantomime where a man +sits on his top hat." + +"Not on mine, please," said Sir Leopold Fischer, with dignity. + +"Well, well," observed Crook, airily, "don't let's quarrel. +There are lower jokes than sitting on a top hat." + +Dislike of the red-tied youth, born of his predatory opinions +and evident intimacy with the pretty godchild, led Fischer to say, +in his most sarcastic, magisterial manner: "No doubt you have found +something much lower than sitting on a top hat. What is it, pray?" + +"Letting a top hat sit on you, for instance," said the +Socialist. + +"Now, now, now," cried the Canadian farmer with his barbarian +benevolence, "don't let's spoil a jolly evening. What I say is, +let's do something for the company tonight. Not blacking faces or +sitting on hats, if you don't like those--but something of the +sort. Why couldn't we have a proper old English pantomime-- +clown, columbine, and so on. I saw one when I left England at +twelve years old, and it's blazed in my brain like a bonfire ever +since. I came back to the old country only last year, and I find +the thing's extinct. Nothing but a lot of snivelling fairy plays. +I want a hot poker and a policeman made into sausages, and they +give me princesses moralising by moonlight, Blue Birds, or +something. Blue Beard's more in my line, and him I like best when +he turned into the pantaloon." + +"I'm all for making a policeman into sausages," said John +Crook. "It's a better definition of Socialism than some recently +given. But surely the get-up would be too big a business." + +"Not a scrap," cried Blount, quite carried away. "A +harlequinade's the quickest thing we can do, for two reasons. +First, one can gag to any degree; and, second, all the objects are +household things--tables and towel-horses and washing baskets, +and things like that." + +"That's true," admitted Crook, nodding eagerly and walking +about. "But I'm afraid I can't have my policeman's uniform? +Haven't killed a policeman lately." + +Blount frowned thoughtfully a space, and then smote his thigh. +"Yes, we can!" he cried. "I've got Florian's address here, and he +knows every costumier in London. I'll phone him to bring a police +dress when he comes." And he went bounding away to the telephone. + +"Oh, it's glorious, godfather," cried Ruby, almost dancing. +"I'll be columbine and you shall be pantaloon." + +The millionaire held himself stiff with a sort of heathen +solemnity. "I think, my dear," he said, "you must get someone +else for pantaloon." + +"I will be pantaloon, if you like," said Colonel Adams, taking +his cigar out of his mouth, and speaking for the first and last +time. + +"You ought to have a statue," cried the Canadian, as he came +back, radiant, from the telephone. "There, we are all fitted. +Mr. Crook shall be clown; he's a journalist and knows all the +oldest jokes. I can be harlequin, that only wants long legs and +jumping about. My friend Florian 'phones he's bringing the police +costume; he's changing on the way. We can act it in this very +hall, the audience sitting on those broad stairs opposite, one row +above another. These front doors can be the back scene, either +open or shut. Shut, you see an English interior. Open, a moonlit +garden. It all goes by magic." And snatching a chance piece of +billiard chalk from his pocket, he ran it across the hall floor, +half-way between the front door and the staircase, to mark the +line of the footlights. + +How even such a banquet of bosh was got ready in the time +remained a riddle. But they went at it with that mixture of +recklessness and industry that lives when youth is in a house; and +youth was in that house that night, though not all may have +isolated the two faces and hearts from which it flamed. As always +happens, the invention grew wilder and wilder through the very +tameness of the bourgeois conventions from which it had to create. +The columbine looked charming in an outstanding skirt that +strangely resembled the large lamp-shade in the drawing-room. The +clown and pantaloon made themselves white with flour from the cook, +and red with rouge from some other domestic, who remained (like +all true Christian benefactors) anonymous. The harlequin, already +clad in silver paper out of cigar boxes, was, with difficulty, +prevented from smashing the old Victorian lustre chandeliers, that +he might cover himself with resplendent crystals. In fact he +would certainly have done so, had not Ruby unearthed some old +pantomime paste jewels she had worn at a fancy dress party as the +Queen of Diamonds. Indeed, her uncle, James Blount, was getting +almost out of hand in his excitement; he was like a schoolboy. He +put a paper donkey's head unexpectedly on Father Brown, who bore +it patiently, and even found some private manner of moving his +ears. He even essayed to put the paper donkey's tail to the +coat-tails of Sir Leopold Fischer. This, however, was frowned +down. "Uncle is too absurd," cried Ruby to Crook, round whose +shoulders she had seriously placed a string of sausages. "Why is +he so wild?" + +"He is harlequin to your columbine," said Crook. "I am only +the clown who makes the old jokes." + +"I wish you were the harlequin," she said, and left the string +of sausages swinging. + +Father Brown, though he knew every detail done behind the +scenes, and had even evoked applause by his transformation of a +pillow into a pantomime baby, went round to the front and sat +among the audience with all the solemn expectation of a child at +his first matinee. The spectators were few, relations, one or two +local friends, and the servants; Sir Leopold sat in the front +seat, his full and still fur-collared figure largely obscuring the +view of the little cleric behind him; but it has never been +settled by artistic authorities whether the cleric lost much. The +pantomime was utterly chaotic, yet not contemptible; there ran +through it a rage of improvisation which came chiefly from Crook +the clown. Commonly he was a clever man, and he was inspired +tonight with a wild omniscience, a folly wiser than the world, +that which comes to a young man who has seen for an instant a +particular expression on a particular face. He was supposed to be +the clown, but he was really almost everything else, the author +(so far as there was an author), the prompter, the scene-painter, +the scene-shifter, and, above all, the orchestra. At abrupt +intervals in the outrageous performance he would hurl himself in +full costume at the piano and bang out some popular music equally +absurd and appropriate. + +The climax of this, as of all else, was the moment when the +two front doors at the back of the scene flew open, showing the +lovely moonlit garden, but showing more prominently the famous +professional guest; the great Florian, dressed up as a policeman. +The clown at the piano played the constabulary chorus in the +"Pirates of Penzance," but it was drowned in the deafening +applause, for every gesture of the great comic actor was an +admirable though restrained version of the carriage and manner of +the police. The harlequin leapt upon him and hit him over the +helmet; the pianist playing "Where did you get that hat?" he faced +about in admirably simulated astonishment, and then the leaping +harlequin hit him again (the pianist suggesting a few bars of +"Then we had another one"). Then the harlequin rushed right into +the arms of the policeman and fell on top of him, amid a roar of +applause. Then it was that the strange actor gave that celebrated +imitation of a dead man, of which the fame still lingers round +Putney. It was almost impossible to believe that a living person +could appear so limp. + +The athletic harlequin swung him about like a sack or twisted +or tossed him like an Indian club; all the time to the most +maddeningly ludicrous tunes from the piano. When the harlequin +heaved the comic constable heavily off the floor the clown played +"I arise from dreams of thee." When he shuffled him across his +back, "With my bundle on my shoulder," and when the harlequin +finally let fall the policeman with a most convincing thud, the +lunatic at the instrument struck into a jingling measure with some +words which are still believed to have been, "I sent a letter to +my love and on the way I dropped it." + +At about this limit of mental anarchy Father Brown's view was +obscured altogether; for the City magnate in front of him rose to +his full height and thrust his hands savagely into all his pockets. +Then he sat down nervously, still fumbling, and then stood up +again. For an instant it seemed seriously likely that he would +stride across the footlights; then he turned a glare at the clown +playing the piano; and then he burst in silence out of the room. + +The priest had only watched for a few more minutes the absurd +but not inelegant dance of the amateur harlequin over his +splendidly unconscious foe. With real though rude art, the +harlequin danced slowly backwards out of the door into the garden, +which was full of moonlight and stillness. The vamped dress of +silver paper and paste, which had been too glaring in the +footlights, looked more and more magical and silvery as it danced +away under a brilliant moon. The audience was closing in with a +cataract of applause, when Brown felt his arm abruptly touched, +and he was asked in a whisper to come into the colonel's study. + +He followed his summoner with increasing doubt, which was not +dispelled by a solemn comicality in the scene of the study. There +sat Colonel Adams, still unaffectedly dressed as a pantaloon, with +the knobbed whalebone nodding above his brow, but with his poor +old eyes sad enough to have sobered a Saturnalia. Sir Leopold +Fischer was leaning against the mantelpiece and heaving with all +the importance of panic. + +"This is a very painful matter, Father Brown," said Adams. +"The truth is, those diamonds we all saw this afternoon seem to +have vanished from my friend's tail-coat pocket. And as you--" + +"As I," supplemented Father Brown, with a broad grin, "was +sitting just behind him--" + +"Nothing of the sort shall be suggested," said Colonel Adams, +with a firm look at Fischer, which rather implied that some such +thing had been suggested. "I only ask you to give me the +assistance that any gentleman might give." + +"Which is turning out his pockets," said Father Brown, and +proceeded to do so, displaying seven and sixpence, a return +ticket, a small silver crucifix, a small breviary, and a stick of +chocolate. + +The colonel looked at him long, and then said, "Do you know, I +should like to see the inside of your head more than the inside of +your pockets. My daughter is one of your people, I know; well, +she has lately--" and he stopped. + +"She has lately," cried out old Fischer, "opened her father's +house to a cut-throat Socialist, who says openly he would steal +anything from a richer man. This is the end of it. Here is the +richer man--and none the richer." + +"If you want the inside of my head you can have it," said +Brown rather wearily. "What it's worth you can say afterwards. +But the first thing I find in that disused pocket is this: that +men who mean to steal diamonds don't talk Socialism. They are +more likely," he added demurely, "to denounce it." + +Both the others shifted sharply and the priest went on: + +"You see, we know these people, more or less. That Socialist +would no more steal a diamond than a Pyramid. We ought to look at +once to the one man we don't know. The fellow acting the policeman +--Florian. Where is he exactly at this minute, I wonder." + +The pantaloon sprang erect and strode out of the room. An +interlude ensued, during which the millionaire stared at the +priest, and the priest at his breviary; then the pantaloon +returned and said, with staccato gravity, "The policeman is still +lying on the stage. The curtain has gone up and down six times; +he is still lying there." + +Father Brown dropped his book and stood staring with a look of +blank mental ruin. Very slowly a light began to creep in his grey +eyes, and then he made the scarcely obvious answer. + +"Please forgive me, colonel, but when did your wife die?" + +"Wife!" replied the staring soldier, "she died this year two +months. Her brother James arrived just a week too late to see +her." + +The little priest bounded like a rabbit shot. "Come on!" he +cried in quite unusual excitement. "Come on! We've got to go and +look at that policeman!" + +They rushed on to the now curtained stage, breaking rudely past +the columbine and clown (who seemed whispering quite contentedly), +and Father Brown bent over the prostrate comic policeman. + +"Chloroform," he said as he rose; "I only guessed it just now." + +There was a startled stillness, and then the colonel said +slowly, "Please say seriously what all this means." + +Father Brown suddenly shouted with laughter, then stopped, and +only struggled with it for instants during the rest of his speech. +"Gentlemen," he gasped, "there's not much time to talk. I must +run after the criminal. But this great French actor who played +the policeman--this clever corpse the harlequin waltzed with and +dandled and threw about--he was--" His voice again failed him, +and he turned his back to run. + +"He was?" called Fischer inquiringly. + +"A real policeman," said Father Brown, and ran away into the +dark. + +There were hollows and bowers at the extreme end of that leafy +garden, in which the laurels and other immortal shrubs showed +against sapphire sky and silver moon, even in that midwinter, warm +colours as of the south. The green gaiety of the waving laurels, +the rich purple indigo of the night, the moon like a monstrous +crystal, make an almost irresponsible romantic picture; and among +the top branches of the garden trees a strange figure is climbing, +who looks not so much romantic as impossible. He sparkles from +head to heel, as if clad in ten million moons; the real moon +catches him at every movement and sets a new inch of him on fire. +But he swings, flashing and successful, from the short tree in +this garden to the tall, rambling tree in the other, and only +stops there because a shade has slid under the smaller tree and +has unmistakably called up to him. + +"Well, Flambeau," says the voice, "you really look like a +Flying Star; but that always means a Falling Star at last." + +The silver, sparkling figure above seems to lean forward in +the laurels and, confident of escape, listens to the little figure +below. + +"You never did anything better, Flambeau. It was clever to +come from Canada (with a Paris ticket, I suppose) just a week after +Mrs. Adams died, when no one was in a mood to ask questions. It +was cleverer to have marked down the Flying Stars and the very day +of Fischer's coming. But there's no cleverness, but mere genius, +in what followed. Stealing the stones, I suppose, was nothing to +you. You could have done it by sleight of hand in a hundred other +ways besides that pretence of putting a paper donkey's tail to +Fischer's coat. But in the rest you eclipsed yourself." + +The silvery figure among the green leaves seems to linger as +if hypnotised, though his escape is easy behind him; he is staring +at the man below. + +"Oh, yes," says the man below, "I know all about it. I know +you not only forced the pantomime, but put it to a double use. You +were going to steal the stones quietly; news came by an accomplice +that you were already suspected, and a capable police officer was +coming to rout you up that very night. A common thief would have +been thankful for the warning and fled; but you are a poet. You +already had the clever notion of hiding the jewels in a blaze of +false stage jewellery. Now, you saw that if the dress were a +harlequin's the appearance of a policeman would be quite in +keeping. The worthy officer started from Putney police station to +find you, and walked into the queerest trap ever set in this world. +When the front door opened he walked straight on to the stage of a +Christmas pantomime, where he could be kicked, clubbed, stunned +and drugged by the dancing harlequin, amid roars of laughter from +all the most respectable people in Putney. Oh, you will never do +anything better. And now, by the way, you might give me back +those diamonds." + +The green branch on which the glittering figure swung, rustled +as if in astonishment; but the voice went on: + +"I want you to give them back, Flambeau, and I want you to give +up this life. There is still youth and honour and humour in you; +don't fancy they will last in that trade. Men may keep a sort of +level of good, but no man has ever been able to keep on one level +of evil. That road goes down and down. The kind man drinks and +turns cruel; the frank man kills and lies about it. Many a man +I've known started like you to be an honest outlaw, a merry robber +of the rich, and ended stamped into slime. Maurice Blum started +out as an anarchist of principle, a father of the poor; he ended a +greasy spy and tale-bearer that both sides used and despised. +Harry Burke started his free money movement sincerely enough; now +he's sponging on a half-starved sister for endless brandies and +sodas. Lord Amber went into wild society in a sort of chivalry; +now he's paying blackmail to the lowest vultures in London. +Captain Barillon was the great gentleman-apache before your time; +he died in a madhouse, screaming with fear of the "narks" and +receivers that had betrayed him and hunted him down. I know the +woods look very free behind you, Flambeau; I know that in a flash +you could melt into them like a monkey. But some day you will be +an old grey monkey, Flambeau. You will sit up in your free forest +cold at heart and close to death, and the tree-tops will be very +bare." + +Everything continued still, as if the small man below held the +other in the tree in some long invisible leash; and he went on: + +"Your downward steps have begun. You used to boast of doing +nothing mean, but you are doing something mean tonight. You are +leaving suspicion on an honest boy with a good deal against him +already; you are separating him from the woman he loves and who +loves him. But you will do meaner things than that before you +die." + +Three flashing diamonds fell from the tree to the turf. The +small man stooped to pick them up, and when he looked up again the +green cage of the tree was emptied of its silver bird. + +The restoration of the gems (accidentally picked up by Father +Brown, of all people) ended the evening in uproarious triumph; and +Sir Leopold, in his height of good humour, even told the priest +that though he himself had broader views, he could respect those +whose creed required them to be cloistered and ignorant of this +world. + + + + The Invisible Man + +In the cool blue twilight of two steep streets in Camden Town, the +shop at the corner, a confectioner's, glowed like the butt of a +cigar. One should rather say, perhaps, like the butt of a firework, +for the light was of many colours and some complexity, broken up +by many mirrors and dancing on many gilt and gaily-coloured cakes +and sweetmeats. Against this one fiery glass were glued the noses +of many gutter-snipes, for the chocolates were all wrapped in +those red and gold and green metallic colours which are almost +better than chocolate itself; and the huge white wedding-cake in +the window was somehow at once remote and satisfying, just as if +the whole North Pole were good to eat. Such rainbow provocations +could naturally collect the youth of the neighbourhood up to the +ages of ten or twelve. But this corner was also attractive to +youth at a later stage; and a young man, not less than twenty-four, +was staring into the same shop window. To him, also, the shop was +of fiery charm, but this attraction was not wholly to be explained +by chocolates; which, however, he was far from despising. + +He was a tall, burly, red-haired young man, with a resolute +face but a listless manner. He carried under his arm a flat, grey +portfolio of black-and-white sketches, which he had sold with more +or less success to publishers ever since his uncle (who was an +admiral) had disinherited him for Socialism, because of a lecture +which he had delivered against that economic theory. His name was +John Turnbull Angus. + +Entering at last, he walked through the confectioner's shop to +the back room, which was a sort of pastry-cook restaurant, merely +raising his hat to the young lady who was serving there. She was +a dark, elegant, alert girl in black, with a high colour and very +quick, dark eyes; and after the ordinary interval she followed him +into the inner room to take his order. + +His order was evidently a usual one. "I want, please," he +said with precision, "one halfpenny bun and a small cup of black +coffee." An instant before the girl could turn away he added, +"Also, I want you to marry me." + +The young lady of the shop stiffened suddenly and said, "Those +are jokes I don't allow." + +The red-haired young man lifted grey eyes of an unexpected +gravity. + +"Really and truly," he said, "it's as serious--as serious as +the halfpenny bun. It is expensive, like the bun; one pays for +it. It is indigestible, like the bun. It hurts." + +The dark young lady had never taken her dark eyes off him, but +seemed to be studying him with almost tragic exactitude. At the +end of her scrutiny she had something like the shadow of a smile, +and she sat down in a chair. + +"Don't you think," observed Angus, absently, "that it's rather +cruel to eat these halfpenny buns? They might grow up into penny +buns. I shall give up these brutal sports when we are married." + +The dark young lady rose from her chair and walked to the +window, evidently in a state of strong but not unsympathetic +cogitation. When at last she swung round again with an air of +resolution she was bewildered to observe that the young man was +carefully laying out on the table various objects from the +shop-window. They included a pyramid of highly coloured sweets, +several plates of sandwiches, and the two decanters containing +that mysterious port and sherry which are peculiar to pastry-cooks. +In the middle of this neat arrangement he had carefully let down +the enormous load of white sugared cake which had been the huge +ornament of the window. + +"What on earth are you doing?" she asked. + +"Duty, my dear Laura," he began. + +"Oh, for the Lord's sake, stop a minute," she cried, "and +don't talk to me in that way. I mean, what is all that?" + +"A ceremonial meal, Miss Hope." + +"And what is that?" she asked impatiently, pointing to the +mountain of sugar. + +"The wedding-cake, Mrs. Angus," he said. + +The girl marched to that article, removed it with some +clatter, and put it back in the shop window; she then returned, +and, putting her elegant elbows on the table, regarded the young +man not unfavourably but with considerable exasperation. + +"You don't give me any time to think," she said. + +"I'm not such a fool," he answered; "that's my Christian +humility." + +She was still looking at him; but she had grown considerably +graver behind the smile. + +"Mr. Angus," she said steadily, "before there is a minute more +of this nonsense I must tell you something about myself as shortly +as I can.'" + +"Delighted," replied Angus gravely. "You might tell me +something about myself, too, while you are about it." + +"Oh, do hold your tongue and listen," she said. "It's nothing +that I'm ashamed of, and it isn't even anything that I'm specially +sorry about. But what would you say if there were something that +is no business of mine and yet is my nightmare?" + +"In that case," said the man seriously, "I should suggest that +you bring back the cake." + +"Well, you must listen to the story first," said Laura, +persistently. "To begin with, I must tell you that my father +owned the inn called the `Red Fish' at Ludbury, and I used to +serve people in the bar." + +"I have often wondered," he said, "why there was a kind of a +Christian air about this one confectioner's shop." + +"Ludbury is a sleepy, grassy little hole in the Eastern +Counties, and the only kind of people who ever came to the `Red +Fish' were occasional commercial travellers, and for the rest, the +most awful people you can see, only you've never seen them. I +mean little, loungy men, who had just enough to live on and had +nothing to do but lean about in bar-rooms and bet on horses, in +bad clothes that were just too good for them. Even these wretched +young rotters were not very common at our house; but there were +two of them that were a lot too common--common in every sort of +way. They both lived on money of their own, and were wearisomely +idle and over-dressed. But yet I was a bit sorry for them, because +I half believe they slunk into our little empty bar because each +of them had a slight deformity; the sort of thing that some yokels +laugh at. It wasn't exactly a deformity either; it was more an +oddity. One of them was a surprisingly small man, something like +a dwarf, or at least like a jockey. He was not at all jockeyish +to look at, though; he had a round black head and a well-trimmed +black beard, bright eyes like a bird's; he jingled money in his +pockets; he jangled a great gold watch chain; and he never turned +up except dressed just too much like a gentleman to be one. He +was no fool though, though a futile idler; he was curiously clever +at all kinds of things that couldn't be the slightest use; a sort +of impromptu conjuring; making fifteen matches set fire to each +other like a regular firework; or cutting a banana or some such +thing into a dancing doll. His name was Isidore Smythe; and I can +see him still, with his little dark face, just coming up to the +counter, making a jumping kangaroo out of five cigars. + +"The other fellow was more silent and more ordinary; but +somehow he alarmed me much more than poor little Smythe. He was +very tall and slight, and light-haired; his nose had a high bridge, +and he might almost have been handsome in a spectral sort of way; +but he had one of the most appalling squints I have ever seen or +heard of. When he looked straight at you, you didn't know where +you were yourself, let alone what he was looking at. I fancy this +sort of disfigurement embittered the poor chap a little; for while +Smythe was ready to show off his monkey tricks anywhere, James +Welkin (that was the squinting man's name) never did anything +except soak in our bar parlour, and go for great walks by himself +in the flat, grey country all round. All the same, I think Smythe, +too, was a little sensitive about being so small, though he carried +it off more smartly. And so it was that I was really puzzled, as +well as startled, and very sorry, when they both offered to marry +me in the same week. + +"Well, I did what I've since thought was perhaps a silly thing. +But, after all, these freaks were my friends in a way; and I had a +horror of their thinking I refused them for the real reason, which +was that they were so impossibly ugly. So I made up some gas of +another sort, about never meaning to marry anyone who hadn't +carved his way in the world. I said it was a point of principle +with me not to live on money that was just inherited like theirs. +Two days after I had talked in this well-meaning sort of way, the +whole trouble began. The first thing I heard was that both of +them had gone off to seek their fortunes, as if they were in some +silly fairy tale. + +"Well, I've never seen either of them from that day to this. +But I've had two letters from the little man called Smythe, and +really they were rather exciting." + +"Ever heard of the other man?" asked Angus. + +"No, he never wrote," said the girl, after an instant's +hesitation. "Smythe's first letter was simply to say that he had +started out walking with Welkin to London; but Welkin was such a +good walker that the little man dropped out of it, and took a rest +by the roadside. He happened to be picked up by some travelling +show, and, partly because he was nearly a dwarf, and partly +because he was really a clever little wretch, he got on quite well +in the show business, and was soon sent up to the Aquarium, to do +some tricks that I forget. That was his first letter. His second +was much more of a startler, and I only got it last week." + +The man called Angus emptied his coffee-cup and regarded her +with mild and patient eyes. Her own mouth took a slight twist of +laughter as she resumed, "I suppose you've seen on the hoardings +all about this `Smythe's Silent Service'? Or you must be the only +person that hasn't. Oh, I don't know much about it, it's some +clockwork invention for doing all the housework by machinery. You +know the sort of thing: `Press a Button--A Butler who Never +Drinks.' `Turn a Handle--Ten Housemaids who Never Flirt.' You +must have seen the advertisements. Well, whatever these machines +are, they are making pots of money; and they are making it all for +that little imp whom I knew down in Ludbury. I can't help feeling +pleased the poor little chap has fallen on his feet; but the plain +fact is, I'm in terror of his turning up any minute and telling me +he's carved his way in the world--as he certainly has." + +"And the other man?" repeated Angus with a sort of obstinate +quietude. + +Laura Hope got to her feet suddenly. "My friend," she said, +"I think you are a witch. Yes, you are quite right. I have not +seen a line of the other man's writing; and I have no more notion +than the dead of what or where he is. But it is of him that I am +frightened. It is he who is all about my path. It is he who has +half driven me mad. Indeed, I think he has driven me mad; for I +have felt him where he could not have been, and I have heard his +voice when he could not have spoken." + +"Well, my dear," said the young man, cheerfully, "if he were +Satan himself, he is done for now you have told somebody. One +goes mad all alone, old girl. But when was it you fancied you +felt and heard our squinting friend?" + +"I heard James Welkin laugh as plainly as I hear you speak," +said the girl, steadily. "There was nobody there, for I stood +just outside the shop at the corner, and could see down both +streets at once. I had forgotten how he laughed, though his laugh +was as odd as his squint. I had not thought of him for nearly a +year. But it's a solemn truth that a few seconds later the first +letter came from his rival." + +"Did you ever make the spectre speak or squeak, or anything?" +asked Angus, with some interest. + +Laura suddenly shuddered, and then said, with an unshaken +voice, "Yes. Just when I had finished reading the second letter +from Isidore Smythe announcing his success. Just then, I heard +Welkin say, `He shan't have you, though.' It was quite plain, as +if he were in the room. It is awful, I think I must be mad." + +"If you really were mad," said the young man, "you would think +you must be sane. But certainly there seems to me to be something +a little rum about this unseen gentleman. Two heads are better +than one--I spare you allusions to any other organs and really, +if you would allow me, as a sturdy, practical man, to bring back +the wedding-cake out of the window--" + +Even as he spoke, there was a sort of steely shriek in the +street outside, and a small motor, driven at devilish speed, shot +up to the door of the shop and stuck there. In the same flash of +time a small man in a shiny top hat stood stamping in the outer +room. + +Angus, who had hitherto maintained hilarious ease from motives +of mental hygiene, revealed the strain of his soul by striding +abruptly out of the inner room and confronting the new-comer. A +glance at him was quite sufficient to confirm the savage guesswork +of a man in love. This very dapper but dwarfish figure, with the +spike of black beard carried insolently forward, the clever +unrestful eyes, the neat but very nervous fingers, could be none +other than the man just described to him: Isidore Smythe, who made +dolls out of banana skins and match-boxes; Isidore Smythe, who +made millions out of undrinking butlers and unflirting housemaids +of metal. For a moment the two men, instinctively understanding +each other's air of possession, looked at each other with that +curious cold generosity which is the soul of rivalry. + +Mr. Smythe, however, made no allusion to the ultimate ground +of their antagonism, but said simply and explosively, "Has Miss +Hope seen that thing on the window?" + +"On the window?" repeated the staring Angus. + +"There's no time to explain other things," said the small +millionaire shortly. "There's some tomfoolery going on here that +has to be investigated." + +He pointed his polished walking-stick at the window, recently +depleted by the bridal preparations of Mr. Angus; and that +gentleman was astonished to see along the front of the glass a +long strip of paper pasted, which had certainly not been on the +window when he looked through it some time before. Following the +energetic Smythe outside into the street, he found that some yard +and a half of stamp paper had been carefully gummed along the +glass outside, and on this was written in straggly characters, +"If you marry Smythe, he will die." + +"Laura," said Angus, putting his big red head into the shop, +"you're not mad." + +"It's the writing of that fellow Welkin," said Smythe gruffly. +"I haven't seen him for years, but he's always bothering me. Five +times in the last fortnight he's had threatening letters left at my +flat, and I can't even find out who leaves them, let alone if it is +Welkin himself. The porter of the flats swears that no suspicious +characters have been seen, and here he has pasted up a sort of dado +on a public shop window, while the people in the shop--" + +"Quite so," said Angus modestly, "while the people in the shop +were having tea. Well, sir, I can assure you I appreciate your +common sense in dealing so directly with the matter. We can talk +about other things afterwards. The fellow cannot be very far off +yet, for I swear there was no paper there when I went last to the +window, ten or fifteen minutes ago. On the other hand, he's too +far off to be chased, as we don't even know the direction. If +you'll take my advice, Mr. Smythe, you'll put this at once in the +hands of some energetic inquiry man, private rather than public. +I know an extremely clever fellow, who has set up in business five +minutes from here in your car. His name's Flambeau, and though +his youth was a bit stormy, he's a strictly honest man now, and +his brains are worth money. He lives in Lucknow Mansions, +Hampstead." + +"That is odd," said the little man, arching his black +eyebrows. "I live, myself, in Himylaya Mansions, round the +corner. Perhaps you might care to come with me; I can go to my +rooms and sort out these queer Welkin documents, while you run +round and get your friend the detective." + +"You are very good," said Angus politely. "Well, the sooner +we act the better." + +Both men, with a queer kind of impromptu fairness, took the +same sort of formal farewell of the lady, and both jumped into the +brisk little car. As Smythe took the handles and they turned the +great corner of the street, Angus was amused to see a gigantesque +poster of "Smythe's Silent Service," with a picture of a huge +headless iron doll, carrying a saucepan with the legend, "A Cook +Who is Never Cross." + +"I use them in my own flat," said the little black-bearded +man, laughing, "partly for advertisements, and partly for real +convenience. Honestly, and all above board, those big clockwork +dolls of mine do bring your coals or claret or a timetable quicker +than any live servants I've ever known, if you know which knob to +press. But I'll never deny, between ourselves, that such servants +have their disadvantages, too." + +"Indeed?" said Angus; "is there something they can't do?" + +"Yes," replied Smythe coolly; "they can't tell me who left +those threatening letters at my flat." + +The man's motor was small and swift like himself; in fact, +like his domestic service, it was of his own invention. If he was +an advertising quack, he was one who believed in his own wares. +The sense of something tiny and flying was accentuated as they +swept up long white curves of road in the dead but open daylight +of evening. Soon the white curves came sharper and dizzier; they +were upon ascending spirals, as they say in the modern religions. +For, indeed, they were cresting a corner of London which is almost +as precipitous as Edinburgh, if not quite so picturesque. Terrace +rose above terrace, and the special tower of flats they sought, +rose above them all to almost Egyptian height, gilt by the level +sunset. The change, as they turned the corner and entered the +crescent known as Himylaya Mansions, was as abrupt as the opening +of a window; for they found that pile of flats sitting above +London as above a green sea of slate. Opposite to the mansions, +on the other side of the gravel crescent, was a bushy enclosure +more like a steep hedge or dyke than a garden, and some way below +that ran a strip of artificial water, a sort of canal, like the +moat of that embowered fortress. As the car swept round the +crescent it passed, at one corner, the stray stall of a man +selling chestnuts; and right away at the other end of the curve, +Angus could see a dim blue policeman walking slowly. These were +the only human shapes in that high suburban solitude; but he had +an irrational sense that they expressed the speechless poetry of +London. He felt as if they were figures in a story. + +The little car shot up to the right house like a bullet, and +shot out its owner like a bomb shell. He was immediately +inquiring of a tall commissionaire in shining braid, and a short +porter in shirt sleeves, whether anybody or anything had been +seeking his apartments. He was assured that nobody and nothing +had passed these officials since his last inquiries; whereupon he +and the slightly bewildered Angus were shot up in the lift like a +rocket, till they reached the top floor. + +"Just come in for a minute," said the breathless Smythe. "I +want to show you those Welkin letters. Then you might run round +the corner and fetch your friend." He pressed a button concealed +in the wall, and the door opened of itself. + +It opened on a long, commodious ante-room, of which the only +arresting features, ordinarily speaking, were the rows of tall +half-human mechanical figures that stood up on both sides like +tailors' dummies. Like tailors' dummies they were headless; and +like tailors' dummies they had a handsome unnecessary humpiness in +the shoulders, and a pigeon-breasted protuberance of chest; but +barring this, they were not much more like a human figure than any +automatic machine at a station that is about the human height. +They had two great hooks like arms, for carrying trays; and they +were painted pea-green, or vermilion, or black for convenience of +distinction; in every other way they were only automatic machines +and nobody would have looked twice at them. On this occasion, at +least, nobody did. For between the two rows of these domestic +dummies lay something more interesting than most of the mechanics +of the world. It was a white, tattered scrap of paper scrawled +with red ink; and the agile inventor had snatched it up almost as +soon as the door flew open. He handed it to Angus without a word. +The red ink on it actually was not dry, and the message ran, "If +you have been to see her today, I shall kill you." + +There was a short silence, and then Isidore Smythe said +quietly, "Would you like a little whiskey? I rather feel as if I +should." + +"Thank you; I should like a little Flambeau," said Angus, +gloomily. "This business seems to me to be getting rather grave. +I'm going round at once to fetch him." + +"Right you are," said the other, with admirable cheerfulness. +"Bring him round here as quick as you can." + +But as Angus closed the front door behind him he saw Smythe +push back a button, and one of the clockwork images glided from +its place and slid along a groove in the floor carrying a tray +with syphon and decanter. There did seem something a trifle weird +about leaving the little man alone among those dead servants, who +were coming to life as the door closed. + +Six steps down from Smythe's landing the man in shirt sleeves +was doing something with a pail. Angus stopped to extract a +promise, fortified with a prospective bribe, that he would remain +in that place until the return with the detective, and would keep +count of any kind of stranger coming up those stairs. Dashing +down to the front hall he then laid similar charges of vigilance +on the commissionaire at the front door, from whom he learned the +simplifying circumstances that there was no back door. Not +content with this, he captured the floating policeman and induced +him to stand opposite the entrance and watch it; and finally +paused an instant for a pennyworth of chestnuts, and an inquiry as +to the probable length of the merchant's stay in the +neighbourhood. + +The chestnut seller, turning up the collar of his coat, told +him he should probably be moving shortly, as he thought it was +going to snow. Indeed, the evening was growing grey and bitter, +but Angus, with all his eloquence, proceeded to nail the chestnut +man to his post. + +"Keep yourself warm on your own chestnuts," he said earnestly. +"Eat up your whole stock; I'll make it worth your while. I'll +give you a sovereign if you'll wait here till I come back, and +then tell me whether any man, woman, or child has gone into that +house where the commissionaire is standing." + +He then walked away smartly, with a last look at the besieged +tower. + +"I've made a ring round that room, anyhow," he said. "They +can't all four of them be Mr. Welkin's accomplices." + +Lucknow Mansions were, so to speak, on a lower platform of +that hill of houses, of which Himylaya Mansions might be called +the peak. Mr. Flambeau's semi-official flat was on the ground +floor, and presented in every way a marked contrast to the +American machinery and cold hotel-like luxury of the flat of the +Silent Service. Flambeau, who was a friend of Angus, received him +in a rococo artistic den behind his office, of which the ornaments +were sabres, harquebuses, Eastern curiosities, flasks of Italian +wine, savage cooking-pots, a plumy Persian cat, and a small +dusty-looking Roman Catholic priest, who looked particularly out +of place. + +"This is my friend Father Brown," said Flambeau. "I've often +wanted you to meet him. Splendid weather, this; a little cold for +Southerners like me." + +"Yes, I think it will keep clear," said Angus, sitting down on +a violet-striped Eastern ottoman. + +"No," said the priest quietly, "it has begun to snow." + +And, indeed, as he spoke, the first few flakes, foreseen by the +man of chestnuts, began to drift across the darkening windowpane. + +"Well," said Angus heavily. "I'm afraid I've come on business, +and rather jumpy business at that. The fact is, Flambeau, within a +stone's throw of your house is a fellow who badly wants your help; +he's perpetually being haunted and threatened by an invisible enemy +--a scoundrel whom nobody has even seen." As Angus proceeded to +tell the whole tale of Smythe and Welkin, beginning with Laura's +story, and going on with his own, the supernatural laugh at the +corner of two empty streets, the strange distinct words spoken in +an empty room, Flambeau grew more and more vividly concerned, and +the little priest seemed to be left out of it, like a piece of +furniture. When it came to the scribbled stamp-paper pasted on +the window, Flambeau rose, seeming to fill the room with his huge +shoulders. + +"If you don't mind," he said, "I think you had better tell me +the rest on the nearest road to this man's house. It strikes me, +somehow, that there is no time to be lost." + +"Delighted," said Angus, rising also, "though he's safe enough +for the present, for I've set four men to watch the only hole to +his burrow." + +They turned out into the street, the small priest trundling +after them with the docility of a small dog. He merely said, in a +cheerful way, like one making conversation, "How quick the snow +gets thick on the ground." + +As they threaded the steep side streets already powdered with +silver, Angus finished his story; and by the time they reached the +crescent with the towering flats, he had leisure to turn his +attention to the four sentinels. The chestnut seller, both before +and after receiving a sovereign, swore stubbornly that he had +watched the door and seen no visitor enter. The policeman was +even more emphatic. He said he had had experience of crooks of +all kinds, in top hats and in rags; he wasn't so green as to +expect suspicious characters to look suspicious; he looked out for +anybody, and, so help him, there had been nobody. And when all +three men gathered round the gilded commissionaire, who still +stood smiling astride of the porch, the verdict was more final +still. + +"I've got a right to ask any man, duke or dustman, what he +wants in these flats," said the genial and gold-laced giant, "and +I'll swear there's been nobody to ask since this gentleman went +away." + +The unimportant Father Brown, who stood back, looking modestly +at the pavement, here ventured to say meekly, "Has nobody been up +and down stairs, then, since the snow began to fall? It began +while we were all round at Flambeau's." + +"Nobody's been in here, sir, you can take it from me," said +the official, with beaming authority. + +"Then I wonder what that is?" said the priest, and stared at +the ground blankly like a fish. + +The others all looked down also; and Flambeau used a fierce +exclamation and a French gesture. For it was unquestionably true +that down the middle of the entrance guarded by the man in gold +lace, actually between the arrogant, stretched legs of that +colossus, ran a stringy pattern of grey footprints stamped upon +the white snow. + +"God!" cried Angus involuntarily, "the Invisible Man!" + +Without another word he turned and dashed up the stairs, with +Flambeau following; but Father Brown still stood looking about him +in the snow-clad street as if he had lost interest in his query. + +Flambeau was plainly in a mood to break down the door with his +big shoulders; but the Scotchman, with more reason, if less +intuition, fumbled about on the frame of the door till he found +the invisible button; and the door swung slowly open. + +It showed substantially the same serried interior; the hall +had grown darker, though it was still struck here and there with +the last crimson shafts of sunset, and one or two of the headless +machines had been moved from their places for this or that +purpose, and stood here and there about the twilit place. The +green and red of their coats were all darkened in the dusk; and +their likeness to human shapes slightly increased by their very +shapelessness. But in the middle of them all, exactly where the +paper with the red ink had lain, there lay something that looked +like red ink spilt out of its bottle. But it was not red ink. + +With a French combination of reason and violence Flambeau +simply said "Murder!" and, plunging into the flat, had explored, +every corner and cupboard of it in five minutes. But if he +expected to find a corpse he found none. Isidore Smythe was not +in the place, either dead or alive. After the most tearing search +the two men met each other in the outer hall, with streaming faces +and staring eyes. "My friend," said Flambeau, talking French in +his excitement, "not only is your murderer invisible, but he makes +invisible also the murdered man." + +Angus looked round at the dim room full of dummies, and in +some Celtic corner of his Scotch soul a shudder started. One of +the life-size dolls stood immediately overshadowing the blood +stain, summoned, perhaps, by the slain man an instant before he +fell. One of the high-shouldered hooks that served the thing for +arms, was a little lifted, and Angus had suddenly the horrid fancy +that poor Smythe's own iron child had struck him down. Matter had +rebelled, and these machines had killed their master. But even +so, what had they done with him? + +"Eaten him?" said the nightmare at his ear; and he sickened +for an instant at the idea of rent, human remains absorbed and +crushed into all that acephalous clockwork. + +He recovered his mental health by an emphatic effort, and said +to Flambeau, "Well, there it is. The poor fellow has evaporated +like a cloud and left a red streak on the floor. The tale does +not belong to this world." + +"There is only one thing to be done," said Flambeau, "whether +it belongs to this world or the other. I must go down and talk to +my friend." + +They descended, passing the man with the pail, who again +asseverated that he had let no intruder pass, down to the +commissionaire and the hovering chestnut man, who rigidly +reasserted their own watchfulness. But when Angus looked round +for his fourth confirmation he could not see it, and called out +with some nervousness, "Where is the policeman?" + +"I beg your pardon," said Father Brown; "that is my fault. I +just sent him down the road to investigate something--that I +just thought worth investigating." + +"Well, we want him back pretty soon," said Angus abruptly, +"for the wretched man upstairs has not only been murdered, but +wiped out." + +"How?" asked the priest. + +"Father," said Flambeau, after a pause, "upon my soul I believe +it is more in your department than mine. No friend or foe has +entered the house, but Smythe is gone, as if stolen by the fairies. +If that is not supernatural, I--" + +As he spoke they were all checked by an unusual sight; the big +blue policeman came round the corner of the crescent, running. He +came straight up to Brown. + +"You're right, sir," he panted, "they've just found poor Mr. +Smythe's body in the canal down below." + +Angus put his hand wildly to his head. "Did he run down and +drown himself?" he asked. + +"He never came down, I'll swear," said the constable, "and he +wasn't drowned either, for he died of a great stab over the heart." + +"And yet you saw no one enter?" said Flambeau in a grave voice. + +"Let us walk down the road a little," said the priest. + +As they reached the other end of the crescent he observed +abruptly, "Stupid of me! I forgot to ask the policeman something. +I wonder if they found a light brown sack." + +"Why a light brown sack?" asked Angus, astonished. + +"Because if it was any other coloured sack, the case must +begin over again," said Father Brown; "but if it was a light brown +sack, why, the case is finished." + +"I am pleased to hear it," said Angus with hearty irony. "It +hasn't begun, so far as I am concerned." + +"You must tell us all about it," said Flambeau with a strange +heavy simplicity, like a child. + +Unconsciously they were walking with quickening steps down the +long sweep of road on the other side of the high crescent, Father +Brown leading briskly, though in silence. At last he said with an +almost touching vagueness, "Well, I'm afraid you'll think it so +prosy. We always begin at the abstract end of things, and you +can't begin this story anywhere else. + +"Have you ever noticed this--that people never answer what +you say? They answer what you mean--or what they think you +mean. Suppose one lady says to another in a country house, `Is +anybody staying with you?' the lady doesn't answer `Yes; the +butler, the three footmen, the parlourmaid, and so on,' though the +parlourmaid may be in the room, or the butler behind her chair. +She says `There is nobody staying with us,' meaning nobody of the +sort you mean. But suppose a doctor inquiring into an epidemic +asks, `Who is staying in the house?' then the lady will remember +the butler, the parlourmaid, and the rest. All language is used +like that; you never get a question answered literally, even when +you get it answered truly. When those four quite honest men said +that no man had gone into the Mansions, they did not really mean +that no man had gone into them. They meant no man whom they could +suspect of being your man. A man did go into the house, and did +come out of it, but they never noticed him." + +"An invisible man?" inquired Angus, raising his red eyebrows. +"A mentally invisible man," said Father Brown. + +A minute or two after he resumed in the same unassuming voice, +like a man thinking his way. "Of course you can't think of such a +man, until you do think of him. That's where his cleverness comes +in. But I came to think of him through two or three little things +in the tale Mr. Angus told us. First, there was the fact that +this Welkin went for long walks. And then there was the vast lot +of stamp paper on the window. And then, most of all, there were +the two things the young lady said--things that couldn't be true. +Don't get annoyed," he added hastily, noting a sudden movement of +the Scotchman's head; "she thought they were true. A person can't +be quite alone in a street a second before she receives a letter. +She can't be quite alone in a street when she starts reading a +letter just received. There must be somebody pretty near her; he +must be mentally invisible." + +"Why must there be somebody near her?" asked Angus. + +"Because," said Father Brown, "barring carrier-pigeons, +somebody must have brought her the letter." + +"Do you really mean to say," asked Flambeau, with energy, +"that Welkin carried his rival's letters to his lady?" + +"Yes," said the priest. "Welkin carried his rival's letters +to his lady. You see, he had to." + +"Oh, I can't stand much more of this," exploded Flambeau. +"Who is this fellow? What does he look like? What is the usual +get-up of a mentally invisible man?" + +"He is dressed rather handsomely in red, blue and gold," +replied the priest promptly with precision, "and in this striking, +and even showy, costume he entered Himylaya Mansions under eight +human eyes; he killed Smythe in cold blood, and came down into the +street again carrying the dead body in his arms--" + +"Reverend sir," cried Angus, standing still, "are you raving +mad, or am I?" + +"You are not mad," said Brown, "only a little unobservant. +You have not noticed such a man as this, for example." + +He took three quick strides forward, and put his hand on the +shoulder of an ordinary passing postman who had bustled by them +unnoticed under the shade of the trees. + +"Nobody ever notices postmen somehow," he said thoughtfully; +"yet they have passions like other men, and even carry large bags +where a small corpse can be stowed quite easily." + +The postman, instead of turning naturally, had ducked and +tumbled against the garden fence. He was a lean fair-bearded man +of very ordinary appearance, but as he turned an alarmed face over +his shoulder, all three men were fixed with an almost fiendish +squint. + + * * * * * * + +Flambeau went back to his sabres, purple rugs and Persian cat, +having many things to attend to. John Turnbull Angus went back to +the lady at the shop, with whom that imprudent young man contrives +to be extremely comfortable. But Father Brown walked those +snow-covered hills under the stars for many hours with a murderer, +and what they said to each other will never be known. + + + + The Honour of Israel Gow + +A stormy evening of olive and silver was closing in, as Father +Brown, wrapped in a grey Scotch plaid, came to the end of a grey +Scotch valley and beheld the strange castle of Glengyle. It +stopped one end of the glen or hollow like a blind alley; and it +looked like the end of the world. Rising in steep roofs and +spires of seagreen slate in the manner of the old French-Scotch +chateaux, it reminded an Englishman of the sinister steeple-hats +of witches in fairy tales; and the pine woods that rocked round +the green turrets looked, by comparison, as black as numberless +flocks of ravens. This note of a dreamy, almost a sleepy devilry, +was no mere fancy from the landscape. For there did rest on the +place one of those clouds of pride and madness and mysterious +sorrow which lie more heavily on the noble houses of Scotland than +on any other of the children of men. For Scotland has a double +dose of the poison called heredity; the sense of blood in the +aristocrat, and the sense of doom in the Calvinist. + +The priest had snatched a day from his business at Glasgow to +meet his friend Flambeau, the amateur detective, who was at +Glengyle Castle with another more formal officer investigating the +life and death of the late Earl of Glengyle. That mysterious +person was the last representative of a race whose valour, +insanity, and violent cunning had made them terrible even among +the sinister nobility of their nation in the sixteenth century. +None were deeper in that labyrinthine ambition, in chamber within +chamber of that palace of lies that was built up around Mary Queen +of Scots. + +The rhyme in the country-side attested the motive and the +result of their machinations candidly: + + As green sap to the simmer trees + Is red gold to the Ogilvies. + +For many centuries there had never been a decent lord in +Glengyle Castle; and with the Victorian era one would have thought +that all eccentricities were exhausted. The last Glengyle, +however, satisfied his tribal tradition by doing the only thing +that was left for him to do; he disappeared. I do not mean that +he went abroad; by all accounts he was still in the castle, if he +was anywhere. But though his name was in the church register and +the big red Peerage, nobody ever saw him under the sun. + +If anyone saw him it was a solitary man-servant, something +between a groom and a gardener. He was so deaf that the more +business-like assumed him to be dumb; while the more penetrating +declared him to be half-witted. A gaunt, red-haired labourer, +with a dogged jaw and chin, but quite blank blue eyes, he went by +the name of Israel Gow, and was the one silent servant on that +deserted estate. But the energy with which he dug potatoes, and +the regularity with which he disappeared into the kitchen gave +people an impression that he was providing for the meals of a +superior, and that the strange earl was still concealed in the +castle. If society needed any further proof that he was there, +the servant persistently asserted that he was not at home. One +morning the provost and the minister (for the Glengyles were +Presbyterian) were summoned to the castle. There they found that +the gardener, groom and cook had added to his many professions +that of an undertaker, and had nailed up his noble master in a +coffin. With how much or how little further inquiry this odd fact +was passed, did not as yet very plainly appear; for the thing had +never been legally investigated till Flambeau had gone north two +or three days before. By then the body of Lord Glengyle (if it +was the body) had lain for some time in the little churchyard on +the hill. + +As Father Brown passed through the dim garden and came under +the shadow of the chateau, the clouds were thick and the whole air +damp and thundery. Against the last stripe of the green-gold +sunset he saw a black human silhouette; a man in a chimney-pot +hat, with a big spade over his shoulder. The combination was +queerly suggestive of a sexton; but when Brown remembered the deaf +servant who dug potatoes, he thought it natural enough. He knew +something of the Scotch peasant; he knew the respectability which +might well feel it necessary to wear "blacks" for an official +inquiry; he knew also the economy that would not lose an hour's +digging for that. Even the man's start and suspicious stare as +the priest went by were consonant enough with the vigilance and +jealousy of such a type. + +The great door was opened by Flambeau himself, who had with +him a lean man with iron-grey hair and papers in his hand: +Inspector Craven from Scotland Yard. The entrance hall was mostly +stripped and empty; but the pale, sneering faces of one or two of +the wicked Ogilvies looked down out of black periwigs and +blackening canvas. + +Following them into an inner room, Father Brown found that the +allies had been seated at a long oak table, of which their end was +covered with scribbled papers, flanked with whisky and cigars. +Through the whole of its remaining length it was occupied by +detached objects arranged at intervals; objects about as +inexplicable as any objects could be. One looked like a small +heap of glittering broken glass. Another looked like a high heap +of brown dust. A third appeared to be a plain stick of wood. + +"You seem to have a sort of geological museum here," he said, +as he sat down, jerking his head briefly in the direction of the +brown dust and the crystalline fragments. + +"Not a geological museum," replied Flambeau; "say a +psychological museum." + +"Oh, for the Lord's sake," cried the police detective laughing, +"don't let's begin with such long words." + +"Don't you know what psychology means?" asked Flambeau with +friendly surprise. "Psychology means being off your chump." + +"Still I hardly follow," replied the official. + +"Well," said Flambeau, with decision, "I mean that we've only +found out one thing about Lord Glengyle. He was a maniac." + +The black silhouette of Gow with his top hat and spade passed +the window, dimly outlined against the darkening sky. Father +Brown stared passively at it and answered: + +"I can understand there must have been something odd about the +man, or he wouldn't have buried himself alive--nor been in such +a hurry to bury himself dead. But what makes you think it was +lunacy?" + +"Well," said Flambeau, "you just listen to the list of things +Mr. Craven has found in the house." + +"We must get a candle," said Craven, suddenly. "A storm is +getting up, and it's too dark to read." + +"Have you found any candles," asked Brown smiling, "among your +oddities?" + +Flambeau raised a grave face, and fixed his dark eyes on his +friend. + +"That is curious, too," he said. "Twenty-five candles, and +not a trace of a candlestick." + +In the rapidly darkening room and rapidly rising wind, Brown +went along the table to where a bundle of wax candles lay among +the other scrappy exhibits. As he did so he bent accidentally +over the heap of red-brown dust; and a sharp sneeze cracked the +silence. + +"Hullo!" he said, "snuff!" + +He took one of the candles, lit it carefully, came back and +stuck it in the neck of the whisky bottle. The unrestful night +air, blowing through the crazy window, waved the long flame like a +banner. And on every side of the castle they could hear the miles +and miles of black pine wood seething like a black sea around a +rock. + +"I will read the inventory," began Craven gravely, picking up +one of the papers, "the inventory of what we found loose and +unexplained in the castle. You are to understand that the place +generally was dismantled and neglected; but one or two rooms had +plainly been inhabited in a simple but not squalid style by +somebody; somebody who was not the servant Gow. The list is as +follows: + +"First item. A very considerable hoard of precious stones, +nearly all diamonds, and all of them loose, without any setting +whatever. Of course, it is natural that the Ogilvies should have +family jewels; but those are exactly the jewels that are almost +always set in particular articles of ornament. The Ogilvies would +seem to have kept theirs loose in their pockets, like coppers. + +"Second item. Heaps and heaps of loose snuff, not kept in a +horn, or even a pouch, but lying in heaps on the mantelpieces, on +the sideboard, on the piano, anywhere. It looks as if the old +gentleman would not take the trouble to look in a pocket or lift a +lid. + +"Third item. Here and there about the house curious little +heaps of minute pieces of metal, some like steel springs and some +in the form of microscopic wheels. As if they had gutted some +mechanical toy. + +"Fourth item. The wax candles, which have to be stuck in +bottle necks because there is nothing else to stick them in. Now +I wish you to note how very much queerer all this is than anything +we anticipated. For the central riddle we are prepared; we have +all seen at a glance that there was something wrong about the last +earl. We have come here to find out whether he really lived here, +whether he really died here, whether that red-haired scarecrow who +did his burying had anything to do with his dying. But suppose +the worst in all this, the most lurid or melodramatic solution you +like. Suppose the servant really killed the master, or suppose +the master isn't really dead, or suppose the master is dressed up +as the servant, or suppose the servant is buried for the master; +invent what Wilkie Collins' tragedy you like, and you still have +not explained a candle without a candlestick, or why an elderly +gentleman of good family should habitually spill snuff on the +piano. The core of the tale we could imagine; it is the fringes +that are mysterious. By no stretch of fancy can the human mind +connect together snuff and diamonds and wax and loose clockwork." + +"I think I see the connection," said the priest. "This +Glengyle was mad against the French Revolution. He was an +enthusiast for the ancien regime, and was trying to re-enact +literally the family life of the last Bourbons. He had snuff +because it was the eighteenth century luxury; wax candles, because +they were the eighteenth century lighting; the mechanical bits of +iron represent the locksmith hobby of Louis XVI; the diamonds are +for the Diamond Necklace of Marie Antoinette." + +Both the other men were staring at him with round eyes. "What +a perfectly extraordinary notion!" cried Flambeau. "Do you really +think that is the truth?" + +"I am perfectly sure it isn't," answered Father Brown, "only +you said that nobody could connect snuff and diamonds and clockwork +and candles. I give you that connection off-hand. The real truth, +I am very sure, lies deeper." + +He paused a moment and listened to the wailing of the wind in +the turrets. Then he said, "The late Earl of Glengyle was a thief. +He lived a second and darker life as a desperate housebreaker. He +did not have any candlesticks because he only used these candles +cut short in the little lantern he carried. The snuff he employed +as the fiercest French criminals have used pepper: to fling it +suddenly in dense masses in the face of a captor or pursuer. But +the final proof is in the curious coincidence of the diamonds and +the small steel wheels. Surely that makes everything plain to +you? Diamonds and small steel wheels are the only two instruments +with which you can cut out a pane of glass." + +The bough of a broken pine tree lashed heavily in the blast +against the windowpane behind them, as if in parody of a burglar, +but they did not turn round. Their eyes were fastened on Father +Brown. + +"Diamonds and small wheels," repeated Craven ruminating. +"Is that all that makes you think it the true explanation?" + +"I don't think it the true explanation," replied the priest +placidly; "but you said that nobody could connect the four things. +The true tale, of course, is something much more humdrum. Glengyle +had found, or thought he had found, precious stones on his estate. +Somebody had bamboozled him with those loose brilliants, saying +they were found in the castle caverns. The little wheels are some +diamond-cutting affair. He had to do the thing very roughly and +in a small way, with the help of a few shepherds or rude fellows +on these hills. Snuff is the one great luxury of such Scotch +shepherds; it's the one thing with which you can bribe them. They +didn't have candlesticks because they didn't want them; they held +the candles in their hands when they explored the caves." + +"Is that all?" asked Flambeau after a long pause. "Have we +got to the dull truth at last?" + +"Oh, no," said Father Brown. + +As the wind died in the most distant pine woods with a long +hoot as of mockery Father Brown, with an utterly impassive face, +went on: + +"I only suggested that because you said one could not plausibly +connect snuff with clockwork or candles with bright stones. Ten +false philosophies will fit the universe; ten false theories will +fit Glengyle Castle. But we want the real explanation of the +castle and the universe. But are there no other exhibits?" + +Craven laughed, and Flambeau rose smiling to his feet and +strolled down the long table. + +"Items five, six, seven, etc.," he said, "and certainly more +varied than instructive. A curious collection, not of lead +pencils, but of the lead out of lead pencils. A senseless stick +of bamboo, with the top rather splintered. It might be the +instrument of the crime. Only, there isn't any crime. The only +other things are a few old missals and little Catholic pictures, +which the Ogilvies kept, I suppose, from the Middle Ages--their +family pride being stronger than their Puritanism. We only put +them in the museum because they seem curiously cut about and +defaced." + +The heady tempest without drove a dreadful wrack of clouds +across Glengyle and threw the long room into darkness as Father +Brown picked up the little illuminated pages to examine them. He +spoke before the drift of darkness had passed; but it was the +voice of an utterly new man. + +"Mr. Craven," said he, talking like a man ten years younger, +"you have got a legal warrant, haven't you, to go up and examine +that grave? The sooner we do it the better, and get to the bottom +of this horrible affair. If I were you I should start now." + +"Now," repeated the astonished detective, "and why now?" + +"Because this is serious," answered Brown; "this is not spilt +snuff or loose pebbles, that might be there for a hundred reasons. +There is only one reason I know of for this being done; and the +reason goes down to the roots of the world. These religious +pictures are not just dirtied or torn or scrawled over, which +might be done in idleness or bigotry, by children or by +Protestants. These have been treated very carefully--and very +queerly. In every place where the great ornamented name of God +comes in the old illuminations it has been elaborately taken out. +The only other thing that has been removed is the halo round the +head of the Child Jesus. Therefore, I say, let us get our warrant +and our spade and our hatchet, and go up and break open that +coffin." + +"What do you mean?" demanded the London officer. + +"I mean," answered the little priest, and his voice seemed to +rise slightly in the roar of the gale. "I mean that the great +devil of the universe may be sitting on the top tower of this +castle at this moment, as big as a hundred elephants, and roaring +like the Apocalypse. There is black magic somewhere at the bottom +of this." + +"Black magic," repeated Flambeau in a low voice, for he was +too enlightened a man not to know of such things; "but what can +these other things mean?" + +"Oh, something damnable, I suppose," replied Brown impatiently. +"How should I know? How can I guess all their mazes down below? +Perhaps you can make a torture out of snuff and bamboo. Perhaps +lunatics lust after wax and steel filings. Perhaps there is a +maddening drug made of lead pencils! Our shortest cut to the +mystery is up the hill to the grave." + +His comrades hardly knew that they had obeyed and followed him +till a blast of the night wind nearly flung them on their faces in +the garden. Nevertheless they had obeyed him like automata; for +Craven found a hatchet in his hand, and the warrant in his pocket; +Flambeau was carrying the heavy spade of the strange gardener; +Father Brown was carrying the little gilt book from which had been +torn the name of God. + +The path up the hill to the churchyard was crooked but short; +only under that stress of wind it seemed laborious and long. Far +as the eye could see, farther and farther as they mounted the +slope, were seas beyond seas of pines, now all aslope one way +under the wind. And that universal gesture seemed as vain as it +was vast, as vain as if that wind were whistling about some +unpeopled and purposeless planet. Through all that infinite +growth of grey-blue forests sang, shrill and high, that ancient +sorrow that is in the heart of all heathen things. One could +fancy that the voices from the under world of unfathomable foliage +were cries of the lost and wandering pagan gods: gods who had gone +roaming in that irrational forest, and who will never find their +way back to heaven. + +"You see," said Father Brown in low but easy tone, "Scotch +people before Scotland existed were a curious lot. In fact, +they're a curious lot still. But in the prehistoric times I fancy +they really worshipped demons. That," he added genially, "is why +they jumped at the Puritan theology." + +"My friend," said Flambeau, turning in a kind of fury, "what +does all that snuff mean?" + +"My friend," replied Brown, with equal seriousness, "there is +one mark of all genuine religions: materialism. Now, devil-worship +is a perfectly genuine religion." + +They had come up on the grassy scalp of the hill, one of the +few bald spots that stood clear of the crashing and roaring pine +forest. A mean enclosure, partly timber and partly wire, rattled +in the tempest to tell them the border of the graveyard. But by +the time Inspector Craven had come to the corner of the grave, +and Flambeau had planted his spade point downwards and leaned on +it, they were both almost as shaken as the shaky wood and wire. +At the foot of the grave grew great tall thistles, grey and silver +in their decay. Once or twice, when a ball of thistledown broke +under the breeze and flew past him, Craven jumped slightly as if +it had been an arrow. + +Flambeau drove the blade of his spade through the whistling +grass into the wet clay below. Then he seemed to stop and lean on +it as on a staff. + +"Go on," said the priest very gently. "We are only trying to +find the truth. What are you afraid of?" + +"I am afraid of finding it," said Flambeau. + +The London detective spoke suddenly in a high crowing voice +that was meant to be conversational and cheery. "I wonder why he +really did hide himself like that. Something nasty, I suppose; +was he a leper?" + +"Something worse than that," said Flambeau. + +"And what do you imagine," asked the other, "would be worse +than a leper?" + +"I don't imagine it," said Flambeau. + +He dug for some dreadful minutes in silence, and then said in +a choked voice, "I'm afraid of his not being the right shape." + +"Nor was that piece of paper, you know," said Father Brown +quietly, "and we survived even that piece of paper." + +Flambeau dug on with a blind energy. But the tempest had +shouldered away the choking grey clouds that clung to the hills +like smoke and revealed grey fields of faint starlight before he +cleared the shape of a rude timber coffin, and somehow tipped it +up upon the turf. Craven stepped forward with his axe; a +thistle-top touched him, and he flinched. Then he took a firmer +stride, and hacked and wrenched with an energy like Flambeau's +till the lid was torn off, and all that was there lay glimmering +in the grey starlight. + +"Bones," said Craven; and then he added, "but it is a man," as +if that were something unexpected. + +"Is he," asked Flambeau in a voice that went oddly up and +down, "is he all right?" + +"Seems so," said the officer huskily, bending over the obscure +and decaying skeleton in the box. "Wait a minute." + +A vast heave went over Flambeau's huge figure. "And now I +come to think of it," he cried, "why in the name of madness +shouldn't he be all right? What is it gets hold of a man on these +cursed cold mountains? I think it's the black, brainless +repetition; all these forests, and over all an ancient horror of +unconsciousness. It's like the dream of an atheist. Pine-trees +and more pine-trees and millions more pine-trees--" + +"God!" cried the man by the coffin, "but he hasn't got a head." + +While the others stood rigid the priest, for the first time, +showed a leap of startled concern. + +"No head!" he repeated. "No head?" as if he had almost +expected some other deficiency. + +Half-witted visions of a headless baby born to Glengyle, of a +headless youth hiding himself in the castle, of a headless man +pacing those ancient halls or that gorgeous garden, passed in +panorama through their minds. But even in that stiffened instant +the tale took no root in them and seemed to have no reason in it. +They stood listening to the loud woods and the shrieking sky quite +foolishly, like exhausted animals. Thought seemed to be something +enormous that had suddenly slipped out of their grasp. + +"There are three headless men," said Father Brown, "standing +round this open grave." + +The pale detective from London opened his mouth to speak, and +left it open like a yokel, while a long scream of wind tore the +sky; then he looked at the axe in his hands as if it did not +belong to him, and dropped it. + +"Father," said Flambeau in that infantile and heavy voice he +used very seldom, "what are we to do?" + +His friend's reply came with the pent promptitude of a gun +going off. + +"Sleep!" cried Father Brown. "Sleep. We have come to the end +of the ways. Do you know what sleep is? Do you know that every +man who sleeps believes in God? It is a sacrament; for it is an +act of faith and it is a food. And we need a sacrament, if only a +natural one. Something has fallen on us that falls very seldom on +men; perhaps the worst thing that can fall on them." + +Craven's parted lips came together to say, "What do you mean?" + +The priest had turned his face to the castle as he answered: +"We have found the truth; and the truth makes no sense." + +He went down the path in front of them with a plunging and +reckless step very rare with him, and when they reached the castle +again he threw himself upon sleep with the simplicity of a dog. + +Despite his mystic praise of slumber, Father Brown was up +earlier than anyone else except the silent gardener; and was found +smoking a big pipe and watching that expert at his speechless +labours in the kitchen garden. Towards daybreak the rocking storm +had ended in roaring rains, and the day came with a curious +freshness. The gardener seemed even to have been conversing, but +at sight of the detectives he planted his spade sullenly in a bed +and, saying something about his breakfast, shifted along the lines +of cabbages and shut himself in the kitchen. "He's a valuable +man, that," said Father Brown. "He does the potatoes amazingly. +Still," he added, with a dispassionate charity, "he has his faults; +which of us hasn't? He doesn't dig this bank quite regularly. +There, for instance," and he stamped suddenly on one spot. "I'm +really very doubtful about that potato." + +"And why?" asked Craven, amused with the little man's hobby. + +"I'm doubtful about it," said the other, "because old Gow was +doubtful about it himself. He put his spade in methodically in +every place but just this. There must be a mighty fine potato +just here." + +Flambeau pulled up the spade and impetuously drove it into the +place. He turned up, under a load of soil, something that did not +look like a potato, but rather like a monstrous, over-domed +mushroom. But it struck the spade with a cold click; it rolled +over like a ball, and grinned up at them. + +"The Earl of Glengyle," said Brown sadly, and looked down +heavily at the skull. + +Then, after a momentary meditation, he plucked the spade from +Flambeau, and, saying "We must hide it again," clamped the skull +down in the earth. Then he leaned his little body and huge head +on the great handle of the spade, that stood up stiffly in the +earth, and his eyes were empty and his forehead full of wrinkles. +"If one could only conceive," he muttered, "the meaning of this +last monstrosity." And leaning on the large spade handle, he +buried his brows in his hands, as men do in church. + +All the corners of the sky were brightening into blue and +silver; the birds were chattering in the tiny garden trees; so +loud it seemed as if the trees themselves were talking. But the +three men were silent enough. + +"Well, I give it all up," said Flambeau at last boisterously. +"My brain and this world don't fit each other; and there's an end +of it. Snuff, spoilt Prayer Books, and the insides of musical +boxes--what--" + +Brown threw up his bothered brow and rapped on the spade +handle with an intolerance quite unusual with him. "Oh, tut, tut, +tut, tut!" he cried. "All that is as plain as a pikestaff. I +understood the snuff and clockwork, and so on, when I first opened +my eyes this morning. And since then I've had it out with old +Gow, the gardener, who is neither so deaf nor so stupid as he +pretends. There's nothing amiss about the loose items. I was +wrong about the torn mass-book, too; there's no harm in that. But +it's this last business. Desecrating graves and stealing dead +men's heads--surely there's harm in that? Surely there's black +magic still in that? That doesn't fit in to the quite simple +story of the snuff and the candles." And, striding about again, +he smoked moodily. + +"My friend," said Flambeau, with a grim humour, "you must be +careful with me and remember I was once a criminal. The great +advantage of that estate was that I always made up the story +myself, and acted it as quick as I chose. This detective business +of waiting about is too much for my French impatience. All my +life, for good or evil, I have done things at the instant; I +always fought duels the next morning; I always paid bills on the +nail; I never even put off a visit to the dentist--" + +Father Brown's pipe fell out of his mouth and broke into three +pieces on the gravel path. He stood rolling his eyes, the exact +picture of an idiot. "Lord, what a turnip I am!" he kept saying. +"Lord, what a turnip!" Then, in a somewhat groggy kind of way, he +began to laugh. + +"The dentist!" he repeated. "Six hours in the spiritual +abyss, and all because I never thought of the dentist! Such a +simple, such a beautiful and peaceful thought! Friends, we have +passed a night in hell; but now the sun is risen, the birds are +singing, and the radiant form of the dentist consoles the world." + +"I will get some sense out of this," cried Flambeau, striding +forward, "if I use the tortures of the Inquisition." + +Father Brown repressed what appeared to be a momentary +disposition to dance on the now sunlit lawn and cried quite +piteously, like a child, "Oh, let me be silly a little. You don't +know how unhappy I have been. And now I know that there has been +no deep sin in this business at all. Only a little lunacy, perhaps +--and who minds that?" + +He spun round once more, then faced them with gravity. + +"This is not a story of crime," he said; "rather it is the +story of a strange and crooked honesty. We are dealing with the +one man on earth, perhaps, who has taken no more than his due. It +is a study in the savage living logic that has been the religion +of this race. + +"That old local rhyme about the house of Glengyle-- + + As green sap to the simmer trees + Is red gold to the Ogilvies-- + +was literal as well as metaphorical. It did not merely mean that +the Glengyles sought for wealth; it was also true that they +literally gathered gold; they had a huge collection of ornaments +and utensils in that metal. They were, in fact, misers whose +mania took that turn. In the light of that fact, run through all +the things we found in the castle. Diamonds without their gold +rings; candles without their gold candlesticks; snuff without the +gold snuff-boxes; pencil-leads without the gold pencil-cases; a +walking stick without its gold top; clockwork without the gold +clocks--or rather watches. And, mad as it sounds, because the +halos and the name of God in the old missals were of real gold; +these also were taken away." + +The garden seemed to brighten, the grass to grow gayer in the +strengthening sun, as the crazy truth was told. Flambeau lit a +cigarette as his friend went on. + +"Were taken away," continued Father Brown; "were taken away-- +but not stolen. Thieves would never have left this mystery. +Thieves would have taken the gold snuff-boxes, snuff and all; the +gold pencil-cases, lead and all. We have to deal with a man with +a peculiar conscience, but certainly a conscience. I found that +mad moralist this morning in the kitchen garden yonder, and I +heard the whole story. + +"The late Archibald Ogilvie was the nearest approach to a good +man ever born at Glengyle. But his bitter virtue took the turn of +the misanthrope; he moped over the dishonesty of his ancestors, +from which, somehow, he generalised a dishonesty of all men. More +especially he distrusted philanthropy or free-giving; and he swore +if he could find one man who took his exact rights he should have +all the gold of Glengyle. Having delivered this defiance to +humanity he shut himself up, without the smallest expectation of +its being answered. One day, however, a deaf and seemingly +senseless lad from a distant village brought him a belated +telegram; and Glengyle, in his acrid pleasantry, gave him a new +farthing. At least he thought he had done so, but when he turned +over his change he found the new farthing still there and a +sovereign gone. The accident offered him vistas of sneering +speculation. Either way, the boy would show the greasy greed of +the species. Either he would vanish, a thief stealing a coin; or +he would sneak back with it virtuously, a snob seeking a reward. +In the middle of that night Lord Glengyle was knocked up out of +his bed--for he lived alone--and forced to open the door to +the deaf idiot. The idiot brought with him, not the sovereign, +but exactly nineteen shillings and eleven-pence three-farthings +in change. + +"Then the wild exactitude of this action took hold of the mad +lord's brain like fire. He swore he was Diogenes, that had long +sought an honest man, and at last had found one. He made a new +will, which I have seen. He took the literal youth into his huge, +neglected house, and trained him up as his solitary servant and +--after an odd manner--his heir. And whatever that queer +creature understands, he understood absolutely his lord's two +fixed ideas: first, that the letter of right is everything; and +second, that he himself was to have the gold of Glengyle. So far, +that is all; and that is simple. He has stripped the house of +gold, and taken not a grain that was not gold; not so much as a +grain of snuff. He lifted the gold leaf off an old illumination, +fully satisfied that he left the rest unspoilt. All that I +understood; but I could not understand this skull business. +I was really uneasy about that human head buried among the +potatoes. It distressed me--till Flambeau said the word. + +"It will be all right. He will put the skull back in the +grave, when he has taken the gold out of the tooth." + +And, indeed, when Flambeau crossed the hill that morning, he +saw that strange being, the just miser, digging at the desecrated +grave, the plaid round his throat thrashing out in the mountain +wind; the sober top hat on his head. + + + + The Wrong Shape + +Certain of the great roads going north out of London continue far +into the country a sort of attenuated and interrupted spectre of a +street, with great gaps in the building, but preserving the line. +Here will be a group of shops, followed by a fenced field or +paddock, and then a famous public-house, and then perhaps a market +garden or a nursery garden, and then one large private house, and +then another field and another inn, and so on. If anyone walks +along one of these roads he will pass a house which will probably +catch his eye, though he may not be able to explain its attraction. +It is a long, low house, running parallel with the road, painted +mostly white and pale green, with a veranda and sun-blinds, and +porches capped with those quaint sort of cupolas like wooden +umbrellas that one sees in some old-fashioned houses. In fact, it +is an old-fashioned house, very English and very suburban in the +good old wealthy Clapham sense. And yet the house has a look of +having been built chiefly for the hot weather. Looking at its +white paint and sun-blinds one thinks vaguely of pugarees and even +of palm trees. I cannot trace the feeling to its root; perhaps +the place was built by an Anglo-Indian. + +Anyone passing this house, I say, would be namelessly +fascinated by it; would feel that it was a place about which some +story was to be told. And he would have been right, as you shall +shortly hear. For this is the story--the story of the strange +things that did really happen in it in the Whitsuntide of the year +18--: + +Anyone passing the house on the Thursday before WhitSunday at +about half-past four p.m. would have seen the front door open, and +Father Brown, of the small church of St. Mungo, come out smoking a +large pipe in company with a very tall French friend of his called +Flambeau, who was smoking a very small cigarette. These persons +may or may not be of interest to the reader, but the truth is that +they were not the only interesting things that were displayed when +the front door of the white-and-green house was opened. There are +further peculiarities about this house, which must be described to +start with, not only that the reader may understand this tragic +tale, but also that he may realise what it was that the opening of +the door revealed. + +The whole house was built upon the plan of a T, but a T with a +very long cross piece and a very short tail piece. The long cross +piece was the frontage that ran along in face of the street, with +the front door in the middle; it was two stories high, and +contained nearly all the important rooms. The short tail piece, +which ran out at the back immediately opposite the front door, was +one story high, and consisted only of two long rooms, the one +leading into the other. The first of these two rooms was the study +in which the celebrated Mr. Quinton wrote his wild Oriental poems +and romances. The farther room was a glass conservatory full of +tropical blossoms of quite unique and almost monstrous beauty, and +on such afternoons as these glowing with gorgeous sunlight. Thus +when the hall door was open, many a passer-by literally stopped to +stare and gasp; for he looked down a perspective of rich apartments +to something really like a transformation scene in a fairy play: +purple clouds and golden suns and crimson stars that were at once +scorchingly vivid and yet transparent and far away. + +Leonard Quinton, the poet, had himself most carefully arranged +this effect; and it is doubtful whether he so perfectly expressed +his personality in any of his poems. For he was a man who drank +and bathed in colours, who indulged his lust for colour somewhat +to the neglect of form--even of good form. This it was that had +turned his genius so wholly to eastern art and imagery; to those +bewildering carpets or blinding embroideries in which all the +colours seem fallen into a fortunate chaos, having nothing to +typify or to teach. He had attempted, not perhaps with complete +artistic success, but with acknowledged imagination and invention, +to compose epics and love stories reflecting the riot of violent +and even cruel colour; tales of tropical heavens of burning gold or +blood-red copper; of eastern heroes who rode with twelve-turbaned +mitres upon elephants painted purple or peacock green; of gigantic +jewels that a hundred negroes could not carry, but which burned +with ancient and strange-hued fires. + +In short (to put the matter from the more common point of +view), he dealt much in eastern heavens, rather worse than most +western hells; in eastern monarchs, whom we might possibly call +maniacs; and in eastern jewels which a Bond Street jeweller (if +the hundred staggering negroes brought them into his shop) might +possibly not regard as genuine. Quinton was a genius, if a morbid +one; and even his morbidity appeared more in his life than in his +work. In temperament he was weak and waspish, and his health had +suffered heavily from oriental experiments with opium. His wife +--a handsome, hard-working, and, indeed, over-worked woman +objected to the opium, but objected much more to a live Indian +hermit in white and yellow robes, whom her husband insisted on +entertaining for months together, a Virgil to guide his spirit +through the heavens and the hells of the east. + +It was out of this artistic household that Father Brown and +his friend stepped on to the door-step; and to judge from their +faces, they stepped out of it with much relief. Flambeau had +known Quinton in wild student days in Paris, and they had renewed +the acquaintance for a week-end; but apart from Flambeau's more +responsible developments of late, he did not get on well with the +poet now. Choking oneself with opium and writing little erotic +verses on vellum was not his notion of how a gentleman should go +to the devil. As the two paused on the door-step, before taking a +turn in the garden, the front garden gate was thrown open with +violence, and a young man with a billycock hat on the back of his +head tumbled up the steps in his eagerness. He was a +dissipated-looking youth with a gorgeous red necktie all awry, as +if he had slept in it, and he kept fidgeting and lashing about +with one of those little jointed canes. + +"I say," he said breathlessly, "I want to see old Quinton. I +must see him. Has he gone?" + +"Mr. Quinton is in, I believe," said Father Brown, cleaning +his pipe, "but I do not know if you can see him. The doctor is +with him at present." + +The young man, who seemed not to be perfectly sober, stumbled +into the hall; and at the same moment the doctor came out of +Quinton's study, shutting the door and beginning to put on his +gloves. + +"See Mr. Quinton?" said the doctor coolly. "No, I'm afraid +you can't. In fact, you mustn't on any account. Nobody must see +him; I've just given him his sleeping draught." + +"No, but look here, old chap," said the youth in the red tie, +trying affectionately to capture the doctor by the lapels of his +coat. "Look here. I'm simply sewn up, I tell you. I--" + +"It's no good, Mr. Atkinson," said the doctor, forcing him to +fall back; "when you can alter the effects of a drug I'll alter my +decision," and, settling on his hat, he stepped out into the +sunlight with the other two. He was a bull-necked, good-tempered +little man with a small moustache, inexpressibly ordinary, yet +giving an impression of capacity. + +The young man in the billycock, who did not seem to be gifted +with any tact in dealing with people beyond the general idea of +clutching hold of their coats, stood outside the door, as dazed as +if he had been thrown out bodily, and silently watched the other +three walk away together through the garden. + +"That was a sound, spanking lie I told just now," remarked the +medical man, laughing. "In point of fact, poor Quinton doesn't +have his sleeping draught for nearly half an hour. But I'm not +going to have him bothered with that little beast, who only wants +to borrow money that he wouldn't pay back if he could. He's a +dirty little scamp, though he is Mrs. Quinton's brother, and she's +as fine a woman as ever walked." + +"Yes," said Father Brown. "She's a good woman." + +"So I propose to hang about the garden till the creature has +cleared off," went on the doctor, "and then I'll go in to Quinton +with the medicine. Atkinson can't get in, because I locked the +door." + +"In that case, Dr. Harris," said Flambeau, "we might as well +walk round at the back by the end of the conservatory. There's no +entrance to it that way, but it's worth seeing, even from the +outside." + +"Yes, and I might get a squint at my patient," laughed the +doctor, "for he prefers to lie on an ottoman right at the end of +the conservatory amid all those blood-red poinsettias; it would +give me the creeps. But what are you doing?" + +Father Brown had stopped for a moment, and picked up out of +the long grass, where it had almost been wholly hidden, a queer, +crooked Oriental knife, inlaid exquisitely in coloured stones and +metals. + +"What is this?" asked Father Brown, regarding it with some +disfavour. + +"Oh, Quinton's, I suppose," said Dr. Harris carelessly; "he +has all sorts of Chinese knickknacks about the place. Or perhaps +it belongs to that mild Hindoo of his whom he keeps on a string." + +"What Hindoo?" asked Father Brown, still staring at the dagger +in his hand. + +"Oh, some Indian conjuror," said the doctor lightly; "a fraud, +of course." + +"You don't believe in magic?" asked Father Brown, without +looking up. + +"O crickey! magic!" said the doctor. + +"It's very beautiful," said the priest in a low, dreaming +voice; "the colours are very beautiful. But it's the wrong shape." + +"What for?" asked Flambeau, staring. + +"For anything. It's the wrong shape in the abstract. Don't +you ever feel that about Eastern art? The colours are +intoxicatingly lovely; but the shapes are mean and bad-- +deliberately mean and bad. I have seen wicked things in a Turkey +carpet." + +"Mon Dieu!" cried Flambeau, laughing. + +"They are letters and symbols in a language I don't know; but +I know they stand for evil words," went on the priest, his voice +growing lower and lower. "The lines go wrong on purpose--like +serpents doubling to escape." + +"What the devil are you talking about?" said the doctor with a +loud laugh. + +Flambeau spoke quietly to him in answer. "The Father +sometimes gets this mystic's cloud on him," he said; "but I give +you fair warning that I have never known him to have it except +when there was some evil quite near." + +"Oh, rats!" said the scientist. + +"Why, look at it," cried Father Brown, holding out the crooked +knife at arm's length, as if it were some glittering snake. +"Don't you see it is the wrong shape? Don't you see that it has +no hearty and plain purpose? It does not point like a spear. It +does not sweep like a scythe. It does not look like a weapon. It +looks like an instrument of torture." + +"Well, as you don't seem to like it," said the jolly Harris, +"it had better be taken back to its owner. Haven't we come to the +end of this confounded conservatory yet? This house is the wrong +shape, if you like." + +"You don't understand," said Father Brown, shaking his head. +"The shape of this house is quaint--it is even laughable. But +there is nothing wrong about it." + +As they spoke they came round the curve of glass that ended +the conservatory, an uninterrupted curve, for there was neither +door nor window by which to enter at that end. The glass, +however, was clear, and the sun still bright, though beginning to +set; and they could see not only the flamboyant blossoms inside, +but the frail figure of the poet in a brown velvet coat lying +languidly on the sofa, having, apparently, fallen half asleep over +a book. He was a pale, slight man, with loose, chestnut hair and +a fringe of beard that was the paradox of his face, for the beard +made him look less manly. These traits were well known to all +three of them; but even had it not been so, it may be doubted +whether they would have looked at Quinton just then. Their eyes +were riveted on another object. + +Exactly in their path, immediately outside the round end of +the glass building, was standing a tall man, whose drapery fell to +his feet in faultless white, and whose bare, brown skull, face, +and neck gleamed in the setting sun like splendid bronze. He was +looking through the glass at the sleeper, and he was more +motionless than a mountain. + +"Who is that?" cried Father Brown, stepping back with a +hissing intake of his breath. + +"Oh, it is only that Hindoo humbug," growled Harris; "but I +don't know what the deuce he's doing here." + +"It looks like hypnotism," said Flambeau, biting his black +moustache. + +"Why are you unmedical fellows always talking bosh about +hypnotism?" cried the doctor. "It looks a deal more like +burglary." + +"Well, we will speak to it, at any rate," said Flambeau, who +was always for action. One long stride took him to the place +where the Indian stood. Bowing from his great height, which +overtopped even the Oriental's, he said with placid impudence: + +"Good evening, sir. Do you want anything?" + +Quite slowly, like a great ship turning into a harbour, the +great yellow face turned, and looked at last over its white +shoulder. They were startled to see that its yellow eyelids were +quite sealed, as in sleep. "Thank you," said the face in +excellent English. "I want nothing." Then, half opening the +lids, so as to show a slit of opalescent eyeball, he repeated, "I +want nothing." Then he opened his eyes wide with a startling +stare, said, "I want nothing," and went rustling away into the +rapidly darkening garden. + +"The Christian is more modest," muttered Father Brown; "he +wants something." + +"What on earth was he doing?" asked Flambeau, knitting his +black brows and lowering his voice. + +"I should like to talk to you later," said Father Brown. + +The sunlight was still a reality, but it was the red light of +evening, and the bulk of the garden trees and bushes grew blacker +and blacker against it. They turned round the end of the +conservatory, and walked in silence down the other side to get +round to the front door. As they went they seemed to wake +something, as one startles a bird, in the deeper corner between +the study and the main building; and again they saw the +white-robed fakir slide out of the shadow, and slip round towards +the front door. To their surprise, however, he had not been +alone. They found themselves abruptly pulled up and forced to +banish their bewilderment by the appearance of Mrs. Quinton, with +her heavy golden hair and square pale face, advancing on them out +of the twilight. She looked a little stern, but was entirely +courteous. + +"Good evening, Dr. Harris," was all she said. + +"Good evening, Mrs. Quinton," said the little doctor heartily. +"I am just going to give your husband his sleeping draught." + +"Yes," she said in a clear voice. "I think it is quite time." +And she smiled at them, and went sweeping into the house. + +"That woman's over-driven," said Father Brown; "that's the +kind of woman that does her duty for twenty years, and then does +something dreadful." + +The little doctor looked at him for the first time with an eye +of interest. "Did you ever study medicine?" he asked. + +"You have to know something of the mind as well as the body," +answered the priest; "we have to know something of the body as +well as the mind." + +"Well," said the doctor, "I think I'll go and give Quinton his +stuff." + +They had turned the corner of the front facade, and were +approaching the front doorway. As they turned into it they saw +the man in the white robe for the third time. He came so straight +towards the front door that it seemed quite incredible that he had +not just come out of the study opposite to it. Yet they knew that +the study door was locked. + +Father Brown and Flambeau, however, kept this weird +contradiction to themselves, and Dr. Harris was not a man to +waste his thoughts on the impossible. He permitted the +omnipresent Asiatic to make his exit, and then stepped briskly +into the hall. There he found a figure which he had already +forgotten. The inane Atkinson was still hanging about, humming +and poking things with his knobby cane. The doctor's face had a +spasm of disgust and decision, and he whispered rapidly to his +companion: "I must lock the door again, or this rat will get in. +But I shall be out again in two minutes." + +He rapidly unlocked the door and locked it again behind him, +just balking a blundering charge from the young man in the +billycock. The young man threw himself impatiently on a hall +chair. Flambeau looked at a Persian illumination on the wall; +Father Brown, who seemed in a sort of daze, dully eyed the door. +In about four minutes the door was opened again. Atkinson was +quicker this time. He sprang forward, held the door open for an +instant, and called out: "Oh, I say, Quinton, I want--" + +From the other end of the study came the clear voice of +Quinton, in something between a yawn and a yell of weary laughter. + +"Oh, I know what you want. Take it, and leave me in peace. +I'm writing a song about peacocks." + +Before the door closed half a sovereign came flying through +the aperture; and Atkinson, stumbling forward, caught it with +singular dexterity. + +"So that's settled," said the doctor, and, locking the door +savagely, he led the way out into the garden. + +"Poor Leonard can get a little peace now," he added to Father +Brown; "he's locked in all by himself for an hour or two." + +"Yes," answered the priest; "and his voice sounded jolly enough +when we left him." Then he looked gravely round the garden, and +saw the loose figure of Atkinson standing and jingling the +half-sovereign in his pocket, and beyond, in the purple twilight, +the figure of the Indian sitting bolt upright upon a bank of grass +with his face turned towards the setting sun. Then he said +abruptly: "Where is Mrs. Quinton!" + +"She has gone up to her room," said the doctor. "That is her +shadow on the blind." + +Father Brown looked up, and frowningly scrutinised a dark +outline at the gas-lit window. + +"Yes," he said, "that is her shadow," and he walked a yard or +two and threw himself upon a garden seat. + +Flambeau sat down beside him; but the doctor was one of those +energetic people who live naturally on their legs. He walked +away, smoking, into the twilight, and the two friends were left +together. + +"My father," said Flambeau in French, "what is the matter with +you?" + +Father Brown was silent and motionless for half a minute, then +he said: "Superstition is irreligious, but there is something in +the air of this place. I think it's that Indian--at least, +partly." + +He sank into silence, and watched the distant outline of the +Indian, who still sat rigid as if in prayer. At first sight he +seemed motionless, but as Father Brown watched him he saw that the +man swayed ever so slightly with a rhythmic movement, just as the +dark tree-tops swayed ever so slightly in the wind that was +creeping up the dim garden paths and shuffling the fallen leaves a +little. + +The landscape was growing rapidly dark, as if for a storm, but +they could still see all the figures in their various places. +Atkinson was leaning against a tree with a listless face; Quinton's +wife was still at her window; the doctor had gone strolling round +the end of the conservatory; they could see his cigar like a +will-o'-the-wisp; and the fakir still sat rigid and yet rocking, +while the trees above him began to rock and almost to roar. Storm +was certainly coming. + +"When that Indian spoke to us," went on Brown in a +conversational undertone, "I had a sort of vision, a vision of him +and all his universe. Yet he only said the same thing three +times. When first he said `I want nothing,' it meant only that he +was impenetrable, that Asia does not give itself away. Then he +said again, `I want nothing,' and I knew that he meant that he was +sufficient to himself, like a cosmos, that he needed no God, +neither admitted any sins. And when he said the third time, `I +want nothing,' he said it with blazing eyes. And I knew that he +meant literally what he said; that nothing was his desire and his +home; that he was weary for nothing as for wine; that annihilation, +the mere destruction of everything or anything--" + +Two drops of rain fell; and for some reason Flambeau started +and looked up, as if they had stung him. And the same instant the +doctor down by the end of the conservatory began running towards +them, calling out something as he ran. + +As he came among them like a bombshell the restless Atkinson +happened to be taking a turn nearer to the house front; and the +doctor clutched him by the collar in a convulsive grip. "Foul +play!" he cried; "what have you been doing to him, you dog?" + +The priest had sprung erect, and had the voice of steel of a +soldier in command. + +"No fighting," he cried coolly; "we are enough to hold anyone +we want to. What is the matter, doctor?" + +"Things are not right with Quinton," said the doctor, quite +white. "I could just see him through the glass, and I don't like +the way he's lying. It's not as I left him, anyhow." + +"Let us go in to him," said Father Brown shortly. "You can +leave Mr. Atkinson alone. I have had him in sight since we heard +Quinton's voice." + +"I will stop here and watch him," said Flambeau hurriedly. +"You go in and see." + +The doctor and the priest flew to the study door, unlocked it, +and fell into the room. In doing so they nearly fell over the +large mahogany table in the centre at which the poet usually +wrote; for the place was lit only by a small fire kept for the +invalid. In the middle of this table lay a single sheet of paper, +evidently left there on purpose. The doctor snatched it up, +glanced at it, handed it to Father Brown, and crying, "Good God, +look at that!" plunged toward the glass room beyond, where the +terrible tropic flowers still seemed to keep a crimson memory of +the sunset. + +Father Brown read the words three times before he put down the +paper. The words were: "I die by my own hand; yet I die murdered!" +They were in the quite inimitable, not to say illegible, handwriting +of Leonard Quinton. + +Then Father Brown, still keeping the paper in his hand, strode +towards the conservatory, only to meet his medical friend coming +back with a face of assurance and collapse. "He's done it," said +Harris. + +They went together through the gorgeous unnatural beauty of +cactus and azalea and found Leonard Quinton, poet and romancer, +with his head hanging downward off his ottoman and his red curls +sweeping the ground. Into his left side was thrust the queer +dagger that they had picked up in the garden, and his limp hand +still rested on the hilt. + +Outside the storm had come at one stride, like the night in +Coleridge, and garden and glass roof were darkened with driving +rain. Father Brown seemed to be studying the paper more than the +corpse; he held it close to his eyes; and seemed trying to read it +in the twilight. Then he held it up against the faint light, and, +as he did so, lightning stared at them for an instant so white +that the paper looked black against it. + +Darkness full of thunder followed, and after the thunder +Father Brown's voice said out of the dark: "Doctor, this paper is +the wrong shape." + +"What do you mean?" asked Doctor Harris, with a frowning +stare. + +"It isn't square," answered Brown. "It has a sort of edge +snipped off at the corner. What does it mean?" + +"How the deuce should I know?" growled the doctor. "Shall we +move this poor chap, do you think? He's quite dead." + +"No," answered the priest; "we must leave him as he lies and +send for the police." But he was still scrutinising the paper. + +As they went back through the study he stopped by the table +and picked up a small pair of nail scissors. "Ah," he said, with +a sort of relief, "this is what he did it with. But yet--" And +he knitted his brows. + +"Oh, stop fooling with that scrap of paper," said the doctor +emphatically. "It was a fad of his. He had hundreds of them. He +cut all his paper like that," as he pointed to a stack of sermon +paper still unused on another and smaller table. Father Brown +went up to it and held up a sheet. It was the same irregular +shape. + +"Quite so," he said. "And here I see the corners that were +snipped off." And to the indignation of his colleague he began to +count them. + +"That's all right," he said, with an apologetic smile. +"Twenty-three sheets cut and twenty-two corners cut off them. And +as I see you are impatient we will rejoin the others." + +"Who is to tell his wife?" asked Dr. Harris. "Will you go and +tell her now, while I send a servant for the police?" + +"As you will," said Father Brown indifferently. And he went +out to the hall door. + +Here also he found a drama, though of a more grotesque sort. +It showed nothing less than his big friend Flambeau in an attitude +to which he had long been unaccustomed, while upon the pathway at +the bottom of the steps was sprawling with his boots in the air +the amiable Atkinson, his billycock hat and walking cane sent +flying in opposite directions along the path. Atkinson had at +length wearied of Flambeau's almost paternal custody, and had +endeavoured to knock him down, which was by no means a smooth game +to play with the Roi des Apaches, even after that monarch's +abdication. + +Flambeau was about to leap upon his enemy and secure him once +more, when the priest patted him easily on the shoulder. + +"Make it up with Mr. Atkinson, my friend," he said. "Beg a +mutual pardon and say `Good night.' We need not detain him any +longer." Then, as Atkinson rose somewhat doubtfully and gathered +his hat and stick and went towards the garden gate, Father Brown +said in a more serious voice: "Where is that Indian?" + +They all three (for the doctor had joined them) turned +involuntarily towards the dim grassy bank amid the tossing trees +purple with twilight, where they had last seen the brown man +swaying in his strange prayers. The Indian was gone. + +"Confound him," cried the doctor, stamping furiously. "Now I +know that it was that nigger that did it." + +"I thought you didn't believe in magic," said Father Brown +quietly. + +"No more I did," said the doctor, rolling his eyes. "I only +know that I loathed that yellow devil when I thought he was a sham +wizard. And I shall loathe him more if I come to think he was a +real one." + +"Well, his having escaped is nothing," said Flambeau. "For we +could have proved nothing and done nothing against him. One hardly +goes to the parish constable with a story of suicide imposed by +witchcraft or auto-suggestion." + +Meanwhile Father Brown had made his way into the house, and +now went to break the news to the wife of the dead man. + +When he came out again he looked a little pale and tragic, but +what passed between them in that interview was never known, even +when all was known. + +Flambeau, who was talking quietly with the doctor, was +surprised to see his friend reappear so soon at his elbow; but +Brown took no notice, and merely drew the doctor apart. "You have +sent for the police, haven't you?" he asked. + +"Yes," answered Harris. "They ought to be here in ten +minutes." + +"Will you do me a favour?" said the priest quietly. "The +truth is, I make a collection of these curious stories, which +often contain, as in the case of our Hindoo friend, elements which +can hardly be put into a police report. Now, I want you to write +out a report of this case for my private use. Yours is a clever +trade," he said, looking the doctor gravely and steadily in the +face. "I sometimes think that you know some details of this +matter which you have not thought fit to mention. Mine is a +confidential trade like yours, and I will treat anything you write +for me in strict confidence. But write the whole." + +The doctor, who had been listening thoughtfully with his head +a little on one side, looked the priest in the face for an +instant, and said: "All right," and went into the study, closing +the door behind him. + +"Flambeau," said Father Brown, "there is a long seat there +under the veranda, where we can smoke out of the rain. You are my +only friend in the world, and I want to talk to you. Or, perhaps, +be silent with you." + +They established themselves comfortably in the veranda seat; +Father Brown, against his common habit, accepted a good cigar and +smoked it steadily in silence, while the rain shrieked and rattled +on the roof of the veranda. + +"My friend," he said at length, "this is a very queer case. A +very queer case." + +"I should think it was," said Flambeau, with something like a +shudder. + +"You call it queer, and I call it queer," said the other, "and +yet we mean quite opposite things. The modern mind always mixes +up two different ideas: mystery in the sense of what is marvellous, +and mystery in the sense of what is complicated. That is half its +difficulty about miracles. A miracle is startling; but it is +simple. It is simple because it is a miracle. It is power coming +directly from God (or the devil) instead of indirectly through +nature or human wills. Now, you mean that this business is +marvellous because it is miraculous, because it is witchcraft +worked by a wicked Indian. Understand, I do not say that it was +not spiritual or diabolic. Heaven and hell only know by what +surrounding influences strange sins come into the lives of men. +But for the present my point is this: If it was pure magic, as you +think, then it is marvellous; but it is not mysterious--that is, +it is not complicated. The quality of a miracle is mysterious, +but its manner is simple. Now, the manner of this business has +been the reverse of simple." + +The storm that had slackened for a little seemed to be swelling +again, and there came heavy movements as of faint thunder. Father +Brown let fall the ash of his cigar and went on: + +"There has been in this incident," he said, "a twisted, ugly, +complex quality that does not belong to the straight bolts either +of heaven or hell. As one knows the crooked track of a snail, I +know the crooked track of a man." + +The white lightning opened its enormous eye in one wink, the +sky shut up again, and the priest went on: + +"Of all these crooked things, the crookedest was the shape of +that piece of paper. It was crookeder than the dagger that killed +him." + +"You mean the paper on which Quinton confessed his suicide," +said Flambeau. + +"I mean the paper on which Quinton wrote, `I die by my own +hand,'" answered Father Brown. "The shape of that paper, my +friend, was the wrong shape; the wrong shape, if ever I have seen +it in this wicked world." + +"It only had a corner snipped off," said Flambeau, "and I +understand that all Quinton's paper was cut that way." + +"It was a very odd way," said the other, "and a very bad way, +to my taste and fancy. Look here, Flambeau, this Quinton--God +receive his soul!--was perhaps a bit of a cur in some ways, but +he really was an artist, with the pencil as well as the pen. His +handwriting, though hard to read, was bold and beautiful. I can't +prove what I say; I can't prove anything. But I tell you with the +full force of conviction that he could never have cut that mean +little piece off a sheet of paper. If he had wanted to cut down +paper for some purpose of fitting in, or binding up, or what not, +he would have made quite a different slash with the scissors. Do +you remember the shape? It was a mean shape. It was a wrong +shape. Like this. Don't you remember?" + +And he waved his burning cigar before him in the darkness, +making irregular squares so rapidly that Flambeau really seemed to +see them as fiery hieroglyphics upon the darkness--hieroglyphics +such as his friend had spoken of, which are undecipherable, yet +can have no good meaning. + +"But," said Flambeau, as the priest put his cigar in his mouth +again and leaned back, staring at the roof, "suppose somebody else +did use the scissors. Why should somebody else, cutting pieces off +his sermon paper, make Quinton commit suicide?" + +Father Brown was still leaning back and staring at the roof, +but he took his cigar out of his mouth and said: "Quinton never +did commit suicide." + +Flambeau stared at him. "Why, confound it all," he cried, +"then why did he confess to suicide?" + +The priest leant forward again, settled his elbows on his +knees, looked at the ground, and said, in a low, distinct voice: +"He never did confess to suicide." + +Flambeau laid his cigar down. "You mean," he said, "that the +writing was forged?" + +"No," said Father Brown. "Quinton wrote it all right." + +"Well, there you are," said the aggravated Flambeau; "Quinton +wrote, `I die by my own hand,' with his own hand on a plain piece +of paper." + +"Of the wrong shape," said the priest calmly. + +"Oh, the shape be damned!" cried Flambeau. "What has the +shape to do with it?" + +"There were twenty-three snipped papers," resumed Brown +unmoved, "and only twenty-two pieces snipped off. Therefore one +of the pieces had been destroyed, probably that from the written +paper. Does that suggest anything to you?" + +A light dawned on Flambeau's face, and he said: "There was +something else written by Quinton, some other words. `They will +tell you I die by my own hand,' or `Do not believe that--'" + +"Hotter, as the children say," said his friend. "But the +piece was hardly half an inch across; there was no room for one +word, let alone five. Can you think of anything hardly bigger +than a comma which the man with hell in his heart had to tear away +as a testimony against him?" + +"I can think of nothing," said Flambeau at last. + +"What about quotation marks?" said the priest, and flung his +cigar far into the darkness like a shooting star. + +All words had left the other man's mouth, and Father Brown +said, like one going back to fundamentals: + +"Leonard Quinton was a romancer, and was writing an Oriental +romance about wizardry and hypnotism. He--" + +At this moment the door opened briskly behind them, and the +doctor came out with his hat on. He put a long envelope into the +priest's hands. + +"That's the document you wanted," he said, "and I must be +getting home. Good night." + +"Good night," said Father Brown, as the doctor walked briskly +to the gate. He had left the front door open, so that a shaft of +gaslight fell upon them. In the light of this Brown opened the +envelope and read the following words: + + + + DEAR FATHER BROWN,--Vicisti Galilee. Otherwise, damn your + eyes, which are very penetrating ones. Can it be possible that + there is something in all that stuff of yours after all? + + + I am a man who has ever since boyhood believed in Nature and + in all natural functions and instincts, whether men called them + moral or immoral. Long before I became a doctor, when I was a + schoolboy keeping mice and spiders, I believed that to be a good + animal is the best thing in the world. But just now I am shaken; + I have believed in Nature; but it seems as if Nature could betray + a man. Can there be anything in your bosh? I am really getting + morbid. + + + I loved Quinton's wife. What was there wrong in that? Nature + told me to, and it's love that makes the world go round. I also + thought quite sincerely that she would be happier with a clean + animal like me than with that tormenting little lunatic. What was + there wrong in that? I was only facing facts, like a man of + science. She would have been happier. + + + According to my own creed I was quite free to kill Quinton, + which was the best thing for everybody, even himself. But as a + healthy animal I had no notion of killing myself. I resolved, + therefore, that I would never do it until I saw a chance that + would leave me scot free. I saw that chance this morning. + + + I have been three times, all told, into Quinton's study today. + The first time I went in he would talk about nothing but the weird + tale, called "The Cure of a Saint," which he was writing, which + was all about how some Indian hermit made an English colonel kill + himself by thinking about him. He showed me the last sheets, and + even read me the last paragraph, which was something like this: + "The conqueror of the Punjab, a mere yellow skeleton, but still + gigantic, managed to lift himself on his elbow and gasp in his + nephew's ear: `I die by my own hand, yet I die murdered!'" It so + happened by one chance out of a hundred, that those last words + were written at the top of a new sheet of paper. I left the room, + and went out into the garden intoxicated with a frightful + opportunity. + + + We walked round the house; and two more things happened in my + favour. You suspected an Indian, and you found a dagger which the + Indian might most probably use. Taking the opportunity to stuff + it in my pocket I went back to Quinton's study, locked the door, + and gave him his sleeping draught. He was against answering + Atkinson at all, but I urged him to call out and quiet the fellow, + because I wanted a clear proof that Quinton was alive when I left + the room for the second time. Quinton lay down in the conservatory, + and I came through the study. I am a quick man with my hands, and + in a minute and a half I had done what I wanted to do. I had + emptied all the first part of Quinton's romance into the fireplace, + where it burnt to ashes. Then I saw that the quotation marks + wouldn't do, so I snipped them off, and to make it seem likelier, + snipped the whole quire to match. Then I came out with the + knowledge that Quinton's confession of suicide lay on the front + table, while Quinton lay alive but asleep in the conservatory + beyond. + + + The last act was a desperate one; you can guess it: I pretended + to have seen Quinton dead and rushed to his room. I delayed you + with the paper, and, being a quick man with my hands, killed + Quinton while you were looking at his confession of suicide. He + was half-asleep, being drugged, and I put his own hand on the + knife and drove it into his body. The knife was of so queer a + shape that no one but an operator could have calculated the angle + that would reach his heart. I wonder if you noticed this. + + + When I had done it, the extraordinary thing happened. Nature + deserted me. I felt ill. I felt just as if I had done something + wrong. I think my brain is breaking up; I feel some sort of + desperate pleasure in thinking I have told the thing to somebody; + that I shall not have to be alone with it if I marry and have + children. What is the matter with me? ... Madness ... or can one + have remorse, just as if one were in Byron's poems! I cannot + write any more. + + James Erskine Harris. + + + + +Father Brown carefully folded up the letter, and put it in his +breast pocket just as there came a loud peal at the gate bell, and +the wet waterproofs of several policemen gleamed in the road +outside. + + + + The Sins of Prince Saradine + +When Flambeau took his month's holiday from his office in +Westminster he took it in a small sailing-boat, so small that it +passed much of its time as a rowing-boat. He took it, moreover, +in little rivers in the Eastern counties, rivers so small that the +boat looked like a magic boat, sailing on land through meadows and +cornfields. The vessel was just comfortable for two people; there +was room only for necessities, and Flambeau had stocked it with +such things as his special philosophy considered necessary. They +reduced themselves, apparently, to four essentials: tins of +salmon, if he should want to eat; loaded revolvers, if he should +want to fight; a bottle of brandy, presumably in case he should +faint; and a priest, presumably in case he should die. With this +light luggage he crawled down the little Norfolk rivers, intending +to reach the Broads at last, but meanwhile delighting in the +overhanging gardens and meadows, the mirrored mansions or villages, +lingering to fish in the pools and corners, and in some sense +hugging the shore. + +Like a true philosopher, Flambeau had no aim in his holiday; +but, like a true philosopher, he had an excuse. He had a sort of +half purpose, which he took just so seriously that its success +would crown the holiday, but just so lightly that its failure +would not spoil it. Years ago, when he had been a king of thieves +and the most famous figure in Paris, he had often received wild +communications of approval, denunciation, or even love; but one +had, somehow, stuck in his memory. It consisted simply of a +visiting-card, in an envelope with an English postmark. On the +back of the card was written in French and in green ink: "If you +ever retire and become respectable, come and see me. I want to +meet you, for I have met all the other great men of my time. That +trick of yours of getting one detective to arrest the other was +the most splendid scene in French history." On the front of the +card was engraved in the formal fashion, "Prince Saradine, Reed +House, Reed Island, Norfolk." + +He had not troubled much about the prince then, beyond +ascertaining that he had been a brilliant and fashionable figure +in southern Italy. In his youth, it was said, he had eloped with +a married woman of high rank; the escapade was scarcely startling +in his social world, but it had clung to men's minds because of an +additional tragedy: the alleged suicide of the insulted husband, +who appeared to have flung himself over a precipice in Sicily. +The prince then lived in Vienna for a time, but his more recent +years seemed to have been passed in perpetual and restless travel. +But when Flambeau, like the prince himself, had left European +celebrity and settled in England, it occurred to him that he might +pay a surprise visit to this eminent exile in the Norfolk Broads. +Whether he should find the place he had no idea; and, indeed, it +was sufficiently small and forgotten. But, as things fell out, he +found it much sooner than he expected. + +They had moored their boat one night under a bank veiled in +high grasses and short pollarded trees. Sleep, after heavy +sculling, had come to them early, and by a corresponding accident +they awoke before it was light. To speak more strictly, they +awoke before it was daylight; for a large lemon moon was only just +setting in the forest of high grass above their heads, and the sky +was of a vivid violet-blue, nocturnal but bright. Both men had +simultaneously a reminiscence of childhood, of the elfin and +adventurous time when tall weeds close over us like woods. +Standing up thus against the large low moon, the daisies really +seemed to be giant daisies, the dandelions to be giant dandelions. +Somehow it reminded them of the dado of a nursery wall-paper. The +drop of the river-bed sufficed to sink them under the roots of all +shrubs and flowers and make them gaze upwards at the grass. "By +Jove!" said Flambeau, "it's like being in fairyland." + +Father Brown sat bolt upright in the boat and crossed himself. +His movement was so abrupt that his friend asked him, with a mild +stare, what was the matter. + +"The people who wrote the mediaeval ballads," answered the +priest, "knew more about fairies than you do. It isn't only nice +things that happen in fairyland." + +"Oh, bosh!" said Flambeau. "Only nice things could happen +under such an innocent moon. I am for pushing on now and seeing +what does really come. We may die and rot before we ever see +again such a moon or such a mood." + +"All right," said Father Brown. "I never said it was always +wrong to enter fairyland. I only said it was always dangerous." + +They pushed slowly up the brightening river; the glowing +violet of the sky and the pale gold of the moon grew fainter and +fainter, and faded into that vast colourless cosmos that precedes +the colours of the dawn. When the first faint stripes of red and +gold and grey split the horizon from end to end they were broken +by the black bulk of a town or village which sat on the river just +ahead of them. It was already an easy twilight, in which all +things were visible, when they came under the hanging roofs and +bridges of this riverside hamlet. The houses, with their long, +low, stooping roofs, seemed to come down to drink at the river, +like huge grey and red cattle. The broadening and whitening dawn +had already turned to working daylight before they saw any living +creature on the wharves and bridges of that silent town. +Eventually they saw a very placid and prosperous man in his shirt +sleeves, with a face as round as the recently sunken moon, and +rays of red whisker around the low arc of it, who was leaning on a +post above the sluggish tide. By an impulse not to be analysed, +Flambeau rose to his full height in the swaying boat and shouted +at the man to ask if he knew Reed Island or Reed House. The +prosperous man's smile grew slightly more expansive, and he simply +pointed up the river towards the next bend of it. Flambeau went +ahead without further speech. + +The boat took many such grassy corners and followed many such +reedy and silent reaches of river; but before the search had +become monotonous they had swung round a specially sharp angle and +come into the silence of a sort of pool or lake, the sight of +which instinctively arrested them. For in the middle of this +wider piece of water, fringed on every side with rushes, lay a +long, low islet, along which ran a long, low house or bungalow +built of bamboo or some kind of tough tropic cane. The upstanding +rods of bamboo which made the walls were pale yellow, the sloping +rods that made the roof were of darker red or brown, otherwise the +long house was a thing of repetition and monotony. The early +morning breeze rustled the reeds round the island and sang in the +strange ribbed house as in a giant pan-pipe. + +"By George!" cried Flambeau; "here is the place, after all! +Here is Reed Island, if ever there was one. Here is Reed House, +if it is anywhere. I believe that fat man with whiskers was a +fairy." + +"Perhaps," remarked Father Brown impartially. "If he was, he +was a bad fairy." + +But even as he spoke the impetuous Flambeau had run his boat +ashore in the rattling reeds, and they stood in the long, quaint +islet beside the odd and silent house. + +The house stood with its back, as it were, to the river and +the only landing-stage; the main entrance was on the other side, +and looked down the long island garden. The visitors approached +it, therefore, by a small path running round nearly three sides of +the house, close under the low eaves. Through three different +windows on three different sides they looked in on the same long, +well-lit room, panelled in light wood, with a large number of +looking-glasses, and laid out as for an elegant lunch. The front +door, when they came round to it at last, was flanked by two +turquoise-blue flower pots. It was opened by a butler of the +drearier type--long, lean, grey and listless--who murmured +that Prince Saradine was from home at present, but was expected +hourly; the house being kept ready for him and his guests. The +exhibition of the card with the scrawl of green ink awoke a flicker +of life in the parchment face of the depressed retainer, and it +was with a certain shaky courtesy that he suggested that the +strangers should remain. "His Highness may be here any minute," +he said, "and would be distressed to have just missed any gentleman +he had invited. We have orders always to keep a little cold lunch +for him and his friends, and I am sure he would wish it to be +offered." + +Moved with curiosity to this minor adventure, Flambeau assented +gracefully, and followed the old man, who ushered him ceremoniously +into the long, lightly panelled room. There was nothing very +notable about it, except the rather unusual alternation of many +long, low windows with many long, low oblongs of looking-glass, +which gave a singular air of lightness and unsubstantialness to +the place. It was somehow like lunching out of doors. One or two +pictures of a quiet kind hung in the corners, one a large grey +photograph of a very young man in uniform, another a red chalk +sketch of two long-haired boys. Asked by Flambeau whether the +soldierly person was the prince, the butler answered shortly in +the negative; it was the prince's younger brother, Captain Stephen +Saradine, he said. And with that the old man seemed to dry up +suddenly and lose all taste for conversation. + +After lunch had tailed off with exquisite coffee and liqueurs, +the guests were introduced to the garden, the library, and the +housekeeper--a dark, handsome lady, of no little majesty, and +rather like a plutonic Madonna. It appeared that she and the +butler were the only survivors of the prince's original foreign +menage the other servants now in the house being new and collected +in Norfolk by the housekeeper. This latter lady went by the name +of Mrs. Anthony, but she spoke with a slight Italian accent, and +Flambeau did not doubt that Anthony was a Norfolk version of some +more Latin name. Mr. Paul, the butler, also had a faintly foreign +air, but he was in tongue and training English, as are many of the +most polished men-servants of the cosmopolitan nobility. + +Pretty and unique as it was, the place had about it a curious +luminous sadness. Hours passed in it like days. The long, +well-windowed rooms were full of daylight, but it seemed a dead +daylight. And through all other incidental noises, the sound of +talk, the clink of glasses, or the passing feet of servants, they +could hear on all sides of the house the melancholy noise of the +river. + +"We have taken a wrong turning, and come to a wrong place," +said Father Brown, looking out of the window at the grey-green +sedges and the silver flood. "Never mind; one can sometimes do +good by being the right person in the wrong place." + +Father Brown, though commonly a silent, was an oddly +sympathetic little man, and in those few but endless hours he +unconsciously sank deeper into the secrets of Reed House than his +professional friend. He had that knack of friendly silence which +is so essential to gossip; and saying scarcely a word, he probably +obtained from his new acquaintances all that in any case they +would have told. The butler indeed was naturally uncommunicative. +He betrayed a sullen and almost animal affection for his master; +who, he said, had been very badly treated. The chief offender +seemed to be his highness's brother, whose name alone would +lengthen the old man's lantern jaws and pucker his parrot nose +into a sneer. Captain Stephen was a ne'er-do-weel, apparently, +and had drained his benevolent brother of hundreds and thousands; +forced him to fly from fashionable life and live quietly in this +retreat. That was all Paul, the butler, would say, and Paul was +obviously a partisan. + +The Italian housekeeper was somewhat more communicative, +being, as Brown fancied, somewhat less content. Her tone about +her master was faintly acid; though not without a certain awe. +Flambeau and his friend were standing in the room of the +looking-glasses examining the red sketch of the two boys, when the +housekeeper swept in swiftly on some domestic errand. It was a +peculiarity of this glittering, glass-panelled place that anyone +entering was reflected in four or five mirrors at once; and Father +Brown, without turning round, stopped in the middle of a sentence +of family criticism. But Flambeau, who had his face close up to +the picture, was already saying in a loud voice, "The brothers +Saradine, I suppose. They both look innocent enough. It would be +hard to say which is the good brother and which the bad." Then, +realising the lady's presence, he turned the conversation with +some triviality, and strolled out into the garden. But Father +Brown still gazed steadily at the red crayon sketch; and Mrs. +Anthony still gazed steadily at Father Brown. + +She had large and tragic brown eyes, and her olive face glowed +darkly with a curious and painful wonder--as of one doubtful of +a stranger's identity or purpose. Whether the little priest's coat +and creed touched some southern memories of confession, or whether +she fancied he knew more than he did, she said to him in a low +voice as to a fellow plotter, "He is right enough in one way, your +friend. He says it would be hard to pick out the good and bad +brothers. Oh, it would be hard, it would be mighty hard, to pick +out the good one." + +"I don't understand you," said Father Brown, and began to move +away. + +The woman took a step nearer to him, with thunderous brows and +a sort of savage stoop, like a bull lowering his horns. + +"There isn't a good one," she hissed. "There was badness +enough in the captain taking all that money, but I don't think +there was much goodness in the prince giving it. The captain's +not the only one with something against him." + +A light dawned on the cleric's averted face, and his mouth +formed silently the word "blackmail." Even as he did so the woman +turned an abrupt white face over her shoulder and almost fell. +The door had opened soundlessly and the pale Paul stood like a +ghost in the doorway. By the weird trick of the reflecting walls, +it seemed as if five Pauls had entered by five doors +simultaneously. + +"His Highness," he said, "has just arrived." + +In the same flash the figure of a man had passed outside the +first window, crossing the sunlit pane like a lighted stage. An +instant later he passed at the second window and the many mirrors +repainted in successive frames the same eagle profile and marching +figure. He was erect and alert, but his hair was white and his +complexion of an odd ivory yellow. He had that short, curved +Roman nose which generally goes with long, lean cheeks and chin, +but these were partly masked by moustache and imperial. The +moustache was much darker than the beard, giving an effect +slightly theatrical, and he was dressed up to the same dashing +part, having a white top hat, an orchid in his coat, a yellow +waistcoat and yellow gloves which he flapped and swung as he +walked. When he came round to the front door they heard the stiff +Paul open it, and heard the new arrival say cheerfully, "Well, you +see I have come." The stiff Mr. Paul bowed and answered in his +inaudible manner; for a few minutes their conversation could not +be heard. Then the butler said, "Everything is at your disposal"; +and the glove-flapping Prince Saradine came gaily into the room to +greet them. They beheld once more that spectral scene--five +princes entering a room with five doors. + +The prince put the white hat and yellow gloves on the table +and offered his hand quite cordially. + +"Delighted to see you here, Mr. Flambeau," he said. "Knowing +you very well by reputation, if that's not an indiscreet remark." + +"Not at all," answered Flambeau, laughing. "I am not +sensitive. Very few reputations are gained by unsullied virtue." + +The prince flashed a sharp look at him to see if the retort +had any personal point; then he laughed also and offered chairs to +everyone, including himself. + +"Pleasant little place, this, I think," he said with a +detached air. "Not much to do, I fear; but the fishing is really +good." + +The priest, who was staring at him with the grave stare of a +baby, was haunted by some fancy that escaped definition. He looked +at the grey, carefully curled hair, yellow white visage, and slim, +somewhat foppish figure. These were not unnatural, though perhaps +a shade prononcé, like the outfit of a figure behind the +footlights. The nameless interest lay in something else, in the +very framework of the face; Brown was tormented with a half memory +of having seen it somewhere before. The man looked like some old +friend of his dressed up. Then he suddenly remembered the +mirrors, and put his fancy down to some psychological effect of +that multiplication of human masks. + +Prince Saradine distributed his social attentions between his +guests with great gaiety and tact. Finding the detective of a +sporting turn and eager to employ his holiday, he guided Flambeau +and Flambeau's boat down to the best fishing spot in the stream, +and was back in his own canoe in twenty minutes to join Father +Brown in the library and plunge equally politely into the priest's +more philosophic pleasures. He seemed to know a great deal both +about the fishing and the books, though of these not the most +edifying; he spoke five or six languages, though chiefly the slang +of each. He had evidently lived in varied cities and very motley +societies, for some of his cheerfullest stories were about +gambling hells and opium dens, Australian bushrangers or Italian +brigands. Father Brown knew that the once-celebrated Saradine had +spent his last few years in almost ceaseless travel, but he had +not guessed that the travels were so disreputable or so amusing. + +Indeed, with all his dignity of a man of the world, Prince +Saradine radiated to such sensitive observers as the priest, a +certain atmosphere of the restless and even the unreliable. His +face was fastidious, but his eye was wild; he had little nervous +tricks, like a man shaken by drink or drugs, and he neither had, +nor professed to have, his hand on the helm of household affairs. +All these were left to the two old servants, especially to the +butler, who was plainly the central pillar of the house. Mr. +Paul, indeed, was not so much a butler as a sort of steward or, +even, chamberlain; he dined privately, but with almost as much +pomp as his master; he was feared by all the servants; and he +consulted with the prince decorously, but somewhat unbendingly-- +rather as if he were the prince's solicitor. The sombre +housekeeper was a mere shadow in comparison; indeed, she seemed to +efface herself and wait only on the butler, and Brown heard no +more of those volcanic whispers which had half told him of the +younger brother who blackmailed the elder. Whether the prince was +really being thus bled by the absent captain, he could not be +certain, but there was something insecure and secretive about +Saradine that made the tale by no means incredible. + +When they went once more into the long hall with the windows +and the mirrors, yellow evening was dropping over the waters and +the willowy banks; and a bittern sounded in the distance like an +elf upon his dwarfish drum. The same singular sentiment of some +sad and evil fairyland crossed the priest's mind again like a +little grey cloud. "I wish Flambeau were back," he muttered. + +"Do you believe in doom?" asked the restless Prince Saradine +suddenly. + +"No," answered his guest. "I believe in Doomsday." + +The prince turned from the window and stared at him in a +singular manner, his face in shadow against the sunset. "What do +you mean?" he asked. + +"I mean that we here are on the wrong side of the tapestry," +answered Father Brown. "The things that happen here do not seem +to mean anything; they mean something somewhere else. Somewhere +else retribution will come on the real offender. Here it often +seems to fall on the wrong person." + +The prince made an inexplicable noise like an animal; in his +shadowed face the eyes were shining queerly. A new and shrewd +thought exploded silently in the other's mind. Was there another +meaning in Saradine's blend of brilliancy and abruptness? Was the +prince-- Was he perfectly sane? He was repeating, "The wrong +person--the wrong person," many more times than was natural in a +social exclamation. + +Then Father Brown awoke tardily to a second truth. In the +mirrors before him he could see the silent door standing open, and +the silent Mr. Paul standing in it, with his usual pallid +impassiveness. + +"I thought it better to announce at once," he said, with the +same stiff respectfulness as of an old family lawyer, "a boat +rowed by six men has come to the landing-stage, and there's a +gentleman sitting in the stern." + +"A boat!" repeated the prince; "a gentleman?" and he rose to +his feet. + +There was a startled silence punctuated only by the odd noise +of the bird in the sedge; and then, before anyone could speak +again, a new face and figure passed in profile round the three +sunlit windows, as the prince had passed an hour or two before. +But except for the accident that both outlines were aquiline, they +had little in common. Instead of the new white topper of Saradine, +was a black one of antiquated or foreign shape; under it was a +young and very solemn face, clean shaven, blue about its resolute +chin, and carrying a faint suggestion of the young Napoleon. The +association was assisted by something old and odd about the whole +get-up, as of a man who had never troubled to change the fashions +of his fathers. He had a shabby blue frock coat, a red, soldierly +looking waistcoat, and a kind of coarse white trousers common among +the early Victorians, but strangely incongruous today. From all +this old clothes-shop his olive face stood out strangely young and +monstrously sincere. + +"The deuce!" said Prince Saradine, and clapping on his white +hat he went to the front door himself, flinging it open on the +sunset garden. + +By that time the new-comer and his followers were drawn up on +the lawn like a small stage army. The six boatmen had pulled the +boat well up on shore, and were guarding it almost menacingly, +holding their oars erect like spears. They were swarthy men, and +some of them wore earrings. But one of them stood forward beside +the olive-faced young man in the red waistcoat, and carried a large +black case of unfamiliar form. + +"Your name," said the young man, "is Saradine?" + +Saradine assented rather negligently. + +The new-comer had dull, dog-like brown eyes, as different as +possible from the restless and glittering grey eyes of the prince. +But once again Father Brown was tortured with a sense of having +seen somewhere a replica of the face; and once again he remembered +the repetitions of the glass-panelled room, and put down the +coincidence to that. "Confound this crystal palace!" he muttered. +"One sees everything too many times. It's like a dream." + +"If you are Prince Saradine," said the young man, "I may tell +you that my name is Antonelli." + +"Antonelli," repeated the prince languidly. "Somehow I +remember the name." + +"Permit me to present myself," said the young Italian. + +With his left hand he politely took off his old-fashioned +top-hat; with his right he caught Prince Saradine so ringing a +crack across the face that the white top hat rolled down the steps +and one of the blue flower-pots rocked upon its pedestal. + +The prince, whatever he was, was evidently not a coward; he +sprang at his enemy's throat and almost bore him backwards to the +grass. But his enemy extricated himself with a singularly +inappropriate air of hurried politeness. + +"That is all right," he said, panting and in halting English. +"I have insulted. I will give satisfaction. Marco, open the +case." + +The man beside him with the earrings and the big black case +proceeded to unlock it. He took out of it two long Italian +rapiers, with splendid steel hilts and blades, which he planted +point downwards in the lawn. The strange young man standing facing +the entrance with his yellow and vindictive face, the two swords +standing up in the turf like two crosses in a cemetery, and the +line of the ranked towers behind, gave it all an odd appearance of +being some barbaric court of justice. But everything else was +unchanged, so sudden had been the interruption. The sunset gold +still glowed on the lawn, and the bittern still boomed as +announcing some small but dreadful destiny. + +"Prince Saradine," said the man called Antonelli, "when I was +an infant in the cradle you killed my father and stole my mother; +my father was the more fortunate. You did not kill him fairly, as +I am going to kill you. You and my wicked mother took him driving +to a lonely pass in Sicily, flung him down a cliff, and went on +your way. I could imitate you if I chose, but imitating you is +too vile. I have followed you all over the world, and you have +always fled from me. But this is the end of the world--and of +you. I have you now, and I give you the chance you never gave my +father. Choose one of those swords." + +Prince Saradine, with contracted brows, seemed to hesitate a +moment, but his ears were still singing with the blow, and he +sprang forward and snatched at one of the hilts. Father Brown had +also sprung forward, striving to compose the dispute; but he soon +found his personal presence made matters worse. Saradine was a +French freemason and a fierce atheist, and a priest moved him by +the law of contraries. And for the other man neither priest nor +layman moved him at all. This young man with the Bonaparte face +and the brown eyes was something far sterner than a puritan--a +pagan. He was a simple slayer from the morning of the earth; a +man of the stone age--a man of stone. + +One hope remained, the summoning of the household; and Father +Brown ran back into the house. He found, however, that all the +under servants had been given a holiday ashore by the autocrat +Paul, and that only the sombre Mrs. Anthony moved uneasily about +the long rooms. But the moment she turned a ghastly face upon +him, he resolved one of the riddles of the house of mirrors. The +heavy brown eyes of Antonelli were the heavy brown eyes of Mrs. +Anthony; and in a flash he saw half the story. + +"Your son is outside," he said without wasting words; "either +he or the prince will be killed. Where is Mr. Paul?" + +"He is at the landing-stage," said the woman faintly. "He is +--he is--signalling for help." + +"Mrs. Anthony," said Father Brown seriously, "there is no time +for nonsense. My friend has his boat down the river fishing. +Your son's boat is guarded by your son's men. There is only this +one canoe; what is Mr. Paul doing with it?" + +"Santa Maria! I do not know," she said; and swooned all her +length on the matted floor. + +Father Brown lifted her to a sofa, flung a pot of water over +her, shouted for help, and then rushed down to the landing-stage +of the little island. But the canoe was already in mid-stream, +and old Paul was pulling and pushing it up the river with an +energy incredible at his years. + +"I will save my master," he cried, his eyes blazing maniacally. +"I will save him yet!" + +Father Brown could do nothing but gaze after the boat as it +struggled up-stream and pray that the old man might waken the +little town in time. + +"A duel is bad enough," he muttered, rubbing up his rough +dust-coloured hair, "but there's something wrong about this duel, +even as a duel. I feel it in my bones. But what can it be?" + +As he stood staring at the water, a wavering mirror of sunset, +he heard from the other end of the island garden a small but +unmistakable sound--the cold concussion of steel. He turned his +head. + +Away on the farthest cape or headland of the long islet, on a +strip of turf beyond the last rank of roses, the duellists had +already crossed swords. Evening above them was a dome of virgin +gold, and, distant as they were, every detail was picked out. +They had cast off their coats, but the yellow waistcoat and white +hair of Saradine, the red waistcoat and white trousers of +Antonelli, glittered in the level light like the colours of the +dancing clockwork dolls. The two swords sparkled from point to +pommel like two diamond pins. There was something frightful in +the two figures appearing so little and so gay. They looked like +two butterflies trying to pin each other to a cork. + +Father Brown ran as hard as he could, his little legs going +like a wheel. But when he came to the field of combat he found he +was born too late and too early--too late to stop the strife, +under the shadow of the grim Sicilians leaning on their oars, and +too early to anticipate any disastrous issue of it. For the two +men were singularly well matched, the prince using his skill with +a sort of cynical confidence, the Sicilian using his with a +murderous care. Few finer fencing matches can ever have been seen +in crowded amphitheatres than that which tinkled and sparkled on +that forgotten island in the reedy river. The dizzy fight was +balanced so long that hope began to revive in the protesting +priest; by all common probability Paul must soon come back with +the police. It would be some comfort even if Flambeau came back +from his fishing, for Flambeau, physically speaking, was worth +four other men. But there was no sign of Flambeau, and, what was +much queerer, no sign of Paul or the police. No other raft or +stick was left to float on; in that lost island in that vast +nameless pool, they were cut off as on a rock in the Pacific. + +Almost as he had the thought the ringing of the rapiers +quickened to a rattle, the prince's arms flew up, and the point +shot out behind between his shoulder-blades. He went over with a +great whirling movement, almost like one throwing the half of a +boy's cart-wheel. The sword flew from his hand like a shooting +star, and dived into the distant river. And he himself sank with +so earth-shaking a subsidence that he broke a big rose-tree with +his body and shook up into the sky a cloud of red earth--like +the smoke of some heathen sacrifice. The Sicilian had made +blood-offering to the ghost of his father. + +The priest was instantly on his knees by the corpse; but only +to make too sure that it was a corpse. As he was still trying +some last hopeless tests he heard for the first time voices from +farther up the river, and saw a police boat shoot up to the +landing-stage, with constables and other important people, +including the excited Paul. The little priest rose with a +distinctly dubious grimace. + +"Now, why on earth," he muttered, "why on earth couldn't he +have come before?" + +Some seven minutes later the island was occupied by an +invasion of townsfolk and police, and the latter had put their +hands on the victorious duellist, ritually reminding him that +anything he said might be used against him. + +"I shall not say anything," said the monomaniac, with a +wonderful and peaceful face. "I shall never say anything more. +I am very happy, and I only want to be hanged." + +Then he shut his mouth as they led him away, and it is the +strange but certain truth that he never opened it again in this +world, except to say "Guilty" at his trial. + +Father Brown had stared at the suddenly crowded garden, the +arrest of the man of blood, the carrying away of the corpse after +its examination by the doctor, rather as one watches the break-up +of some ugly dream; he was motionless, like a man in a nightmare. +He gave his name and address as a witness, but declined their +offer of a boat to the shore, and remained alone in the island +garden, gazing at the broken rose bush and the whole green theatre +of that swift and inexplicable tragedy. The light died along the +river; mist rose in the marshy banks; a few belated birds flitted +fitfully across. + +Stuck stubbornly in his sub-consciousness (which was an +unusually lively one) was an unspeakable certainty that there was +something still unexplained. This sense that had clung to him all +day could not be fully explained by his fancy about "looking-glass +land." Somehow he had not seen the real story, but some game or +masque. And yet people do not get hanged or run through the body +for the sake of a charade. + +As he sat on the steps of the landing-stage ruminating he grew +conscious of the tall, dark streak of a sail coming silently down +the shining river, and sprang to his feet with such a backrush of +feeling that he almost wept. + +"Flambeau!" he cried, and shook his friend by both hands again +and again, much to the astonishment of that sportsman, as he came +on shore with his fishing tackle. "Flambeau," he said, "so you're +not killed?" + +"Killed!" repeated the angler in great astonishment. "And why +should I be killed?" + +"Oh, because nearly everybody else is," said his companion +rather wildly. "Saradine got murdered, and Antonelli wants to be +hanged, and his mother's fainted, and I, for one, don't know +whether I'm in this world or the next. But, thank God, you're in +the same one." And he took the bewildered Flambeau's arm. + +As they turned from the landing-stage they came under the +eaves of the low bamboo house, and looked in through one of the +windows, as they had done on their first arrival. They beheld a +lamp-lit interior well calculated to arrest their eyes. The table +in the long dining-room had been laid for dinner when Saradine's +destroyer had fallen like a stormbolt on the island. And the +dinner was now in placid progress, for Mrs. Anthony sat somewhat +sullenly at the foot of the table, while at the head of it was Mr. +Paul, the major domo, eating and drinking of the best, his +bleared, bluish eyes standing queerly out of his face, his gaunt +countenance inscrutable, but by no means devoid of satisfaction. + +With a gesture of powerful impatience, Flambeau rattled at the +window, wrenched it open, and put an indignant head into the +lamp-lit room. + +"Well," he cried. "I can understand you may need some +refreshment, but really to steal your master's dinner while he +lies murdered in the garden--" + +"I have stolen a great many things in a long and pleasant +life," replied the strange old gentleman placidly; "this dinner is +one of the few things I have not stolen. This dinner and this +house and garden happen to belong to me." + +A thought flashed across Flambeau's face. "You mean to say," +he began, "that the will of Prince Saradine--" + +"I am Prince Saradine," said the old man, munching a salted +almond. + +Father Brown, who was looking at the birds outside, jumped as +if he were shot, and put in at the window a pale face like a +turnip. + +"You are what?" he repeated in a shrill voice. + +"Paul, Prince Saradine, A vos ordres," said the venerable +person politely, lifting a glass of sherry. "I live here very +quietly, being a domestic kind of fellow; and for the sake of +modesty I am called Mr. Paul, to distinguish me from my +unfortunate brother Mr. Stephen. He died, I hear, recently--in +the garden. Of course, it is not my fault if enemies pursue him +to this place. It is owing to the regrettable irregularity of his +life. He was not a domestic character." + +He relapsed into silence, and continued to gaze at the +opposite wall just above the bowed and sombre head of the woman. +They saw plainly the family likeness that had haunted them in the +dead man. Then his old shoulders began to heave and shake a +little, as if he were choking, but his face did not alter. + +"My God!" cried Flambeau after a pause, "he's laughing!" + +"Come away," said Father Brown, who was quite white. "Come +away from this house of hell. Let us get into an honest boat +again." + +Night had sunk on rushes and river by the time they had pushed +off from the island, and they went down-stream in the dark, +warming themselves with two big cigars that glowed like crimson +ships' lanterns. Father Brown took his cigar out of his mouth and +said: + +"I suppose you can guess the whole story now? After all, it's +a primitive story. A man had two enemies. He was a wise man. +And so he discovered that two enemies are better than one." + +"I do not follow that," answered Flambeau. + +"Oh, it's really simple," rejoined his friend. "Simple, +though anything but innocent. Both the Saradines were scamps, but +the prince, the elder, was the sort of scamp that gets to the top, +and the younger, the captain, was the sort that sinks to the +bottom. This squalid officer fell from beggar to blackmailer, and +one ugly day he got his hold upon his brother, the prince. +Obviously it was for no light matter, for Prince Paul Saradine was +frankly `fast,' and had no reputation to lose as to the mere sins +of society. In plain fact, it was a hanging matter, and Stephen +literally had a rope round his brother's neck. He had somehow +discovered the truth about the Sicilian affair, and could prove +that Paul murdered old Antonelli in the mountains. The captain +raked in the hush money heavily for ten years, until even the +prince's splendid fortune began to look a little foolish. + +"But Prince Saradine bore another burden besides his +blood-sucking brother. He knew that the son of Antonelli, a mere +child at the time of the murder, had been trained in savage +Sicilian loyalty, and lived only to avenge his father, not with +the gibbet (for he lacked Stephen's legal proof), but with the old +weapons of vendetta. The boy had practised arms with a deadly +perfection, and about the time that he was old enough to use them +Prince Saradine began, as the society papers said, to travel. The +fact is that he began to flee for his life, passing from place to +place like a hunted criminal; but with one relentless man upon his +trail. That was Prince Paul's position, and by no means a pretty +one. The more money he spent on eluding Antonelli the less he had +to silence Stephen. The more he gave to silence Stephen the less +chance there was of finally escaping Antonelli. Then it was that +he showed himself a great man--a genius like Napoleon. + +"Instead of resisting his two antagonists, he surrendered +suddenly to both of them. He gave way like a Japanese wrestler, +and his foes fell prostrate before him. He gave up the race round +the world, and he gave up his address to young Antonelli; then he +gave up everything to his brother. He sent Stephen money enough +for smart clothes and easy travel, with a letter saying roughly: +`This is all I have left. You have cleaned me out. I still have +a little house in Norfolk, with servants and a cellar, and if you +want more from me you must take that. Come and take possession if +you like, and I will live there quietly as your friend or agent or +anything.' He knew that the Sicilian had never seen the Saradine +brothers save, perhaps, in pictures; he knew they were somewhat +alike, both having grey, pointed beards. Then he shaved his own +face and waited. The trap worked. The unhappy captain, in his +new clothes, entered the house in triumph as a prince, and walked +upon the Sicilian's sword. + +"There was one hitch, and it is to the honour of human nature. +Evil spirits like Saradine often blunder by never expecting the +virtues of mankind. He took it for granted that the Italian's +blow, when it came, would be dark, violent and nameless, like the +blow it avenged; that the victim would be knifed at night, or shot +from behind a hedge, and so die without speech. It was a bad +minute for Prince Paul when Antonelli's chivalry proposed a formal +duel, with all its possible explanations. It was then that I +found him putting off in his boat with wild eyes. He was fleeing, +bareheaded, in an open boat before Antonelli should learn who he +was. + +"But, however agitated, he was not hopeless. He knew the +adventurer and he knew the fanatic. It was quite probable that +Stephen, the adventurer, would hold his tongue, through his mere +histrionic pleasure in playing a part, his lust for clinging to +his new cosy quarters, his rascal's trust in luck, and his fine +fencing. It was certain that Antonelli, the fanatic, would hold +his tongue, and be hanged without telling tales of his family. +Paul hung about on the river till he knew the fight was over. +Then he roused the town, brought the police, saw his two vanquished +enemies taken away forever, and sat down smiling to his dinner." + +"Laughing, God help us!" said Flambeau with a strong shudder. +"Do they get such ideas from Satan?" + +"He got that idea from you," answered the priest. + +"God forbid!" ejaculated Flambeau. "From me! What do you +mean!" + +The priest pulled a visiting-card from his pocket and held it +up in the faint glow of his cigar; it was scrawled with green ink. + +"Don't you remember his original invitation to you?" he asked, +"and the compliment to your criminal exploit? `That trick of +yours,' he says, `of getting one detective to arrest the other'? +He has just copied your trick. With an enemy on each side of him, +he slipped swiftly out of the way and let them collide and kill +each other." + +Flambeau tore Prince Saradine's card from the priest's hands +and rent it savagely in small pieces. + +"There's the last of that old skull and crossbones," he said +as he scattered the pieces upon the dark and disappearing waves of +the stream; "but I should think it would poison the fishes." + +The last gleam of white card and green ink was drowned and +darkened; a faint and vibrant colour as of morning changed the +sky, and the moon behind the grasses grew paler. They drifted in +silence. + +"Father," said Flambeau suddenly, "do you think it was all a +dream?" + +The priest shook his head, whether in dissent or agnosticism, +but remained mute. A smell of hawthorn and of orchards came to +them through the darkness, telling them that a wind was awake; the +next moment it swayed their little boat and swelled their sail, +and carried them onward down the winding river to happier places +and the homes of harmless men. + + + + The Hammer of God + +The little village of Bohun Beacon was perched on a hill so steep +that the tall spire of its church seemed only like the peak of a +small mountain. At the foot of the church stood a smithy, +generally red with fires and always littered with hammers and +scraps of iron; opposite to this, over a rude cross of cobbled +paths, was "The Blue Boar," the only inn of the place. It was +upon this crossway, in the lifting of a leaden and silver +daybreak, that two brothers met in the street and spoke; though +one was beginning the day and the other finishing it. The Rev. +and Hon. Wilfred Bohun was very devout, and was making his way to +some austere exercises of prayer or contemplation at dawn. +Colonel the Hon. Norman Bohun, his elder brother, was by no means +devout, and was sitting in evening dress on the bench outside "The +Blue Boar," drinking what the philosophic observer was free to +regard either as his last glass on Tuesday or his first on +Wednesday. The colonel was not particular. + +The Bohuns were one of the very few aristocratic families +really dating from the Middle Ages, and their pennon had actually +seen Palestine. But it is a great mistake to suppose that such +houses stand high in chivalric tradition. Few except the poor +preserve traditions. Aristocrats live not in traditions but in +fashions. The Bohuns had been Mohocks under Queen Anne and +Mashers under Queen Victoria. But like more than one of the +really ancient houses, they had rotted in the last two centuries +into mere drunkards and dandy degenerates, till there had even +come a whisper of insanity. Certainly there was something hardly +human about the colonel's wolfish pursuit of pleasure, and his +chronic resolution not to go home till morning had a touch of the +hideous clarity of insomnia. He was a tall, fine animal, elderly, +but with hair still startlingly yellow. He would have looked +merely blonde and leonine, but his blue eyes were sunk so deep in +his face that they looked black. They were a little too close +together. He had very long yellow moustaches; on each side of +them a fold or furrow from nostril to jaw, so that a sneer seemed +cut into his face. Over his evening clothes he wore a curious +pale yellow coat that looked more like a very light dressing gown +than an overcoat, and on the back of his head was stuck an +extraordinary broad-brimmed hat of a bright green colour, +evidently some oriental curiosity caught up at random. He was +proud of appearing in such incongruous attires--proud of the +fact that he always made them look congruous. + +His brother the curate had also the yellow hair and the +elegance, but he was buttoned up to the chin in black, and his +face was clean-shaven, cultivated, and a little nervous. He +seemed to live for nothing but his religion; but there were some +who said (notably the blacksmith, who was a Presbyterian) that it +was a love of Gothic architecture rather than of God, and that his +haunting of the church like a ghost was only another and purer +turn of the almost morbid thirst for beauty which sent his brother +raging after women and wine. This charge was doubtful, while the +man's practical piety was indubitable. Indeed, the charge was +mostly an ignorant misunderstanding of the love of solitude and +secret prayer, and was founded on his being often found kneeling, +not before the altar, but in peculiar places, in the crypts or +gallery, or even in the belfry. He was at the moment about to +enter the church through the yard of the smithy, but stopped and +frowned a little as he saw his brother's cavernous eyes staring in +the same direction. On the hypothesis that the colonel was +interested in the church he did not waste any speculations. There +only remained the blacksmith's shop, and though the blacksmith was +a Puritan and none of his people, Wilfred Bohun had heard some +scandals about a beautiful and rather celebrated wife. He flung a +suspicious look across the shed, and the colonel stood up laughing +to speak to him. + +"Good morning, Wilfred," he said. "Like a good landlord I am +watching sleeplessly over my people. I am going to call on the +blacksmith." + +Wilfred looked at the ground, and said: "The blacksmith is out. +He is over at Greenford." + +"I know," answered the other with silent laughter; "that is +why I am calling on him." + +"Norman," said the cleric, with his eye on a pebble in the +road, "are you ever afraid of thunderbolts?" + +"What do you mean?" asked the colonel. "Is your hobby +meteorology?" + +"I mean," said Wilfred, without looking up, "do you ever think +that God might strike you in the street?" + +"I beg your pardon," said the colonel; "I see your hobby is +folk-lore." + +"I know your hobby is blasphemy," retorted the religious man, +stung in the one live place of his nature. "But if you do not +fear God, you have good reason to fear man." + +The elder raised his eyebrows politely. "Fear man?" he said. + +"Barnes the blacksmith is the biggest and strongest man for +forty miles round," said the clergyman sternly. "I know you are +no coward or weakling, but he could throw you over the wall." + +This struck home, being true, and the lowering line by mouth +and nostril darkened and deepened. For a moment he stood with the +heavy sneer on his face. But in an instant Colonel Bohun had +recovered his own cruel good humour and laughed, showing two +dog-like front teeth under his yellow moustache. "In that case, +my dear Wilfred," he said quite carelessly, "it was wise for the +last of the Bohuns to come out partially in armour." + +And he took off the queer round hat covered with green, +showing that it was lined within with steel. Wilfred recognised +it indeed as a light Japanese or Chinese helmet torn down from a +trophy that hung in the old family hall. + +"It was the first hat to hand," explained his brother airily; +"always the nearest hat--and the nearest woman." + +"The blacksmith is away at Greenford," said Wilfred quietly; +"the time of his return is unsettled." + +And with that he turned and went into the church with bowed +head, crossing himself like one who wishes to be quit of an +unclean spirit. He was anxious to forget such grossness in the +cool twilight of his tall Gothic cloisters; but on that morning it +was fated that his still round of religious exercises should be +everywhere arrested by small shocks. As he entered the church, +hitherto always empty at that hour, a kneeling figure rose hastily +to its feet and came towards the full daylight of the doorway. +When the curate saw it he stood still with surprise. For the +early worshipper was none other than the village idiot, a nephew +of the blacksmith, one who neither would nor could care for the +church or for anything else. He was always called "Mad Joe," and +seemed to have no other name; he was a dark, strong, slouching +lad, with a heavy white face, dark straight hair, and a mouth +always open. As he passed the priest, his moon-calf countenance +gave no hint of what he had been doing or thinking of. He had +never been known to pray before. What sort of prayers was he +saying now? Extraordinary prayers surely. + +Wilfred Bohun stood rooted to the spot long enough to see the +idiot go out into the sunshine, and even to see his dissolute +brother hail him with a sort of avuncular jocularity. The last +thing he saw was the colonel throwing pennies at the open mouth of +Joe, with the serious appearance of trying to hit it. + +This ugly sunlit picture of the stupidity and cruelty of the +earth sent the ascetic finally to his prayers for purification and +new thoughts. He went up to a pew in the gallery, which brought +him under a coloured window which he loved and always quieted his +spirit; a blue window with an angel carrying lilies. There he +began to think less about the half-wit, with his livid face and +mouth like a fish. He began to think less of his evil brother, +pacing like a lean lion in his horrible hunger. He sank deeper +and deeper into those cold and sweet colours of silver blossoms +and sapphire sky. + +In this place half an hour afterwards he was found by Gibbs, +the village cobbler, who had been sent for him in some haste. He +got to his feet with promptitude, for he knew that no small matter +would have brought Gibbs into such a place at all. The cobbler +was, as in many villages, an atheist, and his appearance in church +was a shade more extraordinary than Mad Joe's. It was a morning +of theological enigmas. + +"What is it?" asked Wilfred Bohun rather stiffly, but putting +out a trembling hand for his hat. + +The atheist spoke in a tone that, coming from him, was quite +startlingly respectful, and even, as it were, huskily sympathetic. + +"You must excuse me, sir," he said in a hoarse whisper, "but +we didn't think it right not to let you know at once. I'm afraid +a rather dreadful thing has happened, sir. I'm afraid your +brother--" + +Wilfred clenched his frail hands. "What devilry has he done +now?" he cried in voluntary passion. + +"Why, sir," said the cobbler, coughing, "I'm afraid he's done +nothing, and won't do anything. I'm afraid he's done for. You +had really better come down, sir." + +The curate followed the cobbler down a short winding stair +which brought them out at an entrance rather higher than the +street. Bohun saw the tragedy in one glance, flat underneath him +like a plan. In the yard of the smithy were standing five or six +men mostly in black, one in an inspector's uniform. They included +the doctor, the Presbyterian minister, and the priest from the +Roman Catholic chapel, to which the blacksmith's wife belonged. +The latter was speaking to her, indeed, very rapidly, in an +undertone, as she, a magnificent woman with red-gold hair, was +sobbing blindly on a bench. Between these two groups, and just +clear of the main heap of hammers, lay a man in evening dress, +spread-eagled and flat on his face. From the height above Wilfred +could have sworn to every item of his costume and appearance, down +to the Bohun rings upon his fingers; but the skull was only a +hideous splash, like a star of blackness and blood. + +Wilfred Bohun gave but one glance, and ran down the steps into +the yard. The doctor, who was the family physician, saluted him, +but he scarcely took any notice. He could only stammer out: "My +brother is dead. What does it mean? What is this horrible +mystery?" There was an unhappy silence; and then the cobbler, the +most outspoken man present, answered: "Plenty of horror, sir," he +said; "but not much mystery." + +"What do you mean?" asked Wilfred, with a white face. + +"It's plain enough," answered Gibbs. "There is only one man +for forty miles round that could have struck such a blow as that, +and he's the man that had most reason to." + +"We must not prejudge anything," put in the doctor, a tall, +black-bearded man, rather nervously; "but it is competent for me +to corroborate what Mr. Gibbs says about the nature of the blow, +sir; it is an incredible blow. Mr. Gibbs says that only one man +in this district could have done it. I should have said myself +that nobody could have done it." + +A shudder of superstition went through the slight figure of +the curate. "I can hardly understand," he said. + +"Mr. Bohun," said the doctor in a low voice, "metaphors +literally fail me. It is inadequate to say that the skull was +smashed to bits like an eggshell. Fragments of bone were driven +into the body and the ground like bullets into a mud wall. It was +the hand of a giant." + +He was silent a moment, looking grimly through his glasses; +then he added: "The thing has one advantage--that it clears most +people of suspicion at one stroke. If you or I or any normally +made man in the country were accused of this crime, we should be +acquitted as an infant would be acquitted of stealing the Nelson +column." + +"That's what I say," repeated the cobbler obstinately; +"there's only one man that could have done it, and he's the man +that would have done it. Where's Simeon Barnes, the blacksmith?" + +"He's over at Greenford," faltered the curate. + +"More likely over in France," muttered the cobbler. + +"No; he is in neither of those places," said a small and +colourless voice, which came from the little Roman priest who had +joined the group. "As a matter of fact, he is coming up the road +at this moment." + +The little priest was not an interesting man to look at, +having stubbly brown hair and a round and stolid face. But if he +had been as splendid as Apollo no one would have looked at him at +that moment. Everyone turned round and peered at the pathway +which wound across the plain below, along which was indeed walking, +at his own huge stride and with a hammer on his shoulder, Simeon +the smith. He was a bony and gigantic man, with deep, dark, +sinister eyes and a dark chin beard. He was walking and talking +quietly with two other men; and though he was never specially +cheerful, he seemed quite at his ease. + +"My God!" cried the atheistic cobbler, "and there's the hammer +he did it with." + +"No," said the inspector, a sensible-looking man with a sandy +moustache, speaking for the first time. "There's the hammer he +did it with over there by the church wall. We have left it and +the body exactly as they are." + +All glanced round and the short priest went across and looked +down in silence at the tool where it lay. It was one of the +smallest and the lightest of the hammers, and would not have +caught the eye among the rest; but on the iron edge of it were +blood and yellow hair. + +After a silence the short priest spoke without looking up, and +there was a new note in his dull voice. "Mr. Gibbs was hardly +right," he said, "in saying that there is no mystery. There is at +least the mystery of why so big a man should attempt so big a blow +with so little a hammer." + +"Oh, never mind that," cried Gibbs, in a fever. "What are we +to do with Simeon Barnes?" + +"Leave him alone," said the priest quietly. "He is coming +here of himself. I know those two men with him. They are very +good fellows from Greenford, and they have come over about the +Presbyterian chapel." + +Even as he spoke the tall smith swung round the corner of the +church, and strode into his own yard. Then he stood there quite +still, and the hammer fell from his hand. The inspector, who had +preserved impenetrable propriety, immediately went up to him. + +"I won't ask you, Mr. Barnes," he said, "whether you know +anything about what has happened here. You are not bound to say. +I hope you don't know, and that you will be able to prove it. But +I must go through the form of arresting you in the King's name for +the murder of Colonel Norman Bohun." + +"You are not bound to say anything," said the cobbler in +officious excitement. "They've got to prove everything. They +haven't proved yet that it is Colonel Bohun, with the head all +smashed up like that." + +"That won't wash," said the doctor aside to the priest. +"That's out of the detective stories. I was the colonel's medical +man, and I knew his body better than he did. He had very fine +hands, but quite peculiar ones. The second and third fingers were +the same length. Oh, that's the colonel right enough." + +As he glanced at the brained corpse upon the ground the iron +eyes of the motionless blacksmith followed them and rested there +also. + +"Is Colonel Bohun dead?" said the smith quite calmly. "Then +he's damned." + +"Don't say anything! Oh, don't say anything," cried the +atheist cobbler, dancing about in an ecstasy of admiration of the +English legal system. For no man is such a legalist as the good +Secularist. + +The blacksmith turned on him over his shoulder the august face +of a fanatic. + +"It's well for you infidels to dodge like foxes because the +world's law favours you," he said; "but God guards His own in His +pocket, as you shall see this day." + +Then he pointed to the colonel and said: "When did this dog +die in his sins?" + +"Moderate your language," said the doctor. + +"Moderate the Bible's language, and I'll moderate mine. When +did he die?" + +"I saw him alive at six o'clock this morning," stammered +Wilfred Bohun. + +"God is good," said the smith. "Mr. Inspector, I have not the +slightest objection to being arrested. It is you who may object +to arresting me. I don't mind leaving the court without a stain +on my character. You do mind perhaps leaving the court with a bad +set-back in your career." + +The solid inspector for the first time looked at the +blacksmith with a lively eye; as did everybody else, except the +short, strange priest, who was still looking down at the little +hammer that had dealt the dreadful blow. + +"There are two men standing outside this shop," went on the +blacksmith with ponderous lucidity, "good tradesmen in Greenford +whom you all know, who will swear that they saw me from before +midnight till daybreak and long after in the committee room of our +Revival Mission, which sits all night, we save souls so fast. In +Greenford itself twenty people could swear to me for all that +time. If I were a heathen, Mr. Inspector, I would let you walk on +to your downfall. But as a Christian man I feel bound to give you +your chance, and ask you whether you will hear my alibi now or in +court." + +The inspector seemed for the first time disturbed, and said, +"Of course I should be glad to clear you altogether now." + +The smith walked out of his yard with the same long and easy +stride, and returned to his two friends from Greenford, who were +indeed friends of nearly everyone present. Each of them said a +few words which no one ever thought of disbelieving. When they +had spoken, the innocence of Simeon stood up as solid as the great +church above them. + +One of those silences struck the group which are more strange +and insufferable than any speech. Madly, in order to make +conversation, the curate said to the Catholic priest: + +"You seem very much interested in that hammer, Father Brown." + +"Yes, I am," said Father Brown; "why is it such a small +hammer?" + +The doctor swung round on him. + +"By George, that's true," he cried; "who would use a little +hammer with ten larger hammers lying about?" + +Then he lowered his voice in the curate's ear and said: "Only +the kind of person that can't lift a large hammer. It is not a +question of force or courage between the sexes. It's a question +of lifting power in the shoulders. A bold woman could commit ten +murders with a light hammer and never turn a hair. She could not +kill a beetle with a heavy one." + +Wilfred Bohun was staring at him with a sort of hypnotised +horror, while Father Brown listened with his head a little on one +side, really interested and attentive. The doctor went on with +more hissing emphasis: + +"Why do these idiots always assume that the only person who +hates the wife's lover is the wife's husband? Nine times out of +ten the person who most hates the wife's lover is the wife. Who +knows what insolence or treachery he had shown her--look there!" + +He made a momentary gesture towards the red-haired woman on +the bench. She had lifted her head at last and the tears were +drying on her splendid face. But the eyes were fixed on the +corpse with an electric glare that had in it something of idiocy. + +The Rev. Wilfred Bohun made a limp gesture as if waving away +all desire to know; but Father Brown, dusting off his sleeve some +ashes blown from the furnace, spoke in his indifferent way. + +"You are like so many doctors," he said; "your mental science +is really suggestive. It is your physical science that is utterly +impossible. I agree that the woman wants to kill the +co-respondent much more than the petitioner does. And I agree +that a woman will always pick up a small hammer instead of a big +one. But the difficulty is one of physical impossibility. No +woman ever born could have smashed a man's skull out flat like +that." Then he added reflectively, after a pause: "These people +haven't grasped the whole of it. The man was actually wearing an +iron helmet, and the blow scattered it like broken glass. Look at +that woman. Look at her arms." + +Silence held them all up again, and then the doctor said +rather sulkily: "Well, I may be wrong; there are objections to +everything. But I stick to the main point. No man but an idiot +would pick up that little hammer if he could use a big hammer." + +With that the lean and quivering hands of Wilfred Bohun went +up to his head and seemed to clutch his scanty yellow hair. After +an instant they dropped, and he cried: "That was the word I wanted; +you have said the word." + +Then he continued, mastering his discomposure: "The words you +said were, `No man but an idiot would pick up the small hammer.'" + +"Yes," said the doctor. "Well?" + +"Well," said the curate, "no man but an idiot did." The rest +stared at him with eyes arrested and riveted, and he went on in a +febrile and feminine agitation. + +"I am a priest," he cried unsteadily, "and a priest should be +no shedder of blood. I--I mean that he should bring no one to +the gallows. And I thank God that I see the criminal clearly now +--because he is a criminal who cannot be brought to the gallows." + +"You will not denounce him?" inquired the doctor. + +"He would not be hanged if I did denounce him," answered +Wilfred with a wild but curiously happy smile. "When I went into +the church this morning I found a madman praying there--that +poor Joe, who has been wrong all his life. God knows what he +prayed; but with such strange folk it is not incredible to suppose +that their prayers are all upside down. Very likely a lunatic +would pray before killing a man. When I last saw poor Joe he was +with my brother. My brother was mocking him." + +"By Jove!" cried the doctor, "this is talking at last. But +how do you explain--" + +The Rev. Wilfred was almost trembling with the excitement of +his own glimpse of the truth. "Don't you see; don't you see," he +cried feverishly; "that is the only theory that covers both the +queer things, that answers both the riddles. The two riddles are +the little hammer and the big blow. The smith might have struck +the big blow, but would not have chosen the little hammer. His +wife would have chosen the little hammer, but she could not have +struck the big blow. But the madman might have done both. As for +the little hammer--why, he was mad and might have picked up +anything. And for the big blow, have you never heard, doctor, +that a maniac in his paroxysm may have the strength of ten men?" + +The doctor drew a deep breath and then said, "By golly, I +believe you've got it." + +Father Brown had fixed his eyes on the speaker so long and +steadily as to prove that his large grey, ox-like eyes were not +quite so insignificant as the rest of his face. When silence had +fallen he said with marked respect: "Mr. Bohun, yours is the only +theory yet propounded which holds water every way and is +essentially unassailable. I think, therefore, that you deserve to +be told, on my positive knowledge, that it is not the true one." +And with that the old little man walked away and stared again at +the hammer. + +"That fellow seems to know more than he ought to," whispered +the doctor peevishly to Wilfred. "Those popish priests are +deucedly sly." + +"No, no," said Bohun, with a sort of wild fatigue. "It was +the lunatic. It was the lunatic." + +The group of the two clerics and the doctor had fallen away +from the more official group containing the inspector and the man +he had arrested. Now, however, that their own party had broken +up, they heard voices from the others. The priest looked up +quietly and then looked down again as he heard the blacksmith say +in a loud voice: + +"I hope I've convinced you, Mr. Inspector. I'm a strong man, +as you say, but I couldn't have flung my hammer bang here from +Greenford. My hammer hasn't got wings that it should come flying +half a mile over hedges and fields." + +The inspector laughed amicably and said: "No, I think you can +be considered out of it, though it's one of the rummiest +coincidences I ever saw. I can only ask you to give us all the +assistance you can in finding a man as big and strong as yourself. +By George! you might be useful, if only to hold him! I suppose +you yourself have no guess at the man?" + +"I may have a guess," said the pale smith, "but it is not at a +man." Then, seeing the scared eyes turn towards his wife on the +bench, he put his huge hand on her shoulder and said: "Nor a woman +either." + +"What do you mean?" asked the inspector jocularly. "You don't +think cows use hammers, do you?" + +"I think no thing of flesh held that hammer," said the +blacksmith in a stifled voice; "mortally speaking, I think the man +died alone." + +Wilfred made a sudden forward movement and peered at him with +burning eyes. + +"Do you mean to say, Barnes," came the sharp voice of the +cobbler, "that the hammer jumped up of itself and knocked the man +down?" + +"Oh, you gentlemen may stare and snigger," cried Simeon; "you +clergymen who tell us on Sunday in what a stillness the Lord smote +Sennacherib. I believe that One who walks invisible in every +house defended the honour of mine, and laid the defiler dead +before the door of it. I believe the force in that blow was just +the force there is in earthquakes, and no force less." + +Wilfred said, with a voice utterly undescribable: "I told +Norman myself to beware of the thunderbolt." + +"That agent is outside my jurisdiction," said the inspector +with a slight smile. + +"You are not outside His," answered the smith; "see you to it," +and, turning his broad back, he went into the house. + +The shaken Wilfred was led away by Father Brown, who had an +easy and friendly way with him. "Let us get out of this horrid +place, Mr. Bohun," he said. "May I look inside your church? I +hear it's one of the oldest in England. We take some interest, +you know," he added with a comical grimace, "in old English +churches." + +Wilfred Bohun did not smile, for humour was never his strong +point. But he nodded rather eagerly, being only too ready to +explain the Gothic splendours to someone more likely to be +sympathetic than the Presbyterian blacksmith or the atheist +cobbler. + +"By all means," he said; "let us go in at this side." And he +led the way into the high side entrance at the top of the flight +of steps. Father Brown was mounting the first step to follow him +when he felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to behold the dark, +thin figure of the doctor, his face darker yet with suspicion. + +"Sir," said the physician harshly, "you appear to know some +secrets in this black business. May I ask if you are going to +keep them to yourself?" + +"Why, doctor," answered the priest, smiling quite pleasantly, +"there is one very good reason why a man of my trade should keep +things to himself when he is not sure of them, and that is that it +is so constantly his duty to keep them to himself when he is sure +of them. But if you think I have been discourteously reticent +with you or anyone, I will go to the extreme limit of my custom. +I will give you two very large hints." + +"Well, sir?" said the doctor gloomily. + +"First," said Father Brown quietly, "the thing is quite in +your own province. It is a matter of physical science. The +blacksmith is mistaken, not perhaps in saying that the blow was +divine, but certainly in saying that it came by a miracle. It was +no miracle, doctor, except in so far as man is himself a miracle, +with his strange and wicked and yet half-heroic heart. The force +that smashed that skull was a force well known to scientists-- +one of the most frequently debated of the laws of nature." + +The doctor, who was looking at him with frowning intentness, +only said: "And the other hint?" + +"The other hint is this," said the priest. "Do you remember +the blacksmith, though he believes in miracles, talking scornfully +of the impossible fairy tale that his hammer had wings and flew +half a mile across country?" + +"Yes," said the doctor, "I remember that." + +"Well," added Father Brown, with a broad smile, "that fairy +tale was the nearest thing to the real truth that has been said +today." And with that he turned his back and stumped up the steps +after the curate. + +The Reverend Wilfred, who had been waiting for him, pale and +impatient, as if this little delay were the last straw for his +nerves, led him immediately to his favourite corner of the church, +that part of the gallery closest to the carved roof and lit by the +wonderful window with the angel. The little Latin priest explored +and admired everything exhaustively, talking cheerfully but in a +low voice all the time. When in the course of his investigation +he found the side exit and the winding stair down which Wilfred +had rushed to find his brother dead, Father Brown ran not down but +up, with the agility of a monkey, and his clear voice came from an +outer platform above. + +"Come up here, Mr. Bohun," he called. "The air will do you +good." + +Bohun followed him, and came out on a kind of stone gallery or +balcony outside the building, from which one could see the +illimitable plain in which their small hill stood, wooded away to +the purple horizon and dotted with villages and farms. Clear and +square, but quite small beneath them, was the blacksmith's yard, +where the inspector still stood taking notes and the corpse still +lay like a smashed fly. + +"Might be the map of the world, mightn't it?" said Father +Brown. + +"Yes," said Bohun very gravely, and nodded his head. + +Immediately beneath and about them the lines of the Gothic +building plunged outwards into the void with a sickening swiftness +akin to suicide. There is that element of Titan energy in the +architecture of the Middle Ages that, from whatever aspect it be +seen, it always seems to be rushing away, like the strong back of +some maddened horse. This church was hewn out of ancient and +silent stone, bearded with old fungoids and stained with the nests +of birds. And yet, when they saw it from below, it sprang like a +fountain at the stars; and when they saw it, as now, from above, +it poured like a cataract into a voiceless pit. For these two men +on the tower were left alone with the most terrible aspect of +Gothic; the monstrous foreshortening and disproportion, the dizzy +perspectives, the glimpses of great things small and small things +great; a topsy-turvydom of stone in the mid-air. Details of stone, +enormous by their proximity, were relieved against a pattern of +fields and farms, pygmy in their distance. A carved bird or beast +at a corner seemed like some vast walking or flying dragon wasting +the pastures and villages below. The whole atmosphere was dizzy +and dangerous, as if men were upheld in air amid the gyrating +wings of colossal genii; and the whole of that old church, as tall +and rich as a cathedral, seemed to sit upon the sunlit country +like a cloudburst. + +"I think there is something rather dangerous about standing on +these high places even to pray," said Father Brown. "Heights were +made to be looked at, not to be looked from." + +"Do you mean that one may fall over," asked Wilfred. + +"I mean that one's soul may fall if one's body doesn't," said +the other priest. + +"I scarcely understand you," remarked Bohun indistinctly. + +"Look at that blacksmith, for instance," went on Father Brown +calmly; "a good man, but not a Christian--hard, imperious, +unforgiving. Well, his Scotch religion was made up by men who +prayed on hills and high crags, and learnt to look down on the +world more than to look up at heaven. Humility is the mother of +giants. One sees great things from the valley; only small things +from the peak." + +"But he--he didn't do it," said Bohun tremulously. + +"No," said the other in an odd voice; "we know he didn't do +it." + +After a moment he resumed, looking tranquilly out over the +plain with his pale grey eyes. "I knew a man," he said, "who +began by worshipping with others before the altar, but who grew +fond of high and lonely places to pray from, corners or niches in +the belfry or the spire. And once in one of those dizzy places, +where the whole world seemed to turn under him like a wheel, his +brain turned also, and he fancied he was God. So that, though he +was a good man, he committed a great crime." + +Wilfred's face was turned away, but his bony hands turned blue +and white as they tightened on the parapet of stone. + +"He thought it was given to him to judge the world and strike +down the sinner. He would never have had such a thought if he had +been kneeling with other men upon a floor. But he saw all men +walking about like insects. He saw one especially strutting just +below him, insolent and evident by a bright green hat--a +poisonous insect." + +Rooks cawed round the corners of the belfry; but there was no +other sound till Father Brown went on. + +"This also tempted him, that he had in his hand one of the +most awful engines of nature; I mean gravitation, that mad and +quickening rush by which all earth's creatures fly back to her +heart when released. See, the inspector is strutting just below +us in the smithy. If I were to toss a pebble over this parapet it +would be something like a bullet by the time it struck him. If I +were to drop a hammer--even a small hammer--" + +Wilfred Bohun threw one leg over the parapet, and Father Brown +had him in a minute by the collar. + +"Not by that door," he said quite gently; "that door leads to +hell." + +Bohun staggered back against the wall, and stared at him with +frightful eyes. + +"How do you know all this?" he cried. "Are you a devil?" + +"I am a man," answered Father Brown gravely; "and therefore +have all devils in my heart. Listen to me," he said after a short +pause. "I know what you did--at least, I can guess the great +part of it. When you left your brother you were racked with no +unrighteous rage, to the extent even that you snatched up a small +hammer, half inclined to kill him with his foulness on his mouth. +Recoiling, you thrust it under your buttoned coat instead, and +rushed into the church. You pray wildly in many places, under the +angel window, upon the platform above, and a higher platform +still, from which you could see the colonel's Eastern hat like the +back of a green beetle crawling about. Then something snapped in +your soul, and you let God's thunderbolt fall." + +Wilfred put a weak hand to his head, and asked in a low voice: +"How did you know that his hat looked like a green beetle?" + +"Oh, that," said the other with the shadow of a smile, "that +was common sense. But hear me further. I say I know all this; +but no one else shall know it. The next step is for you; I shall +take no more steps; I will seal this with the seal of confession. +If you ask me why, there are many reasons, and only one that +concerns you. I leave things to you because you have not yet gone +very far wrong, as assassins go. You did not help to fix the +crime on the smith when it was easy; or on his wife, when that was +easy. You tried to fix it on the imbecile because you knew that +he could not suffer. That was one of the gleams that it is my +business to find in assassins. And now come down into the +village, and go your own way as free as the wind; for I have said +my last word." + +They went down the winding stairs in utter silence, and came +out into the sunlight by the smithy. Wilfred Bohun carefully +unlatched the wooden gate of the yard, and going up to the +inspector, said: "I wish to give myself up; I have killed my +brother." + + + + The Eye of Apollo + +That singular smoky sparkle, at once a confusion and a transparency, +which is the strange secret of the Thames, was changing more and +more from its grey to its glittering extreme as the sun climbed to +the zenith over Westminster, and two men crossed Westminster +Bridge. One man was very tall and the other very short; they +might even have been fantastically compared to the arrogant +clock-tower of Parliament and the humbler humped shoulders of the +Abbey, for the short man was in clerical dress. The official +description of the tall man was M. Hercule Flambeau, private +detective, and he was going to his new offices in a new pile of +flats facing the Abbey entrance. The official description of the +short man was the Reverend J. Brown, attached to St. Francis +Xavier's Church, Camberwell, and he was coming from a Camberwell +deathbed to see the new offices of his friend. + +The building was American in its sky-scraping altitude, and +American also in the oiled elaboration of its machinery of +telephones and lifts. But it was barely finished and still +understaffed; only three tenants had moved in; the office just +above Flambeau was occupied, as also was the office just below +him; the two floors above that and the three floors below were +entirely bare. But the first glance at the new tower of flats +caught something much more arresting. Save for a few relics of +scaffolding, the one glaring object was erected outside the office +just above Flambeau's. It was an enormous gilt effigy of the +human eye, surrounded with rays of gold, and taking up as much +room as two or three of the office windows. + +"What on earth is that?" asked Father Brown, and stood still. +"Oh, a new religion," said Flambeau, laughing; "one of those new +religions that forgive your sins by saying you never had any. +Rather like Christian Science, I should think. The fact is that a +fellow calling himself Kalon (I don't know what his name is, +except that it can't be that) has taken the flat just above me. +I have two lady typewriters underneath me, and this enthusiastic +old humbug on top. He calls himself the New Priest of Apollo, and +he worships the sun." + +"Let him look out," said Father Brown. "The sun was the +cruellest of all the gods. But what does that monstrous eye mean?" + +"As I understand it, it is a theory of theirs," answered +Flambeau, "that a man can endure anything if his mind is quite +steady. Their two great symbols are the sun and the open eye; for +they say that if a man were really healthy he could stare at the +sun." + +"If a man were really healthy," said Father Brown, "he would +not bother to stare at it." + +"Well, that's all I can tell you about the new religion," went +on Flambeau carelessly. "It claims, of course, that it can cure +all physical diseases." + +"Can it cure the one spiritual disease?" asked Father Brown, +with a serious curiosity. + +"And what is the one spiritual disease?" asked Flambeau, +smiling. + +"Oh, thinking one is quite well," said his friend. + +Flambeau was more interested in the quiet little office below +him than in the flamboyant temple above. He was a lucid +Southerner, incapable of conceiving himself as anything but a +Catholic or an atheist; and new religions of a bright and pallid +sort were not much in his line. But humanity was always in his +line, especially when it was good-looking; moreover, the ladies +downstairs were characters in their way. The office was kept by +two sisters, both slight and dark, one of them tall and striking. +She had a dark, eager and aquiline profile, and was one of those +women whom one always thinks of in profile, as of the clean-cut +edge of some weapon. She seemed to cleave her way through life. +She had eyes of startling brilliancy, but it was the brilliancy of +steel rather than of diamonds; and her straight, slim figure was a +shade too stiff for its grace. Her younger sister was like her +shortened shadow, a little greyer, paler, and more insignificant. +They both wore a business-like black, with little masculine cuffs +and collars. There are thousands of such curt, strenuous ladies +in the offices of London, but the interest of these lay rather in +their real than their apparent position. + +For Pauline Stacey, the elder, was actually the heiress of a +crest and half a county, as well as great wealth; she had been +brought up in castles and gardens, before a frigid fierceness +(peculiar to the modern woman) had driven her to what she +considered a harsher and a higher existence. She had not, indeed, +surrendered her money; in that there would have been a romantic or +monkish abandon quite alien to her masterful utilitarianism. She +held her wealth, she would say, for use upon practical social +objects. Part of it she had put into her business, the nucleus of +a model typewriting emporium; part of it was distributed in +various leagues and causes for the advancement of such work among +women. How far Joan, her sister and partner, shared this slightly +prosaic idealism no one could be very sure. But she followed her +leader with a dog-like affection which was somehow more attractive, +with its touch of tragedy, than the hard, high spirits of the +elder. For Pauline Stacey had nothing to say to tragedy; she was +understood to deny its existence. + +Her rigid rapidity and cold impatience had amused Flambeau +very much on the first occasion of his entering the flats. He had +lingered outside the lift in the entrance hall waiting for the +lift-boy, who generally conducts strangers to the various floors. +But this bright-eyed falcon of a girl had openly refused to endure +such official delay. She said sharply that she knew all about the +lift, and was not dependent on boys--or men either. Though her +flat was only three floors above, she managed in the few seconds +of ascent to give Flambeau a great many of her fundamental views +in an off-hand manner; they were to the general effect that she +was a modern working woman and loved modern working machinery. +Her bright black eyes blazed with abstract anger against those who +rebuke mechanic science and ask for the return of romance. +Everyone, she said, ought to be able to manage machines, just as +she could manage the lift. She seemed almost to resent the fact +of Flambeau opening the lift-door for her; and that gentleman went +up to his own apartments smiling with somewhat mingled feelings at +the memory of such spit-fire self-dependence. + +She certainly had a temper, of a snappy, practical sort; the +gestures of her thin, elegant hands were abrupt or even +destructive. + +Once Flambeau entered her office on some typewriting business, and +found she had just flung a pair of spectacles belonging to her +sister into the middle of the floor and stamped on them. She was +already in the rapids of an ethical tirade about the "sickly +medical notions" and the morbid admission of weakness implied in +such an apparatus. She dared her sister to bring such artificial, +unhealthy rubbish into the place again. She asked if she was +expected to wear wooden legs or false hair or glass eyes; and as +she spoke her eyes sparkled like the terrible crystal. + +Flambeau, quite bewildered with this fanaticism, could not +refrain from asking Miss Pauline (with direct French logic) why a +pair of spectacles was a more morbid sign of weakness than a lift, +and why, if science might help us in the one effort, it might not +help us in the other. + +"That is so different," said Pauline Stacey, loftily. +"Batteries and motors and all those things are marks of the force +of man--yes, Mr. Flambeau, and the force of woman, too! We +shall take our turn at these great engines that devour distance +and defy time. That is high and splendid--that is really +science. But these nasty props and plasters the doctors sell-- +why, they are just badges of poltroonery. Doctors stick on legs +and arms as if we were born cripples and sick slaves. But I was +free-born, Mr. Flambeau! People only think they need these things +because they have been trained in fear instead of being trained in +power and courage, just as the silly nurses tell children not to +stare at the sun, and so they can't do it without blinking. But +why among the stars should there be one star I may not see? The +sun is not my master, and I will open my eyes and stare at him +whenever I choose." + +"Your eyes," said Flambeau, with a foreign bow, "will dazzle +the sun." He took pleasure in complimenting this strange stiff +beauty, partly because it threw her a little off her balance. But +as he went upstairs to his floor he drew a deep breath and +whistled, saying to himself: "So she has got into the hands of +that conjurer upstairs with his golden eye." For, little as he +knew or cared about the new religion of Kalon, he had heard of his +special notion about sun-gazing. + +He soon discovered that the spiritual bond between the floors +above and below him was close and increasing. The man who called +himself Kalon was a magnificent creature, worthy, in a physical +sense, to be the pontiff of Apollo. He was nearly as tall even as +Flambeau, and very much better looking, with a golden beard, strong +blue eyes, and a mane flung back like a lion's. In structure he +was the blonde beast of Nietzsche, but all this animal beauty was +heightened, brightened and softened by genuine intellect and +spirituality. If he looked like one of the great Saxon kings, he +looked like one of the kings that were also saints. And this +despite the cockney incongruity of his surroundings; the fact that +he had an office half-way up a building in Victoria Street; that +the clerk (a commonplace youth in cuffs and collars) sat in the +outer room, between him and the corridor; that his name was on a +brass plate, and the gilt emblem of his creed hung above his +street, like the advertisement of an oculist. All this vulgarity +could not take away from the man called Kalon the vivid oppression +and inspiration that came from his soul and body. When all was +said, a man in the presence of this quack did feel in the presence +of a great man. Even in the loose jacket-suit of linen that he +wore as a workshop dress in his office he was a fascinating and +formidable figure; and when robed in the white vestments and +crowned with the golden circlet, in which he daily saluted the sun, +he really looked so splendid that the laughter of the street people +sometimes died suddenly on their lips. For three times in the day +the new sun-worshipper went out on his little balcony, in the face +of all Westminster, to say some litany to his shining lord: once +at daybreak, once at sunset, and once at the shock of noon. And +it was while the shock of noon still shook faintly from the towers +of Parliament and parish church that Father Brown, the friend of +Flambeau, first looked up and saw the white priest of Apollo. + +Flambeau had seen quite enough of these daily salutations of +Phoebus, and plunged into the porch of the tall building without +even looking for his clerical friend to follow. But Father Brown, +whether from a professional interest in ritual or a strong +individual interest in tomfoolery, stopped and stared up at the +balcony of the sun-worshipper, just as he might have stopped and +stared up at a Punch and Judy. Kalon the Prophet was already +erect, with argent garments and uplifted hands, and the sound of +his strangely penetrating voice could be heard all the way down +the busy street uttering his solar litany. He was already in the +middle of it; his eyes were fixed upon the flaming disc. It is +doubtful if he saw anything or anyone on this earth; it is +substantially certain that he did not see a stunted, round-faced +priest who, in the crowd below, looked up at him with blinking +eyes. That was perhaps the most startling difference between even +these two far divided men. Father Brown could not look at +anything without blinking; but the priest of Apollo could look on +the blaze at noon without a quiver of the eyelid. + +"O sun," cried the prophet, "O star that art too great to be +allowed among the stars! O fountain that flowest quietly in that +secret spot that is called space. White Father of all white +unwearied things, white flames and white flowers and white peaks. +Father, who art more innocent than all thy most innocent and quiet +children; primal purity, into the peace of which--" + +A rush and crash like the reversed rush of a rocket was cloven +with a strident and incessant yelling. Five people rushed into +the gate of the mansions as three people rushed out, and for an +instant they all deafened each other. The sense of some utterly +abrupt horror seemed for a moment to fill half the street with bad +news--bad news that was all the worse because no one knew what +it was. Two figures remained still after the crash of commotion: +the fair priest of Apollo on the balcony above, and the ugly +priest of Christ below him. + +At last the tall figure and titanic energy of Flambeau +appeared in the doorway of the mansions and dominated the little +mob. Talking at the top of his voice like a fog-horn, he told +somebody or anybody to go for a surgeon; and as he turned back +into the dark and thronged entrance his friend Father Brown dipped +in insignificantly after him. Even as he ducked and dived through +the crowd he could still hear the magnificent melody and monotony +of the solar priest still calling on the happy god who is the +friend of fountains and flowers. + +Father Brown found Flambeau and some six other people standing +round the enclosed space into which the lift commonly descended. +But the lift had not descended. Something else had descended; +something that ought to have come by a lift. + +For the last four minutes Flambeau had looked down on it; had +seen the brained and bleeding figure of that beautiful woman who +denied the existence of tragedy. He had never had the slightest +doubt that it was Pauline Stacey; and, though he had sent for a +doctor, he had not the slightest doubt that she was dead. + +He could not remember for certain whether he had liked her or +disliked her; there was so much both to like and dislike. But she +had been a person to him, and the unbearable pathos of details and +habit stabbed him with all the small daggers of bereavement. He +remembered her pretty face and priggish speeches with a sudden +secret vividness which is all the bitterness of death. In an +instant like a bolt from the blue, like a thunderbolt from nowhere, +that beautiful and defiant body had been dashed down the open well +of the lift to death at the bottom. Was it suicide? With so +insolent an optimist it seemed impossible. Was it murder? But +who was there in those hardly inhabited flats to murder anybody? +In a rush of raucous words, which he meant to be strong and +suddenly found weak, he asked where was that fellow Kalon. A +voice, habitually heavy, quiet and full, assured him that Kalon +for the last fifteen minutes had been away up on his balcony +worshipping his god. When Flambeau heard the voice, and felt the +hand of Father Brown, he turned his swarthy face and said abruptly: + +"Then, if he has been up there all the time, who can have done +it?" + +"Perhaps," said the other, "we might go upstairs and find out. +We have half an hour before the police will move." + +Leaving the body of the slain heiress in charge of the +surgeons, Flambeau dashed up the stairs to the typewriting office, +found it utterly empty, and then dashed up to his own. Having +entered that, he abruptly returned with a new and white face to +his friend. + +"Her sister," he said, with an unpleasant seriousness, "her +sister seems to have gone out for a walk." + +Father Brown nodded. "Or, she may have gone up to the office +of that sun man," he said. "If I were you I should just verify +that, and then let us all talk it over in your office. No," he +added suddenly, as if remembering something, "shall I ever get +over that stupidity of mine? Of course, in their office +downstairs." + +Flambeau stared; but he followed the little father downstairs +to the empty flat of the Staceys, where that impenetrable pastor +took a large red-leather chair in the very entrance, from which he +could see the stairs and landings, and waited. He did not wait +very long. In about four minutes three figures descended the +stairs, alike only in their solemnity. The first was Joan Stacey, +the sister of the dead woman--evidently she had been upstairs in +the temporary temple of Apollo; the second was the priest of +Apollo himself, his litany finished, sweeping down the empty +stairs in utter magnificence--something in his white robes, +beard and parted hair had the look of Dore's Christ leaving the +Pretorium; the third was Flambeau, black browed and somewhat +bewildered. + +Miss Joan Stacey, dark, with a drawn face and hair prematurely +touched with grey, walked straight to her own desk and set out her +papers with a practical flap. The mere action rallied everyone +else to sanity. If Miss Joan Stacey was a criminal, she was a +cool one. Father Brown regarded her for some time with an odd +little smile, and then, without taking his eyes off her, addressed +himself to somebody else. + +"Prophet," he said, presumably addressing Kalon, "I wish you +would tell me a lot about your religion." + +"I shall be proud to do it," said Kalon, inclining his still +crowned head, "but I am not sure that I understand." + +"Why, it's like this," said Father Brown, in his frankly +doubtful way: "We are taught that if a man has really bad first +principles, that must be partly his fault. But, for all that, we +can make some difference between a man who insults his quite clear +conscience and a man with a conscience more or less clouded with +sophistries. Now, do you really think that murder is wrong at +all?" + +"Is this an accusation?" asked Kalon very quietly. + +"No," answered Brown, equally gently, "it is the speech for +the defence." + +In the long and startled stillness of the room the prophet of +Apollo slowly rose; and really it was like the rising of the sun. +He filled that room with his light and life in such a manner that +a man felt he could as easily have filled Salisbury Plain. His +robed form seemed to hang the whole room with classic draperies; +his epic gesture seemed to extend it into grander perspectives, +till the little black figure of the modern cleric seemed to be a +fault and an intrusion, a round, black blot upon some splendour of +Hellas. + +"We meet at last, Caiaphas," said the prophet. "Your church +and mine are the only realities on this earth. I adore the sun, +and you the darkening of the sun; you are the priest of the dying +and I of the living God. Your present work of suspicion and +slander is worthy of your coat and creed. All your church is but +a black police; you are only spies and detectives seeking to tear +from men confessions of guilt, whether by treachery or torture. +You would convict men of crime, I would convict them of innocence. +You would convince them of sin, I would convince them of virtue. + +"Reader of the books of evil, one more word before I blow away +your baseless nightmares for ever. Not even faintly could you +understand how little I care whether you can convict me or no. +The things you call disgrace and horrible hanging are to me no +more than an ogre in a child's toy-book to a man once grown up. +You said you were offering the speech for the defence. I care so +little for the cloudland of this life that I will offer you the +speech for the prosecution. There is but one thing that can be +said against me in this matter, and I will say it myself. The +woman that is dead was my love and my bride; not after such manner +as your tin chapels call lawful, but by a law purer and sterner +than you will ever understand. She and I walked another world +from yours, and trod palaces of crystal while you were plodding +through tunnels and corridors of brick. Well, I know that +policemen, theological and otherwise, always fancy that where +there has been love there must soon be hatred; so there you have +the first point made for the prosecution. But the second point is +stronger; I do not grudge it you. Not only is it true that +Pauline loved me, but it is also true that this very morning, +before she died, she wrote at that table a will leaving me and my +new church half a million. Come, where are the handcuffs? Do you +suppose I care what foolish things you do with me? Penal +servitude will only be like waiting for her at a wayside station. +The gallows will only be going to her in a headlong car." + +He spoke with the brain-shaking authority of an orator, and +Flambeau and Joan Stacey stared at him in amazed admiration. +Father Brown's face seemed to express nothing but extreme +distress; he looked at the ground with one wrinkle of pain across +his forehead. The prophet of the sun leaned easily against the +mantelpiece and resumed: + +"In a few words I have put before you the whole case against +me--the only possible case against me. In fewer words still I +will blow it to pieces, so that not a trace of it remains. As to +whether I have committed this crime, the truth is in one sentence: +I could not have committed this crime. Pauline Stacey fell from +this floor to the ground at five minutes past twelve. A hundred +people will go into the witness-box and say that I was standing +out upon the balcony of my own rooms above from just before the +stroke of noon to a quarter-past--the usual period of my public +prayers. My clerk (a respectable youth from Clapham, with no sort +of connection with me) will swear that he sat in my outer office +all the morning, and that no communication passed through. He +will swear that I arrived a full ten minutes before the hour, +fifteen minutes before any whisper of the accident, and that I did +not leave the office or the balcony all that time. No one ever +had so complete an alibi; I could subpoena half Westminster. I +think you had better put the handcuffs away again. The case is at +an end. + +"But last of all, that no breath of this idiotic suspicion +remain in the air, I will tell you all you want to know. I +believe I do know how my unhappy friend came by her death. You +can, if you choose, blame me for it, or my faith and philosophy at +least; but you certainly cannot lock me up. It is well known to +all students of the higher truths that certain adepts and +illuminati have in history attained the power of levitation-- +that is, of being self-sustained upon the empty air. It is but a +part of that general conquest of matter which is the main element +in our occult wisdom. Poor Pauline was of an impulsive and +ambitious temper. I think, to tell the truth, she thought herself +somewhat deeper in the mysteries than she was; and she has often +said to me, as we went down in the lift together, that if one's +will were strong enough, one could float down as harmlessly as a +feather. I solemnly believe that in some ecstasy of noble thoughts +she attempted the miracle. Her will, or faith, must have failed +her at the crucial instant, and the lower law of matter had its +horrible revenge. There is the whole story, gentlemen, very sad +and, as you think, very presumptuous and wicked, but certainly not +criminal or in any way connected with me. In the short-hand of +the police-courts, you had better call it suicide. I shall always +call it heroic failure for the advance of science and the slow +scaling of heaven." + +It was the first time Flambeau had ever seen Father Brown +vanquished. He still sat looking at the ground, with a painful +and corrugated brow, as if in shame. It was impossible to avoid +the feeling which the prophet's winged words had fanned, that here +was a sullen, professional suspecter of men overwhelmed by a +prouder and purer spirit of natural liberty and health. At last +he said, blinking as if in bodily distress: "Well, if that is so, +sir, you need do no more than take the testamentary paper you +spoke of and go. I wonder where the poor lady left it." + +"It will be over there on her desk by the door, I think," said +Kalon, with that massive innocence of manner that seemed to acquit +him wholly. "She told me specially she would write it this +morning, and I actually saw her writing as I went up in the lift +to my own room." + +"Was her door open then?" asked the priest, with his eye on +the corner of the matting. + +"Yes," said Kalon calmly. + +"Ah! it has been open ever since," said the other, and resumed +his silent study of the mat. + +"There is a paper over here," said the grim Miss Joan, in a +somewhat singular voice. She had passed over to her sister's desk +by the doorway, and was holding a sheet of blue foolscap in her +hand. There was a sour smile on her face that seemed unfit for +such a scene or occasion, and Flambeau looked at her with a +darkening brow. + +Kalon the prophet stood away from the paper with that loyal +unconsciousness that had carried him through. But Flambeau took +it out of the lady's hand, and read it with the utmost amazement. +It did, indeed, begin in the formal manner of a will, but after +the words "I give and bequeath all of which I die possessed" the +writing abruptly stopped with a set of scratches, and there was no +trace of the name of any legatee. Flambeau, in wonder, handed +this truncated testament to his clerical friend, who glanced at it +and silently gave it to the priest of the sun. + +An instant afterwards that pontiff, in his splendid sweeping +draperies, had crossed the room in two great strides, and was +towering over Joan Stacey, his blue eyes standing from his head. + +"What monkey tricks have you been playing here?" he cried. +"That's not all Pauline wrote." + +They were startled to hear him speak in quite a new voice, +with a Yankee shrillness in it; all his grandeur and good English +had fallen from him like a cloak. + +"That is the only thing on her desk," said Joan, and +confronted him steadily with the same smile of evil favour. + +Of a sudden the man broke out into blasphemies and cataracts +of incredulous words. There was something shocking about the +dropping of his mask; it was like a man's real face falling off. + +"See here!" he cried in broad American, when he was breathless +with cursing, "I may be an adventurer, but I guess you're a +murderess. Yes, gentlemen, here's your death explained, and +without any levitation. The poor girl is writing a will in my +favour; her cursed sister comes in, struggles for the pen, drags +her to the well, and throws her down before she can finish it. +Sakes! I reckon we want the handcuffs after all." + +"As you have truly remarked," replied Joan, with ugly calm, +"your clerk is a very respectable young man, who knows the nature +of an oath; and he will swear in any court that I was up in your +office arranging some typewriting work for five minutes before and +five minutes after my sister fell. Mr. Flambeau will tell you +that he found me there." + +There was a silence. + +"Why, then," cried Flambeau, "Pauline was alone when she fell, +and it was suicide!" + +"She was alone when she fell," said Father Brown, "but it was +not suicide." + +"Then how did she die?" asked Flambeau impatiently. + +"She was murdered." + +"But she was alone," objected the detective. + +"She was murdered when she was all alone," answered the +priest. + +All the rest stared at him, but he remained sitting in the +same old dejected attitude, with a wrinkle in his round forehead +and an appearance of impersonal shame and sorrow; his voice was +colourless and sad. + +"What I want to know," cried Kalon, with an oath, "is when the +police are coming for this bloody and wicked sister. She's killed +her flesh and blood; she's robbed me of half a million that was +just as sacredly mine as--" + +"Come, come, prophet," interrupted Flambeau, with a kind of +sneer; "remember that all this world is a cloudland." + +The hierophant of the sun-god made an effort to climb back on +his pedestal. "It is not the mere money," he cried, "though that +would equip the cause throughout the world. It is also my beloved +one's wishes. To Pauline all this was holy. In Pauline's eyes--" + +Father Brown suddenly sprang erect, so that his chair fell +over flat behind him. He was deathly pale, yet he seemed fired +with a hope; his eyes shone. + +"That's it!" he cried in a clear voice. "That's the way to +begin. In Pauline's eyes--" + +The tall prophet retreated before the tiny priest in an almost +mad disorder. "What do you mean? How dare you?" he cried +repeatedly. + +"In Pauline's eyes," repeated the priest, his own shining more +and more. "Go on--in God's name, go on. The foulest crime the +fiends ever prompted feels lighter after confession; and I implore +you to confess. Go on, go on--in Pauline's eyes--" + +"Let me go, you devil!" thundered Kalon, struggling like a +giant in bonds. "Who are you, you cursed spy, to weave your +spiders' webs round me, and peep and peer? Let me go." + +"Shall I stop him?" asked Flambeau, bounding towards the exit, +for Kalon had already thrown the door wide open. + +"No; let him pass," said Father Brown, with a strange deep +sigh that seemed to come from the depths of the universe. "Let +Cain pass by, for he belongs to God." + +There was a long-drawn silence in the room when he had left +it, which was to Flambeau's fierce wits one long agony of +interrogation. Miss Joan Stacey very coolly tidied up the papers +on her desk. + +"Father," said Flambeau at last, "it is my duty, not my +curiosity only--it is my duty to find out, if I can, who +committed the crime." + +"Which crime?" asked Father Brown. + +"The one we are dealing with, of course," replied his +impatient friend. + +"We are dealing with two crimes," said Brown, "crimes of very +different weight--and by very different criminals." + +Miss Joan Stacey, having collected and put away her papers, +proceeded to lock up her drawer. Father Brown went on, noticing +her as little as she noticed him. + +"The two crimes," he observed, "were committed against the +same weakness of the same person, in a struggle for her money. +The author of the larger crime found himself thwarted by the +smaller crime; the author of the smaller crime got the money." + +"Oh, don't go on like a lecturer," groaned Flambeau; "put it +in a few words." + +"I can put it in one word," answered his friend. + +Miss Joan Stacey skewered her business-like black hat on to +her head with a business-like black frown before a little mirror, +and, as the conversation proceeded, took her handbag and umbrella +in an unhurried style, and left the room. + +"The truth is one word, and a short one," said Father Brown. +"Pauline Stacey was blind." + +"Blind!" repeated Flambeau, and rose slowly to his whole huge +stature. + +"She was subject to it by blood," Brown proceeded. "Her +sister would have started eyeglasses if Pauline would have let +her; but it was her special philosophy or fad that one must not +encourage such diseases by yielding to them. She would not admit +the cloud; or she tried to dispel it by will. So her eyes got +worse and worse with straining; but the worst strain was to come. +It came with this precious prophet, or whatever he calls himself, +who taught her to stare at the hot sun with the naked eye. It was +called accepting Apollo. Oh, if these new pagans would only be +old pagans, they would be a little wiser! The old pagans knew +that mere naked Nature-worship must have a cruel side. They knew +that the eye of Apollo can blast and blind." + +There was a pause, and the priest went on in a gentle and even +broken voice. "Whether or no that devil deliberately made her +blind, there is no doubt that he deliberately killed her through +her blindness. The very simplicity of the crime is sickening. +You know he and she went up and down in those lifts without +official help; you know also how smoothly and silently the lifts +slide. Kalon brought the lift to the girl's landing, and saw her, +through the open door, writing in her slow, sightless way the will +she had promised him. He called out to her cheerily that he had +the lift ready for her, and she was to come out when she was ready. +Then he pressed a button and shot soundlessly up to his own floor, +walked through his own office, out on to his own balcony, and was +safely praying before the crowded street when the poor girl, +having finished her work, ran gaily out to where lover and lift +were to receive her, and stepped--" + +"Don't!" cried Flambeau. + +"He ought to have got half a million by pressing that button," +continued the little father, in the colourless voice in which he +talked of such horrors. "But that went smash. It went smash +because there happened to be another person who also wanted the +money, and who also knew the secret about poor Pauline's sight. +There was one thing about that will that I think nobody noticed: +although it was unfinished and without signature, the other Miss +Stacey and some servant of hers had already signed it as witnesses. +Joan had signed first, saying Pauline could finish it later, with +a typical feminine contempt for legal forms. Therefore, Joan +wanted her sister to sign the will without real witnesses. Why? +I thought of the blindness, and felt sure she had wanted Pauline +to sign in solitude because she had wanted her not to sign at all. + +"People like the Staceys always use fountain pens; but this +was specially natural to Pauline. By habit and her strong will +and memory she could still write almost as well as if she saw; but +she could not tell when her pen needed dipping. Therefore, her +fountain pens were carefully filled by her sister--all except +this fountain pen. This was carefully not filled by her sister; +the remains of the ink held out for a few lines and then failed +altogether. And the prophet lost five hundred thousand pounds and +committed one of the most brutal and brilliant murders in human +history for nothing." + +Flambeau went to the open door and heard the official police +ascending the stairs. He turned and said: "You must have followed +everything devilish close to have traced the crime to Kalon in ten +minutes." + +Father Brown gave a sort of start. + +"Oh! to him," he said. "No; I had to follow rather close to +find out about Miss Joan and the fountain pen. But I knew Kalon +was the criminal before I came into the front door." + +"You must be joking!" cried Flambeau. + +"I'm quite serious," answered the priest. "I tell you I knew +he had done it, even before I knew what he had done." + +"But why?" + +"These pagan stoics," said Brown reflectively, "always fail by +their strength. There came a crash and a scream down the street, +and the priest of Apollo did not start or look round. I did not +know what it was. But I knew that he was expecting it." + + + + The Sign of the Broken Sword + +The thousand arms of the forest were grey, and its million fingers +silver. In a sky of dark green-blue-like slate the stars were +bleak and brilliant like splintered ice. All that thickly wooded +and sparsely tenanted countryside was stiff with a bitter and +brittle frost. The black hollows between the trunks of the trees +looked like bottomless, black caverns of that Scandinavian hell, a +hell of incalculable cold. Even the square stone tower of the +church looked northern to the point of heathenry, as if it were +some barbaric tower among the sea rocks of Iceland. It was a +queer night for anyone to explore a churchyard. But, on the other +hand, perhaps it was worth exploring. + +It rose abruptly out of the ashen wastes of forest in a sort +of hump or shoulder of green turf that looked grey in the +starlight. Most of the graves were on a slant, and the path +leading up to the church was as steep as a staircase. On the top +of the hill, in the one flat and prominent place, was the monument +for which the place was famous. It contrasted strangely with the +featureless graves all round, for it was the work of one of the +greatest sculptors of modern Europe; and yet his fame was at once +forgotten in the fame of the man whose image he had made. It +showed, by touches of the small silver pencil of starlight, the +massive metal figure of a soldier recumbent, the strong hands +sealed in an everlasting worship, the great head pillowed upon a +gun. The venerable face was bearded, or rather whiskered, in the +old, heavy Colonel Newcome fashion. The uniform, though suggested +with the few strokes of simplicity, was that of modern war. By +his right side lay a sword, of which the tip was broken off; on +the left side lay a Bible. On glowing summer afternoons +wagonettes came full of Americans and cultured suburbans to see +the sepulchre; but even then they felt the vast forest land with +its one dumpy dome of churchyard and church as a place oddly dumb +and neglected. In this freezing darkness of mid-winter one would +think he might be left alone with the stars. Nevertheless, in the +stillness of those stiff woods a wooden gate creaked, and two dim +figures dressed in black climbed up the little path to the tomb. + +So faint was that frigid starlight that nothing could have +been traced about them except that while they both wore black, one +man was enormously big, and the other (perhaps by contrast) almost +startlingly small. They went up to the great graven tomb of the +historic warrior, and stood for a few minutes staring at it. +There was no human, perhaps no living, thing for a wide circle; +and a morbid fancy might well have wondered if they were human +themselves. In any case, the beginning of their conversation +might have seemed strange. After the first silence the small man +said to the other: + +"Where does a wise man hide a pebble?" + +And the tall man answered in a low voice: "On the beach." + +The small man nodded, and after a short silence said: "Where +does a wise man hide a leaf?" + +And the other answered: "In the forest." + +There was another stillness, and then the tall man resumed: +"Do you mean that when a wise man has to hide a real diamond he +has been known to hide it among sham ones?" + +"No, no," said the little man with a laugh, "we will let +bygones be bygones." + +He stamped his cold feet for a second or two, and then said: +"I'm not thinking of that at all, but of something else; something +rather peculiar. Just strike a match, will you?" + +The big man fumbled in his pocket, and soon a scratch and a +flare painted gold the whole flat side of the monument. On it was +cut in black letters the well-known words which so many Americans +had reverently read: "Sacred to the Memory of General Sir Arthur +St. Clare, Hero and Martyr, who Always Vanquished his Enemies and +Always Spared Them, and Was Treacherously Slain by Them At Last. +May God in Whom he Trusted both Reward and Revenge him." + +The match burnt the big man's fingers, blackened, and dropped. +He was about to strike another, but his small companion stopped +him. "That's all right, Flambeau, old man; I saw what I wanted. +Or, rather, I didn't see what I didn't want. And now we must walk +a mile and a half along the road to the next inn, and I will try +to tell you all about it. For Heaven knows a man should have a +fire and ale when he dares tell such a story." + +They descended the precipitous path, they relatched the rusty +gate, and set off at a stamping, ringing walk down the frozen +forest road. They had gone a full quarter of a mile before the +smaller man spoke again. He said: "Yes; the wise man hides a +pebble on the beach. But what does he do if there is no beach? +Do you know anything of that great St. Clare trouble?" + +"I know nothing about English generals, Father Brown," +answered the large man, laughing, "though a little about English +policemen. I only know that you have dragged me a precious long +dance to all the shrines of this fellow, whoever he is. One would +think he got buried in six different places. I've seen a memorial +to General St. Clare in Westminster Abbey. I've seen a ramping +equestrian statue of General St. Clare on the Embankment. I've +seen a medallion of St. Clare in the street he was born in, and +another in the street he lived in; and now you drag me after dark +to his coffin in the village churchyard. I am beginning to be a +bit tired of his magnificent personality, especially as I don't in +the least know who he was. What are you hunting for in all these +crypts and effigies?" + +"I am only looking for one word," said Father Brown. "A word +that isn't there." + +"Well," asked Flambeau; "are you going to tell me anything +about it?" + +"I must divide it into two parts," remarked the priest. +"First there is what everybody knows; and then there is what I +know. Now, what everybody knows is short and plain enough. It is +also entirely wrong." + +"Right you are," said the big man called Flambeau cheerfully. +"Let's begin at the wrong end. Let's begin with what everybody +knows, which isn't true." + +"If not wholly untrue, it is at least very inadequate," +continued Brown; "for in point of fact, all that the public knows +amounts precisely to this: The public knows that Arthur St. Clare +was a great and successful English general. It knows that after +splendid yet careful campaigns both in India and Africa he was in +command against Brazil when the great Brazilian patriot Olivier +issued his ultimatum. It knows that on that occasion St. Clare +with a very small force attacked Olivier with a very large one, +and was captured after heroic resistance. And it knows that after +his capture, and to the abhorrence of the civilised world, St. +Clare was hanged on the nearest tree. He was found swinging there +after the Brazilians had retired, with his broken sword hung round +his neck." + +"And that popular story is untrue?" suggested Flambeau. + +"No," said his friend quietly, "that story is quite true, so +far as it goes." + +"Well, I think it goes far enough!" said Flambeau; "but if the +popular story is true, what is the mystery?" + +They had passed many hundreds of grey and ghostly trees before +the little priest answered. Then he bit his finger reflectively +and said: "Why, the mystery is a mystery of psychology. Or, +rather, it is a mystery of two psychologies. In that Brazilian +business two of the most famous men of modern history acted flat +against their characters. Mind you, Olivier and St. Clare were +both heroes--the old thing, and no mistake; it was like the +fight between Hector and Achilles. Now, what would you say to an +affair in which Achilles was timid and Hector was treacherous?" + +"Go on," said the large man impatiently as the other bit his +finger again. + +"Sir Arthur St. Clare was a soldier of the old religious type +--the type that saved us during the Mutiny," continued Brown. +"He was always more for duty than for dash; and with all his +personal courage was decidedly a prudent commander, particularly +indignant at any needless waste of soldiers. Yet in this last +battle he attempted something that a baby could see was absurd. +One need not be a strategist to see it was as wild as wind; just +as one need not be a strategist to keep out of the way of a +motor-bus. Well, that is the first mystery; what had become of +the English general's head? The second riddle is, what had become +of the Brazilian general's heart? President Olivier might be +called a visionary or a nuisance; but even his enemies admitted +that he was magnanimous to the point of knight errantry. Almost +every other prisoner he had ever captured had been set free or +even loaded with benefits. Men who had really wronged him came +away touched by his simplicity and sweetness. Why the deuce +should he diabolically revenge himself only once in his life; and +that for the one particular blow that could not have hurt him? +Well, there you have it. One of the wisest men in the world acted +like an idiot for no reason. One of the best men in the world +acted like a fiend for no reason. That's the long and the short +of it; and I leave it to you, my boy." + +"No, you don't," said the other with a snort. "I leave it to +you; and you jolly well tell me all about it." + +"Well," resumed Father Brown, "it's not fair to say that the +public impression is just what I've said, without adding that two +things have happened since. I can't say they threw a new light; +for nobody can make sense of them. But they threw a new kind of +darkness; they threw the darkness in new directions. The first was +this. The family physician of the St. Clares quarrelled with that +family, and began publishing a violent series of articles, in which +he said that the late general was a religious maniac; but as far as +the tale went, this seemed to mean little more than a religious +man. + +"Anyhow, the story fizzled out. Everyone knew, of course, that St. +Clare had some of the eccentricities of puritan piety. The second +incident was much more arresting. In the luckless and unsupported +regiment which made that rash attempt at the Black River there was +a certain Captain Keith, who was at that time engaged to St. Clare's +daughter, and who afterwards married her. He was one of those who +were captured by Olivier, and, like all the rest except the general, +appears to have been bounteously treated and promptly set free. +Some twenty years afterwards this man, then Lieutenant-Colonel +Keith, published a sort of autobiography called `A British Officer +in Burmah and Brazil.' In the place where the reader looks eagerly +for some account of the mystery of St. Clare's disaster may be +found the following words: `Everywhere else in this book I have +narrated things exactly as they occurred, holding as I do the +old-fashioned opinion that the glory of England is old enough to +take care of itself. The exception I shall make is in this matter +of the defeat by the Black River; and my reasons, though private, +are honourable and compelling. I will, however, add this in +justice to the memories of two distinguished men. General St. +Clare has been accused of incapacity on this occasion; I can at +least testify that this action, properly understood, was one of +the most brilliant and sagacious of his life. President Olivier +by similar report is charged with savage injustice. I think it +due to the honour of an enemy to say that he acted on this +occasion with even more than his characteristic good feeling. +To put the matter popularly, I can assure my countrymen that St. +Clare was by no means such a fool nor Olivier such a brute as he +looked. This is all I have to say; nor shall any earthly +consideration induce me to add a word to it.'" + +A large frozen moon like a lustrous snowball began to show +through the tangle of twigs in front of them, and by its light the +narrator had been able to refresh his memory of Captain Keith's +text from a scrap of printed paper. As he folded it up and put it +back in his pocket Flambeau threw up his hand with a French +gesture. + +"Wait a bit, wait a bit," he cried excitedly. "I believe I +can guess it at the first go." + +He strode on, breathing hard, his black head and bull neck +forward, like a man winning a walking race. The little priest, +amused and interested, had some trouble in trotting beside him. +Just before them the trees fell back a little to left and right, +and the road swept downwards across a clear, moonlit valley, till +it dived again like a rabbit into the wall of another wood. The +entrance to the farther forest looked small and round, like the +black hole of a remote railway tunnel. But it was within some +hundred yards, and gaped like a cavern before Flambeau spoke +again. + +"I've got it," he cried at last, slapping his thigh with his +great hand. "Four minutes' thinking, and I can tell your whole +story myself." + +"All right," assented his friend. "You tell it." + +Flambeau lifted his head, but lowered his voice. "General Sir +Arthur St. Clare," he said, "came of a family in which madness was +hereditary; and his whole aim was to keep this from his daughter, +and even, if possible, from his future son-in-law. Rightly or +wrongly, he thought the final collapse was close, and resolved on +suicide. Yet ordinary suicide would blazon the very idea he +dreaded. As the campaign approached the clouds came thicker on +his brain; and at last in a mad moment he sacrificed his public +duty to his private. He rushed rashly into battle, hoping to fall +by the first shot. When he found that he had only attained +capture and discredit, the sealed bomb in his brain burst, and he +broke his own sword and hanged himself." + +He stared firmly at the grey facade of forest in front of him, +with the one black gap in it, like the mouth of the grave, into +which their path plunged. Perhaps something menacing in the road +thus suddenly swallowed reinforced his vivid vision of the tragedy, +for he shuddered. + +"A horrid story," he said. + +"A horrid story," repeated the priest with bent head. "But +not the real story." + +Then he threw back his head with a sort of despair and cried: +"Oh, I wish it had been." + +The tall Flambeau faced round and stared at him. + +"Yours is a clean story," cried Father Brown, deeply moved. +"A sweet, pure, honest story, as open and white as that moon. +Madness and despair are innocent enough. There are worse things, +Flambeau." + +Flambeau looked up wildly at the moon thus invoked; and from +where he stood one black tree-bough curved across it exactly like +a devil's horn. + +"Father--father," cried Flambeau with the French gesture +and stepping yet more rapidly forward, "do you mean it was worse +than that?" + +"Worse than that," said Paul like a grave echo. And they +plunged into the black cloister of the woodland, which ran by them +in a dim tapestry of trunks, like one of the dark corridors in a +dream. + +They were soon in the most secret entrails of the wood, and +felt close about them foliage that they could not see, when the +priest said again: + +"Where does a wise man hide a leaf? In the forest. But what +does he do if there is no forest?" + +"Well, well," cried Flambeau irritably, "what does he do?" + +"He grows a forest to hide it in," said the priest in an +obscure voice. "A fearful sin." + +"Look here," cried his friend impatiently, for the dark wood +and the dark saying got a little on his nerves; "will you tell +me this story or not? What other evidence is there to go on?" + +"There are three more bits of evidence," said the other, "that +I have dug up in holes and corners; and I will give them in logical +rather than chronological order. First of all, of course, our +authority for the issue and event of the battle is in Olivier's +own dispatches, which are lucid enough. He was entrenched with +two or three regiments on the heights that swept down to the Black +River, on the other side of which was lower and more marshy +ground. Beyond this again was gently rising country, on which was +the first English outpost, supported by others which lay, however, +considerably in its rear. The British forces as a whole were +greatly superior in numbers; but this particular regiment was just +far enough from its base to make Olivier consider the project of +crossing the river to cut it off. By sunset, however, he had +decided to retain his own position, which was a specially strong +one. At daybreak next morning he was thunderstruck to see that +this stray handful of English, entirely unsupported from their +rear, had flung themselves across the river, half by a bridge to +the right, and the other half by a ford higher up, and were massed +upon the marshy bank below him. + +"That they should attempt an attack with such numbers against +such a position was incredible enough; but Olivier noticed +something yet more extraordinary. For instead of attempting to +seize more solid ground, this mad regiment, having put the river +in its rear by one wild charge, did nothing more, but stuck there +in the mire like flies in treacle. Needless to say, the Brazilians +blew great gaps in them with artillery, which they could only +return with spirited but lessening rifle fire. Yet they never +broke; and Olivier's curt account ends with a strong tribute of +admiration for the mystic valour of these imbeciles. `Our line +then advanced finally,' writes Olivier, `and drove them into the +river; we captured General St. Clare himself and several other +officers. The colonel and the major had both fallen in the battle. +I cannot resist saying that few finer sights can have been seen in +history than the last stand of this extraordinary regiment; wounded +officers picking up the rifles of dead soldiers, and the general +himself facing us on horseback bareheaded and with a broken sword.' +On what happened to the general afterwards Olivier is as silent as +Captain Keith." + +"Well," grunted Flambeau, "get on to the next bit of evidence." + +"The next evidence," said Father Brown, "took some time to +find, but it will not take long to tell. I found at last in an +almshouse down in the Lincolnshire Fens an old soldier who not +only was wounded at the Black River, but had actually knelt beside +the colonel of the regiment when he died. This latter was a +certain Colonel Clancy, a big bull of an Irishman; and it would +seem that he died almost as much of rage as of bullets. He, at +any rate, was not responsible for that ridiculous raid; it must +have been imposed on him by the general. His last edifying words, +according to my informant, were these: `And there goes the damned +old donkey with the end of his sword knocked off. I wish it was +his head.' You will remark that everyone seems to have noticed +this detail about the broken sword blade, though most people +regard it somewhat more reverently than did the late Colonel +Clancy. And now for the third fragment." + +Their path through the woodland began to go upward, and the +speaker paused a little for breath before he went on. Then he +continued in the same business-like tone: + +"Only a month or two ago a certain Brazilian official died in +England, having quarrelled with Olivier and left his country. He +was a well-known figure both here and on the Continent, a Spaniard +named Espado; I knew him myself, a yellow-faced old dandy, with a +hooked nose. For various private reasons I had permission to see +the documents he had left; he was a Catholic, of course, and I had +been with him towards the end. There was nothing of his that lit +up any corner of the black St. Clare business, except five or six +common exercise books filled with the diary of some English +soldier. I can only suppose that it was found by the Brazilians +on one of those that fell. Anyhow, it stopped abruptly the night +before the battle. + +"But the account of that last day in the poor fellow's life +was certainly worth reading. I have it on me; but it's too dark +to read it here, and I will give you a resume. The first part of +that entry is full of jokes, evidently flung about among the men, +about somebody called the Vulture. It does not seem as if this +person, whoever he was, was one of themselves, nor even an +Englishman; neither is he exactly spoken of as one of the enemy. +It sounds rather as if he were some local go-between and +non-combatant; perhaps a guide or a journalist. He has been +closeted with old Colonel Clancy; but is more often seen talking +to the major. Indeed, the major is somewhat prominent in this +soldier's narrative; a lean, dark-haired man, apparently, of the +name of Murray--a north of Ireland man and a Puritan. There are +continual jests about the contrast between this Ulsterman's +austerity and the conviviality of Colonel Clancy. There is also +some joke about the Vulture wearing bright-coloured clothes. + +"But all these levities are scattered by what may well be +called the note of a bugle. Behind the English camp and almost +parallel to the river ran one of the few great roads of that +district. Westward the road curved round towards the river, which +it crossed by the bridge before mentioned. To the east the road +swept backwards into the wilds, and some two miles along it was +the next English outpost. From this direction there came along +the road that evening a glitter and clatter of light cavalry, in +which even the simple diarist could recognise with astonishment +the general with his staff. He rode the great white horse which +you have seen so often in illustrated papers and Academy pictures; +and you may be sure that the salute they gave him was not merely +ceremonial. He, at least, wasted no time on ceremony, but, +springing from the saddle immediately, mixed with the group of +officers, and fell into emphatic though confidential speech. What +struck our friend the diarist most was his special disposition to +discuss matters with Major Murray; but, indeed, such a selection, +so long as it was not marked, was in no way unnatural. The two +men were made for sympathy; they were men who `read their Bibles'; +they were both the old Evangelical type of officer. However this +may be, it is certain that when the general mounted again he was +still talking earnestly to Murray; and that as he walked his horse +slowly down the road towards the river, the tall Ulsterman still +walked by his bridle rein in earnest debate. The soldiers watched +the two until they vanished behind a clump of trees where the road +turned towards the river. The colonel had gone back to his tent, +and the men to their pickets; the man with the diary lingered for +another four minutes, and saw a marvellous sight. + +"The great white horse which had marched slowly down the road, +as it had marched in so many processions, flew back, galloping up +the road towards them as if it were mad to win a race. At first +they thought it had run away with the man on its back; but they +soon saw that the general, a fine rider, was himself urging it to +full speed. Horse and man swept up to them like a whirlwind; and +then, reining up the reeling charger, the general turned on them a +face like flame, and called for the colonel like the trumpet that +wakes the dead. + +"I conceive that all the earthquake events of that catastrophe +tumbled on top of each other rather like lumber in the minds of +men such as our friend with the diary. With the dazed excitement +of a dream, they found themselves falling--literally falling-- +into their ranks, and learned that an attack was to be led at once +across the river. The general and the major, it was said, had +found out something at the bridge, and there was only just time to +strike for life. The major had gone back at once to call up the +reserve along the road behind; it was doubtful if even with that +prompt appeal help could reach them in time. But they must pass +the stream that night, and seize the heights by morning. It is +with the very stir and throb of that romantic nocturnal march that +the diary suddenly ends." + +Father Brown had mounted ahead; for the woodland path grew +smaller, steeper, and more twisted, till they felt as if they were +ascending a winding staircase. The priest's voice came from above +out of the darkness. + +"There was one other little and enormous thing. When the +general urged them to their chivalric charge he half drew his +sword from the scabbard; and then, as if ashamed of such +melodrama, thrust it back again. The sword again, you see." + +A half-light broke through the network of boughs above them, +flinging the ghost of a net about their feet; for they were +mounting again to the faint luminosity of the naked night. +Flambeau felt truth all round him as an atmosphere, but not as an +idea. He answered with bewildered brain: "Well, what's the matter +with the sword? Officers generally have swords, don't they?" + +"They are not often mentioned in modern war," said the other +dispassionately; "but in this affair one falls over the blessed +sword everywhere." + +"Well, what is there in that?" growled Flambeau; "it was a +twopence coloured sort of incident; the old man's blade breaking +in his last battle. Anyone might bet the papers would get hold of +it, as they have. On all these tombs and things it's shown broken +at the point. I hope you haven't dragged me through this Polar +expedition merely because two men with an eye for a picture saw +St. Clare's broken sword." + +"No," cried Father Brown, with a sharp voice like a pistol +shot; "but who saw his unbroken sword?" + +"What do you mean?" cried the other, and stood still under the +stars. They had come abruptly out of the grey gates of the wood. + +"I say, who saw his unbroken sword?" repeated Father Brown +obstinately. "Not the writer of the diary, anyhow; the general +sheathed it in time." + +Flambeau looked about him in the moonlight, as a man struck +blind might look in the sun; and his friend went on, for the first +time with eagerness: + +"Flambeau," he cried, "I cannot prove it, even after hunting +through the tombs. But I am sure of it. Let me add just one more +tiny fact that tips the whole thing over. The colonel, by a +strange chance, was one of the first struck by a bullet. He was +struck long before the troops came to close quarters. But he saw +St. Clare's sword broken. Why was it broken? How was it broken? +My friend, it was broken before the battle." + +"Oh!" said his friend, with a sort of forlorn jocularity; "and +pray where is the other piece?" + +"I can tell you," said the priest promptly. "In the northeast +corner of the cemetery of the Protestant Cathedral at Belfast." + +"Indeed?" inquired the other. "Have you looked for it?" + +"I couldn't," replied Brown, with frank regret. "There's a +great marble monument on top of it; a monument to the heroic Major +Murray, who fell fighting gloriously at the famous Battle of the +Black River." + +Flambeau seemed suddenly galvanised into existence. "You +mean," he cried hoarsely, "that General St. Clare hated Murray, +and murdered him on the field of battle because--" + +"You are still full of good and pure thoughts," said the +other. "It was worse than that." + +"Well," said the large man, "my stock of evil imagination is +used up." + +The priest seemed really doubtful where to begin, and at last +he said again: + +"Where would a wise man hide a leaf? In the forest." + +The other did not answer. + +"If there were no forest, he would make a forest. And if he +wished to hide a dead leaf, he would make a dead forest." + +There was still no reply, and the priest added still more +mildly and quietly: + +"And if a man had to hide a dead body, he would make a field +of dead bodies to hide it in." + +Flambeau began to stamp forward with an intolerance of delay +in time or space; but Father Brown went on as if he were continuing +the last sentence: + +"Sir Arthur St. Clare, as I have already said, was a man who +read his Bible. That was what was the matter with him. When will +people understand that it is useless for a man to read his Bible +unless he also reads everybody else's Bible? A printer reads a +Bible for misprints. A Mormon reads his Bible, and finds polygamy; +a Christian Scientist reads his, and finds we have no arms and +legs. St. Clare was an old Anglo-Indian Protestant soldier. Now, +just think what that might mean; and, for Heaven's sake, don't +cant about it. It might mean a man physically formidable living +under a tropic sun in an Oriental society, and soaking himself +without sense or guidance in an Oriental Book. Of course, he read +the Old Testament rather than the New. Of course, he found in the +Old Testament anything that he wanted--lust, tyranny, treason. +Oh, I dare say he was honest, as you call it. But what is the +good of a man being honest in his worship of dishonesty? + +"In each of the hot and secret countries to which the man went +he kept a harem, he tortured witnesses, he amassed shameful gold; +but certainly he would have said with steady eyes that he did it +to the glory of the Lord. My own theology is sufficiently +expressed by asking which Lord? Anyhow, there is this about such +evil, that it opens door after door in hell, and always into +smaller and smaller chambers. This is the real case against crime, +that a man does not become wilder and wilder, but only meaner and +meaner. St. Clare was soon suffocated by difficulties of bribery +and blackmail; and needed more and more cash. And by the time of +the Battle of the Black River he had fallen from world to world to +that place which Dante makes the lowest floor of the universe." + +"What do you mean?" asked his friend again. + +"I mean that," retorted the cleric, and suddenly pointed at a +puddle sealed with ice that shone in the moon. "Do you remember +whom Dante put in the last circle of ice?" + +"The traitors," said Flambeau, and shuddered. As he looked +around at the inhuman landscape of trees, with taunting and almost +obscene outlines, he could almost fancy he was Dante, and the +priest with the rivulet of a voice was, indeed, a Virgil leading +him through a land of eternal sins. + +The voice went on: "Olivier, as you know, was quixotic, and +would not permit a secret service and spies. The thing, however, +was done, like many other things, behind his back. It was managed +by my old friend Espado; he was the bright-clad fop, whose hook +nose got him called the Vulture. Posing as a sort of +philanthropist at the front, he felt his way through the English +Army, and at last got his fingers on its one corrupt man--please +God!--and that man at the top. St. Clare was in foul need of +money, and mountains of it. The discredited family doctor was +threatening those extraordinary exposures that afterwards began +and were broken off; tales of monstrous and prehistoric things in +Park Lane; things done by an English Evangelist that smelt like +human sacrifice and hordes of slaves. Money was wanted, too, for +his daughter's dowry; for to him the fame of wealth was as sweet +as wealth itself. He snapped the last thread, whispered the word +to Brazil, and wealth poured in from the enemies of England. But +another man had talked to Espado the Vulture as well as he. +Somehow the dark, grim young major from Ulster had guessed the +hideous truth; and when they walked slowly together down that road +towards the bridge Murray was telling the general that he must +resign instantly, or be court-martialled and shot. The general +temporised with him till they came to the fringe of tropic trees +by the bridge; and there by the singing river and the sunlit palms +(for I can see the picture) the general drew his sabre and plunged +it through the body of the major." + +The wintry road curved over a ridge in cutting frost, with +cruel black shapes of bush and thicket; but Flambeau fancied that +he saw beyond it faintly the edge of an aureole that was not +starlight and moonlight, but some fire such as is made by men. He +watched it as the tale drew to its close. + +"St. Clare was a hell-hound, but he was a hound of breed. +Never, I'll swear, was he so lucid and so strong as when poor +Murray lay a cold lump at his feet. Never in all his triumphs, as +Captain Keith said truly, was the great man so great as he was in +this last world-despised defeat. He looked coolly at his weapon +to wipe off the blood; he saw the point he had planted between his +victim's shoulders had broken off in the body. He saw quite +calmly, as through a club windowpane, all that must follow. He +saw that men must find the unaccountable corpse; must extract the +unaccountable sword-point; must notice the unaccountable broken +sword--or absence of sword. He had killed, but not silenced. +But his imperious intellect rose against the facer; there was one +way yet. He could make the corpse less unaccountable. He could +create a hill of corpses to cover this one. In twenty minutes +eight hundred English soldiers were marching down to their death." + +The warmer glow behind the black winter wood grew richer and +brighter, and Flambeau strode on to reach it. Father Brown also +quickened his stride; but he seemed merely absorbed in his tale. + +"Such was the valour of that English thousand, and such the +genius of their commander, that if they had at once attacked the +hill, even their mad march might have met some luck. But the evil +mind that played with them like pawns had other aims and reasons. +They must remain in the marshes by the bridge at least till British +corpses should be a common sight there. Then for the last grand +scene; the silver-haired soldier-saint would give up his shattered +sword to save further slaughter. Oh, it was well organised for an +impromptu. But I think (I cannot prove), I think that it was +while they stuck there in the bloody mire that someone doubted-- +and someone guessed." + +He was mute a moment, and then said: "There is a voice from +nowhere that tells me the man who guessed was the lover ... the +man to wed the old man's child." + +"But what about Olivier and the hanging?" asked Flambeau. + +"Olivier, partly from chivalry, partly from policy, seldom +encumbered his march with captives," explained the narrator. "He +released everybody in most cases. He released everybody in this +case." + +"Everybody but the general," said the tall man. + +"Everybody," said the priest. + +Flambeau knit his black brows. "I don't grasp it all yet," he +said. + +"There is another picture, Flambeau," said Brown in his more +mystical undertone. "I can't prove it; but I can do more--I can +see it. There is a camp breaking up on the bare, torrid hills at +morning, and Brazilian uniforms massed in blocks and columns to +march. There is the red shirt and long black beard of Olivier, +which blows as he stands, his broad-brimmed hat in his hand. He +is saying farewell to the great enemy he is setting free--the +simple, snow-headed English veteran, who thanks him in the name of +his men. The English remnant stand behind at attention; beside +them are stores and vehicles for the retreat. The drums roll; the +Brazilians are moving; the English are still like statues. So +they abide till the last hum and flash of the enemy have faded +from the tropic horizon. Then they alter their postures all at +once, like dead men coming to life; they turn their fifty faces +upon the general--faces not to be forgotten." + +Flambeau gave a great jump. "Ah," he cried, "you don't mean--" + +"Yes," said Father Brown in a deep, moving voice. "It was an +English hand that put the rope round St. Clare's neck; I believe +the hand that put the ring on his daughter's finger. They were +English hands that dragged him up to the tree of shame; the hands +of men that had adored him and followed him to victory. And they +were English souls (God pardon and endure us all!) who stared at +him swinging in that foreign sun on the green gallows of palm, and +prayed in their hatred that he might drop off it into hell." + +As the two topped the ridge there burst on them the strong +scarlet light of a red-curtained English inn. It stood sideways +in the road, as if standing aside in the amplitude of hospitality. +Its three doors stood open with invitation; and even where they +stood they could hear the hum and laughter of humanity happy for a +night. + +"I need not tell you more," said Father Brown. "They tried +him in the wilderness and destroyed him; and then, for the honour +of England and of his daughter, they took an oath to seal up for +ever the story of the traitor's purse and the assassin's sword +blade. Perhaps--Heaven help them--they tried to forget it. +Let us try to forget it, anyhow; here is our inn." + +"With all my heart," said Flambeau, and was just striding into +the bright, noisy bar when he stepped back and almost fell on the +road. + +"Look there, in the devil's name!" he cried, and pointed +rigidly at the square wooden sign that overhung the road. It +showed dimly the crude shape of a sabre hilt and a shortened +blade; and was inscribed in false archaic lettering, "The Sign of +the Broken Sword." + +"Were you not prepared?" asked Father Brown gently. "He is +the god of this country; half the inns and parks and streets are +named after him and his story." + +"I thought we had done with the leper," cried Flambeau, and +spat on the road. + +"You will never have done with him in England," said the +priest, looking down, "while brass is strong and stone abides. +His marble statues will erect the souls of proud, innocent boys +for centuries, his village tomb will smell of loyalty as of lilies. +Millions who never knew him shall love him like a father--this +man whom the last few that knew him dealt with like dung. He shall +be a saint; and the truth shall never be told of him, because I +have made up my mind at last. There is so much good and evil in +breaking secrets, that I put my conduct to a test. All these +newspapers will perish; the anti-Brazil boom is already over; +Olivier is already honoured everywhere. But I told myself that if +anywhere, by name, in metal or marble that will endure like the +pyramids, Colonel Clancy, or Captain Keith, or President Olivier, +or any innocent man was wrongly blamed, then I would speak. If it +were only that St. Clare was wrongly praised, I would be silent. +And I will." + +They plunged into the red-curtained tavern, which was not only +cosy, but even luxurious inside. On a table stood a silver model +of the tomb of St. Clare, the silver head bowed, the silver sword +broken. On the walls were coloured photographs of the same scene, +and of the system of wagonettes that took tourists to see it. +They sat down on the comfortable padded benches. + +"Come, it's cold," cried Father Brown; "let's have some wine +or beer." + +"Or brandy," said Flambeau. + + + + The Three Tools of Death + +Both by calling and conviction Father Brown knew better than most +of us, that every man is dignified when he is dead. But even he +felt a pang of incongruity when he was knocked up at daybreak and +told that Sir Aaron Armstrong had been murdered. There was +something absurd and unseemly about secret violence in connection +with so entirely entertaining and popular a figure. For Sir Aaron +Armstrong was entertaining to the point of being comic; and +popular in such a manner as to be almost legendary. It was like +hearing that Sunny Jim had hanged himself; or that Mr. Pickwick +had died in Hanwell. For though Sir Aaron was a philanthropist, +and thus dealt with the darker side of our society, he prided +himself on dealing with it in the brightest possible style. His +political and social speeches were cataracts of anecdotes and +"loud laughter"; his bodily health was of a bursting sort; his +ethics were all optimism; and he dealt with the Drink problem (his +favourite topic) with that immortal or even monotonous gaiety +which is so often a mark of the prosperous total abstainer. + +The established story of his conversion was familiar on the +more puritanic platforms and pulpits, how he had been, when only a +boy, drawn away from Scotch theology to Scotch whisky, and how he +had risen out of both and become (as he modestly put it) what he +was. Yet his wide white beard, cherubic face, and sparkling +spectacles, at the numberless dinners and congresses where they +appeared, made it hard to believe, somehow, that he had ever been +anything so morbid as either a dram-drinker or a Calvinist. He +was, one felt, the most seriously merry of all the sons of men. + +He had lived on the rural skirt of Hampstead in a handsome +house, high but not broad, a modern and prosaic tower. The +narrowest of its narrow sides overhung the steep green bank of a +railway, and was shaken by passing trains. Sir Aaron Armstrong, +as he boisterously explained, had no nerves. But if the train had +often given a shock to the house, that morning the tables were +turned, and it was the house that gave a shock to the train. + +The engine slowed down and stopped just beyond that point +where an angle of the house impinged upon the sharp slope of turf. +The arrest of most mechanical things must be slow; but the living +cause of this had been very rapid. A man clad completely in +black, even (it was remembered) to the dreadful detail of black +gloves, appeared on the ridge above the engine, and waved his +black hands like some sable windmill. This in itself would hardly +have stopped even a lingering train. But there came out of him a +cry which was talked of afterwards as something utterly unnatural +and new. It was one of those shouts that are horridly distinct +even when we cannot hear what is shouted. The word in this case +was "Murder!" + +But the engine-driver swears he would have pulled up just the +same if he had heard only the dreadful and definite accent and not +the word. + +The train once arrested, the most superficial stare could take +in many features of the tragedy. The man in black on the green +bank was Sir Aaron Armstrong's man-servant Magnus. The baronet in +his optimism had often laughed at the black gloves of this dismal +attendant; but no one was likely to laugh at him just now. + +So soon as an inquirer or two had stepped off the line and +across the smoky hedge, they saw, rolled down almost to the bottom +of the bank, the body of an old man in a yellow dressing-gown with +a very vivid scarlet lining. A scrap of rope seemed caught about +his leg, entangled presumably in a struggle. There was a smear or +so of blood, though very little; but the body was bent or broken +into a posture impossible to any living thing. It was Sir Aaron +Armstrong. A few more bewildered moments brought out a big +fair-bearded man, whom some travellers could salute as the dead +man's secretary, Patrick Royce, once well known in Bohemian +society and even famous in the Bohemian arts. In a manner more +vague, but even more convincing, he echoed the agony of the +servant. By the time the third figure of that household, Alice +Armstrong, daughter of the dead man, had come already tottering +and waving into the garden, the engine-driver had put a stop to +his stoppage. The whistle had blown and the train had panted on +to get help from the next station. + +Father Brown had been thus rapidly summoned at the request of +Patrick Royce, the big ex-Bohemian secretary. Royce was an +Irishman by birth; and that casual kind of Catholic that never +remembers his religion until he is really in a hole. But Royce's +request might have been less promptly complied with if one of the +official detectives had not been a friend and admirer of the +unofficial Flambeau; and it was impossible to be a friend of +Flambeau without hearing numberless stories about Father Brown. +Hence, while the young detective (whose name was Merton) led the +little priest across the fields to the railway, their talk was more +confidential than could be expected between two total strangers. + +"As far as I can see," said Mr. Merton candidly, "there is no +sense to be made of it at all. There is nobody one can suspect. +Magnus is a solemn old fool; far too much of a fool to be an +assassin. Royce has been the baronet's best friend for years; and +his daughter undoubtedly adored him. Besides, it's all too absurd. +Who would kill such a cheery old chap as Armstrong? Who could dip +his hands in the gore of an after-dinner speaker? It would be +like killing Father Christmas." + +"Yes, it was a cheery house," assented Father Brown. "It was +a cheery house while he was alive. Do you think it will be cheery +now he is dead?" + +Merton started a little and regarded his companion with an +enlivened eye. "Now he is dead?" he repeated. + +"Yes," continued the priest stolidly, "he was cheerful. But +did he communicate his cheerfulness? Frankly, was anyone else in +the house cheerful but he?" + +A window in Merton's mind let in that strange light of surprise +in which we see for the first time things we have known all along. +He had often been to the Armstrongs', on little police jobs of the +philanthropist; and, now he came to think of it, it was in itself +a depressing house. The rooms were very high and very cold; the +decoration mean and provincial; the draughty corridors were lit by +electricity that was bleaker than moonlight. And though the old +man's scarlet face and silver beard had blazed like a bonfire in +each room or passage in turn, it did not leave any warmth behind +it. Doubtless this spectral discomfort in the place was partly +due to the very vitality and exuberance of its owner; he needed no +stoves or lamps, he would say, but carried his own warmth with +him. But when Merton recalled the other inmates, he was compelled +to confess that they also were as shadows of their lord. The +moody man-servant, with his monstrous black gloves, was almost a +nightmare; Royce, the secretary, was solid enough, a big bull of a +man, in tweeds, with a short beard; but the straw-coloured beard +was startlingly salted with grey like the tweeds, and the broad +forehead was barred with premature wrinkles. He was good-natured +enough also, but it was a sad sort of good-nature, almost a +heart-broken sort--he had the general air of being some sort of +failure in life. As for Armstrong's daughter, it was almost +incredible that she was his daughter; she was so pallid in colour +and sensitive in outline. She was graceful, but there was a +quiver in the very shape of her that was like the lines of an +aspen. Merton had sometimes wondered if she had learnt to quail +at the crash of the passing trains. + +"You see," said Father Brown, blinking modestly, "I'm not sure +that the Armstrong cheerfulness is so very cheerful--for other +people. You say that nobody could kill such a happy old man, but +I'm not sure; ne nos inducas in tentationem. If ever I murdered +somebody," he added quite simply, "I dare say it might be an +Optimist." + +"Why?" cried Merton amused. "Do you think people dislike +cheerfulness?" + +"People like frequent laughter," answered Father Brown, "but I +don't think they like a permanent smile. Cheerfulness without +humour is a very trying thing." + +They walked some way in silence along the windy grassy bank by +the rail, and just as they came under the far-flung shadow of the +tall Armstrong house, Father Brown said suddenly, like a man +throwing away a troublesome thought rather than offering it +seriously: "Of course, drink is neither good nor bad in itself. +But I can't help sometimes feeling that men like Armstrong want an +occasional glass of wine to sadden them." + +Merton's official superior, a grizzled and capable detective +named Gilder, was standing on the green bank waiting for the +coroner, talking to Patrick Royce, whose big shoulders and bristly +beard and hair towered above him. This was the more noticeable +because Royce walked always with a sort of powerful stoop, and +seemed to be going about his small clerical and domestic duties in +a heavy and humbled style, like a buffalo drawing a go-cart. + +He raised his head with unusual pleasure at the sight of the +priest, and took him a few paces apart. Meanwhile Merton was +addressing the older detective respectfully indeed, but not +without a certain boyish impatience. + +"Well, Mr. Gilder, have you got much farther with the mystery?" + +"There is no mystery," replied Gilder, as he looked under +dreamy eyelids at the rooks. + +"Well, there is for me, at any rate," said Merton, smiling. + +"It is simple enough, my boy," observed the senior +investigator, +stroking his grey, pointed beard. "Three minutes after you'd gone +for Mr. Royce's parson the whole thing came out. You know that +pasty-faced servant in the black gloves who stopped the train?" + +"I should know him anywhere. Somehow he rather gave me the +creeps." + +"Well," drawled Gilder, "when the train had gone on again, +that man had gone too. Rather a cool criminal, don't you think, +to escape by the very train that went off for the police?" + +"You're pretty sure, I suppose," remarked the young man, "that +he really did kill his master?" + +"Yes, my son, I'm pretty sure," replied Gilder drily, "for the +trifling reason that he has gone off with twenty thousand pounds +in papers that were in his master's desk. No, the only thing +worth calling a difficulty is how he killed him. The skull seems +broken as with some big weapon, but there's no weapon at all lying +about, and the murderer would have found it awkward to carry it +away, unless the weapon was too small to be noticed." + +"Perhaps the weapon was too big to be noticed," said the +priest, with an odd little giggle. + +Gilder looked round at this wild remark, and rather sternly +asked Brown what he meant. + +"Silly way of putting it, I know," said Father Brown +apologetically. "Sounds like a fairy tale. But poor Armstrong +was killed with a giant's club, a great green club, too big to be +seen, and which we call the earth. He was broken against this +green bank we are standing on." + +"How do you mean?" asked the detective quickly. + +Father Brown turned his moon face up to the narrow facade of +the house and blinked hopelessly up. Following his eyes, they saw +that right at the top of this otherwise blind back quarter of the +building, an attic window stood open. + +"Don't you see," he explained, pointing a little awkwardly +like a child, "he was thrown down from there?" + +Gilder frowningly scrutinised the window, and then said: +"Well, it is certainly possible. But I don't see why you are so +sure about it." + +Brown opened his grey eyes wide. "Why," he said, "there's a +bit of rope round the dead man's leg. Don't you see that other +bit of rope up there caught at the corner of the window?" + +At that height the thing looked like the faintest particle of +dust or hair, but the shrewd old investigator was satisfied. +"You're quite right, sir," he said to Father Brown; "that is +certainly one to you." + +Almost as he spoke a special train with one carriage took the +curve of the line on their left, and, stopping, disgorged another +group of policemen, in whose midst was the hangdog visage of +Magnus, the absconded servant. + +"By Jove! they've got him," cried Gilder, and stepped forward +with quite a new alertness. + +"Have you got the money!" he cried to the first policeman. + +The man looked him in the face with a rather curious expression +and said: "No." Then he added: "At least, not here." + +"Which is the inspector, please?" asked the man called Magnus. + +When he spoke everyone instantly understood how this voice had +stopped a train. He was a dull-looking man with flat black hair, +a colourless face, and a faint suggestion of the East in the level +slits in his eyes and mouth. His blood and name, indeed, had +remained dubious, ever since Sir Aaron had "rescued" him from a +waitership in a London restaurant, and (as some said) from more +infamous things. But his voice was as vivid as his face was dead. +Whether through exactitude in a foreign language, or in deference +to his master (who had been somewhat deaf), Magnus's tones had a +peculiarly ringing and piercing quality, and the whole group quite +jumped when he spoke. + +"I always knew this would happen," he said aloud with brazen +blandness. "My poor old master made game of me for wearing black; +but I always said I should be ready for his funeral." + +And he made a momentary movement with his two dark-gloved +hands. + +"Sergeant," said Inspector Gilder, eyeing the black hands with +wrath, "aren't you putting the bracelets on this fellow; he looks +pretty dangerous." + +"Well, sir," said the sergeant, with the same odd look of +wonder, "I don't know that we can." + +"What do you mean?" asked the other sharply. "Haven't you +arrested him?" + +A faint scorn widened the slit-like mouth, and the whistle of +an approaching train seemed oddly to echo the mockery. + +"We arrested him," replied the sergeant gravely, "just as he +was coming out of the police station at Highgate, where he had +deposited all his master's money in the care of Inspector +Robinson." + +Gilder looked at the man-servant in utter amazement. "Why on +earth did you do that?" he asked of Magnus. + +"To keep it safe from the criminal, of course," replied that +person placidly. + +"Surely," said Gilder, "Sir Aaron's money might have been +safely left with Sir Aaron's family." + +The tail of his sentence was drowned in the roar of the train +as it went rocking and clanking; but through all the hell of +noises to which that unhappy house was periodically subject, they +could hear the syllables of Magnus's answer, in all their +bell-like distinctness: "I have no reason to feel confidence in +Sir Aaron's family." + +All the motionless men had the ghostly sensation of the +presence of some new person; and Merton was scarcely surprised +when he looked up and saw the pale face of Armstrong's daughter +over Father Brown's shoulder. She was still young and beautiful +in a silvery style, but her hair was of so dusty and hueless a +brown that in some shadows it seemed to have turned totally grey. + +"Be careful what you say," said Royce gruffly, "you'll +frighten Miss Armstrong." + +"I hope so," said the man with the clear voice. + +As the woman winced and everyone else wondered, he went on: +"I am somewhat used to Miss Armstrong's tremors. I have seen her +trembling off and on for years. And some said she was shaking +with cold and some she was shaking with fear, but I know she was +shaking with hate and wicked anger--fiends that have had their +feast this morning. She would have been away by now with her +lover and all the money but for me. Ever since my poor old master +prevented her from marrying that tipsy blackguard--" + +"Stop," said Gilder very sternly. "We have nothing to do with +your family fancies or suspicions. Unless you have some practical +evidence, your mere opinions--" + +"Oh! I'll give you practical evidence," cut in Magnus, in his +hacking accent. "You'll have to subpoena me, Mr. Inspector, and I +shall have to tell the truth. And the truth is this: An instant +after the old man was pitched bleeding out of the window, I ran +into the attic, and found his daughter swooning on the floor with +a red dagger still in her hand. Allow me to hand that also to the +proper authorities." He took from his tail-pocket a long +horn-hilted knife with a red smear on it, and handed it politely +to the sergeant. Then he stood back again, and his slits of eyes +almost faded from his face in one fat Chinese sneer. + +Merton felt an almost bodily sickness at the sight of him; and +he muttered to Gilder: "Surely you would take Miss Armstrong's +word against his?" + +Father Brown suddenly lifted a face so absurdly fresh that it +looked somehow as if he had just washed it. "Yes," he said, +radiating innocence, "but is Miss Armstrong's word against his?" + +The girl uttered a startled, singular little cry; everyone +looked at her. Her figure was rigid as if paralysed; only her +face within its frame of faint brown hair was alive with an +appalling surprise. She stood like one of a sudden lassooed and +throttled. + +"This man," said Mr. Gilder gravely, "actually says that you +were found grasping a knife, insensible, after the murder." + +"He says the truth," answered Alice. + +The next fact of which they were conscious was that Patrick +Royce strode with his great stooping head into their ring and +uttered the singular words: "Well, if I've got to go, I'll have a +bit of pleasure first." + +His huge shoulder heaved and he sent an iron fist smash into +Magnus's bland Mongolian visage, laying him on the lawn as flat as +a starfish. Two or three of the police instantly put their hands +on Royce; but to the rest it seemed as if all reason had broken up +and the universe were turning into a brainless harlequinade. + +"None of that, Mr. Royce," Gilder had called out +authoritatively. +"I shall arrest you for assault." + +"No, you won't," answered the secretary in a voice like an +iron gong, "you will arrest me for murder." + +Gilder threw an alarmed glance at the man knocked down; but +since that outraged person was already sitting up and wiping a +little blood off a substantially uninjured face, he only said +shortly: "What do you mean?" + +"It is quite true, as this fellow says," explained Royce, +"that Miss Armstrong fainted with a knife in her hand. But she +had not snatched the knife to attack her father, but to defend +him." + +"To defend him," repeated Gilder gravely. "Against whom?" + +"Against me," answered the secretary. + +Alice looked at him with a complex and baffling face; then she +said in a low voice: "After it all, I am still glad you are brave." + +"Come upstairs," said Patrick Royce heavily, "and I will show +you the whole cursed thing." + +The attic, which was the secretary's private place (and rather +a small cell for so large a hermit), had indeed all the vestiges +of a violent drama. Near the centre of the floor lay a large +revolver as if flung away; nearer to the left was rolled a whisky +bottle, open but not quite empty. The cloth of the little table +lay dragged and trampled, and a length of cord, like that found on +the corpse, was cast wildly across the windowsill. Two vases were +smashed on the mantelpiece and one on the carpet. + +"I was drunk," said Royce; and this simplicity in the +prematurely battered man somehow had the pathos of the first sin +of a baby. + +"You all know about me," he continued huskily; "everybody +knows how my story began, and it may as well end like that too. +I was called a clever man once, and might have been a happy one; +Armstrong saved the remains of a brain and body from the taverns, +and was always kind to me in his own way, poor fellow! Only he +wouldn't let me marry Alice here; and it will always be said that +he was right enough. Well, you can form your own conclusions, and +you won't want me to go into details. That is my whisky bottle +half emptied in the corner; that is my revolver quite emptied on +the carpet. It was the rope from my box that was found on the +corpse, and it was from my window the corpse was thrown. You need +not set detectives to grub up my tragedy; it is a common enough +weed in this world. I give myself to the gallows; and, by God, +that is enough!" + +At a sufficiently delicate sign, the police gathered round +the large man to lead him away; but their unobtrusiveness was +somewhat staggered by the remarkable appearance of Father Brown, +who was on his hands and knees on the carpet in the doorway, as +if engaged in some kind of undignified prayers. Being a person +utterly insensible to the social figure he cut, he remained in +this posture, but turned a bright round face up at the company, +presenting the appearance of a quadruped with a very comic human +head. + +"I say," he said good-naturedly, "this really won't do at all, +you know. At the beginning you said we'd found no weapon. But +now we're finding too many; there's the knife to stab, and the +rope to strangle, and the pistol to shoot; and after all he broke +his neck by falling out of a window! It won't do. It's not +economical." And he shook his head at the ground as a horse does +grazing. + +Inspector Gilder had opened his mouth with serious intentions, +but before he could speak the grotesque figure on the floor had +gone on quite volubly. + +"And now three quite impossible things. First, these holes in +the carpet, where the six bullets have gone in. Why on earth +should anybody fire at the carpet? A drunken man lets fly at his +enemy's head, the thing that's grinning at him. He doesn't pick a +quarrel with his feet, or lay siege to his slippers. And then +there's the rope"--and having done with the carpet the speaker +lifted his hands and put them in his pocket, but continued +unaffectedly on his knees--"in what conceivable intoxication +would anybody try to put a rope round a man's neck and finally put +it round his leg? Royce, anyhow, was not so drunk as that, or he +would be sleeping like a log by now. And, plainest of all, the +whisky bottle. You suggest a dipsomaniac fought for the whisky +bottle, and then having won, rolled it away in a corner, spilling +one half and leaving the other. That is the very last thing a +dipsomaniac would do." + +He scrambled awkwardly to his feet, and said to the +self-accused murderer in tones of limpid penitence: "I'm awfully +sorry, my dear sir, but your tale is really rubbish." + +"Sir," said Alice Armstrong in a low tone to the priest, "can +I speak to you alone for a moment?" + +This request forced the communicative cleric out of the +gangway, and before he could speak in the next room, the girl was +talking with strange incisiveness. + +"You are a clever man," she said, "and you are trying to save +Patrick, I know. But it's no use. The core of all this is black, +and the more things you find out the more there will be against +the miserable man I love." + +"Why?" asked Brown, looking at her steadily. + +"Because," she answered equally steadily, "I saw him commit +the crime myself." + +"Ah!" said the unmoved Brown, "and what did he do?" + +"I was in this room next to them," she explained; "both doors +were closed, but I suddenly heard a voice, such as I had never +heard on earth, roaring `Hell, hell, hell,' again and again, and +then the two doors shook with the first explosion of the revolver. +Thrice again the thing banged before I got the two doors open and +found the room full of smoke; but the pistol was smoking in my +poor, mad Patrick's hand; and I saw him fire the last murderous +volley with my own eyes. Then he leapt on my father, who was +clinging in terror to the window-sill, and, grappling, tried to +strangle him with the rope, which he threw over his head, but +which slipped over his struggling shoulders to his feet. Then it +tightened round one leg and Patrick dragged him along like a +maniac. I snatched a knife from the mat, and, rushing between +them, managed to cut the rope before I fainted." + +"I see," said Father Brown, with the same wooden civility. +"Thank you." + +As the girl collapsed under her memories, the priest passed +stiffly into the next room, where he found Gilder and Merton alone +with Patrick Royce, who sat in a chair, handcuffed. There he said +to the Inspector submissively: + +"Might I say a word to the prisoner in your presence; and +might he take off those funny cuffs for a minute?" + +"He is a very powerful man," said Merton in an undertone. +"Why do you want them taken off?" + +"Why, I thought," replied the priest humbly, "that perhaps I +might have the very great honour of shaking hands with him." + +Both detectives stared, and Father Brown added: "Won't you +tell them about it, sir?" + +The man on the chair shook his tousled head, and the priest +turned impatiently. + +"Then I will," he said. "Private lives are more important +than public reputations. I am going to save the living, and let +the dead bury their dead." + +He went to the fatal window, and blinked out of it as he went +on talking. + +"I told you that in this case there were too many weapons and +only one death. I tell you now that they were not weapons, and +were not used to cause death. All those grisly tools, the noose, +the bloody knife, the exploding pistol, were instruments of a +curious mercy. They were not used to kill Sir Aaron, but to save +him." + +"To save him!" repeated Gilder. "And from what?" + +"From himself," said Father Brown. "He was a suicidal maniac." + +"What?" cried Merton in an incredulous tone. "And the +Religion of Cheerfulness--" + +"It is a cruel religion," said the priest, looking out of the +window. "Why couldn't they let him weep a little, like his fathers +before him? His plans stiffened, his views grew cold; behind that +merry mask was the empty mind of the atheist. At last, to keep up +his hilarious public level, he fell back on that dram-drinking he +had abandoned long ago. But there is this horror about alcoholism +in a sincere teetotaler: that he pictures and expects that +psychological inferno from which he has warned others. It leapt +upon poor Armstrong prematurely, and by this morning he was in +such a case that he sat here and cried he was in hell, in so crazy +a voice that his daughter did not know it. He was mad for death, +and with the monkey tricks of the mad he had scattered round him +death in many shapes--a running noose and his friend's revolver +and a knife. Royce entered accidentally and acted in a flash. He +flung the knife on the mat behind him, snatched up the revolver, +and having no time to unload it, emptied it shot after shot all +over the floor. The suicide saw a fourth shape of death, and made +a dash for the window. The rescuer did the only thing he could-- +ran after him with the rope and tried to tie him hand and foot. +Then it was that the unlucky girl ran in, and misunderstanding the +struggle, strove to slash her father free. At first she only +slashed poor Royce's knuckles, from which has come all the little +blood in this affair. But, of course, you noticed that he left +blood, but no wound, on that servant's face? Only before the poor +woman swooned, she did hack her father loose, so that he went +crashing through that window into eternity." + +There was a long stillness slowly broken by the metallic +noises of Gilder unlocking the handcuffs of Patrick Royce, to whom +he said: "I think I should have told the truth, sir. You and the +young lady are worth more than Armstrong's obituary notices." + +"Confound Armstrong's notices," cried Royce roughly. "Don't +you see it was because she mustn't know?" + +"Mustn't know what?" asked Merton. + +"Why, that she killed her father, you fool!" roared the other. +"He'd have been alive now but for her. It might craze her to know +that." + +"No, I don't think it would," remarked Father Brown, as he +picked up his hat. "I rather think I should tell her. Even the +most murderous blunders don't poison life like sins; anyhow, I +think you may both be the happier now. I've got to go back to the +Deaf School." + +As he went out on to the gusty grass an acquaintance from +Highgate stopped him and said: + +"The Coroner has arrived. The inquiry is just going to begin." + +"I've got to get back to the Deaf School," said Father Brown. +"I'm sorry I can't stop for the inquiry." + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Innocence of Father Brown + + |