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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/2568-0.txt b/2568-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2b719df --- /dev/null +++ b/2568-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7659 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of Trent’s Last Case, by E.C. Bentley + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: Trent’s Last Case + The Woman in Black + +Author: E.C. (Edmund Clerihew) Bentley + +Release Date: April 28, 2000 [eBook #2568] +[Most recently updated: February 8, 2021] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +Produced by: Stuart E. Thiel and David Widger + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TRENT’S LAST CASE *** + +[Illustration] + + + + +Trent’s Last Case + +THE WOMAN IN BLACK + +By E.C. Bentley + + +To +GILBERT KEITH CHESTERTON. + +My dear Gilbert, + +I dedicate this story to you. First: because the only really noble +motive I had in writing it was the hope that you would enjoy it. +Second: because I owe you a book in return for “The Man Who Was +Thursday.” Third: because I said I would when I unfolded the plan of it +to you, surrounded by Frenchmen, two years ago. Fourth: because I +remember the past. + +I have been thinking again to-day of those astonishing times when +neither of us ever looked at a newspaper; when we were purely happy in +the boundless consumption of paper, pencils, tea, and our elders’ +patience; when we embraced the most severe literature, and ourselves +produced such light reading as was necessary; when (in the words of +Canada’s poet) we studied the works of nature, also those little frogs; +when, in short, we were extremely young. For the sake of that age I +offer you this book. + +Yours always, +E. C. BENTLEY + + +Contents + + I. Bad News + II. Knocking the Town Endways + III. Breakfast + IV. Handcuffs in the Air + V. Poking About + VI. Mr. Bunner on the Case + VII. The Lady in Black + VIII. The Inquest + IX. A Hot Scent + X. The Wife of Dives + XI. Hitherto Unpublished + XII. Evil Days + XIII. Eruption + XIV. Writing a Letter + XV. Double Cunning + XVI. The Last Straw + +[Illustration] + + + + +Chapter I. +Bad News + + +Between what matters and what seems to matter, how should the world we +know judge wisely? + +When the scheming, indomitable brain of Sigsbee Manderson was scattered +by a shot from an unknown hand, that world lost nothing worth a single +tear; it gained something memorable in a harsh reminder of the vanity +of such wealth as this dead man had piled up—without making one loyal +friend to mourn him, without doing an act that could help his memory to +the least honour. But when the news of his end came, it seemed to those +living in the great vortices of business as if the earth too shuddered +under a blow. + +In all the lurid commercial history of his country there had been no +figure that had so imposed itself upon the mind of the trading world. +He had a niche apart in its temples. Financial giants, strong to direct +and augment the forces of capital, and taking an approved toll in +millions for their labour, had existed before; but in the case of +Manderson there had been this singularity, that a pale halo of +piratical romance, a thing especially dear to the hearts of his +countrymen, had remained incongruously about his head through the years +when he stood in every eye as the unquestioned guardian of stability, +the stamper-out of manipulated crises, the foe of the raiding +chieftains that infest the borders of Wall Street. + +The fortune left by his grandfather, who had been one of those +chieftains on the smaller scale of his day, had descended to him with +accretion through his father, who during a long life had quietly +continued to lend money and never had margined a stock. Manderson, who +had at no time known what it was to be without large sums to his hand, +should have been altogether of that newer American plutocracy which is +steadied by the tradition and habit of great wealth. But it was not so. +While his nurture and education had taught him European ideas of a rich +man’s proper external circumstance; while they had rooted in him an +instinct for quiet magnificence, the larger costliness which does not +shriek of itself with a thousand tongues; there had been handed on to +him nevertheless much of the Forty-Niner and financial buccaneer, his +forbear. During that first period of his business career which had been +called his early bad manner, he had been little more than a gambler of +genius, his hand against every man’s—an infant prodigy—who brought to +the enthralling pursuit of speculation a brain better endowed than any +opposed to it. At St Helena it was laid down that war is _une belle +occupation;_ and so the young Manderson had found the multitudinous and +complicated dog-fight of the Stock Exchange of New York. + +Then came his change. At his father’s death, when Manderson was thirty +years old, some new revelation of the power and the glory of the god he +served seemed to have come upon him. With the sudden, elastic +adaptability of his nation he turned to steady labour in his father’s +banking business, closing his ears to the sound of the battles of the +Street. In a few years he came to control all the activity of the great +firm whose unimpeached conservatism, safety, and financial weight +lifted it like a cliff above the angry sea of the markets. All mistrust +founded on the performances of his youth had vanished. He was quite +plainly a different man. How the change came about none could with +authority say, but there was a story of certain last words spoken by +his father, whom alone he had respected and perhaps loved. + +He began to tower above the financial situation. Soon his name was +current in the bourses of the world. One who spoke the name of +Manderson called up a vision of all that was broad-based and firm in +the vast wealth of the United States. He planned great combinations of +capital, drew together and centralized industries of continental scope, +financed with unerring judgement the large designs of state or of +private enterprise. Many a time when he “took hold” to smash a strike, +or to federate the ownership of some great field of labour, he sent +ruin upon a multitude of tiny homes; and if miners or steelworkers or +cattlemen defied him and invoked disorder, he could be more lawless and +ruthless than they. But this was done in the pursuit of legitimate +business ends. Tens of thousands of the poor might curse his name, but +the financier and the speculator execrated him no more. He stretched a +hand to protect or to manipulate the power of wealth in every corner of +the country. Forcible, cold, and unerring, in all he did he ministered +to the national lust for magnitude; and a grateful country surnamed him +the Colossus. + +But there was an aspect of Manderson in this later period that lay long +unknown and unsuspected save by a few, his secretaries and lieutenants +and certain of the associates of his bygone hurling time. This little +circle knew that Manderson, the pillar of sound business and stability +in the markets, had his hours of nostalgia for the lively times when +the Street had trembled at his name. It was, said one of them, as if +Blackbeard had settled down as a decent merchant in Bristol on the +spoils of the Main. Now and then the pirate would glare suddenly out, +the knife in his teeth and the sulphur matches sputtering in his +hatband. During such spasms of reversion to type a score of tempestuous +raids upon the market had been planned on paper in the inner room of +the offices of Manderson, Colefax and Company. But they were never +carried out. Blackbeard would quell the mutiny of his old self within +him and go soberly down to his counting-house—humming a stave or two of +“Spanish Ladies”, perhaps, under his breath. Manderson would allow +himself the harmless satisfaction, as soon as the time for action had +gone by, of pointing out to some Rupert of the markets a coup worth a +million to the depredator might have been made. “Seems to me,” he would +say almost wistfully, “the Street is getting to be a mighty dull place +since I quit.” By slow degrees this amiable weakness of the Colossus +became known to the business world, which exulted greatly in the +knowledge. + +At the news of his death panic went through the markets like a +hurricane; for it came at a luckless time. Prices tottered and crashed +like towers in an earthquake. For two days Wall Street was a clamorous +inferno of pale despair. All over the United States, wherever +speculation had its devotees, went a waft of ruin, a plague of suicide. +In Europe also not a few took with their own hands lives that had +become pitiably linked to the destiny of a financier whom most of them +had never seen. In Paris a well-known banker walked quietly out of the +Bourse and fell dead upon the broad steps among the raving crowd of +Jews, a phial crushed in his hand. In Frankfort one leapt from the +Cathedral top, leaving a redder stain where he struck the red tower. +Men stabbed and shot and strangled themselves, drank death or breathed +it as the air, because in a lonely corner of England the life had +departed from one cold heart vowed to the service of greed. + +The blow could not have fallen at a more disastrous moment. It came +when Wall Street was in a condition of suppressed “scare”—suppressed, +because for a week past the great interests known to act with or to be +actually controlled by the Colossus had been desperately combating the +effects of the sudden arrest of Lucas Hahn, and the exposure of his +plundering of the Hahn banks. This bombshell, in its turn, had fallen +at a time when the market had been “boosted” beyond its real strength. +In the language of the place, a slump was due. Reports from the +corn-lands had not been good, and there had been two or three railway +statements which had been expected to be much better than they were. +But at whatever point in the vast area of speculation the shudder of +the threatened break had been felt, “the Manderson crowd” had stepped +in and held the market up. All through the week the speculator’s mind, +as shallow as it is quick-witted, as sentimental as greedy, had seen in +this the hand of the giant stretched out in protection from afar. +Manderson, said the newspapers in chorus, was in hourly communication +with his lieutenants in the Street. One journal was able to give in +round figures the sum spent on cabling between New York and Marlstone +in the past twenty-four hours; it told how a small staff of expert +operators had been sent down by the Post Office authorities to +Marlstone to deal with the flood of messages. Another revealed that +Manderson, on the first news of the Hahn crash, had arranged to abandon +his holiday and return home by the _Lusitania;_ but that he soon had +the situation so well in hand that he had determined to remain where he +was. + +All this was falsehood, more or less consciously elaborated by the +“finance editors”, consciously initiated and encouraged by the shrewd +business men of the Manderson group, who knew that nothing could better +help their plans than this illusion of hero-worship—knew also that no +word had come from Manderson in answer to their messages, and that +Howard B. Jeffrey, of Steel and Iron fame, was the true organizer of +victory. So they fought down apprehension through four feverish days, +and minds grew calmer. On Saturday, though the ground beneath the feet +of Mr. Jeffrey yet rumbled now and then with Etna-mutterings of +disquiet, he deemed his task almost done. The market was firm, and +slowly advancing. Wall Street turned to its sleep of Sunday, worn out +but thankfully at peace. + +In the first trading hour of Monday a hideous rumour flew round the +sixty acres of the financial district. It came into being as the +lightning comes—a blink that seems to begin nowhere; though it is to be +suspected that it was first whispered over the telephone—together with +an urgent selling order by some employee in the cable service. A sharp +spasm convulsed the convalescent share-list. In five minutes the dull +noise of the kerbstone market in Broad Street had leapt to a high note +of frantic interrogation. From within the hive of the Exchange itself +could be heard a droning hubbub of fear, and men rushed hatless in and +out. Was it true? asked every man; and every man replied, with +trembling lips, that it was a lie put out by some unscrupulous “short” +interest seeking to cover itself. In another quarter of an hour news +came of a sudden and ruinous collapse of “Yankees” in London at the +close of the Stock Exchange day. It was enough. New York had still four +hours’ trading in front of her. The strategy of pointing to Manderson +as the saviour and warden of the markets had recoiled upon its authors +with annihilating force, and Jeffrey, his ear at his private telephone, +listened to the tale of disaster with a set jaw. The new Napoleon had +lost his Marengo. He saw the whole financial landscape sliding and +falling into chaos before him. In half an hour the news of the finding +of Manderson’s body, with the inevitable rumour that it was suicide, +was printing in a dozen newspaper offices; but before a copy reached +Wall Street the tornado of the panic was in full fury, and Howard B. +Jeffrey and his collaborators were whirled away like leaves before its +breath. + +All this sprang out of nothing. + +Nothing in the texture of the general life had changed. The corn had +not ceased to ripen in the sun. The rivers bore their barges and gave +power to a myriad engines. The flocks fattened on the pastures, the +herds were unnumbered. Men laboured everywhere in the various +servitudes to which they were born, and chafed not more than usual in +their bonds. Bellona tossed and murmured as ever, yet still slept her +uneasy sleep. To all mankind save a million or two of half-crazed +gamblers, blind to all reality, the death of Manderson meant nothing; +the life and work of the world went on. Weeks before he died strong +hands had been in control of every wire in the huge network of commerce +and industry that he had supervised. Before his corpse was buried his +countrymen had made a strange discovery—that the existence of the +potent engine of monopoly that went by the name of Sigsbee Manderson +had not been a condition of even material prosperity. The panic blew +itself out in two days, the pieces were picked up, the bankrupts +withdrew out of sight; the market “recovered a normal tone”. + +While the brief delirium was yet subsiding there broke out a domestic +scandal in England that suddenly fixed the attention of two continents. +Next morning the Chicago Limited was wrecked, and the same day a +notable politician was shot down in cold blood by his wife’s brother in +the streets of New Orleans. Within a week of its rising, “the Manderson +story”, to the trained sense of editors throughout the Union, was +“cold”. The tide of American visitors pouring through Europe made +eddies round the memorial or statue of many a man who had died in +poverty; and never thought of their most famous plutocrat. Like the +poet who died in Rome, so young and poor, a hundred years ago, he was +buried far away from his own land; but for all the men and women of +Manderson’s people who flock round the tomb of Keats in the cemetery +under the Monte Testaccio, there is not one, nor ever will be, to stand +in reverence by the rich man’s grave beside the little church of +Marlstone. + + + + +Chapter II. +Knocking the Town Endways + + +In the only comfortably furnished room in the offices of the _Record,_ +the telephone on Sir James Molloy’s table buzzed. Sir James made a +motion with his pen, and Mr. Silver, his secretary, left his work and +came over to the instrument. + +“Who is that?” he said. “Who?... I can’t hear you.... Oh, it’s Mr. +Bunner, is it?... Yes, but... I know, but he’s fearfully busy this +afternoon. Can’t you... Oh, really? Well, in that case—just hold on, +will you?” + +He placed the receiver before Sir James. “It’s Calvin Bunner, Sigsbee +Manderson’s right-hand man,” he said concisely. “He insists on speaking +to you personally. Says it is the gravest piece of news. He is talking +from the house down by Bishopsbridge, so it will be necessary to speak +clearly.” + +Sir James looked at the telephone, not affectionately, and took up the +receiver. “Well?” he said in his strong voice, and listened. “Yes,” he +said. The next moment Mr. Silver, eagerly watching him, saw a look of +amazement and horror. “Good God!” murmured Sir James. Clutching the +instrument, he slowly rose to his feet, still bending ear intently. At +intervals he repeated “Yes.” Presently, as he listened, he glanced at +the clock, and spoke quickly to Mr. Silver over the top of the +transmitter. “Go and hunt up Figgis and young Williams. Hurry.” Mr. +Silver darted from the room. + +The great journalist was a tall, strong, clever Irishman of fifty, +swart and black-moustached, a man of untiring business energy, well +known in the world, which he understood very thoroughly, and played +upon with the half-cynical competence of his race. Yet was he without a +touch of the charlatan: he made no mysteries, and no pretences of +knowledge, and he saw instantly through these in others. In his +handsome, well-bred, well-dressed appearance there was something a +little sinister when anger or intense occupation put its imprint about +his eyes and brow; but when his generous nature was under no restraint +he was the most cordial of men. He was managing director of the company +which owned that most powerful morning paper, the _Record,_ and also +that most indispensable evening paper, the _Sun,_ which had its offices +on the other side of the street. He was, moreover, editor-in-chief of +the _Record,_ to which he had in the course of years attached the most +variously capable personnel in the country. It was a maxim of his that +where you could not get gifts, you must do the best you could with +solid merit; and he employed a great deal of both. He was respected by +his staff as few are respected in a profession not favourable to the +growth of the sentiment of reverence. + +“You’re sure that’s all?” asked Sir James, after a few minutes of +earnest listening and questioning. “And how long has this been +known?... Yes, of course, the police are; but the servants? Surely it’s +all over the place down there by now.... Well, we’ll have a try.... +Look here, Bunner, I’m infinitely obliged to you about this. I owe you +a good turn. You know I mean what I say. Come and see me the first day +you get to town.... All right, that’s understood. Now I must act on +your news. Goodbye.” + +Sir James hung up the receiver, and seized a railway timetable from the +rack before him. After a rapid consultation of this oracle, he flung it +down with a forcible word as Mr. Silver hurried into the room, followed +by a hard-featured man with spectacles, and a youth with an alert eye. + +“I want you to jot down some facts, Figgis,” said Sir James, banishing +all signs of agitation and speaking with a rapid calmness. “When you +have them, put them into shape just as quick as you can for a special +edition of the _Sun_.” The hard-featured man nodded and glanced at the +clock, which pointed to a few minutes past three; he pulled out a +notebook and drew a chair up to the big writing-table. “Silver,” Sir +James went on, “go and tell Jones to wire our local correspondent very +urgently, to drop everything and get down to Marlstone at once. He is +not to say why in the telegram. There must not be an unnecessary word +about this news until the _Sun_ is on the streets with it—you all +understand. Williams, cut across the way and tell Mr. Anthony to hold +himself ready for a two-column opening that will knock the town +endways. Just tell him that he must take all measures and precautions +for a scoop. Say that Figgis will be over in five minutes with the +facts, and that he had better let him write up the story in his private +room. As you go, ask Miss Morgan to see me here at once, and tell the +telephone people to see if they can get Mr. Trent on the wire for me. +After seeing Mr. Anthony, return here and stand by.” The alert-eyed +young man vanished like a spirit. + +Sir James turned instantly to Mr. Figgis, whose pencil was poised over +the paper. “Sigsbee Manderson has been murdered,” he began quickly and +clearly, pacing the floor with his hands behind him. Mr. Figgis +scratched down a line of shorthand with as much emotion as if he had +been told that the day was fine—the pose of his craft. “He and his wife +and two secretaries have been for the past fortnight at the house +called White Gables, at Marlstone, near Bishopsbridge. He bought it +four years ago. He and Mrs. Manderson have since spent a part of each +summer there. Last night he went to bed about half-past eleven, just as +usual. No one knows when he got up and left the house. He was not +missed until this morning. About ten o’clock his body was found by a +gardener. It was lying by a shed in the grounds. He was shot in the +head, through the left eye. Death must have been instantaneous. The +body was not robbed, but there were marks on the wrists which pointed +to a struggle having taken place. Dr Stock, of Marlstone, was at once +sent for, and will conduct the post-mortem examination. The police from +Bishopsbridge, who were soon on the spot, are reticent, but it is +believed that they are quite without a clue to the identity of the +murderer. There you are, Figgis. Mr. Anthony is expecting you. Now I +must telephone him and arrange things.” + +Mr. Figgis looked up. “One of the ablest detectives at Scotland Yard,” +he suggested, “has been put in charge of the case. It’s a safe +statement.” + +“If you like,” said Sir James. + +“And Mrs. Manderson? Was she there?” + +“Yes. What about her?” + +“Prostrated by the shock,” hinted the reporter, “and sees nobody. Human +interest.” + +“I wouldn’t put that in, Mr. Figgis,” said a quiet voice. It belonged +to Miss Morgan, a pale, graceful woman, who had silently made her +appearance while the dictation was going on. “I have seen Mrs. +Manderson,” she proceeded, turning to Sir James. “She looks quite +healthy and intelligent. Has her husband been murdered? I don’t think +the shock would prostrate her. She is more likely to be doing all she +can to help the police.” + +“Something in your own style, then, Miss Morgan,” he said with a +momentary smile. Her imperturbable efficiency was an office proverb. +“Cut it out, Figgis. Off you go! Now, madam, I expect you know what I +want.” + +“Our Manderson biography happens to be well up to date,” replied Miss +Morgan, drooping her dark eyelashes as she considered the position. “I +was looking over it only a few months ago. It is practically ready for +tomorrow’s paper. I should think the _Sun_ had better use the sketch of +his life they had about two years ago, when he went to Berlin and +settled the potash difficulty. I remember it was a very good sketch, +and they won’t be able to carry much more than that. As for our paper, +of course we have a great quantity of cuttings, mostly rubbish. The +sub-editors shall have them as soon as they come in. Then we have two +very good portraits that are our own property; the best is a drawing +Mr. Trent made when they were both on the same ship somewhere. It is +better than any of the photographs; but you say the public prefers a +bad photograph to a good drawing. I will send them down to you at once, +and you can choose. As far as I can see, the Record is well ahead of +the situation, except that you will not be able to get a special man +down there in time to be of any use for tomorrow’s paper.” + +Sir James sighed deeply. “What are we good for, anyhow?” he enquired +dejectedly of Mr. Silver, who had returned to his desk. “She even knows +Bradshaw by heart.” + +Miss Morgan adjusted her cuffs with an air of patience. “Is there +anything else?” she asked, as the telephone bell rang. + +“Yes, one thing,” replied Sir James, as he took up the receiver. “I +want you to make a bad mistake some time, Miss Morgan—an everlasting +bloomer—just to put us in countenance.” She permitted herself the +fraction of what would have been a charming smile as she went out. + +“Anthony?” asked Sir James, and was at once deep in consultation with +the editor on the other side of the road. He seldom entered the _Sun_ +building in person; the atmosphere of an evening paper, he would say, +was all very well if you liked that kind of thing. Mr. Anthony, the +Murat of Fleet Street, who delighted in riding the whirlwind and +fighting a tumultuous battle against time, would say the same of a +morning paper. + +It was some five minutes later that a uniformed boy came in to say that +Mr. Trent was on the wire. Sir James abruptly closed his talk with Mr. +Anthony. + +“They can put him through at once,” he said to the boy. + +“Hullo!” he cried into the telephone after a few moments. + +A voice in the instrument replied, “Hullo be blowed! What do you want?” + +“This is Molloy,” said Sir James. + +“I know it is,” the voice said. “This is Trent. He is in the middle of +painting a picture, and he has been interrupted at a critical moment. +Well, I hope it’s something important, that’s all!” + +“Trent,” said Sir James impressively, “it is important. I want you to +do some work for us.” + +“Some play, you mean,” replied the voice. “Believe me, I don’t want a +holiday. The working fit is very strong. I am doing some really decent +things. Why can’t you leave a man alone?” + +“Something very serious has happened.” + +“What?” + +“Sigsbee Manderson has been murdered—shot through the brain—and they +don’t know who has done it. They found the body this morning. It +happened at his place near Bishopsbridge.” Sir James proceeded to tell +his hearer, briefly and clearly, the facts that he had communicated to +Mr. Figgis. “What do you think of it?” he ended. A considering grunt +was the only answer. “Come now,” urged Sir James. + +“Tempter!” + +“You will go down?” + +There was a brief pause. + +“Are you there?” said Sir James. + +“Look here, Molloy,” the voice broke out querulously, “the thing may be +a case for me, or it may not. We can’t possibly tell. It may be a +mystery; it may be as simple as bread and cheese. The body not being +robbed looks interesting, but he may have been outed by some wretched +tramp whom he found sleeping in the grounds and tried to kick out. It’s +the sort of thing he would do. Such a murderer might easily have sense +enough to know that to leave the money and valuables was the safest +thing. I tell you frankly, I wouldn’t have a hand in hanging a poor +devil who had let daylight into a man like Sig Manderson as a measure +of social protest.” + +Sir James smiled at the telephone—a smile of success. “Come, my boy, +you’re getting feeble. Admit you want to go and have a look at the +case. You know you do. If it’s anything you don’t want to handle, +you’re free to drop it. By the by, where are you?” + +“I am blown along a wandering wind,” replied the voice irresolutely, +“and hollow, hollow, hollow all delight.” + +“Can you get here within an hour?” persisted Sir James. + +“I suppose I can,” the voice grumbled. “How much time have I?” + +“Good man! Well, there’s time enough—that’s just the worst of it. I’ve +got to depend on our local correspondent for tonight. The only good +train of the day went half an hour ago. The next is a slow one, leaving +Paddington at midnight. You could have the Buster, if you like”—Sir +James referred to a very fast motor car of his—“but you wouldn’t get +down in time to do anything tonight.” + +“And I’d miss my sleep. No, thanks. The train for me. I am quite fond +of railway travelling, you know; I have a gift for it. I am the stoker +and the stoked. I am the song the porter sings.” + +“What’s that you say?” + +“It doesn’t matter,” said the voice sadly. “I say,” it continued, “will +your people look out a hotel near the scene of action, and telegraph +for a room?” + +“At once,” said Sir James. “Come here as soon as you can.” + +He replaced the receiver. As he turned to his papers again a shrill +outcry burst forth in the street below. He walked to the open window. A +band of excited boys was rushing down the steps of the _Sun_ building +and up the narrow thoroughfare toward Fleet Street. Each carried a +bundle of newspapers and a large broadsheet with the simple legend: + +MURDER OF SIGSBEE MANDERSON + + +Sir James smiled and rattled the money in his pockets cheerfully. “It +makes a good bill,” he observed to Mr. Silver, who stood at his elbow. + +Such was Manderson’s epitaph. + + + + +Chapter III. +Breakfast + + +At about eight o’clock in the morning of the following day Mr. +Nathaniel Burton Cupples stood on the veranda of the hotel at +Marlstone. He was thinking about breakfast. In his case the +colloquialism must be taken literally: he really was thinking about +breakfast, as he thought about every conscious act of his life when +time allowed deliberation. He reflected that on the preceding day the +excitement and activity following upon the discovery of the dead man +had disorganized his appetite, and led to his taking considerably less +nourishment than usual. This morning he was very hungry, having already +been up and about for an hour; and he decided to allow himself a third +piece of toast and an additional egg; the rest as usual. The remaining +deficit must be made up at luncheon, but that could be gone into later. + +So much being determined, Mr. Cupples applied himself to the enjoyment +of the view for a few minutes before ordering his meal. With a +connoisseur’s eye he explored the beauty of the rugged coast, where a +great pierced rock rose from a glassy sea, and the ordered loveliness +of the vast tilted levels of pasture and tillage and woodland that +sloped gently up from the cliffs toward the distant moor. Mr. Cupples +delighted in landscape. + +He was a man of middle height and spare figure, nearly sixty years old, +by constitution rather delicate in health, but wiry and active for his +age. A sparse and straggling beard and moustache did not conceal a thin +but kindly mouth; his eyes were keen and pleasant; his sharp nose and +narrow jaw gave him very much of a clerical air, and this impression +was helped by his commonplace dark clothes and soft black hat. The +whole effect of him, indeed, was priestly. He was a man of unusually +conscientious, industrious, and orderly mind, with little imagination. +His father’s household had been used to recruit its domestic +establishment by means of advertisements in which it was truthfully +described as a serious family. From that fortress of gloom he had +escaped with two saintly gifts somehow unspoiled: an inexhaustible +kindness of heart, and a capacity for innocent gaiety which owed +nothing to humour. In an earlier day and with a clerical training he +might have risen to the scarlet hat. He was, in fact, a highly regarded +member of the London Positivist Society, a retired banker, a widower +without children. His austere but not unhappy life was spent largely +among books and in museums; his profound and patiently accumulated +knowledge of a number of curiously disconnected subjects which had +stirred his interest at different times had given him a place in the +quiet, half-lit world of professors and curators and devotees of +research; at their amiable, unconvivial dinner parties he was most +himself. His favourite author was Montaigne. + +Just as Mr. Cupples was finishing his meal at a little table on the +veranda, a big motor car turned into the drive before the hotel. “Who +is this?” he enquired of the waiter. “Id is der manager,” said the +young man listlessly. “He have been to meed a gendleman by der train.” + +The car drew up and the porter hurried from the entrance. Mr. Cupples +uttered an exclamation of pleasure as a long, loosely built man, much +younger than himself, stepped from the car and mounted the veranda, +flinging his hat on a chair. His high-boned, quixotic face wore a +pleasant smile; his rough tweed clothes, his hair and short moustache +were tolerably untidy. + +“Cupples, by all that’s miraculous!” cried the man, pouncing upon Mr. +Cupples before he could rise, and seizing his outstretched hand in a +hard grip. “My luck is serving me today,” the newcomer went on +spasmodically. “This is the second slice within an hour. How are you, +my best of friends? And why are you here? Why sit’st thou by that +ruined breakfast? Dost thou its former pride recall, or ponder how it +passed away? I _am_ glad to see you!” + +“I was half expecting you, Trent,” Mr. Cupples replied, his face +wreathed in smiles. “You are looking splendid, my dear fellow. I will +tell you all about it. But you cannot have had your own breakfast yet. +Will you have it at my table here?” + +“Rather!” said the man. “An enormous great breakfast, too—with refined +conversation and tears of recognition never dry. Will you get young +Siegfried to lay a place for me while I go and wash? I shan’t be three +minutes.” He disappeared into the hotel, and Mr. Cupples, after a +moment’s thought, went to the telephone in the porter’s office. + +He returned to find his friend already seated, pouring out tea, and +showing an unaffected interest in the choice of food. “I expect this to +be a hard day for me,” he said, with the curious jerky utterance which +seemed to be his habit. “I shan’t eat again till the evening, very +likely. You guess why I’m here, don’t you?” + +“Undoubtedly,” said Mr. Cupples. “You have come down to write about the +murder.” + +“That is rather a colourless way of stating it,” the man called Trent +replied, as he dissected a sole. “I should prefer to put it that I have +come down in the character of avenger of blood, to hunt down the +guilty, and vindicate the honour of society. That is my line of +business. Families waited on at their private residences. I say, +Cupples, I have made a good beginning already. Wait a bit, and I’ll +tell you.” There was a silence, during which the newcomer ate swiftly +and abstractedly, while Mr. Cupples looked on happily. + +“Your manager here,” said the tall man at last, “is a fellow of +remarkable judgement. He is an admirer of mine. He knows more about my +best cases than I do myself. The _Record_ wired last night to say I was +coming, and when I got out of the train at seven o’clock this morning, +there he was waiting for me with a motor car the size of a haystack. He +is beside himself with joy at having me here. It is fame.” He drank a +cup of tea and continued: “Almost his first words were to ask me if I +would like to see the body of the murdered man—if so, he thought he +could manage it for me. He is as keen as a razor. The body lies in Dr +Stock’s surgery, you know, down in the village, exactly as it was when +found. It’s to be post-mortem’d this morning, by the way, so I was only +just in time. Well, he ran me down here to the doctor’s, giving me full +particulars about the case all the way. I was pretty well _au fait_ by +the time we arrived. I suppose the manager of a place like this has +some sort of a pull with the doctor. Anyhow, he made no difficulties, +nor did the constable on duty, though he was careful to insist on my +not giving him away in the paper.” + +“I saw the body before it was removed,” remarked Mr. Cupples. “I should +not have said there was anything remarkable about it, except that the +shot in the eye had scarcely disfigured the face at all, and caused +scarcely any effusion of blood, apparently. The wrists were scratched +and bruised. I expect that, with your trained faculties, you were able +to remark other details of a suggestive nature.” + +“Other details, certainly; but I don’t know that they suggest anything. +They are merely odd. Take the wrists, for instance. How was it you +could see bruises and scratches on them? I dare say you saw something +of Manderson down here before the murder.” + +“Certainly,” Mr. Cupples said. + +“Well, did you ever see his wrists?” + +Mr. Cupples reflected. “No. Now you raise the point, I am reminded that +when I interviewed Manderson here he was wearing stiff cuffs, coming +well down over his hands.” + +“He always did,” said Trent. “My friend the manager says so. I pointed +out to him the fact you didn’t observe, that there were no cuffs +visible, and that they had, indeed, been dragged up inside the +coat-sleeves, as yours would be if you hurried into a coat without +pulling your cuffs down. That was why you saw his wrists.” + +“Well, I call that suggestive,” observed Mr. Cupples mildly. “You might +infer, perhaps, that when he got up he hurried over his dressing.” + +“Yes, but did he? The manager said just what you say. ‘He was always a +bit of a swell in his dress,’ he told me, and he drew the inference +that when Manderson got up in that mysterious way, before the house was +stirring, and went out into the grounds, he was in a great hurry. ‘Look +at his shoes,’ he said to me: ‘Mr. Manderson was always specially neat +about his footwear. But those shoe-laces were tied in a hurry.’ I +agreed. ‘And he left his false teeth in his room,’ said the manager. +‘Doesn’t _that_ prove he was flustered and hurried?’ I allowed that it +looked like it. But I said, ‘Look here: if he was so very much pressed, +why did he part his hair so carefully? That parting is a work of art. +Why did he put on so much? for he had on a complete outfit of +underclothing, studs in his shirt, sock-suspenders, a watch and chain, +money and keys and things in his pockets. That’s what I said to the +manager. He couldn’t find an explanation. Can you?’ + +Mr. Cupples considered. “Those facts might suggest that he was hurried +only at the end of his dressing. Coat and shoes would come last.” + +“But not false teeth. You ask anybody who wears them. And besides, I’m +told he hadn’t washed at all on getting up, which in a neat man looks +like his being in a violent hurry from the beginning. And here’s +another thing. One of his waistcoat pockets was lined with wash-leather +for the reception of his gold watch. But he had put his watch into the +pocket on the other side. Anybody who has settled habits can see how +odd that is. The fact is, there are signs of great agitation and haste, +and there are signs of exactly the opposite. For the present I am not +guessing. I must reconnoitre the ground first, if I can manage to get +the right side of the people of the house.” Trent applied himself again +to his breakfast. + +Mr. Cupples smiled at him benevolently. “That is precisely the point,” +he said, “on which I can be of some assistance to you.” Trent glanced +up in surprise. “I told you I half expected you. I will explain the +situation. Mrs. Manderson, who is my niece—” + +“What!” Trent laid down his knife and fork with a clash. “Cupples, you +are jesting with me.” + +“I am perfectly serious, Trent, really,” returned Mr. Cupples +earnestly. “Her father, John Peter Domecq, was my wife’s brother. I +never mentioned my niece or her marriage to you before, I suppose. To +tell the truth, it has always been a painful subject to me, and I have +avoided discussing it with anybody. To return to what I was about to +say: last night, when I was over at the house—by the way, you can see +it from here. You passed it in the car.” He indicated a red roof among +poplars some three hundred yards away, the only building in sight that +stood separate from the tiny village in the gap below them. + +“Certainly I did,” said Trent. “The manager told me all about it, among +other things, as he drove me in from Bishopsbridge.” + +“Other people here have heard of you and your performances,” Mr. +Cupples went on. “As I was saying, when I was over there last night, +Mr. Bunner, who is one of Manderson’s two secretaries, expressed a hope +that the _Record_ would send you down to deal with the case, as the +police seemed quite at a loss. He mentioned one or two of your past +successes, and Mabel—my niece—was interested when I told her +afterwards. She is bearing up wonderfully well, Trent; she has +remarkable fortitude of character. She said she remembered reading your +articles about the Abinger case. She has a great horror of the +newspaper side of this sad business, and she had entreated me to do +anything I could to keep journalists away from the place—I’m sure you +can understand her feeling, Trent; it isn’t really any reflection on +that profession. But she said you appeared to have great powers as a +detective, and she would not stand in the way of anything that might +clear up the crime. Then I told her you were a personal friend of mine, +and gave you a good character for tact and consideration of others’ +feelings; and it ended in her saying that, if you should come, she +would like you to be helped in every way.” + +Trent leaned across the table and shook Mr. Cupples by the hand in +silence. Mr. Cupples, much delighted with the way things were turning +out, resumed: + +“I spoke to my niece on the telephone only just now, and she is glad +you are here. She asks me to say that you may make any enquiries you +like, and she puts the house and grounds at your disposal. She had +rather not see you herself; she is keeping to her own sitting-room. She +has already been interviewed by a detective officer who is there, and +she feels unequal to any more. She adds that she does not believe she +could say anything that would be of the smallest use. The two +secretaries and Martin, the butler (who is a most intelligent man), +could tell you all you want to know, she thinks.” + +Trent finished his breakfast with a thoughtful brow. He filled a pipe +slowly, and seated himself on the rail of the veranda. “Cupples,” he +said quietly, “is there anything about this business that you know and +would rather not tell me?” + +Mr. Cupples gave a slight start, and turned an astonished gaze on the +questioner. “What do you mean?” he said. + +“I mean about the Mandersons. Look here! Shall I tell you a thing that +strikes me about this affair at the very beginning? Here’s a man +suddenly and violently killed, and nobody’s heart seems to be broken +about it, to say the least. The manager of this hotel spoke to me about +him as coolly as if he’d never set eyes on him, though I understand +they’ve been neighbours every summer for some years. Then you talk +about the thing in the coldest of blood. And Mrs. Manderson—well, you +won’t mind my saying that I have heard of women being more cut up about +their husbands being murdered than she seems to be. Is there something +in this, Cupples, or is it my fancy? Was there something queer about +Manderson? I travelled on the same boat with him once, but never spoke +to him. I only know his public character, which was repulsive enough. +You see, this may have a bearing on the case; that’s the only reason +why I ask.” + +Mr. Cupples took time for thought. He fingered his sparse beard and +looked out over the sea. At last he turned to Trent. “I see no reason,” +he said, “why I shouldn’t tell you as between ourselves, my dear +fellow. I need not say that this must not be referred to, however +distantly. The truth is that nobody really liked Manderson; and I think +those who were nearest to him liked him least.” + +“Why?” the other interjected. + +“Most people found a difficulty in explaining why. In trying to account +to myself for my own sensations, I could only put it that one felt in +the man a complete absence of the sympathetic faculty. There was +nothing outwardly repellent about him. He was not ill-mannered, or +vicious, or dull—indeed, he could be remarkably interesting. But I +received the impression that there could be no human creature whom he +would not sacrifice in the pursuit of his schemes, in his task of +imposing himself and his will upon the world. Perhaps that was +fanciful, but I think not altogether so. However, the point is that +Mabel, I am sorry to say, was very unhappy. I am nearly twice your age, +my dear boy, though you always so kindly try to make me feel as if we +were contemporaries—I am getting to be an old man, and a great many +people have been good enough to confide their matrimonial troubles to +me; but I never knew another case like my niece’s and her husband’s. I +have known her since she was a baby, Trent, and I know—you understand, +I think, that I do not employ that word lightly—I _know_ that she is as +amiable and honourable a woman, to say nothing of her other good gifts, +as any man could wish. But Manderson, for some time past, had made her +miserable.” + +“What did he do?” asked Trent, as Mr. Cupples paused. + +“When I put that question to Mabel, her words were that he seemed to +nurse a perpetual grievance. He maintained a distance between them, and +he would say nothing. I don’t know how it began or what was behind it; +and all she would tell me on that point was that he had no cause in the +world for his attitude. I think she knew what was in his mind, whatever +it was; but she is full of pride. This seems to have gone on for +months. At last, a week ago, she wrote to me. I am the only near +relative she has. Her mother died when she was a child; and after John +Peter died I was something like a father to her until she married—that +was five years ago. She asked me to come and help her, and I came at +once. That is why I am here now.” + +Mr. Cupples paused and drank some tea. Trent smoked and stared out at +the hot June landscape. + +“I would not go to White Gables,” Mr. Cupples resumed. “You know my +views, I think, upon the economic constitution of society, and the +proper relationship of the capitalist to the employee, and you know, no +doubt, what use that person made of his vast industrial power upon +several very notorious occasions. I refer especially to the trouble in +the Pennsylvania coal-fields, three years ago. I regarded him, apart +from an all personal dislike, in the light of a criminal and a disgrace +to society. I came to this hotel, and I saw my niece here. She told me +what I have more briefly told you. She said that the worry and the +humiliation of it, and the strain of trying to keep up appearances +before the world, were telling upon her, and she asked for my advice. I +said I thought she should face him and demand an explanation of his way +of treating her. But she would not do that. She had always taken the +line of affecting not to notice the change in his demeanour, and +nothing, I knew, would persuade her to admit to him that she was +injured, once pride had led her into that course. Life is quite full, +my dear Trent,” said Mr. Cupples with a sigh, “of these obstinate +silences and cultivated misunderstandings.” + +“Did she love him?” Trent enquired abruptly. Mr. Cupples did not reply +at once. “Had she any love left for him?” Trent amended. + +Mr. Cupples played with his teaspoon. “I am bound to say,” he answered +slowly, “that I think not. But you must not misunderstand the woman, +Trent. No power on earth would have persuaded her to admit that to any +one—even to herself, perhaps—so long as she considered herself bound to +him. And I gather that, apart from this mysterious sulking of late, he +had always been considerate and generous.” + +“You were saying that she refused to have it out with him.” + +“She did,” replied Mr. Cupples. “And I knew by experience that it was +quite useless to attempt to move a Domecq where the sense of dignity +was involved. So I thought it over carefully, and next day I watched my +opportunity and met Manderson as he passed by this hotel. I asked him +to favour me with a few minutes’ conversation, and he stepped inside +the gate down there. We had held no communication of any kind since my +niece’s marriage, but he remembered me, of course. I put the matter to +him at once and quite definitely. I told him what Mabel had confided to +me. I said that I would neither approve nor condemn her action in +bringing me into the business, but that she was suffering, and I +considered it my right to ask how he could justify himself in placing +her in such a position.” + +“And how did he take that?” said Trent, smiling secretly at the +landscape. The picture of this mildest of men calling the formidable +Manderson to account pleased him. + +“Not very well,” Mr. Cupples replied sadly. “In fact, far from well. I +can tell you almost exactly what he said—it wasn’t much. He said, ‘See +here, Cupples, you don’t want to butt in. My wife can look after +herself. I’ve found that out, along with other things.’ He was +perfectly quiet—you know he was said never to lose control of +himself—though there was a light in his eyes that would have frightened +a man who was in the wrong, I dare say. But I had been thoroughly +roused by his last remark, and the tone of it, which I cannot +reproduce. You see,” said Mr. Cupples simply, “I love my niece. She is +the only child that there has been in our—in my house. Moreover, my +wife brought her up as a girl, and any reflection on Mabel I could not +help feeling, in the heat of the moment, as an indirect reflection upon +one who is gone.” + +“You turned upon him,” suggested Trent in a low tone. “You asked him to +explain his words.” + +“That is precisely what I did,” said Mr. Cupples. “For a moment he only +stared at me, and I could see a vein on his forehead swelling—an +unpleasant sight. Then he said quite quietly, ‘This thing has gone far +enough, I guess,’ and turned to go.” + +“Did he mean your interview?” Trent asked thoughtfully. + +“From the words alone you would think so,” Mr. Cupples answered. “But +the way in which he uttered them gave me a strange and very +apprehensive feeling. I received the impression that the man had formed +some sinister resolve. But I regret to say I had lost the power of +dispassionate thought. I fell into a great rage”—Mr. Cupples’s tone was +mildly apologetic—“and said a number of foolish things. I reminded him +that the law allowed a measure of freedom to wives who received +intolerable treatment. I made some utterly irrelevant references to his +public record, and expressed the view that such men as he were unfit to +live. I said these things, and others as ill-considered, under the +eyes, and very possibly within earshot, of half a dozen persons sitting +on this veranda. I noticed them, in spite of my agitation, looking at +me as I walked up to the hotel again after relieving my mind for it +undoubtedly did relieve it,” sighed Mr. Cupples, lying back in his +chair. + +“And Manderson? Did he say no more?” + +“Not a word. He listened to me with his eyes on my face, as quiet as +before. When I stopped he smiled very slightly, and at once turned away +and strolled through the gate, making for White Gables.” + +“And this happened—?” + +“On the Sunday morning.” + +“Then I suppose you never saw him alive again?” + +“No,” said Mr. Cupples. “Or rather yes—once. It was later in the day, +on the golf-course. But I did not speak to him. And next morning he was +found dead.” + +The two regarded each other in silence for a few moments. A party of +guests who had been bathing came up the steps and seated themselves, +with much chattering, at a table near them. The waiter approached. Mr. +Cupples rose, and, taking Trent’s arm, led him to a long tennis-lawn at +the side of the hotel. + +“I have a reason for telling you all this,” began Mr. Cupples as they +paced slowly up and down. + +“Trust you for that,” rejoined Trent, carefully filling his pipe again. +He lit it, smoked a little, and then said, “I’ll try and guess what +your reason is, if you like.” + +Mr. Cupples’s face of solemnity relaxed into a slight smile. He said +nothing. + +“You thought it possible,” said Trent meditatively—“may I say you +thought it practically certain?—that I should find out for myself that +there had been something deeper than a mere conjugal tiff between the +Mandersons. You thought that my unwholesome imagination would begin at +once to play with the idea of Mrs. Manderson having something to do +with the crime. Rather than that I should lose myself in barren +speculations about this, you decided to tell me exactly how matters +stood, and incidentally to impress upon me, who know how excellent your +judgement is, your opinion of your niece. Is that about right?” + +“It is perfectly right. Listen to me, my dear fellow,” said Mr. Cupples +earnestly, laying his hand on the other’s arm. “I am going to be very +frank. I am extremely glad that Manderson is dead. I believe him to +have done nothing but harm in the world as an economic factor. I know +that he was making a desert of the life of one who was like my own +child to me. But I am under an intolerable dread of Mabel being +involved in suspicion with regard to the murder. It is horrible to me +to think of her delicacy and goodness being in contact, if only for a +time, with the brutalities of the law. She is not fitted for it. It +would mark her deeply. Many young women of twenty-six in these days +could face such an ordeal, I suppose. I have observed a sort of +imitative hardness about the products of the higher education of women +today which would carry them through anything, perhaps. + +“I am not prepared to say it is a bad thing in the conditions of +feminine life prevailing at present. Mabel, however, is not like that. +She is as unlike that as she is unlike the simpering misses that used +to surround me as a child. She has plenty of brains; she is full of +character; her mind and her tastes are cultivated; but it is all mixed +up”—Mr. Cupples waved his hands in a vague gesture—“with ideals of +refinement and reservation and womanly mystery. I fear she is not a +child of the age. You never knew my wife, Trent. Mabel is my wife’s +child.” + +The younger man bowed his head. They paced the length of the lawn +before he asked gently, “Why did she marry him?” + +“I don’t know,” said Mr. Cupples briefly. + +“Admired him, I suppose,” suggested Trent. + +Mr. Cupples shrugged his shoulders. “I have been told that a woman will +usually be more or less attracted by the most successful man in her +circle. Of course we cannot realize how a wilful, dominating +personality like his would influence a girl whose affections were not +bestowed elsewhere; especially if he laid himself out to win her. It is +probably an overwhelming thing to be courted by a man whose name is +known all over the world. She had heard of him, of course, as a +financial great power, and she had no idea—she had lived mostly among +people of artistic or literary propensities—how much soulless +inhumanity that might involve. For all I know, she has no adequate idea +of it to this day. When I first heard of the affair the mischief was +done, and I knew better than to interpose my unsought opinions. She was +of age, and there was absolutely nothing against him from the +conventional point of view. Then I dare say his immense wealth would +cast a spell over almost any woman. Mabel had some hundreds a year of +her own; just enough, perhaps, to let her realize what millions really +meant. But all this is conjecture. She certainly had not wanted to +marry some scores of young fellows who to my knowledge had asked her; +and though I don’t believe, and never did believe, that she really +loved this man of forty-five, she certainly did want to marry him. But +if you ask me why, I can only say I don’t know.” + +Trent nodded, and after a few more paces looked at his watch. “You’ve +interested me so much,” he said, “that I had quite forgotten my main +business. I mustn’t waste my morning. I am going down the road to White +Gables at once, and I dare say I shall be poking about there until +midday. If you can meet me then, Cupples, I should like to talk over +anything I find out with you, unless something detains me.” + +“I am going for a walk this morning,” Mr. Cupples replied. “I meant to +have luncheon at a little inn near the golf-course, The Three Tuns. You +had better join me there. It’s further along the road, about a quarter +of a mile beyond White Gables. You can just see the roof between those +two trees. The food they give one there is very plain, but good.” + +“So long as they have a cask of beer,” said Trent, “they are all right. +We will have bread and cheese, and oh, may Heaven our simple lives +prevent from luxury’s contagion, weak and vile! Till then, goodbye.” He +strode off to recover his hat from the veranda, waved it to Mr. +Cupples, and was gone. + +The old gentleman, seating himself in a deck-chair on the lawn, clasped +his hands behind his head and gazed up into the speckless blue sky. “He +is a dear fellow,” he murmured. “The best of fellows. And a terribly +acute fellow. Dear me! How curious it all is!” + + + + +Chapter IV. +Handcuffs in the Air + + +A painter and the son of a painter, Philip Trent had while yet in his +twenties achieved some reputation within the world of English art. +Moreover, his pictures sold. An original, forcible talent and a habit +of leisurely but continuous working, broken by fits of strong creative +enthusiasm, were at the bottom of it. His father’s name had helped; a +patrimony large enough to relieve him of the perilous imputation of +being a struggling man had certainly not hindered. But his best aid to +success had been an unconscious power of getting himself liked. Good +spirits and a lively, humorous fancy will always be popular. Trent +joined to these a genuine interest in others that gained him something +deeper than popularity. His judgement of persons was penetrating, but +its process was internal; no one felt on good behaviour with a man who +seemed always to be enjoying himself. Whether he was in a mood for +floods of nonsense or applying himself vigorously to a task, his face +seldom lost its expression of contained vivacity. Apart from a sound +knowledge of his art and its history, his culture was large and loose, +dominated by a love of poetry. At thirty-two he had not yet passed the +age of laughter and adventure. + +His rise to a celebrity a hundred times greater than his proper work +had won for him came of a momentary impulse. One day he had taken up a +newspaper to find it chiefly concerned with a crime of a sort curiously +rare in our country—a murder done in a railway train. The circumstances +were puzzling; two persons were under arrest upon suspicion. Trent, to +whom an interest in such affairs was a new sensation, heard the thing +discussed among his friends, and set himself in a purposeless mood to +read up the accounts given in several journals. He became intrigued; +his imagination began to work, in a manner strange to him, upon facts; +an excitement took hold of him such as he had only known before in his +bursts of art-inspiration or of personal adventure. At the end of the +day he wrote and dispatched a long letter to the editor of the +_Record_, which he chose only because it had contained the fullest and +most intelligent version of the facts. + +In this letter he did very much what Poe had done in the case of the +murder of Mary Rogers. With nothing but the newspapers to guide him, he +drew attention to the significance of certain apparently negligible +facts, and ranged the evidence in such a manner as to throw grave +suspicion upon a man who had presented himself as a witness. Sir James +Molloy had printed this letter in leaded type. The same evening he was +able to announce in the Sun the arrest and full confession of the +incriminated man. + +Sir James, who knew all the worlds of London, had lost no time in +making Trent’s acquaintance. The two men got on well, for Trent +possessed some secret of native tact which had the effect of almost +abolishing differences of age between himself and others. The great +rotary presses in the basement of the _Record_ building had filled him +with a new enthusiasm. He had painted there, and Sir James had bought +at sight, what he called a machinery-scape in the manner of Heinrich +Kley. + +Then a few months later came the affair known as the Ilkley mystery. +Sir James had invited Trent to an emollient dinner, and thereafter +offered him what seemed to the young man a fantastically large sum for +his temporary services as special representative of the _Record_ at +Ilkley. + +“You could do it,” the editor had urged. “You can write good stuff, and +you know how to talk to people, and I can teach you all the +technicalities of a reporter’s job in half an hour. And you have a head +for a mystery; you have imagination and cool judgement along with it. +Think how it would feel if you pulled it off!” + +Trent had admitted that it would be rather a lark. He had smoked, +frowned, and at last convinced himself that the only thing that held +him back was fear of an unfamiliar task. To react against fear had +become a fixed moral habit with him, and he had accepted Sir James’s +offer. + +He had pulled it off. For the second time he had given the authorities +a start and a beating, and his name was on all tongues. He withdrew and +painted pictures. He felt no leaning towards journalism, and Sir James, +who knew a good deal about art, honourably refrained—as other editors +did not—from tempting him with a good salary. But in the course of a +few years he had applied to him perhaps thirty times for his services +in the unravelling of similar problems at home and abroad. Sometimes +Trent, busy with work that held him, had refused; sometimes he had been +forestalled in the discovery of the truth. But the result of his +irregular connection with the _Record_ had been to make his name one of +the best known in England. It was characteristic of him that his name +was almost the only detail of his personality known to the public. He +had imposed absolute silence about himself upon the Molloy papers; and +the others were not going to advertise one of Sir James’s men. + +The Manderson case, he told himself as he walked rapidly up the sloping +road to White Gables, might turn out to be terribly simple. Cupples was +a wise old boy, but it was probably impossible for him to have an +impartial opinion about his niece. But it was true that the manager of +the hotel, who had spoken of her beauty in terms that aroused his +attention, had spoken even more emphatically of her goodness. Not an +artist in words, the manager had yet conveyed a very definite idea to +Trent’s mind. “There isn’t a child about here that don’t brighten up at +the sound of her voice,” he had said, “nor yet a grown-up, for the +matter of that. Everybody used to look forward to her coming over in +the summer. I don’t mean that she’s one of those women that are all +kind heart and nothing else. There’s backbone with it, if you know what +I mean—pluck— any amount of go. There’s nobody in Marlstone that isn’t +sorry for the lady in her trouble—not but what some of us may think +she’s lucky at the last of it.” Trent wanted very much to meet Mrs. +Manderson. + +He could see now, beyond a spacious lawn and shrubbery, the front of +the two-storied house of dull-red brick, with the pair of great gables +from which it had its name. He had had but a glimpse of it from the car +that morning. A modern house, he saw; perhaps ten years old. The place +was beautifully kept, with that air of opulent peace that clothes even +the smallest houses of the well-to-do in an English countryside. Before +it, beyond the road, the rich meadow-land ran down to the edge of the +cliffs; behind it a woody landscape stretched away across a broad vale +to the moors. That such a place could be the scene of a crime of +violence seemed fantastic; it lay so quiet and well ordered, so +eloquent of disciplined service and gentle living. Yet there beyond the +house, and near the hedge that rose between the garden and the hot, +white road, stood the gardener’s toolshed, by which the body had been +found, lying tumbled against the wooden wall, Trent walked past the +gate of the drive and along the road until he was opposite this shed. +Some forty yards further along the road turned sharply away from the +house, to run between thick plantations; and just before the turn the +grounds of the house ended, with a small white gate at the angle of the +boundary hedge. He approached the gate, which was plainly for the use +of gardeners and the service of the establishment. It swung easily on +its hinges, and he passed slowly up a path that led towards the back of +the house, between the outer hedge and a tall wall of rhododendrons. +Through a gap in this wall a track led him to the little neatly built +erection of wood, which stood among trees that faced a corner of the +front. The body had lain on the side away from the house; a servant, he +thought, looking out of the nearer windows in the earlier hours of the +day before, might have glanced unseeing at the hut, as she wondered +what it could be like to be as rich as the master. + +He examined the place carefully and ransacked the hut within, but he +could note no more than the trodden appearance of the uncut grass where +the body had lain. Crouching low, with keen eyes and feeling fingers, +he searched the ground minutely over a wide area; but the search was +fruitless. + +It was interrupted by the sound—the first he had heard from the +house—of the closing of the front door. Trent unbent his long legs and +stepped to the edge of the drive. A man was walking quickly away from +the house in the direction of the great gate. + +At the noise of a footstep on the gravel, the man wheeled with nervous +swiftness and looked earnestly at Trent. The sudden sight of his face +was almost terrible, so white and worn it was. Yet it was a young man’s +face. There was not a wrinkle about the haggard blue eyes, for all +their tale of strain and desperate fatigue. As the two approached each +other, Trent noted with admiration the man’s breadth of shoulder and +lithe, strong figure. In his carriage, inelastic as weariness had made +it; in his handsome, regular features; in his short, smooth, yellow +hair; and in his voice as he addressed Trent, the influence of a +special sort of training was confessed. “Oxford was your playground, I +think, my young friend,” said Trent to himself. + +“If you are Mr. Trent,” said the young man pleasantly, “you are +expected. Mr. Cupples telephoned from the hotel. My name is Marlowe.” + +“You were secretary to Mr. Manderson, I believe,” said Trent. He was +much inclined to like young Mr. Marlowe. Though he seemed so near a +physical breakdown, he gave out none the less that air of clean living +and inward health that is the peculiar glory of his social type at his +years. But there was something in the tired eyes that was a challenge +to Trent’s penetration; an habitual expression, as he took it to be, of +meditating and weighing things not present to their sight. It was a +look too intelligent, too steady and purposeful, to be called dreamy. +Trent thought he had seen such a look before somewhere. He went on to +say: “It is a terrible business for all of you. I fear it has upset you +completely, Mr. Marlowe.” + +“A little limp, that’s all,” replied the young man wearily. “I was +driving the car all Sunday night and most of yesterday, and I didn’t +sleep last night after hearing the news—who would? But I have an +appointment now, Mr. Trent, down at the doctor’s—arranging about the +inquest. I expect it’ll be tomorrow. If you will go up to the house and +ask for Mr. Bunner, you’ll find him expecting you; he will tell you all +about things and show you round. He’s the other secretary; an American, +and the best of fellows; he’ll look after you. There’s a detective +here, by the way—Inspector Murch, from Scotland Yard. He came +yesterday.” + +“Murch!” Trent exclaimed. “But he and I are old friends. How under the +sun did he get here so soon?” + +“I have no idea,” Mr. Marlowe answered. “But he was here last evening, +before I got back from Southampton, interviewing everybody, and he’s +been about here since eight this morning. He’s in the library +now—that’s where the open French window is that you see at the end of +the house there. Perhaps you would like to step down there and talk +about things.” + +“I think I will,” said Trent. Marlowe nodded and went on his way. The +thick turf of the lawn round which the drive took its circular sweep +made Trent’s footsteps as noiseless as a cat’s. In a few moments he was +looking in through the open leaves of the window at the southward end +of the house, considering with a smile a very broad back and a bent +head covered with short grizzled hair. The man within was stooping over +a number of papers laid out on the table. + +“’Twas ever thus,” said Trent in a melancholy tone, at the first sound +of which the man within turned round with startling swiftness. “From +childhood’s hour I’ve seen my fondest hopes decay. I did think I was +ahead of Scotland Yard this time, and now here is the hugest officer in +the entire Metropolitan force already occupying the position.” + +The detective smiled grimly and came to the window. “I was expecting +you, Mr. Trent,” he said. “This is the sort of case that you like.” + +“Since my tastes were being considered,” Trent replied, stepping into +the room, “I wish they had followed up the idea by keeping my hated +rival out of the business. You have got a long start, too—I know all +about it.” His eyes began to wander round the room. “How did you manage +it? You are a quick mover, I know; the dun deer’s hide on fleeter foot +was never tied; but I don’t see how you got here in time to be at work +yesterday evening. Has Scotland Yard secretly started an aviation +corps? Or is it in league with the infernal powers? In either case the +Home Secretary should be called upon to make a statement.” + +“It’s simpler than that,” said Mr. Murch with professional stolidity. +“I happened to be on leave with the missus at Havley, which is only +twelve miles or so along the coast. As soon as our people there heard +of the murder they told me. I wired to the Chief, and was put in charge +of the case at once. I bicycled over yesterday evening, and have been +at it since then.” + +“Arising out of that reply,” said Trent inattentively, “how is Mrs. +Inspector Murch?” + +“Never better, thank you,” answered the inspector, “and frequently +speaks of you and the games you used to have with our kids. But you’ll +excuse me saying, Mr. Trent, that you needn’t trouble to talk your +nonsense to me while you’re using your eyes. I know your ways by now. I +understand you’ve fallen on your feet as usual, and have the lady’s +permission to go over the place and make enquiries.” + +“Such is the fact,” said Trent. “I am going to cut you out again, +inspector. I owe you one for beating me over the Abinger case, you old +fox. But if you really mean that you’re not inclined for the social +amenities just now, let us leave compliments and talk business.” He +stepped to the table, glanced through the papers arranged there in +order, and then turned to the open roll-top desk. He looked into the +drawers swiftly. “I see this has been cleared out. Well now, inspector, +I suppose we play the game as before.” + +Trent had found himself on a number of occasions in the past thrown +into the company of Inspector Murch, who stood high in the councils of +the Criminal Investigation Department. He was a quiet, tactful, and +very shrewd officer, a man of great courage, with a vivid history in +connection with the more dangerous class of criminals. His humanity was +as broad as his frame, which was large even for a policeman. Trent and +he, through some obscure working of sympathy, had appreciated one +another from the beginning, and had formed one of those curious +friendships with which it was the younger man’s delight to adorn his +experience. The inspector would talk more freely to him than to any +one, under the rose, and they would discuss details and possibilities +of every case, to their mutual enlightenment. There were necessarily +rules and limits. It was understood between them that Trent made no +journalistic use of any point that could only have come to him from an +official source. Each of them, moreover, for the honour and prestige of +the institution he represented, openly reserved the right to withhold +from the other any discovery or inspiration that might come to him +which he considered vital to the solution of the difficulty. Trent had +insisted on carefully formulating these principles of what he called +detective sportsmanship. Mr. Murch, who loved a contest, and who only +stood to gain by his association with the keen intelligence of the +other, entered very heartily into “the game”. In these strivings for +the credit of the press and of the police, victory sometimes attended +the experience and method of the officer, sometimes the quicker brain +and livelier imagination of Trent, his gift of instinctively +recognizing the significant through all disguises. + +The inspector then replied to Trent’s last words with cordial +agreement. Leaning on either side of the French window, with the deep +peace and hazy splendor of the summer landscape before them, they +reviewed the case. + +Trent had taken out a thin notebook, and as they talked he began to +make, with light, secure touches, a rough sketch plan of the room. It +was a thing he did habitually on such occasions, and often quite idly, +but now and then the habit had served him to good purpose. + +This was a large, light apartment at the corner of the house, with +generous window-space in two walls. A broad table stood in the middle. +As one entered by the window the roll-top desk stood just to the left +of it against the wall. The inner door was in the wall to the left, at +the farther end of the room; and was faced by a broad window divided +into openings of the casement type. A beautifully carved old +corner-cupboard rose high against the wall beyond the door, and another +cupboard filled a recess beside the fireplace. Some coloured prints of +Harunobu, with which Trent promised himself a better acquaintance, hung +on what little wall-space was unoccupied by books. These had a very +uninspiring appearance of having been bought by the yard and never +taken from their shelves. Bound with a sober luxury, the great English +novelists, essayists, historians, and poets stood ranged like an army +struck dead in its ranks. There were a few chairs made, like the +cupboard and table, of old carved oak; a modern armchair and a swivel +office-chair before the desk. The room looked costly but very bare. +Almost the only portable objects were a great porcelain bowl of a +wonderful blue on the table, a clock and some cigar boxes on the +mantelshelf, and a movable telephone standard on the top of the desk. + +“Seen the body?” enquired the inspector. + +Trent nodded. “And the place where it lay,” he said. + +“First impressions of this case rather puzzle me,” said the inspector. +“From what I heard at Halvey I guessed it might be common robbery and +murder by some tramp, though such a thing is very far from common in +these parts. But as soon as I began my enquiries I came on some curious +points, which by this time I dare say you’ve noted for yourself. The +man is shot in his own grounds, quite near the house, to begin with. +Yet there’s not the slightest trace of any attempt at burglary. And the +body wasn’t robbed. In fact, it would be as plain a case of suicide as +you could wish to see, if it wasn’t for certain facts. Here’s another +thing: for a month or so past, they tell me, Manderson had been in a +queer state of mind. I expect you know already that he and his wife had +some trouble between them. The servants had noticed a change in his +manner to her for a long time, and for the past week he had scarcely +spoken to her. They say he was a changed man, moody and silent—whether +on account of that or something else. The lady’s maid says he looked as +if something was going to arrive. It’s always easy to remember that +people looked like that, after something has happened to them. Still, +that’s what they say. There you are again, then: suicide! Now, why +wasn’t it suicide, Mr. Trent?” + +“The facts so far as I know them are really all against it,” Trent +replied, sitting on the threshold of the window and clasping his knees. +“First, of course, no weapon is to be found. I’ve searched, and you’ve +searched, and there’s no trace of any firearm anywhere within a stone’s +throw of where the body lay. Second, the marks on the wrists, fresh +scratches and bruises, which we can only assume to have been done in a +struggle with somebody. Third, who ever heard of anybody shooting +himself in the eye? Then I heard from the manager of the hotel here +another fact, which strikes me as the most curious detail in this +affair. Manderson had dressed himself fully before going out there, but +he forgot his false teeth. Now how could a suicide who dressed himself +to make a decent appearance as a corpse forget his teeth?” + +“That last argument hadn’t struck me,” admitted Mr. Murch. “There’s +something in it. But on the strength of the other points, which had +occurred to me, I am not considering suicide. I have been looking about +for ideas in this house, this morning. I expect you were thinking of +doing the same.” + +“That is so. It is a case for ideas, it seems to me. Come, Murch, let +us make an effort; let us bend our spirits to a temper of general +suspicion. Let us suspect everybody in the house, to begin with. +Listen: I will tell you whom I suspect. I suspect Mrs. Manderson, of +course. I also suspect both the secretaries—I hear there are two, and I +hardly know which of them I regard as more thoroughly open to +suspicion. I suspect the butler and the lady’s maid. I suspect the +other domestics, and especially do I suspect the boot-boy. By the way, +what domestics are there? I have more than enough suspicion to go +round, whatever the size of the establishment; but as a matter of +curiosity I should like to know.” + +“All very well to laugh,” replied the inspector, “but at the first +stage of affairs it’s the only safe principle, and you know that as +well as I do, Mr. Trent. However, I’ve seen enough of the people here, +last night and today, to put a few of them out of my mind for the +present at least. You will form your own conclusions. As for the +establishment, there’s the butler and lady’s maid, cook, and three +other maids, one a young girl. One chauffeur, who’s away with a broken +wrist. No boy.” + +“What about the gardener? You say nothing about that shadowy and +sinister figure, the gardener. You are keeping him in the background, +Murch. Play the game. Out with him—or I report you to the Rules +Committee.” + +“The garden is attended to by a man in the village, who comes twice a +week. I’ve talked to him. He was here last on Friday.” + +“Then I suspect him all the more,” said Trent. “And now as to the house +itself. What I propose to do, to begin with, is to sniff about a little +in this room, where I am told Manderson spent a great deal of his time, +and in his bedroom; especially the bedroom. But since we’re in this +room, let’s start here. You seem to be at the same stage of the +inquiry. Perhaps you’ve done the bedrooms already?” + +The inspector nodded. “I’ve been over Manderson’s and his wife’s. +Nothing to be got there, I think. His room is very simple and bare, no +signs of any sort—that _I_ could see. Seems to have insisted on the +simple life, does Manderson. Never employed a valet. The room’s almost +like a cell, except for the clothes and shoes. You’ll find it all +exactly as I found it; and they tell me that’s exactly as Manderson +left it, at we don’t know what o’clock yesterday morning. Opens into +Mrs. Manderson’s bedroom—not much of the cell about that, I can tell +you. I should say the lady was as fond of pretty things as most. But +she cleared out of it on the morning of the discovery—told the maid she +could never sleep in a room opening into her murdered husband’s room. +Very natural feeling in a woman, Mr. Trent. She’s camping out, so to +say, in one of the spare bedrooms now.” + +“Come, my friend,” Trent was saying to himself, as he made a few notes +in his little book. “Have you got your eye on Mrs. Manderson? Or +haven’t you? I know that colourless tone of the inspectorial voice. I +wish I had seen her. Either you’ve got something against her and you +don’t want me to get hold of it; or else you’ve made up your mind she’s +innocent, but have no objection to my wasting my time over her. Well, +it’s all in the game; which begins to look extremely interesting as we +go on.” To Mr. Murch he said aloud: “Well, I’ll draw the bedroom later +on. What about this?” + +“They call it the library,” said the inspector. “Manderson used to do +his writing and that in here; passed most of the time he spent indoors +here. Since he and his wife ceased to hit it off together, he had taken +to spending his evenings alone, and when at this house he always spent +’em in here. He was last seen alive, as far as the servants are +concerned, in this room.” + +Trent rose and glanced again through the papers set out on the table. +“Business letters and documents, mostly,” said Mr. Murch. “Reports, +prospectuses, and that. A few letters on private matters, nothing in +them that I can see. The American secretary—Bunner his name is, and a +queerer card I never saw turned—he’s been through this desk with me +this morning. He had got it into his head that Manderson had been +receiving threatening letters, and that the murder was the outcome of +that. But there’s no trace of any such thing; and we looked at every +blessed paper. The only unusual things we found were some packets of +banknotes to a considerable amount, and a couple of little bags of +unset diamonds. I asked Mr. Bunner to put them in a safer place. It +appears that Manderson had begun buying diamonds lately as a +speculation—it was a new game to him, the secretary said, and it seemed +to amuse him.” + +“What about these secretaries?” Trent enquired. “I met one called +Marlowe just now outside; a nice-looking chap with singular eyes, +unquestionably English. The other, it seems, is an American. What did +Manderson want with an English secretary?” + +“Mr. Marlowe explained to me how that was. The American was his +right-hand business man, one of his office staff, who never left him. +Mr. Marlowe had nothing to do with Manderson’s business as a financier, +knew nothing of it. His job was to look after Manderson’s horses and +motors and yacht and sporting arrangements and that—make himself +generally useful, as you might say. He had the spending of a lot of +money, I should think. The other was confined entirely to the office +affairs, and I dare say he had his hands full. As for his being +English, it was just a fad of Manderson’s to have an English secretary. +He’d had several before Mr. Marlowe.” + +“He showed his taste,” observed Trent. “It might be more than +interesting, don’t you think, to be minister to the pleasures of a +modern plutocrat with a large P. Only they say that Manderson’s were +exclusively of an innocent kind. Certainly Marlowe gives me the +impression that he would be weak in the part of Petronius. But to +return to the matter in hand.” He looked at his notes. “You said just +now that he was last seen alive here, ‘so far as the servants were +concerned’. That meant—?” + +“He had a conversation with his wife on going to bed. But for that, the +manservant, Martin by name, last saw him in this room. I had his story +last night, and very glad he was to tell it. An affair like this is +meat and drink to the servants of the house.” + +Trent considered for some moments, gazing through the open window over +the sun-flooded slopes. “Would it bore you to hear what he has to say +again?” he asked at length. For reply, Mr. Murch rang the bell. A +spare, clean-shaven, middle-aged man, having the servant’s manner in +its most distinguished form, answered it. + +“This is Mr. Trent, who is authorized by Mrs. Manderson to go over the +house and make enquiries,” explained the detective. “He would like to +hear your story.” Martin bowed distantly. He recognized Trent for a +gentleman. Time would show whether he was what Martin called a +gentleman in every sense of the word. + +“I observed you approaching the house, sir,” said Martin with impassive +courtesy. He spoke with a slow and measured utterance. “My instructions +are to assist you in every possible way. Should you wish me to recall +the circumstances of Sunday night?” + +“Please,” said Trent with ponderous gravity. Martin’s style was making +clamorous appeal to his sense of comedy. He banished with an effort all +vivacity of expression from his face. + +“I last saw Mr. Manderson—” + +“No, not that yet,” Trent checked him quietly. “Tell me all you saw of +him that evening—after dinner, say. Try to recollect every little +detail.” + +“After dinner, sir?—yes. I remember that after dinner Mr. Manderson and +Mr. Marlowe walked up and down the path through the orchard, talking. +If you ask me for details, it struck me they were talking about +something important, because I heard Mr. Manderson say something when +they came in through the back entrance. He said, as near as I can +remember, ‘If Harris is there, every minute is of importance. You want +to start right away. And not a word to a soul.’ Mr. Marlowe answered, +‘Very well. I will just change out of these clothes and then I am +ready’—or words to that effect. I heard this plainly as they passed the +window of my pantry. Then Mr. Marlowe went up to his bedroom, and Mr. +Manderson entered the library and rang for me. He handed me some +letters for the postman in the morning and directed me to sit up, as +Mr. Marlowe had persuaded him to go for a drive in the car by +moonlight.” + +“That was curious,” remarked Trent. + +“I thought so, sir. But I recollected what I had heard about ‘not a +word to a soul’, and I concluded that this about a moonlight drive was +intended to mislead.” + +“What time was this?” + +“It would be about ten, sir, I should say. After speaking to me, Mr. +Manderson waited until Mr. Marlowe had come down and brought round the +car. He then went into the drawing-room, where Mrs. Manderson was.” + +“Did that strike you as curious?” + +Martin looked down his nose. “If you ask me the question, sir,” he said +with reserve, “I had not known him enter that room since we came here +this year. He preferred to sit in the library in the evenings. That +evening he only remained with Mrs. Manderson for a few minutes. Then he +and Mr. Marlowe started immediately.” + +“You saw them start?” + +“Yes, sir. They took the direction of Bishopsbridge.” + +“And you saw Mr. Manderson again later?” + +“After an hour or thereabouts, sir, in the library. That would have +been about a quarter past eleven, I should say; I had noticed eleven +striking from the church. I may say I am peculiarly quick of hearing, +sir.” + +“Mr. Manderson had rung the bell for you, I suppose. Yes? And what +passed when you answered it?” + +“Mr. Manderson had put out the decanter of whisky and a syphon and +glass, sir, from the cupboard where he kept them—” + +Trent held up his hand. “While we are on that point, Martin, I want to +ask you plainly, did Mr. Manderson drink very much? You understand this +is not impertinent curiosity on my part. I want you to tell me, because +it may possibly help in the clearing up of this case.” + +“Perfectly, sir,” replied Martin gravely. “I have no hesitation in +telling you what I have already told the inspector. Mr. Manderson was, +considering his position in life, a remarkably abstemious man. In my +four years of service with him I never knew anything of an alcoholic +nature pass his lips, except a glass or two of wine at dinner, very +rarely a little at luncheon, and from time to time a whisky and soda +before going to bed. He never seemed to form a habit of it. Often I +used to find his glass in the morning with only a little soda water in +it; sometimes he would have been having whisky with it, but never much. +He never was particular about his drinks; ordinary soda was what he +preferred, though I had ventured to suggest some of the natural +minerals, having personally acquired a taste for them in my previous +service. He used to keep them in the cupboard here, because he had a +great dislike of being waited on more than was necessary. It was an +understood thing that I never came near him after dinner unless sent +for. And when he sent for anything, he liked it brought quick, and to +be left alone again at once. He hated to be asked if he required +anything more. Amazingly simple in his tastes, sir, Mr. Manderson was.” + +“Very well; and he rang for you that night about a quarter past eleven. +Now can you remember exactly what he said?” + +“I think I can tell you with some approach to accuracy, sir. It was not +much. First he asked me if Mr. Bunner had gone to bed, and I replied +that he had been gone up some time. He then said that he wanted some +one to sit up until 12.30, in case an important message should come by +telephone, and that Mr. Marlowe having gone to Southampton for him in +the motor, he wished me to do this, and that I was to take down the +message if it came, and not disturb him. He also ordered a fresh syphon +of soda water. I believe that was all, sir.” + +“You noticed nothing unusual about him, I suppose?” + +“No, sir, nothing unusual. When I answered the ring, he was seated at +the desk listening at the telephone, waiting for a number, as I +supposed. He gave his orders and went on listening at the same time. +“When I returned with the syphon he was engaged in conversation over +the wire.” + +“Do you remember anything of what he was saying?” + +“Very little, sir; it was something about somebody being at some +hotel—of no interest to me. I was only in the room just time enough to +place the syphon on the table and withdraw. As I closed the door he was +saying, ‘You’re sure he isn’t in the hotel?’ or words to that effect.” + +“And that was the last you saw and heard of him alive?” + +“No, sir. A little later, at half-past eleven, when I had settled down +in my pantry with the door ajar, and a book to pass the time, I heard +Mr. Manderson go upstairs to bed. I immediately went to close the +library window, and slipped the lock of the front door. I did not hear +anything more.” + +Trent considered. “I suppose you didn’t doze at all,” he said +tentatively, “while you were sitting up waiting for the telephone +message?” + +“Oh no, sir. I am always very wakeful about that time. I’m a bad +sleeper, especially in the neighbourhood of the sea, and I generally +read in bed until somewhere about midnight.” + +“And did any message come?” + +“No, sir.” + +“No. And I suppose you sleep with your window open, these warm nights?” + +“It is never closed at night, sir.” + +Trent added a last note; then he looked thoughtfully through those he +had taken. He rose and paced up and down the room for some moments with +a downcast eye. At length he paused opposite Martin. + +“It all seems perfectly ordinary and simple,” he said. “I just want to +get a few details clear. You went to shut the windows in the library +before going to bed. Which windows?” + +“The French window, sir. It had been open all day. The windows opposite +the door were seldom opened.” + +“And what about the curtains? I am wondering whether any one outside +the house could have seen into the room.” + +“Easily, sir, I should say, if he had got into the grounds on that +side. The curtains were never drawn in the hot weather. Mr. Manderson +would often sit right in the doorway at nights, smoking and looking out +into the darkness. But nobody could have seen him who had any business +to be there.” + +“I see. And now tell me this. Your hearing is very acute, you say, and +you heard Mr. Manderson enter the house when he came in after dinner +from the garden. Did you hear him re-enter it after returning from the +motor drive?” + +Martin paused. “Now you mention it, sir, I remember that I did not. His +ringing the bell in this room was the first I knew of his being back. I +should have heard him come in, if he had come in by the front. I should +have heard the door go. But he must have come in by the window.” The +man reflected for a moment, then added, “As a general rule, Mr. +Manderson would come in by the front, hang up his hat and coat in the +hall, and pass down the hall into the study. It seems likely to me that +he was in a great hurry to use the telephone, and so went straight +across the lawn to the window. He was like that, sir, when there was +anything important to be done. He had his hat on, now I remember, and +had thrown his greatcoat over the end of the table. He gave his order +very sharp, too, as he always did when busy. A very precipitate man +indeed was Mr. Manderson; a hustler, as they say.” + +“Ah! he appeared to be busy. But didn’t you say just now that you +noticed nothing unusual about him?” + +A melancholy smile flitted momentarily over Martin’s face. “That +observation shows that you did not know Mr. Manderson, sir, if you will +pardon my saying so. His being like that was nothing unusual; quite the +contrary. It took me long enough to get used to it. Either he would be +sitting quite still and smoking a cigar, thinking or reading, or else +he would be writing, dictating, and sending off wires all at the same +time, till it almost made one dizzy to see it, sometimes for an hour or +more at a stretch. As for being in a hurry over a telephone message, I +may say it wasn’t in him to be anything else.” + +Trent turned to the inspector, who met his eye with a look of answering +intelligence. Not sorry to show his understanding of the line of +inquiry opened by Trent, Mr. Murch for the first time put a question. + +“Then you left him telephoning by the open window, with the lights on, +and the drinks on the table; is that it?” “That is so, Mr. Murch.” The +delicacy of the change in Martin’s manner when called upon to answer +the detective momentarily distracted Trent’s appreciative mind. But the +big man’s next question brought it back to the problem at once. + +“About those drinks. You say Mr. Manderson often took no whisky before +going to bed. Did he have any that night?” + +“I could not say. The room was put to rights in the morning by one of +the maids, and the glass washed, I presume, as usual. I know that the +decanter was nearly full that evening. I had refilled it a few days +before, and I glanced at it when I brought the fresh syphon, just out +of habit, to make sure there was a decent-looking amount.” + +The inspector went to the tall corner-cupboard and opened it. He took +out a decanter of cut glass and set it on the table before Martin. “Was +it fuller than that?” he asked quietly. “That’s how I found it this +morning.” The decanter was more than half empty. + +For the first time Martin’s self-possession wavered. He took up the +decanter quickly, tilted it before his eyes, and then stared amazedly +at the others. He said slowly: “There’s not much short of half a bottle +gone out of this since I last set eyes on it—and that was that Sunday +night.” + +“Nobody in the house, I suppose?” suggested Trent discreetly. + +“Out of the question!” replied Martin briefly; then he added, “I beg +pardon, sir, but this is a most extraordinary thing to me. Such a thing +never happened in all my experience of Mr. Manderson. As for the +women-servants, they never touch anything, I can answer for it; and as +for me, when I want a drink I can help myself without going to the +decanters.” He took up the decanter again and aimlessly renewed his +observation of the contents, while the inspector eyed him with a look +of serene satisfaction, as a master contemplates his handiwork. + +Trent turned to a fresh page of his notebook, and tapped it +thoughtfully with his pencil. Then he looked up and said, “I suppose +Mr. Manderson had dressed for dinner that night?” + +“Certainly, sir. He had on a suit with a dress-jacket, what he used to +refer to as a Tuxedo, which he usually wore when dining at home.” + +“And he was dressed like that when you saw him last?” + +“All but the jacket, sir. When he spent the evening in the library, as +usually happened, he would change it for an old shooting-jacket after +dinner, a light-coloured tweed, a little too loud in pattern for +English tastes, perhaps. He had it on when I saw him last. It used to +hang in this cupboard here”—Martin opened the door of it as he +spoke—“along with Mr. Manderson’s fishing-rods and such things, so that +he could slip it on after dinner without going upstairs.” + +“Leaving the dinner-jacket in the cupboard?” + +“Yes, sir. The housemaid used to take it upstairs in the morning.” + +“In the morning,” Trent repeated slowly. “And now that we are speaking +of the morning, will you tell me exactly what you know about that? I +understand that Mr. Manderson was not missed until the body was found +about ten o’clock.” + +“That is so, sir. Mr. Manderson would never be called, or have anything +brought to him in the morning. He occupied a separate bedroom. Usually +he would get up about eight and go round to the bathroom, and he would +come down some time before nine. But often he would sleep till nine or +ten o’clock. Mrs. Manderson was always called at seven. The maid would +take in tea to her. Yesterday morning Mrs. Manderson took breakfast +about eight in her sitting-room as usual, and every one supposed that +Mr. Manderson was still in bed and asleep, when Evans came rushing up +to the house with the shocking intelligence.” + +“I see,” said Trent. “And now another thing. You say you slipped the +lock of the front door before going to bed. Was that all the locking-up +you did?” + +“To the front door, sir, yes; I slipped the lock. No more is considered +necessary in these parts. But I had locked both the doors at the back, +and seen to the fastenings of all the windows on the ground floor. In +the morning everything was as I had left it.” + +“As you had left it. Now here is another point—the last, I think. Were +the clothes in which the body was found the clothes that Mr. Manderson +would naturally have worn that day?” + +Martin rubbed his chin. “You remind me how surprised I was when I first +set eyes on the body, sir. At first I couldn’t make out what was +unusual about the clothes, and then I saw what it was. The collar was a +shape of collar Mr. Manderson never wore except with evening dress. +Then I found that he had put on all the same things that he had worn +the night before—large fronted shirt and all—except just the coat and +waistcoat and trousers, and the brown shoes, and blue tie. As for the +suit, it was one of half a dozen he might have worn. But for him to +have simply put on all the rest just because they were there, instead +of getting out the kind of shirt and things he always wore by day; +well, sir, it was unprecedented. It shows, like some other things, what +a hurry he must have been in when getting up.” + +“Of course,” said Trent. “Well, I think that’s all I wanted to know. +You have put everything with admirable clearness, Martin. If we want to +ask any more questions later on, I suppose you will be somewhere +about.” + +“I shall be at your disposal, sir.” Martin bowed, and went out quietly. + +Trent flung himself into the armchair and exhaled a long breath. +“Martin is a great creature,” he said. “He is far, far better than a +play. There is none like him, none, nor will be when our summers have +deceased. Straight, too; not an atom of harm in dear old Martin. Do you +know, Murch, you are wrong in suspecting that man.” + +“I never said a word about suspecting him.” The inspector was taken +aback. “You know, Mr. Trent, he would never have told his story like +that if he thought I suspected him.” + +“I dare say he doesn’t think so. He is a wonderful creature, a great +artist; but, in spite of that, he is not at all a sensitive type. It +has never occurred to his mind that you, Murch, could suspect him, +Martin, the complete, the accomplished. But I know it. You must +understand, inspector, that I have made a special study of the +psychology of officers of the law. It is a grossly neglected branch of +knowledge. They are far more interesting than criminals, and not nearly +so easy. All the time I was questioning him I saw handcuffs in your +eye. Your lips were mutely framing the syllables of those tremendous +words: ‘It is my duty to tell you that anything you now say will be +taken down and used in evidence against you.’ Your manner would have +deceived most men, but it could not deceive me.” + +Mr. Murch laughed heartily. Trent’s nonsense never made any sort of +impression on his mind, but he took it as a mark of esteem, which +indeed it was; so it never failed to please him. “Well, Mr. Trent,” he +said, “you’re perfectly right. There’s no point in denying it, I have +got my eye on him. Not that there’s anything definite; but you know as +well as I do how often servants are mixed up in affairs of this kind, +and this man is such a very quiet customer. You remember the case of +Lord William Russell’s valet, who went in as usual, in the morning, to +draw up the blinds in his master’s bedroom, as quiet and starchy as you +please, a few hours after he had murdered him in his bed. I’ve talked +to all the women of the house, and I don’t believe there’s a morsel of +harm in one of them. But Martin’s not so easy set aside. I don’t like +his manner; I believe he’s hiding something. If so, I shall find it +out.” + +“Cease!” said Trent. “Drain not to its dregs the urn of bitter +prophecy. Let us get back to facts. Have you, as a matter of evidence, +anything at all to bring against Martin’s story as he has told it to +us?” + +“Nothing whatever at present. As for his suggestion that Manderson came +in by way of the window after leaving Marlowe and the car, that’s right +enough, I should say. I questioned the servant who swept the room next +morning, and she tells me there were gravelly marks near the window, on +this plain drugget that goes round the carpet. And there’s a footprint +in this soft new gravel just outside.” The inspector took a folding +rule from his pocket and with it pointed out the traces. “One of the +patent shoes Manderson was wearing that night exactly fits that print; +you’ll find them,” he added, “on the top shelf in the bedroom, near the +window end, the only patents in the row. The girl who polished them in +the morning picked them out for me.” + +Trent bent down and studied the faint marks keenly. “Good!” he said. +“You have covered a lot of ground, Murch, I must say. That was +excellent about the whisky; you made your point finely. I felt inclined +to shout ‘Encore!’ It’s a thing that I shall have to think over.” + +“I thought you might have fitted it in already,” said Mr. Murch. “Come, +Mr. Trent, we’re only at the beginning of our enquiries, but what do +you say to this for a preliminary theory? There’s a plan of burglary, +say a couple of men in it and Martin squared. They know where the plate +is, and all about the handy little bits of stuff in the drawing-room +and elsewhere. They watch the house; see Manderson off to bed; Martin +comes to shut the window, and leaves it ajar, accidentally on purpose. +They wait till Martin goes to bed at twelve-thirty; then they just walk +into the library, and begin to sample the whisky first thing. Now +suppose Manderson isn’t asleep, and suppose they make a noise opening +the window, or however it might be. He hears it; thinks of burglars; +gets up very quietly to see if anything’s wrong; creeps down on them, +perhaps, just as they’re getting ready for work. They cut and run; he +chases them down to the shed, and collars one; there’s a fight; one of +them loses his temper and his head, and makes a swinging job of it. +Now, Mr. Trent, pick that to pieces.” + +“Very well,” said Trent; “just to oblige you, Murch, especially as I +know you don’t believe a word of it. First: no traces of any kind left +by your burglar or burglars, and the window found fastened in the +morning, according to Martin. Not much force in that, I allow. Next: +nobody in the house hears anything of this stampede through the +library, nor hears any shout from Manderson either inside the house or +outside. Next: Manderson goes down without a word to anybody, though +Bunner and Martin are both at hand. Next: did you ever hear, in your +long experience, of a householder getting up in the night to pounce on +burglars, who dressed himself fully, with underclothing, shirt; collar +and tie, trousers, waistcoat and coat, socks and hard leather shoes; +and who gave the finishing touches to a somewhat dandified toilet by +doing his hair, and putting on his watch and chain? Personally, I call +that over-dressing the part. The only decorative detail he seems to +have forgotten is his teeth.” + +The inspector leaned forward thinking, his large hands clasped before +him. “No,” he said at last. “Of course there’s no help in that theory. +I rather expect we have some way to go before we find out why a man +gets up before the servants are awake, dresses himself awry, and is +murdered within sight of his house early enough to be “cold and stiff +by ten in the morning.” + +Trent shook his head. “We can’t build anything on that last +consideration. I’ve gone into the subject with people who know. I +shouldn’t wonder,” he added, “if the traditional notions about loss of +temperature and rigour after death had occasionally brought an innocent +man to the gallows, or near it. Dr. Stock has them all, I feel sure; +most general practitioners of the older generation have. That Dr. Stock +will make an ass of himself at the inquest, is almost as certain as +that tomorrow’s sun will rise. I’ve seen him. He will say the body must +have been dead about so long, because of the degree of coldness and +_rigor mortis_. I can see him nosing it all out in some textbook that +was out of date when he was a student. Listen, Murch, and I will tell +you some facts which will be a great hindrance to you in your +professional career. There are many things that may hasten or retard +the cooling of the body. This one was lying in the long dewy grass on +the shady side of the shed. As for rigidity, if Manderson died in a +struggle, or labouring under sudden emotion, his corpse might stiffen +practically instantaneously; there are dozens of cases noted, +particularly in cases of injury to the skull, like this one. On the +other hand, the stiffening might not have begun until eight or ten +hours after death. You can’t hang anybody on _rigor mortis_ nowadays, +inspector, much as you may resent the limitation. No, what we _can_ say +is this. If he had been shot after the hour at which the world begins +to get up and go about its business, it would have been heard, and very +likely seen too. In fact, we must reason, to begin with, at any rate, +on the assumption that he wasn’t shot at a time when people might be +awake; it isn’t done in these parts. Put that time at 6.30 a.m. +Manderson went up to bed at 11 p.m., and Martin sat up till 12.30. +Assuming that he went to sleep at once on turning in, that leaves us +something like six hours for the crime to be committed in; and that is +a long time. But whenever it took place, I wish you would suggest a +reason why Manderson, who was a fairly late riser, was up and dressed +at or before 6.30; and why neither Martin, who sleeps lightly, nor +Bunner, nor his wife heard him moving about, or letting himself out of +the house. He must have been careful. He must have crept about like a +cat. Do you feel as I do, Murch, about all this; that it is very, very +strange and baffling?” + +“That’s how it looks,” agreed the inspector. + +“And now,” said Trent, rising to his feet, “I’ll leave you to your +meditations, and take a look at the bedrooms. Perhaps the explanation +of all this will suddenly burst upon you while I am poking about up +there. But,” concluded Trent in a voice of sudden exasperation, turning +round in the doorway, “if you can tell me at any time, how under the +sun a man who put on all those clothes could forget to put in his +teeth, you may kick me from here to the nearest lunatic asylum, and +hand me over as an incipient dement.” + + + + +Chapter V. +Poking About + + +There are moments in life, as one might think, when that which is +within us, busy about its secret affair, lets escape into consciousness +some hint of a fortunate thing ordained. Who does not know what it is +to feel at times a wave of unaccountable persuasion that it is about to +go well with him?—not the feverish confidence of men in danger of a +blow from fate, not the persistent illusion of the optimist, but an +unsought conviction, springing up like a bird from the heather, that +success is at hand in some great or fine thing. The general suddenly +knows at dawn that the day will bring him victory; the man on the green +suddenly knows that he will put down the long putt. As Trent mounted +the stairway outside the library door he seemed to rise into certainty +of achievement. A host of guesses and inferences swarmed apparently +unsorted through his mind; a few secret observations that he had made, +and which he felt must have significance, still stood unrelated to any +plausible theory of the crime; yet as he went up he seemed to know +indubitably that light was going to appear. + +The bedrooms lay on either side of a broad carpeted passage, lighted by +a tall end window. It went the length of the house until it ran at +right angles into a narrower passage, out of which the servants’ rooms +opened. Martin’s room was the exception: it opened out of a small +landing half-way to the upper floor. As Trent passed it he glanced +within. A little square room, clean and commonplace. In going up the +rest of the stairway he stepped with elaborate precaution against +noise, hugging the wall closely and placing each foot with care; but a +series of very audible creaks marked his passage. + +He knew that Manderson’s room was the first on the right hand when the +bedroom floor was reached, and he went to it at once. He tried the +latch and the lock, which worked normally, and examined the wards of +the key. Then he turned to the room. + +It was a small apartment, strangely bare. The plutocrat’s toilet +appointments were of the simplest. All remained just as it had been on +the morning of the ghastly discovery in the grounds. The sheets and +blankets of the unmade bed lay tumbled over a narrow wooden bedstead, +and the sun shone brightly through the window upon them. It gleamed, +too, upon the gold parts of the delicate work of dentistry that lay in +water in a shallow bowl of glass placed on a small, plain table by the +bedside. On this also stood a wrought-iron candlestick. Some clothing +lay untidily over one of the two rush-bottomed chairs. Various objects +on the top of a chest of drawers, which had been used as a +dressing-table, lay in such disorder as a hurried man might make. Trent +looked them over with a questing eye. He noted also that the occupant +of the room had neither washed nor shaved. With his finger he turned +over the dental plate in the bowl, and frowned again at its +incomprehensible presence. + +The emptiness and disarray of the little room, flooded by the sunbeams, +were producing in Trent a sense of gruesomeness. His fancy called up a +picture of a haggard man dressing himself in careful silence by the +first light of dawn, glancing constantly at the inner door behind which +his wife slept, his eyes full of some terror. + +Trent shivered, and to fix his mind again on actualities, opened two +tall cupboards in the wall on either side of the bed. They contained +clothing, a large choice of which had evidently been one of the very +few conditions of comfort for the man who had slept there. + +In the matter of shoes, also, Manderson had allowed himself the +advantage of wealth. An extraordinary number of these, treed and +carefully kept, was ranged on two long low shelves against the wall. No +boots were among them. Trent, himself an amateur of good shoe-leather, +now turned to these, and glanced over the collection with an +appreciative eye. It was to be seen that Manderson had been inclined to +pride himself on a rather small and well-formed foot. The shoes were of +a distinctive shape, narrow and round-toed, beautifully made; all were +evidently from the same last. + +Suddenly his eyes narrowed themselves over a pair of patent-leather +shoes on the upper shelf. + +These were the shoes of which the inspector had already described the +position to him; the shoes worn by Manderson the night before his +death. They were a well-worn pair, he saw at once; he saw, too, that +they had been very recently polished. Something about the uppers of +these shoes had seized his attention. He bent lower and frowned over +them, comparing what he saw with the appearance of the neighbouring +shoes. Then he took them up and examined the line of junction of the +uppers with the soles. + +As he did this, Trent began unconsciously to whistle faintly, and with +great precision, an air which Inspector Murch, if he had been present, +would have recognized. + +Most men who have the habit of self-control have also some involuntary +trick which tells those who know them that they are suppressing +excitement. The inspector had noted that when Trent had picked up a +strong scent he whistled faintly a certain melodious passage; though +the inspector could not have told you that it was in fact the opening +movement of Mendelssohn’s _Lied ohne Worter_ in A Major. + +He turned the shoes over, made some measurements with a marked tape, +and looked minutely at the bottoms. On each, in the angle between the +heel and the instep, he detected a faint trace of red gravel. + +Trent placed the shoes on the floor, and walked with his hands behind +him to the window, out of which, still faintly whistling, he gazed with +eyes that saw nothing. Once his lips opened to emit mechanically the +Englishman’s expletive of sudden enlightenment. At length he turned to +the shelves again, and swiftly but carefully examined every one of the +shoes there. + +This done, he took up the garments from the chair, looked them over +closely and replaced them. He turned to the wardrobe cupboards again, +and hunted through them carefully. The litter on the dressing-table now +engaged his attention for the second time. Then he sat down on the +empty chair, took his head in his hands, and remained in that attitude, +staring at the carpet, for some minutes. He rose at last and opened the +inner door leading to Mrs. Manderson’s room. + +It was evident at a glance that the big room had been hurriedly put +down from its place as the lady’s bower. All the array of objects that +belong to a woman’s dressing-table had been removed; on bed and chairs +and smaller tables there were no garments or hats, bags or boxes; no +trace remained of the obstinate conspiracy of gloves and veils, +handkerchiefs and ribbons, to break the captivity of the drawer. The +room was like an unoccupied guest-chamber. Yet in every detail of +furniture and decoration it spoke of an unconventional but exacting +taste. Trent, as his expert eye noted the various perfection of colour +and form amid which the ill-mated lady dreamed her dreams and thought +her loneliest thoughts, knew that she had at least the resources of an +artistic nature. His interest in this unknown personality grew +stronger; and his brows came down heavily as he thought of the burdens +laid upon it, and of the deed of which the history was now shaping +itself with more and more of substance before his busy mind. + +He went first to the tall French window in the middle of the wall that +faced the door, and opening it, stepped out upon a small balcony with +an iron railing. He looked down on a broad stretch of lawn that began +immediately beneath him, separated from the house-wall only by a narrow +flower-bed, and stretched away, with an abrupt dip at the farther end, +toward the orchard. The other window opened with a sash above the +garden-entrance of the library. In the farther inside corner of the +room was a second door giving upon the passage; the door by which the +maid was wont to come in, and her mistress to go out, in the morning. + +Trent, seated on the bed, quickly sketched in his notebook a plan of +the room and its neighbour. The bed stood in the angle between the +communicating-door and the sash-window, its head against the wall +dividing the room from Manderson’s. Trent stared at the pillows; then +he lay down with deliberation on the bed and looked through the open +door into the adjoining room. + +This observation taken, he rose again and proceeded to note on his plan +that on either side of the bed was a small table with a cover. Upon +that furthest from the door was a graceful electric-lamp standard of +copper connected by a free wire with the wall. Trent looked at it +thoughtfully, then at the switches connected with the other lights in +the room. They were, as usual, on the wall just within the door, and +some way out of his reach as he sat on the bed. He rose, and satisfied +himself that the lights were all in order. Then he turned on his heel, +walked quickly into Manderson’s room, and rang the bell. + +“I want your help again, Martin,” he said, as the butler presented +himself, upright and impassive, in the doorway. “I want you to prevail +upon Mrs. Manderson’s maid to grant me an interview.” + +“Certainly, sir,” said Martin. + +“What sort of a woman is she? Has she her wits about her?” + +“She’s French, sir,” replied Martin succinctly; adding after a pause: +“She has not been with us long, sir, but I have formed the impression +that the young woman knows as much of the world as is good for +her—since you ask me.” + +“You think butter might possibly melt in her mouth, do you?” said +Trent. “Well, I am not afraid. I want to put some questions to her.” + +“I will send her up immediately, sir.” The butler withdrew, and Trent +wandered round the little room with his hands at his back. Sooner than +he had expected, a small neat figure in black appeared quietly before +him. + +The lady’s maid, with her large brown eyes, had taken favourable notice +of Trent from a window when he had crossed the lawn, and had been +hoping desperately that the resolver of mysteries (whose reputation was +as great below-stairs as elsewhere) would send for her. For one thing, +she felt the need to make a scene; her nerves were overwrought. But her +scenes were at a discount with the other domestics, and as for Mr. +Murch, he had chilled her into self-control with his official manner. +Trent, her glimpse of him had told her, had not the air of a policeman, +and at a distance he had appeared _sympathique_. + +As she entered the room, however, instinct decided for her that any +approach to coquetry would be a mistake, if she sought to make a good +impression at the beginning. It was with an air of amiable candour, +then, that she said, “Monsieur desire to speak with me.” She added +helpfully, “I am called Célestine.” + +“Naturally,” said Trent with businesslike calm. “Now what I want you to +tell me, Célestine, is this. When you took tea to your mistress +yesterday morning at seven o’clock, was the door between the two +bedrooms—this door here—open?” + +Célestine became intensely animated in an instant. “Oh yes!” she said, +using her favourite English idiom. “The door was open as always, +monsieur, and I shut it as always. But it is necessary to explain. +Listen! When I enter the room of madame from the other door in +there—ah! but if monsieur will give himself the pain to enter the other +room, all explains itself.” She tripped across to the door, and urged +Trent before her into the larger bedroom with a hand on his arm. “See! +I enter the room with the tea like this. I approach the bed. Before I +come quite near the bed, here is the door to my right hand—open +always—so! But monsieur can perceive that I see nothing in the room of +Monsieur Manderson. The door opens to the bed, not to me who approach +from down there. I shut it without seeing in. It is the order. +Yesterday it was as ordinary. I see nothing of the next room. Madame +sleep like an angel—she see nothing. I shut the door. I place the +_plateau_—I open the curtains—I prepare the toilette—I retire—voilà!” +Célestine paused for breath and spread her hands abroad. + +Trent, who had followed her movements and gesticulations with deepening +gravity, nodded his head. “I see exactly how it was now,” he said. +“Thank you, Célestine. So Mr. Manderson was supposed to be still in his +room while your mistress was getting up, and dressing, and having +breakfast in her boudoir?” + +“Oui, monsieur.” + +“Nobody missed him, in fact,” remarked Trent. “Well, Célestine, I am +very much obliged to you.” He reopened the door to the outer bedroom. + +“It is nothing, monsieur,” said Célestine, as she crossed the small +room. “I hope that monsieur will catch the assassin of Monsieur +Manderson. But I not regret him too much,” she added with sudden and +amazing violence, turning round with her hand on the knob of the outer +door. She set her teeth with an audible sound, and the colour rose in +her small dark face. English departed from her. “Je ne le regrette pas +du tout, du tout!” she cried with a flood of words. “Madame—ah! je me +jetterais au feu pour madame—une femme si charmante, si adorable! Mais +un homme comme monsieur—maussade, boudeur, impassible! Ah, non!—de ma +vie! J’en avais par-dessus la tête, de monsieur! Ah! vrai! Est-ce +insupportable, tout de même, qu’il existe des types comme ça? Je vous +jure que—” + +“Finissez ce chahut, Célestine!” Trent broke in sharply. Célestine’s +tirade had brought back the memory of his student days with a rush. “En +voilà une scène! C’est rasant, vous savez. Faut rentret ça, +mademoiselle. Du reste, c’est bien imprudent, croyez-moi. Hang it! Have +some common sense! If the inspector downstairs heard you saying that +kind of thing, you would get into trouble. And don’t wave your fists +about so much; you might hit something. You seem,” he went on more +pleasantly, as Célestine grew calmer under his authoritative eye, “to +be even more glad than other people that Mr. Manderson is out of the +way. I could almost suspect, Célestine, that Mr. Manderson did not take +as much notice of you as you thought necessary and right.” + +“A peine s’il m’avait regardé!” Célestine answered simply. + +“Ça, c’est un comble!” observed Trent. “You are a nice young woman for +a small tea-party, I don’t think. A star upon your birthday burned, +whose fierce, serene, red, pulseless planet never yearned in heaven, +Célestine. Mademoiselle, I am busy. Bon jour. You certainly are a +beauty!” + +Célestine took this as a scarcely expected compliment. The surprise +restored her balance. With a sudden flash of her eyes and teeth at +Trent over her shoulder, the lady’s maid opened the door and swiftly +disappeared. + +Trent, left alone in the little bedroom, relieved his mind with two +forcible descriptive terms in Célestine’s language, and turned to his +problem. He took the pair of shoes which he had already examined, and +placed them on one of the two chairs in the room, then seated himself +on the other opposite to this. With his hands in his pockets he sat +with eyes fixed upon those two dumb witnesses. Now and then he +whistled, almost inaudibly, a few bars. It was very still in the room. +A subdued twittering came from the trees through the open window. From +time to time a breeze rustled in the leaves of the thick creeper about +the sill. But the man in the room, his face grown hard and sombre now +with his thoughts, never moved. + +So he sat for the space of half an hour. Then he rose quickly to his +feet. He replaced the shoes on their shelf with care, and stepped out +upon the landing. + +Two bedroom doors faced him on the other side of the passage. He opened +that which was immediately opposite, and entered a bedroom by no means +austerely tidy. Some sticks and fishing-rods stood confusedly in one +corner, a pile of books in another. The housemaid’s hand had failed to +give a look of order to the jumble of heterogeneous objects left on the +dressing-table and on the mantelshelf—pipes, penknives, pencils, keys, +golf-balls, old letters, photographs, small boxes, tins, and bottles. +Two fine etchings and some water-colour sketches hung on the walls; +leaning against the end of the wardrobe, unhung, were a few framed +engravings. A row of shoes and boots was ranged beneath the window. +Trent crossed the room and studied them intently; then he measured some +of them with his tape, whistling very softly. This done, he sat on the +side of the bed, and his eyes roamed gloomily about the room. + +The photographs on the mantelshelf attracted him presently. He rose and +examined one representing Marlowe and Manderson on horseback. Two +others were views of famous peaks in the Alps. There was a faded print +of three youths—one of them unmistakably his acquaintance of the +haggard blue eyes—clothed in tatterdemalion soldier’s gear of the +sixteenth century. Another was a portrait of a majestic old lady, +slightly resembling Marlowe. Trent, mechanically taking a cigarette +from an open box on the mantel-shelf, lit it and stared at the +photographs. Next he turned his attention to a flat leathern case that +lay by the cigarette-box. + +It opened easily. A small and light revolver, of beautiful workmanship, +was disclosed, with a score or so of loose cartridges. On the stock +were engraved the initials “J. M.” + +A step was heard on the stairs, and as Trent opened the breech and +peered into the barrel of the weapon, Inspector Murch appeared at the +open door of the room. “I was wondering—” he began; then stopped as he +saw what the other was about. His intelligent eyes opened slightly. +“Whose is the revolver, Mr. Trent?” he asked in a conversational tone. + +“Evidently it belongs to the occupant of the room, Mr. Marlowe,” +replied Trent with similar lightness, pointing to the initials. “I +found this lying about on the mantelpiece. It seems a handy little +pistol to me, and it has been very carefully cleaned, I should say, +since the last time it was used. But I know little about firearms.” + +“Well, I know a good deal,” rejoined the inspector quietly, taking the +revolver from Trent’s outstretched hand. “It’s a bit of a speciality +with me, is firearms, as I think you know, Mr. Trent. But it don’t +require an expert to tell one thing.” He replaced the revolver in its +case on the mantel-shelf, took out one of the cartridges, and laid it +on the spacious palm of one hand; then, taking a small object from his +waistcoat pocket, he laid it beside the cartridge. It was a little +leaden bullet, slightly battered about the nose, and having upon it +some bright new scratches. + +“Is that _the_ one?” Trent murmured as he bent over the inspector’s +hand. + +“That’s him,” replied Mr. Murch. “Lodged in the bone at the back of the +skull. Dr Stock got it out within the last hour, and handed it to the +local officer, who has just sent it on to me. These bright scratches +you see were made by the doctor’s instruments. These other marks were +made by the rifling of the barrel—a barrel like this one.” He tapped +the revolver. “Same make, same calibre. There is no other that marks +the bullet just like this.” + +With the pistol in its case between them, Trent and the inspector +looked into each other’s eyes for some moments. Trent was the first to +speak. “This mystery is all wrong,” he observed. “It is insanity. The +symptoms of mania are very marked. Let us see how we stand. We were not +in any doubt, I believe, about Manderson having dispatched Marlowe in +the car to Southampton, or about Marlowe having gone, returning late +last night, many hours after the murder was committed.” + +“There _is_ no doubt whatever about all that,” said Mr. Murch, with a +slight emphasis on the verb. + +“And now,” pursued Trent, “we are invited by this polished and +insinuating firearm to believe the following line of propositions: that +Marlowe never went to Southampton; that he returned to the house in the +night; that he somehow, without waking Mrs. Manderson or anybody else, +got Manderson to get up, dress himself, and go out into the grounds; +that he then and there shot the said Manderson with his incriminating +pistol; that he carefully cleaned the said pistol, returned to the +house and, again without disturbing any one, replaced it in its case in +a favourable position to be found by the officers of the law; that he +then withdrew and spent the rest of the day in hiding—_with_ a large +motor car; and that he turned up, feigning ignorance of the whole +affair, at—what time was it?” + +“A little after 9 p.m.” The inspector still stared moodily at Trent. +“As you say, Mr. Trent, that is the first theory suggested by this +find, and it seems wild enough—at least it would do if it didn’t fall +to pieces at the very start. When the murder was done Marlowe must have +been fifty to a hundred miles away. He _did_ go to Southampton.” + +“How do you know?” + +“I questioned him last night, and took down his story. He arrived in +Southampton about 6.30 on the Monday morning.” + +“Come off” exclaimed Trent bitterly. “What do I care about his story? +What do you care about his story? I want to know how you _know_ he went +to Southampton.” + +Mr. Murch chuckled. “I thought I should take a rise out of you, Mr. +Trent,” he said. “Well, there’s no harm in telling you. After I arrived +yesterday evening, as soon as I had got the outlines of the story from +Mrs. Manderson and the servants, the first thing I did was to go to the +telegraph office and wire to our people in Southampton. Manderson had +told his wife when he went to bed that he had changed his mind, and +sent Marlowe to Southampton to get some important information from some +one who was crossing by the next day’s boat. It seemed right enough, +but, you see, Marlowe was the only one of the household who wasn’t +under my hand, so to speak. He didn’t return in the car until later in +the evening; so before thinking the matter out any further, I wired to +Southampton making certain enquiries. Early this morning I got this +reply.” He handed a series of telegraph slips to Trent, who read: + +Person answering description in motor answering description arrived +Bedford Hotel here 6.30 this morning gave name Marlowe left car hotel +garage told attendant car belonged Manderson had bath and breakfast +went out heard of later at docks inquiring for passenger name Harris on +Havre boat inquired repeatedly until boat left at noon next heard of at +hotel where he lunched about 1.15 left soon afterwards in car company’s +agents inform berth was booked name Harris last week but Harris did not +travel by boat Burke Inspector. + + +“Simple and satisfactory,” observed Mr. Murch as Trent, after twice +reading the message, returned it to him. “His own story corroborated in +every particular. He told me he hung about the dock for half an hour or +so on the chance of Harris turning up late, then strolled back, +lunched, and decided to return at once. He sent a wire to +Manderson—‘Harris not turned up missed boat returning Marlowe,’ which +was duly delivered here in the afternoon, and placed among the dead +man’s letters. He motored back at a good rate, and arrived dog-tired. +When he heard of Manderson’s death from Martin, he nearly fainted. What +with that and the being without sleep for so long, he was rather a +wreck when I came to interview him last night; but he was perfectly +coherent.” + +Trent picked up the revolver and twirled the cylinder idly for a few +moments. “It was unlucky for Manderson that Marlowe left his pistol and +cartridges about so carelessly,” he remarked at length, as he put it +back in the case. “It was throwing temptation in somebody’s way, don’t +you think?” + +Mr. Murch shook his head. “There isn’t really much to lay hold of about +the revolver, when you come to think. That particular make of revolver +is common enough in England. It was introduced from the States. Half +the people who buy a revolver today for self-defence or mischief +provide themselves with that make, of that calibre. It is very +reliable, and easily carried in the hip-pocket. There must be thousands +of them in the possession of crooks and honest men. For instance,” +continued the inspector with an air of unconcern, “Manderson himself +had one, the double of this. I found it in one of the top drawers of +the desk downstairs, and it’s in my overcoat pocket now.” + +“Aha! so you were going to keep that little detail to yourself.” + +“I was,” said the inspector; “but as you’ve found one revolver, you may +as well know about the other. As I say, neither of them may do us any +good. The people in the house—” + +Both men started, and the inspector checked his speech abruptly, as the +half-closed door of the bedroom was slowly pushed open, and a man stood +in the doorway. His eyes turned from the pistol in its open case to the +faces of Trent and the inspector. They, who had not heard a sound to +herald this entrance, simultaneously looked at his long, narrow feet. +He wore rubber-soled tennis shoes. + +“You must be Mr. Bunner,” said Trent. + + + + +Chapter VI. +Mr. Bunner on the Case + + +“Calvin C. Bunner, at your service,” amended the newcomer, with a touch +of punctilio, as he removed an unlighted cigar from his mouth. He was +used to finding Englishmen slow and ceremonious with strangers, and +Trent’s quick remark plainly disconcerted him a little. “You are Mr. +Trent, I expect,” he went on. “Mrs. Manderson was telling me a while +ago. Captain, good-morning.” Mr. Murch acknowledged the outlandish +greeting with a nod. “I was coming up to my room, and I heard a strange +voice in here, so I thought I would take a look in.” Mr. Bunner laughed +easily. “You thought I might have been eavesdropping, perhaps,” he +said. “No, sir; I heard a word or two about a pistol—this one, I +guess—and that’s all.” + +Mr. Bunner was a thin, rather short young man with a shaven, pale, +bony, almost girlish face, and large, dark, intelligent eyes. His +waving dark hair was parted in the middle. His lips, usually occupied +with a cigar, in its absence were always half open with a curious +expression as of permanent eagerness. By smoking or chewing a cigar +this expression was banished, and Mr. Bunner then looked the +consummately cool and sagacious Yankee that he was. + +Born in Connecticut, he had gone into a broker’s office on leaving +college, and had attracted the notice of Manderson, whose business with +his firm he had often handled. The Colossus had watched him for some +time, and at length offered him the post of private secretary. Mr. +Bunner was a pattern business man, trustworthy, long-headed, +methodical, and accurate. Manderson could have found many men with +those virtues; but he engaged Mr Bunner because he was also swift and +secret, and had besides a singular natural instinct in regard to the +movements of the stock market. + +Trent and the American measured one another coolly with their eyes. +Both appeared satisfied with what they saw. “I was having it explained +to me,” said Trent pleasantly, “that my discovery of a pistol that +might have shot Manderson does not amount to very much. I am told it is +a favourite weapon among your people, and has become quite popular over +here.” + +Mr. Bunner stretched out a bony hand and took the pistol from its case. +“Yes, sir,” he said, handling it with an air of familiarity; “the +captain is right. This is what we call out home a Little Arthur, and I +dare say there are duplicates of it in a hundred thousand hip-pockets +this minute. I consider it too light in the hand myself,” Mr. Bunner +went on, mechanically feeling under the tail of his jacket, and +producing an ugly looking weapon. “Feel of that, now, Mr. Trent—it’s +loaded, by the way. Now this Little Arthur—Marlowe bought it just +before we came over this year to please the old man. Manderson said it +was ridiculous for a man to be without a pistol in the twentieth +century. So he went out and bought what they offered him, I guess—never +consulted me. Not but what it’s a good gun,” Mr. Bunner conceded, +squinting along the sights. “Marlowe was poor with it at first, but +I’ve coached him some in the last month or so, and he’s practised until +he is pretty good. But he never could get the habit of carrying it +around. Why, it’s as natural to me as wearing my pants. I have carried +one for some years now, because there was always likely to be somebody +laying for Manderson. And now,” Mr. Bunner concluded sadly, “they got +him when I wasn’t around. Well, gentlemen, you must excuse me. I am +going into Bishopsbridge. There is a lot to do these days, and I have +to send off a bunch of cables big enough to choke a cow.” + +“I must be off too,” said Trent. “I have an appointment at the ‘Three +Tuns’ inn.” + +“Let me give you a lift in the automobile,” said Mr. Bunner cordially. +“I go right by that joint. Say, cap., are you coming my way too? No? +Then come along, Mr. Trent, and help me get out the car. The chauffeur +is out of action, and we have to do ’most everything ourselves except +clean the dirt off her.” + +Still tirelessly talking in his measured drawl, Mr. Bunner led Trent +downstairs and through the house to the garage at the back. It stood at +a little distance from the house, and made a cool retreat from the +blaze of the midday sun. + +Mr. Bunner seemed to be in no hurry to get out the car. He offered +Trent a cigar, which was accepted, and for the first time lit his own. +Then he seated himself on the footboard of the car, his thin hands +clasped between his knees, and looked keenly at the other. + +“See here, Mr. Trent,” he said, after a few moments. “There are some +things I can tell you that may be useful to you. I know your record. +You are a smart man, and I like dealing with smart men. I don’t know if +I have that detective sized up right, but he strikes me as a mutt. I +would answer any questions he had the gumption to ask me—I have done +so, in fact—but I don’t feel encouraged to give him any notions of mine +without his asking. See?” + +Trent nodded. “That is a feeling many people have in the presence of +our police,” he said. “It’s the official manner, I suppose. But let me +tell you, Murch is anything but what you think. He is one of the +shrewdest officers in Europe. He is not very quick with his mind, but +he is very sure. And his experience is immense. My forte is +imagination, but I assure you in police work experience outweighs it by +a great deal.” + +“Outweigh nothing!” replied Mr. Bunner crisply. “This is no ordinary +case, Mr. Trent. I will tell you one reason why. I believe the old man +knew there was something coming to him. Another thing: I believe it was +something he thought he couldn’t dodge.” + +Trent pulled a crate opposite to Mr. Bunner’s place on the footboard +and seated himself. “This sounds like business,” he said. “Tell me your +ideas.” + +“I say what I do because of the change in the old man’s manner this +last few weeks. I dare say you have heard, Mr. Trent, that he was a man +who always kept himself well in hand. That was so. I have always +considered him the coolest and hardest head in business. That man’s +calm was just deadly—I never saw anything to beat it. And I knew +Manderson as nobody else did. I was with him in the work he really +lived for. I guess I knew him a heap better than his wife did, poor +woman. I knew him better than Marlowe could—he never saw Manderson in +his office when there was a big thing on. I knew him better than any of +his friends.” + +“Had he any friends?” interjected Trent. + +Mr. Bunner glanced at him sharply. “Somebody has been putting you next, +I see that,” he remarked. “No: properly speaking, I should say not. He +had many acquaintances among the big men, people he saw, most every +day; they would even go yachting or hunting together. But I don’t +believe there ever was a man that Manderson opened a corner of his +heart to. But what I was going to say was this. Some months ago the old +man began to get like I never knew him before—gloomy and sullen, just +as if he was everlastingly brooding over something bad, something that +he couldn’t fix. This went on without any break; it was the same down +town as it was up home, he acted just as if there was something lying +heavy on his mind. But it wasn’t until a few weeks back that his +self-restraint began to go; and let me tell you this, Mr. Trent”—the +American laid his bony claw on the other’s knee—“I’m the only man that +knows it. With every one else he would be just morose and dull; but +when he was alone with me in his office, or anywhere where we would be +working together, if the least little thing went wrong, by George! he +would fly off the handle to beat the Dutch. In this library here I have +seen him open a letter with something that didn’t just suit him in it, +and he would rip around and carry on like an Indian, saying he wished +he had the man that wrote it here, he wouldn’t do a thing to him, and +so on, till it was just pitiful. I never saw such a change. And here’s +another thing. For a week before he died Manderson neglected his work, +for the first time in my experience. He wouldn’t answer a letter or a +cable, though things looked like going all to pieces over there. I +supposed that this anxiety of his, whatever it was, had got on to his +nerves till they were worn out. Once I advised him to see a doctor, and +he told me to go to hell. But nobody saw this side of him but me. If he +was having one of these rages in the library here, for example, and +Mrs. Manderson would come into the room, he would be all calm and cold +again in an instant.” + +“And you put this down to some secret anxiety, a fear that somebody had +designs on his life?” asked Trent. + +The American nodded. + +“I suppose,” Trent resumed, “you had considered the idea of there being +something wrong with his mind—a break-down from overstrain, say. That +is the first thought that your account suggests to me. Besides, it is +what is always happening to your big business men in America, isn’t it? +That is the impression one gets from the newspapers.” + +“Don’t let them slip you any of that bunk,” said Mr. Bunner earnestly. +“It’s only the ones who have got rich too quick, and can’t make good, +who go crazy. Think of all our really big men—the men anywhere near +Manderson’s size: did you ever hear of any one of them losing his +senses? They don’t do it—believe _me_. I know they say every man has +his loco point,” Mr. Bunner added reflectively, “but that doesn’t mean +genuine, sure-enough craziness; it just means some personal +eccentricity in a man ... like hating cats ... or my own weakness of +not being able to touch any kind of fish-food.” + +“Well, what was Manderson’s?” + +“He was full of them—the old man. There was his objection to all the +unnecessary fuss and luxury that wealthy people don’t kick at much, as +a general rule. He didn’t have any use for expensive trifles and +ornaments. He wouldn’t have anybody do little things for him; he hated +to have servants tag around after him unless he wanted them. And +although Manderson was as careful about his clothes as any man I ever +knew, and his shoes—well, sir, the amount of money he spent on shoes +was sinful—in spite of that, I tell you, he never had a valet. He never +liked to have anybody touch him. All his life nobody ever shaved him.” + +“I’ve heard something of that,” Trent remarked. “Why was it, do you +think?” + +“Well,” Mr. Bunner answered slowly, “it was the Manderson habit of +mind, I guess; a sort of temper of general suspicion and jealousy. + +“They say his father and grandfather were just the same.... Like a dog +with a bone, you know, acting as if all the rest of creation was laying +for a chance to steal it. He didn’t really _think_ the barber would +start in to saw his head off; he just felt there was a possibility that +he _might_, and he was taking no risks. Then again in business he was +always convinced that somebody else was after his bone—which was true +enough a good deal of the time; but not all the time. The consequence +of that was that the old man was the most cautious and secret worker in +the world of finance; and that had a lot to do with his success, +too.... But that doesn’t amount to being a lunatic, Mr. Trent; not by a +long way. You ask me if Manderson was losing his mind before he died. I +say I believe he was just worn out with worrying over something, and +was losing his nerve.” + +Trent smoked thoughtfully. He wondered how much Mr. Bunner knew of the +domestic difficulty in his chief’s household, and decided to put out a +feeler. “I understood that he had trouble with his wife.” + +“Sure,” replied Mr. Bunner. “But do you suppose a thing like that was +going to upset Sig Manderson that way? No, sir! He was a sight too big +a man to be all broken up by any worry of that kind.” + +Trent looked half-incredulously into the eyes of the young man. But +behind all their shrewdness and intensity he saw a massive innocence. +Mr. Bunner really believed a serious breach between husband and wife to +be a minor source of trouble for a big man. + +“What _was_ the trouble between them, anyhow?” Trent inquired. + +“You can search me,” Mr. Bunner replied briefly. He puffed at his +cigar. “Marlowe and I have often talked about it, and we could never +make out a solution. I had a notion at first,” said Mr. Bunner in a +lower voice, leaning forward, “that the old man was disappointed and +vexed because he had expected a child; but Marlowe told me that the +disappointment on that score was the other way around, likely as not. +His idea was all right, I guess; he gathered it from something said by +Mrs. Manderson’s French maid.” + +Trent looked up at him quickly. “Célestine!” he said; and his thought +was, “So that was what she was getting at!” + +Mr. Bunner misunderstood his glance. “Don’t you think I’m giving a man +away, Mr. Trent,” he said. “Marlowe isn’t that kind. Célestine just +took a fancy to him because he talks French like a native, and she +would always be holding him up for a gossip. French servants are quite +unlike English that way. And servant or no servant,” added Mr. Bunner +with emphasis, “I don’t see how a woman could mention such a subject to +a man. But the French beat me.” He shook his head slowly. + +“But to come back to what you were telling me just now,” Trent said. +“You believe that Manderson was going in terror of his life for some +time. Who should threaten it? I am quite in the dark.” + +“Terror—I don’t know,” replied Mr. Bunner meditatively. “Anxiety, if +you like. Or suspense—that’s rather my idea of it. The old man was hard +to terrify, anyway; and more than that, he wasn’t taking any +precautions—he was actually avoiding them. It looked more like he was +asking for a quick finish—supposing there’s any truth in my idea. Why, +he would sit in that library window, nights, looking out into the dark, +with his white shirt just a target for anybody’s gun. As for who should +threaten his life well, sir,” said Mr. Bunner with a faint smile, “it’s +certain you have not lived in the States. To take the Pennsylvania coal +hold-up alone, there were thirty thousand men, with women and children +to keep, who would have jumped at the chance of drilling a hole through +the man who fixed it so that they must starve or give in to his terms. +Thirty thousand of the toughest aliens in the country, Mr. Trent. +There’s a type of desperado you find in that kind of push who has been +known to lay for a man for years, and kill him when he had forgotten +what he did. They have been known to dynamite a man in Idaho who had +done them dirt in New Jersey ten years before. Do you suppose the +Atlantic is going to stop them?... It takes some sand, I tell you, to +be a big business man in our country. No, sir: the old man knew—had +always known—that there was a whole crowd of dangerous men scattered up +and down the States who had it in for him. My belief is that he had +somehow got to know that some of them were definitely after him at +last. What licks me altogether is why he should have just laid himself +open to them the way he did—why he never tried to dodge, but walked +right down into the garden yesterday morning to be shot at.” + +Mr. Bunner ceased to speak, and for a little while both men sat with +wrinkled brows, faint blue vapours rising from their cigars. Then Trent +rose. “Your theory is quite fresh to me,” he said. “It’s perfectly +rational, and it’s only a question of whether it fits all the facts. I +mustn’t give away what I’m doing for my newspaper, Mr. Bunner, but I +will say this: I have already satisfied myself that this was a +premeditated crime, and an extraordinarily cunning one at that. I’m +deeply obliged to you. We must talk it over again.” He looked at his +watch. “I have been expected for some time by my friend. Shall we make +a move?” + +“Two o’clock,” said Mr. Bunner, consulting his own, as he got up from +the foot-board. “Ten a.m. in little old New York. You don’t know Wall +Street, Mr. Trent. Let’s you and I hope we never see anything nearer +hell than what’s loose in the Street this minute.” + + + + +Chapter VII. +The Lady in Black + + +The sea broke raging upon the foot of the cliff under a good breeze; +the sun flooded the land with life from a dappled blue sky. In this +perfection of English weather Trent, who had slept ill, went down +before eight o’clock to a pool among the rocks, the direction of which +had been given him, and dived deep into clear water. Between vast grey +boulders he swam out to the tossing open, forced himself some little +way against a coast-wise current, and then returned to his refuge +battered and refreshed. Ten minutes later he was scaling the cliff +again, and his mind, cleared for the moment of a heavy disgust for the +affair he had in hand, was turning over his plans for the morning. + +It was the day of the inquest, the day after his arrival in the place. +He had carried matters not much further after parting with the American +on the road to Bishopsbridge. In the afternoon he had walked from the +inn into the town, accompanied by Mr. Cupples, and had there made +certain purchases at a chemist’s shop, conferred privately for some +time with a photographer, sent off a reply-paid telegram, and made an +enquiry at the telephone exchange. He had said but little about the +case to Mr. Cupples, who seemed incurious on his side, and nothing at +all about the results of his investigation or the steps he was about to +take. After their return from Bishopsbridge, Trent had written a long +dispatch for the _Record_ and sent it to be telegraphed by the proud +hands of the paper’s local representative. He had afterwards dined with +Mr. Cupples, and had spent the rest of the evening in meditative +solitude on the veranda. + +This morning as he scaled the cliff he told himself that he had never +taken up a case he liked so little, or which absorbed him so much. The +more he contemplated it in the golden sunshine of this new day, the +more evil and the more challenging it appeared. All that he suspected +and all that he almost knew had occupied his questing brain for hours +to the exclusion of sleep; and in this glorious light and air, though +washed in body and spirit by the fierce purity of the sea, he only saw +the more clearly the darkness of the guilt in which he believed, and +was more bitterly repelled by the motive at which he guessed. But now +at least his zeal was awake again, and the sense of the hunt quickened. +He would neither slacken nor spare; here need be no compunction. In the +course of the day, he hoped, his net would be complete. He had work to +do in the morning; and with very vivid expectancy, though not much +serious hope, he awaited the answer to the telegram which he had shot +into the sky, as it were, the day before. + +The path back to the hotel wound for some way along the top of the +cliff, and on nearing a spot he had marked from the sea level, where +the face had fallen away long ago, he approached the edge and looked +down, hoping to follow with his eyes the most delicately beautiful of +all the movements of water—the wash of a light sea over broken rock. +But no rock was there. A few feet below him a broad ledge stood out, a +rough platform as large as a great room, thickly grown with wiry grass +and walled in steeply on three sides. There, close to the verge where +the cliff at last dropped sheer, a woman was sitting, her arms about +her drawn-up knees, her eyes fixed on the trailing smoke of a distant +liner, her face full of some dream. + +This woman seemed to Trent, whose training had taught him to live in +his eyes, to make the most beautiful picture he had ever seen. Her face +of southern pallor, touched by the kiss of the wind with colour on the +cheek, presented to him a profile of delicate regularity in which there +was nothing hard; nevertheless the black brows bending down toward the +point where they almost met gave her in repose a look of something like +severity, strangely redeemed by the open curves of the mouth. Trent +said to himself that the absurdity or otherwise of a lover writing +sonnets to his mistress’s eyebrow depended after all on the quality of +the eyebrow. Her nose was of the straight and fine sort, exquisitely +escaping the perdition of too much length, which makes a conscientious +mind ashamed that it cannot help, on occasion, admiring the tip-tilted. +Her hat lay pinned to the grass beside her, and the lively breeze +played with her thick dark hair, blowing backward the two broad +bandeaux that should have covered much of her forehead, and agitating a +hundred tiny curls from the mass gathered at her nape. Everything about +this lady was black, from her shoes of suede to the hat that she had +discarded; lustreless black covered her to her bare throat. All she +wore was fine and well put on. Dreamy and delicate of spirit as her +looks declared her, it was very plain that she was long-practised as +only a woman grown can be in dressing well, the oldest of the arts, and +had her touch of primal joy in the excellence of the body that was so +admirably curved now in the attitude of embraced knees. With the +suggestion of French taste in her clothes, she made a very modern +figure seated there, until one looked at her face and saw the glow and +triumph of all vigorous beings that ever faced sun and wind and sea +together in the prime of the year. One saw, too, a womanhood so unmixed +and vigorous, so unconsciously sure of itself, as scarcely to be +English, still less American. + +Trent, who had halted only for a moment in the surprise of seeing the +woman in black, had passed by on the cliff above her, perceiving and +feeling as he went the things set down. At all times his keen vision +and active brain took in and tasted details with an easy swiftness that +was marvellous to men of slower chemistry; the need to stare, he held, +was evidence of blindness. Now the feeling of beauty was awakened and +exultant, and doubled the power of his sense. In these instants a +picture was printed on his memory that would never pass away. + +As he went by unheard on the turf the woman, still alone with her +thoughts, suddenly moved. She unclasped her long hands from about her +knees, stretched her limbs and body with feline grace, then slowly +raised her head and extended her arms with open, curving fingers, as if +to gather to her all the glory and overwhelming sanity of the morning. +This was a gesture not to be mistaken: it was a gesture of freedom, the +movement of a soul’s resolution to be, to possess, to go forward, +perhaps to enjoy. + +So he saw her for an instant as he passed, and he did not turn. He knew +suddenly who the woman must be, and it was as if a curtain of gloom +were drawn between him and the splendour of the day. + +During breakfast at the hotel Mr. Cupples found Trent little inclined +to talk. He excused himself on the plea of a restless night. Mr. +Cupples, on the other hand, was in a state of bird-like alertness. The +prospect of the inquest seemed to enliven him. He entertained Trent +with a disquisition upon the history of that most ancient and once busy +tribunal, the coroner’s court, and remarked upon the enviable freedom +of its procedure from the shackles of rule and precedent. From this he +passed to the case that was to come before it that morning. + +“Young Bunner mentioned to me last night,” he said, “when I went up +there after dinner, the hypothesis which he puts forward in regard to +the crime. A very remarkable young man, Trent. His meaning is +occasionally obscure, but in my opinion he is gifted with a clearheaded +knowledge of the world quite unusual in one of his apparent age. +Indeed, his promotion by Manderson to the position of his principal +lieutenant speaks for itself. He seems to have assumed with perfect +confidence the control at this end of the wire, as he expresses it, of +the complicated business situation caused by the death of his +principal, and he has advised very wisely as to the steps I should take +on Mabel’s behalf, and the best course for her to pursue until effect +has been given to the provisions of the will. I was accordingly less +disposed than I might otherwise have been to regard his suggestion of +an industrial vendetta as far-fetched. When I questioned him he was +able to describe a number of cases in which attacks of one sort or +another—too often successful—had been made upon the lives of persons +who had incurred the hostility of powerful labour organizations. This +is a terrible time in which we live, my dear boy. There is none +recorded in history, I think, in which the disproportion between the +material and the moral constituents of society has been so great or so +menacing to the permanence of the fabric. But nowhere, in my judgement, +is the prospect so dark as it is in the United States.” + +“I thought,” said Trent listlessly, “that Puritanism was about as +strong there as the money-getting craze.” + +“Your remark,” answered Mr. Cupples, with as near an approach to humour +as was possible to him, “is not in the nature of a testimonial to what +you call Puritanism—a convenient rather than an accurate term; for I +need not remind you that it was invented to describe an Anglican party +which aimed at the purging of the services and ritual of their Church +from certain elements repugnant to them. The sense of your observation, +however, is none the less sound, and its truth is extremely well +illustrated by the case of Manderson himself, who had, I believe, the +virtues of purity, abstinence, and self-restraint in their strongest +form. No, Trent, there are other and more worthy things among the moral +constituents of which I spoke; and in our finite nature, the more we +preoccupy ourselves with the bewildering complexity of external +apparatus which science places in our hands, the less vigour have we +left for the development of the holier purposes of humanity within us. +Agricultural machinery has abolished the festival of the Harvest Home. +Mechanical travel has abolished the inn, or all that was best in it. I +need not multiply instances. The view I am expressing to you,” pursued +Mr. Cupples, placidly buttering a piece of toast, “is regarded as +fundamentally erroneous by many of those who think generally as I do +about the deeper concerns of life, but I am nevertheless firmly +persuaded of its truth.” + +“It needs epigrammatic expression,” said Trent, rising from the table. +“If only it could be crystallized into some handy formula, like ‘No +Popery’, or ‘Tax the Foreigner’, you would find multitudes to go to the +stake for it. But you were planning to go to White Gables before the +inquest, I think. You ought to be off if you are to get back to the +court in time. I have something to attend to there myself, so we might +walk up together. I will just go and get my camera.” + +“By all means,” Mr. Cupples answered; and they set off at once in the +ever-growing warmth of the morning. The roof of White Gables, a surly +patch of dull red against the dark trees, seemed to harmonize with +Trent’s mood; he felt heavy, sinister, and troubled. If a blow must +fall that might strike down that creature radiant of beauty and life +whom he had seen that morning, he did not wish it to come from his +hand. An exaggerated chivalry had lived in Trent since the first +teachings of his mother; but at this moment the horror of bruising +anything so lovely was almost as much the artist’s revulsion as the +gentleman’s. On the other hand, was the hunt to end in nothing? The +quality of the affair was such that the thought of forbearance was an +agony. There never was such a case; and he alone, he was confident, +held the truth of it under his hand. At least, he determined, that day +should show whether what he believed was a delusion. He would trample +his compunction underfoot until he was quite sure that there was any +call for it. That same morning he would know. + +As they entered at the gate of the drive they saw Marlowe and the +American standing in talk before the front door. In the shadow of the +porch was the lady in black. + +She saw them, and came gravely forward over the lawn, moving as Trent +had known that she would move, erect and balanced, stepping lightly. +When she welcomed him on Mr. Cupples’s presentation her eyes of +golden-flecked brown observed him kindly. In her pale composure, worn +as the mask of distress, there was no trace of the emotion that had +seemed a halo about her head on the ledge of the cliff. She spoke the +appropriate commonplace in a low and even voice. After a few words to +Mr. Cupples she turned her eyes on Trent again. + +“I hope you will succeed,” she said earnestly. “Do you think you will +succeed?” + +He made his mind up as the words left her lips. He said, “I believe I +shall do so, Mrs. Manderson. When I have the case sufficiently complete +I shall ask you to let me see you and tell you about it. It may be +necessary to consult you before the facts are published.” + +She looked puzzled, and distress showed for an instant in her eyes. “If +it is necessary, of course you shall do so,” she said. + +On the brink of his next speech Trent hesitated. He remembered that the +lady had not wished to repeat to him the story already given to the +inspector—or to be questioned at all. He was not unconscious that he +desired to hear her voice and watch her face a little longer, if it +might be; but the matter he had to mention really troubled his mind, it +was a queer thing that fitted nowhere into the pattern within whose +corners he had by this time brought the other queer things in the case. +It was very possible that she could explain it away in a breath; it was +unlikely that any one else could. He summoned his resolution. + +“You have been so kind,” he said, “in allowing me access to the house +and every opportunity of studying the case, that I am going to ask +leave to put a question or two to yourself—nothing that you would +rather not answer, I think. May I?” + +She glanced at him wearily. “It would be stupid of me to refuse. Ask +your questions, Mr. Trent.” + +“It’s only this,” said Trent hurriedly. “We know that your husband +lately drew an unusually large sum of ready money from his London +bankers, and was keeping it here. It is here now, in fact. Have you any +idea why he should have done that?” + +She opened her eyes in astonishment. “I cannot imagine,” she said. “I +did not know he had done so. I am very much surprised to hear it.” + +“Why is it surprising?” + +“I thought my husband had very little money in the house. On Sunday +night, just before he went out in the motor, he came into the +drawing-room where I was sitting. He seemed to be irritated about +something, and asked me at once if I had any notes or gold I could let +him have until next day. I was surprised at that, because he was never +without money; he made it a rule to carry a hundred pounds or so about +him always in a note-case. I unlocked my escritoire, and gave him all I +had by me. It was nearly thirty pounds.” + +“And he did not tell you why he wanted it?” + +“No. He put it in his pocket, and then said that Mr. Marlowe had +persuaded him to go for a run in the motor by moonlight, and he thought +it might help him to sleep. He had been sleeping badly, as perhaps you +know. Then he went off with Mr. Marlowe. I thought it odd he should +need money on Sunday night, but I soon forgot about it. I never +remembered it again until now.” + +“It was curious, certainly,” said Trent, staring into the distance. Mr +Cupples began to speak to his niece of the arrangements for the +inquest, and Trent moved away to where Marlowe was pacing slowly upon +the lawn. The young man seemed relieved to talk about the coming +business of the day. Though he still seemed tired out and nervous, he +showed himself not without a quiet humour in describing the pomposities +of the local police and the portentous airs of Dr Stock. Trent turned +the conversation gradually toward the problem of the crime, and all +Marlowe’s gravity returned. + +“Bunner has told me what he thinks,” he said when Trent referred to the +American’s theory. “I don’t find myself convinced by it, because it +doesn’t really explain some of the oddest facts. But I have lived long +enough in the United States to know that such a stroke of revenge, done +in a secret, melodramatic way, is not an unlikely thing. It is quite a +characteristic feature of certain sections of the labour movement +there. Americans have a taste and a talent for that sort of business. +Do you know _Huckleberry Finn?_” + +“Do I know my own name?” exclaimed Trent. + +“Well, I think the most American thing in that great American epic is +Tom Sawyer’s elaboration of an extremely difficult and romantic scheme, +taking days to carry out, for securing the escape of the nigger Jim, +which could have been managed quite easily in twenty minutes. You know +how fond they are of lodges and brotherhoods. Every college club has +its secret signs and handgrips. You’ve heard of the Know-Nothing +movement in politics, I dare say, and the Ku Klux Klan. Then look at +Brigham Young’s penny-dreadful tyranny in Utah, with real blood. The +founders of the Mormon State were of the purest Yankee stock in +America; and you know what they did. It’s all part of the same mental +tendency. Americans make fun of it among themselves. For my part, I +take it very seriously.” + +“It can have a very hideous side to it, certainly,” said Trent, “when +you get it in connection with crime—or with vice—or even mere luxury. +But I have a sort of sneaking respect for the determination to make +life interesting and lively in spite of civilization. To return to the +matter in hand, however; has it struck you as a possibility that +Manderson’s mind was affected to some extent by this menace that Bunner +believes in? For instance, it was rather an extraordinary thing to send +you posting off like that in the middle of the night.” + +“About ten o’clock, to be exact,” replied Marlowe. “Though, mind you, +if he’d actually roused me out of my bed at midnight I shouldn’t have +been very much surprised. It all chimes in with what we’ve just been +saying. Manderson had a strong streak of the national taste for +dramatic proceedings. He was rather fond of his well-earned reputation +for unexpected strokes and for going for his object with ruthless +directness through every opposing consideration. He had decided +suddenly that he wanted to have word from this man Harris—” + +“Who is Harris?” interjected Trent. + +“Nobody knows. Even Bunner never heard of him, and can’t imagine what +the business in hand was. All I know is that when I went up to London +last week to attend to various things I booked a deck-cabin, at +Manderson’s request, for a Mr. George Harris on the boat that sailed on +Monday. It seems that Manderson suddenly found he wanted news from +Harris which presumably was of a character too secret for the +telegraph; and there was no train that served; so I was sent off as you +know.” + +Trent looked round to make sure that they were not overheard, then +faced the other gravely, “There is one thing I may tell you,” he said +quietly, “that I don’t think you know. Martin the butler caught a few +words at the end of your conversation with Manderson in the orchard +before you started with him in the car. He heard him say, ‘If Harris is +there, every moment is of importance.’ Now, Mr. Marlowe, you know my +business here. I am sent to make enquiries, and you mustn’t take +offence. I want to ask you if, in the face of that sentence, you will +repeat that you know nothing of what the business was.” + +Marlowe shook his head. “I know nothing, indeed. I’m not easily +offended, and your question is quite fair. What passed during that +conversation I have already told the detective. Manderson plainly said +to me that he could not tell me what it was all about. He simply wanted +me to find Harris, tell him that he desired to know how matters stood, +and bring back a letter or message from him. Harris, I was further +told, might not turn up. If he did, ‘every moment was of importance’. +And now you know as much as I do.” + +“That talk took place _before_ he told his wife that you were taking +him for a moonlight run. Why did he conceal your errand in that way, I +wonder.” + +The young man made a gesture of helplessness. “Why? I can guess no +better than you.” + +“Why,” muttered Trent as if to himself, gazing on the ground, “did he +conceal it—from Mrs. Manderson?” He looked up at Marlowe. + +“And from Martin,” the other amended coolly. “He was told the same +thing.” + +With a sudden movement of his head Trent seemed to dismiss the subject. +He drew from his breast-pocket a letter-case, and thence extracted two +small leaves of clean, fresh paper. + +“Just look at these two slips, Mr. Marlowe,” he said. “Did you ever see +them before? Have you any idea where they come from?” he added as +Marlowe took one in each hand and examined them curiously. + +“They seem to have been cut with a knife or scissors from a small diary +for this year from the October pages,” Marlowe observed, looking them +over on both sides. “I see no writing of any kind on them. Nobody here +has any such diary so far as I know. What about them?” + +“There may be nothing in it,” Trent said dubiously. “Any one in the +house, of course, might have such a diary without your having seen it. +But I didn’t much expect you would be able to identify the leaves—in +fact, I should have been surprised if you had.” + +He stopped speaking as Mrs. Manderson came towards them. “My uncle +thinks we should be going now,” she said. + +“I think I will walk on with Mr. Bunner,” Mr. Cupples said as he joined +them. “There are certain business matters that must be disposed of as +soon as possible. Will you come on with these two gentlemen, Mabel? We +will wait for you before we reach the place.” + +Trent turned to her. “Mrs. Manderson will excuse me, I hope,” he said. +“I really came up this morning in order to look about me here for some +indications I thought I might possibly find. I had not thought of +attending the—the court just yet.” + +She looked at him with eyes of perfect candour. “Of course, Mr. Trent. +Please do exactly as you wish. We are all relying upon you. If you will +wait a few moments, Mr. Marlowe, I shall be ready.” + +She entered the house. Her uncle and the American had already strolled +towards the gate. + +Trent looked into the eyes of his companion. “That is a wonderful +woman,” he said in a lowered voice. + +“You say so without knowing her,” replied Marlowe in a similar tone. +“She is more than that.” + +Trent said nothing to this. He stared out over the fields towards the +sea. In the silence a noise of hobnailed haste rose on the still air. A +little distance down the road a boy appeared trotting towards them from +the direction of the hotel. In his hand was the orange envelope, +unmistakable afar off, of a telegram. Trent watched him with an +indifferent eye as he met and passed the two others. Then he turned to +Marlowe. “A propos of nothing in particular,” he said, “were you at +Oxford?” + +“Yes,” said the young man. “Why do you ask?” + +“I just wondered if I was right in my guess. It’s one of the things you +can very often tell about a man, isn’t it?” + +“I suppose so,” Marlowe said. “Well, each of us is marked in one way or +another, perhaps. I should have said you were an artist, if I hadn’t +known it.” + +“Why? Does my hair want cutting?” + +“Oh, no! It’s only that you look at things and people as I’ve seen +artists do, with an eye that moves steadily from detail to +detail—rather looking them over than looking at them.” + +The boy came up panting. “Telegram for you, sir,” he said to Trent. +“Just come, sir.” + +Trent tore open the envelope with an apology, and his eyes lighted up +so visibly as he read the slip that Marlowe’s tired face softened in a +smile. + +“It must be good news,” he murmured half to himself. + +Trent turned on him a glance in which nothing could be read. “Not +exactly news,” he said. “It only tells me that another little guess of +mine was a good one.” + + + + +Chapter VIII. +The Inquest + + +The coroner, who fully realized that for that one day of his life as a +provincial solicitor he was living in the gaze of the world, had +resolved to be worthy of the fleeting eminence. He was a large man of +jovial temper, with a strong interest in the dramatic aspects of his +work, and the news of Manderson’s mysterious death within his +jurisdiction had made him the happiest coroner in England. A +respectable capacity for marshalling facts was fortified in him by a +copiousness of impressive language that made juries as clay in his +hands, and sometimes disguised a doubtful interpretation of the rules +of evidence. + +The court was held in a long, unfurnished room lately built on to the +hotel, and intended to serve as a ballroom or concert-hall. A regiment +of reporters was entrenched in the front seats, and those who were to +be called on to give evidence occupied chairs to one side of the table +behind which the coroner sat, while the jury, in double row, with +plastered hair and a spurious ease of manner, flanked him on the other +side. An undistinguished public filled the rest of the space, and +listened, in an awed silence, to the opening solemnities. The newspaper +men, well used to these, muttered among themselves. Those of them who +knew Trent by sight assured the rest that he was not in the court. + +The identity of the dead man was proved by his wife, the first witness +called, from whom the coroner, after some enquiry into the health and +circumstances of the deceased, proceeded to draw an account of the last +occasion on which she had seen her husband alive. Mrs. Manderson was +taken through her evidence by the coroner with the sympathy which every +man felt for that dark figure of grief. She lifted her thick veil +before beginning to speak, and the extreme paleness and unbroken +composure of the lady produced a singular impression. This was not an +impression of hardness. Interesting femininity was the first thing to +be felt in her presence. She was not even enigmatic. It was only clear +that the force of a powerful character was at work to master the +emotions of her situation. Once or twice as she spoke she touched her +eyes with her handkerchief, but her voice was low and clear to the end. + +Her husband, she said, had come up to his bedroom about his usual hour +for retiring on Sunday night. His room was really a dressing-room +attached to her own bedroom, communicating with it by a door which was +usually kept open during the night. Both dressing-room and bedroom were +entered by other doors giving on the passage. Her husband had always +had a preference for the greatest simplicity in his bedroom +arrangements, and liked to sleep in a small room. She had not been +awake when he came up, but had been half-aroused, as usually happened, +when the light was switched on in her husband’s room. She had spoken to +him. She had no clear recollection of what she had said, as she had +been very drowsy at the time; but she had remembered that he had been +out for a moonlight run in the car, and she believed she had asked +whether he had had a good run, and what time it was. She had asked what +the time was because she felt as if she had only been a very short time +asleep, and she had expected her husband to be out very late. In answer +to her question he had told her it was half-past eleven, and had gone +on to say that he had changed his mind about going for a run. + +“Did he say why?” the coroner asked. + +“Yes,” replied the lady, “he did explain why. I remember very well what +he said, because—” she stopped with a little appearance of confusion. + +“Because—” the coroner insisted gently. + +“Because my husband was not as a rule communicative about his business +affairs,” answered the witness, raising her chin with a faint touch of +defiance. “He did not—did not think they would interest me, and as a +rule referred to them as little as possible. That was why I was rather +surprised when he told me that he had sent Mr. Marlowe to Southampton +to bring back some important information from a man who was leaving for +Paris by the next day’s boat. He said that Mr. Marlowe could do it +quite easily if he had no accident. He said that he had started in the +car, and then walked back home a mile or so, and felt all the better +for it.” + +“Did he say any more?” + +“Nothing, as well as I remember,” the witness said. “I was very sleepy, +and I dropped off again in a few moments. I just remember my husband +turning his light out, and that is all. I never saw him again alive.” + +“And you heard nothing in the night?” + +“No: I never woke until my maid brought my tea in the morning at seven +o’clock. She closed the door leading to my husband’s room, as she +always did, and I supposed him to be still there. He always needed a +great deal of sleep. He sometimes slept until quite late in the +morning. I had breakfast in my sitting-room. It was about ten when I +heard that my husband’s body had been found.” The witness dropped her +head and silently waited for her dismissal. + +But it was not to be yet. + +“Mrs. Manderson.” The coroner’s voice was sympathetic, but it had a +hint of firmness in it now. “The question I am going to put to you +must, in these sad circumstances, be a painful one; but it is my duty +to ask it. Is it the fact that your relations with your late husband +had not been, for some time past, relations of mutual affection and +confidence? Is it the fact that there was an estrangement between you?” + +The lady drew herself up again and faced her questioner, the colour +rising in her cheeks. “If that question is necessary,” she said with +cold distinctness, “I will answer it so that there shall be no +misunderstanding. During the last few months of my husband’s life his +attitude towards me had given me great anxiety and sorrow. He had +changed towards me; he had become very reserved, and seemed +mistrustful. I saw much less of him than before; he seemed to prefer to +be alone. I can give no explanation at all of the change. I tried to +work against it; I did all I could with justice to my own dignity, as I +thought. Something was between us, I did not know what, and he never +told me. My own obstinate pride prevented me from asking what it was in +so many words; I only made a point of being to him exactly as I had +always been, so far as he would allow me. I suppose I shall never know +now what it was.” The witness, whose voice had trembled in spite of her +self-control over the last few sentences, drew down her veil when she +had said this, and stood erect and quiet. + +One of the jury asked a question, not without obvious hesitation. “Then +was there never anything of the nature of what they call Words between +you and your husband, ma’am?” + +“Never.” The word was colourlessly spoken; but every one felt that a +crass misunderstanding of the possibilities of conduct in the case of a +person like Mrs. Manderson had been visited with some severity. + +Did she know, the coroner asked, of any other matter which might have +been preying upon her husband’s mind recently? + +Mrs. Manderson knew of none whatever. The coroner intimated that her +ordeal was at an end, and the veiled lady made her way to the door. The +general attention, which followed her for a few moments, was now +eagerly directed upon Martin, whom the coroner had proceeded to call. + +It was at this moment that Trent appeared at the doorway and edged his +way into the great room. But he did not look at Martin. He was +observing the well-balanced figure that came quickly toward him along +an opening path in the crowd, and his eye was gloomy. He started, as he +stood aside from the door with a slight bow, to hear Mrs. Manderson +address him by name in a low voice. He followed her a pace or two into +the hall. + +“I wanted to ask you,” she said in a voice now weak and oddly broken, +“if you would give me your arm a part of the way to the house. I could +not see my uncle near the door, and I suddenly felt rather faint.... I +shall be better in the air.... No, no; I cannot stay here—please, Mr. +Trent!” she said, as he began to make an obvious suggestion. “I must go +to the house.” Her hand tightened momentarily on his arm as if, for all +her weakness, she could drag him from the place; then again she leaned +heavily upon it, and with that support, and with bent head, she walked +slowly from the hotel and along the oak-shaded path toward White +Gables. + +Trent went in silence, his thoughts whirling, dancing insanely to a +chorus of “Fool! fool!” All that he alone knew, all that he guessed and +suspected of this affair, rushed through his brain in a rout; but the +touch of her unnerved hand upon his arm never for an instant left his +consciousness, filling him with an exaltation that enraged and +bewildered him. He was still cursing himself furiously behind the mask +of conventional solicitude that he turned to the lady when he had +attended her to the house and seen her sink upon a couch in the +morning-room. Raising her veil, she thanked him gravely and frankly, +with a look of sincere gratitude in her eyes. She was much better now, +she said, and a cup of tea would work a miracle upon her. She hoped she +had not taken him away from anything important. She was ashamed of +herself; she thought she could go through with it, but she had not +expected those last questions. “I am glad you did not hear me,” she +said when he explained. “But of course you will read it all in the +reports. It shook me so to have to speak of that,” she added simply; +“and to keep from making an exhibition of myself took it out of me. And +all those staring men by the door! Thank you again for helping me when +I asked you.... I thought I might,” she ended queerly, with a little +tired smile; and Trent took himself away, his hand still quivering from +the cool touch of her fingers. + +The testimony of the servants and of the finder of the body brought +nothing new to the reporters’ net. That of the police was as colourless +and cryptic as is usual at the inquest stage of affairs of the kind. +Greatly to the satisfaction of Mr. Bunner, his evidence afforded the +sensation of the day, and threw far into the background the interesting +revelation of domestic difficulty made by the dead man’s wife. He told +the court in substance what he had already told Trent. The flying +pencils did not miss a word of the young American’s story, and it +appeared with scarcely the omission of a sentence in every journal of +importance in Great Britain and the United States. + +Public opinion next day took no note of the faint suggestion of the +possibility of suicide which the coroner, in his final address to the +jury, had thought it right to make in connection with the lady’s +evidence. The weight of evidence, as the official had indeed pointed +out, was against such a theory. He had referred with emphasis to the +fact that no weapon had been found near the body. + +“This question, of course, is all-important, gentlemen,” he had said to +the jury. “It is, in fact, the main issue before you. You have seen the +body for yourselves. You have just heard the medical evidence; but I +think it would be well for me to read you my notes of it in so far as +they bear on this point, in order to refresh your memories. Dr Stock +told you—I am going to omit all technical medical language and repeat +to you merely the plain English of his testimony—that in his opinion +death had taken place six or eight hours previous to the finding of the +body. He said that the cause of death was a bullet wound, the bullet +having entered the left eye, which was destroyed, and made its way to +the base of the brain, which was quite shattered. The external +appearance of the wound, he said, did not support the hypothesis of its +being self-inflicted, inasmuch as there were no signs of the firearm +having been pressed against the eye, or even put very close to it; at +the same time it was not physically impossible that the weapon should +have been discharged by the deceased with his own hand, at some small +distance from the eye. Dr Stock also told us that it was impossible to +say with certainty, from the state of the body, whether any struggle +had taken place at the time of death; that when seen by him, at which +time he understood that it had not been moved since it was found, the +body was lying in a collapsed position such as might very well result +from the shot alone; but that the scratches and bruises upon the wrists +and the lower part of the arms had been very recently inflicted, and +were, in his opinion, marks of violence. + +“In connection with this same point, the remarkable evidence given by +Mr Bunner cannot be regarded, I think, as without significance. It may +have come as a surprise to some of you to hear that risks of the +character described by this witness are, in his own country, commonly +run by persons in the position of the deceased. On the other hand, it +may have been within the knowledge of some of you that in the +industrial world of America the discontent of labour often proceeds to +lengths of which we in England happily know nothing. I have +interrogated the witness somewhat fully upon this. At the same time, +gentlemen, I am by no means suggesting that Mr. Bunner’s personal +conjecture as to the cause of death can fitly be adopted by you. That +is emphatically not the case. What his evidence does is to raise two +questions for your consideration. First, can it be said that the +deceased was to any extent in the position of a threatened man—of a man +more exposed to the danger of murderous attack than an ordinary person? +Second, does the recent alteration in his demeanour, as described by +this witness, justify the belief that his last days were overshadowed +by a great anxiety? These points may legitimately be considered by you +in arriving at a conclusion upon the rest of the evidence.” + +Thereupon the coroner, having indicated thus clearly his opinion that +Mr Bunner had hit the right nail on the head, desired the jury to +consider their verdict. + + + + +Chapter IX. +A Hot Scent + + +“Come in!” called Trent. + +Mr. Cupples entered his sitting-room at the hotel. It was the early +evening of the day on which the coroner’s jury, without leaving the +box, had pronounced the expected denunciation of a person or persons +unknown. Trent, with a hasty glance upward, continued his intent study +of what lay in a photographic dish of enamelled metal, which he moved +slowly about in the light of the window. He looked very pale, and his +movements were nervous. + +“Sit on the sofa,” he advised. “The chairs are a job lot bought at the +sale after the suppression of the Holy Inquisition in Spain. This is a +pretty good negative,” he went on, holding it up to the light with his +head at the angle of discriminating judgement. “Washed enough now, I +think. Let us leave it to dry, and get rid of all this mess.” + +Mr. Cupples, as the other busily cleared the table of a confusion of +basins, dishes, racks, boxes, and bottles, picked up first one and then +another of the objects and studied them with innocent curiosity. + +“That is called hypo-eliminator,” said Trent, as Mr. Cupples uncorked +and smelt at one of the bottles. “Very useful when you’re in a hurry +with a negative. I shouldn’t drink it, though, all the same. It +eliminates sodium hypophosphite, but I shouldn’t wonder if it would +eliminate human beings too.” He found a place for the last of the +litter on the crowded mantel-shelf, and came to sit before Mr. Cupples +on the table. “The great thing about a hotel sitting-room is that its +beauty does not distract the mind from work. It is no place for the +mayfly pleasures of a mind at ease. Have you ever been in this room +before, Cupples? I have, hundreds of times. It has pursued me all over +England for years. I should feel lost without it if, in some fantastic, +far-off hotel, they were to give me some other sitting-room. Look at +this table-cover; there is the ink I spilt on it when I had this room +in Halifax. I burnt that hole in the carpet when I had it in Ipswich. +But I see they have mended the glass over the picture of ‘Silent +Sympathy’, which I threw a boot at in Banbury. I do all my best work +here. This afternoon, for instance, since the inquest, I have finished +several excellent negatives. There is a very good dark room +downstairs.” + +“The inquest—that reminds me,” said Mr. Cupples, who knew that this +sort of talk in Trent meant the excitement of action, and was wondering +what he could be about. “I came in to thank you, my dear fellow, for +looking after Mabel this morning. I had no idea she was going to feel +ill after leaving the box; she seemed quite unmoved, and, really, she +is a woman of such extraordinary self-command, I thought I could leave +her to her own devices and hear out the evidence, which I thought it +important I should do. It was a very fortunate thing she found a friend +to assist her, and she is most grateful. She is quite herself again +now.” + +Trent, with his hands in his pockets and a slight frown on his brow, +made no reply to this. “I tell you what,” he said after a short pause, +“I was just getting to the really interesting part of the job when you +came in. Come; would you like to see a little bit of high-class police +work? It’s the very same kind of work that old Murch ought to be doing +at this moment. Perhaps he is; but I hope to glory he isn’t.” He sprang +off the table and disappeared into his bedroom. Presently he came out +with a large drawing-board on which a number of heterogeneous objects +was ranged. + +“First I must introduce you to these little things,” he said, setting +them out on the table. “Here is a big ivory paper-knife; here are two +leaves cut out of a diary—my own diary; here is a bottle containing +dentifrice; here is a little case of polished walnut. Some of these +things have to be put back where they belong in somebody’s bedroom at +White Gables before night. That’s the sort of man I am—nothing stops +me. I borrowed them this very morning when every one was down at the +inquest, and I dare say some people would think it rather an odd +proceeding if they knew. Now there remains one object on the board. Can +you tell me, without touching it, what it is?” + +“Certainly I can,” said Mr. Cupples, peering at it with great interest. +“It is an ordinary glass bowl. It looks like a finger-bowl. I see +nothing odd about it,” he added after some moments of close scrutiny. + +“I can’t see much myself,” replied Trent, “and that is exactly where +the fun comes in. Now take this little fat bottle, Cupples, and pull +out the cork. Do you recognize that powder inside it? You have +swallowed pounds of it in your time, I expect. They give it to babies. +Grey powder is its ordinary name—mercury and chalk. It is great stuff. +Now, while I hold the basin sideways over this sheet of paper, I want +you to pour a little powder out of the bottle over this part of the +bowl—just here.... Perfect! Sir Edward Henry himself could not have +handled the powder better. You have done this before, Cupples, I can +see. You are an old hand.” + +“I really am not,” said Mr. Cupples seriously, as Trent returned the +fallen powder to the bottle. “I assure you it is all a complete mystery +to me. What did I do then?” + +“I brush the powdered part of the bowl lightly with this camel-hair +brush. Now look at it again. You saw nothing odd about it before. Do +you see anything now?” + +Mr. Cupples peered again. “How curious!” he said. “Yes, there are two +large grey finger-marks on the bowl. They were not there before.” + +“I am Hawkshaw the detective,” observed Trent. “Would it interest you +to hear a short lecture on the subject of glass finger-bowls? When you +take one up with your hand you leave traces upon it, usually +practically invisible, which may remain for days or months. You leave +the marks of your fingers. The human hand, even when quite clean, is +never quite dry, and sometimes—in moments of great anxiety, for +instance, Cupples—it is very moist. It leaves a mark on any cold smooth +surface it may touch. That bowl was moved by somebody with a rather +moist hand quite lately.” He sprinkled the powder again. “Here on the +other side, you see, is the thumb-mark—very good impressions all of +them.” He spoke without raising his voice, but Mr. Cupples could +perceive that he was ablaze with excitement as he stared at the faint +grey marks. “This one should be the index finger. I need not tell a man +of your knowledge of the world that the pattern of it is a +single-spiral whorl, with deltas symmetrically disposed. This, the +print of the second finger, is a simple loop, with a staple core and +fifteen counts. I know there are fifteen, because I have just the same +two prints on this negative, which I have examined in detail. Look!”—he +held one of the negatives up to the light of the declining sun and +demonstrated with a pencil point. “You can see they’re the same. You +see the bifurcation of that ridge. There it is in the other. You see +that little scar near the centre. There it is in the other. There are a +score of ridge-characteristics on which an expert would swear in the +witness-box that the marks on that bowl and the marks I have +photographed on this negative were made by the same hand.” + +“And where did you photograph them? What does it all mean?” asked Mr +Cupples, wide-eyed. + +“I found them on the inside of the left-hand leaf of the front window +in Mrs. Manderson’s bedroom. As I could not bring the window with me, I +photographed them, sticking a bit of black paper on the other side of +the glass for the purpose. The bowl comes from Manderson’s room. It is +the bowl in which his false teeth were placed at night. I could bring +that away, so I did.” + +“But those cannot be Mabel’s finger-marks.” + +“I should think not!” said Trent with decision. “They are twice the +size of any print Mrs. Manderson could make.” + +“Then they must be her husband’s.” + +“Perhaps they are. Now shall we see if we can match them once more? I +believe we can.” Whistling faintly, and very white in the face, Trent +opened another small squat bottle containing a dense black powder. +“Lamp-black,” he explained. “Hold a bit of paper in your hand for a +second or two, and this little chap will show you the pattern of your +fingers.” He carefully took up with a pair of tweezers one of the +leaves cut from his diary, and held it out for the other to examine. No +marks appeared on the leaf. He tilted some of the powder out upon one +surface of the paper, then, turning it over, upon the other; then shook +the leaf gently to rid it of the loose powder. He held it out to Mr. +Cupples in silence. On one side of the paper appeared unmistakably, +clearly printed in black, the same two finger-prints that he had +already seen on the bowl and on the photographic plate. He took up the +bowl and compared them. Trent turned the paper over, and on the other +side was a bold black replica of the thumb-mark that was printed in +grey on the glass in his hand. + +“Same man, you see,” Trent said with a short laugh. “I felt that it +must be so, and now I know.” He walked to the window and looked out. +“Now I know,” he repeated in a low voice, as if to himself. His tone +was bitter. Mr. Cupples, understanding nothing, stared at his +motionless back for a few moments. + +“I am still completely in the dark,” he ventured presently. “I have +often heard of this fingerprint business, and wondered how the police +went to work about it. It is of extraordinary interest to me, but upon +my life I cannot see how in this case Manderson’s fingerprints are +going—” + +“I am very sorry, Cupples,” Trent broke in upon his meditative speech +with a swift return to the table. “When I began this investigation I +meant to take you with me every step of the way. You mustn’t think I +have any doubts about your discretion if I say now that I must hold my +tongue about the whole thing, at least for a time. I will tell you +this: I have come upon a fact that looks too much like having very +painful consequences if it is discovered by any one else.” He looked at +the other with a hard and darkened face, and struck the table with his +hand. “It is terrible for me here and now. Up to this moment I was +hoping against hope that I was wrong about the fact. I may still be +wrong in the surmise that I base upon that fact. There is only one way +of finding out that is open to me, and I must nerve myself to take it.” +He smiled suddenly at Mr. Cupples’s face of consternation. “All +right—I’m not going to be tragic any more, and I’ll tell you all about +it when I can. Look here, I’m not half through my game with the +powder-bottles yet.” + +He drew one of the defamed chairs to the table and sat down to test the +broad ivory blade of the paper knife. Mr. Cupples, swallowing his +amazement, bent forward in an attitude of deep interest and handed +Trent the bottle of lamp-black. + + + + +Chapter X. +The Wife of Dives + + +Mrs. Manderson stood at the window of her sitting-room at White Gables +gazing out upon a wavering landscape of fine rain and mist. The weather +had broken as it seldom does in that part in June. White wreathings +drifted up the fields from the sullen sea; the sky was an unbroken grey +deadness shedding pin-point moisture that was now and then blown +against the panes with a crepitation of despair. The lady looked out on +the dim and chilling prospect with a woeful face. It was a bad day for +a woman bereaved, alone, and without a purpose in life. + +There was a knock, and she called “Come in,” drawing herself up with an +unconscious gesture that always came when she realized that the +weariness of the world had been gaining upon her spirit. Mr. Trent had +called, the maid said; he apologized for coming at such an early hour, +but hoped that Mrs. Manderson would see him on a matter of urgent +importance. Mrs Manderson would see Mr. Trent. She walked to a mirror, +looked into the olive face she saw reflected there, shook her head at +herself with the flicker of a grimace, and turned to the door as Trent +was shown in. + +His appearance, she noted, was changed. He had the jaded look of the +sleepless, and a new and reserved expression, in which her quick +sensibilities felt something not propitious, took the place of his half +smile of fixed good-humour. + +“May I come to the point at once?” he said, when she had given him her +hand. “There is a train I ought to catch at Bishopsbridge at twelve +o’clock, but I cannot go until I have settled this thing, which +concerns you only, Mrs. Manderson. I have been working half the night +and thinking the rest; and I know now what I ought to do.” + +“You look wretchedly tired,” she said kindly. “Won’t you sit down? This +is a very restful chair. Of course it is about this terrible business +and your work as correspondent. Please ask me anything you think I can +properly tell you, Mr. Trent. I know that you won’t make it worse for +me than you can help in doing your duty here. If you say you must see +me about something, I know it must be because, as you say, you ought to +do it.” + +“Mrs. Manderson,” said Trent, slowly measuring his words, “I won’t make +it worse for you than I can help. But I am bound to make it bad for +you—only between ourselves, I hope. As to whether you can properly tell +me what I shall ask you, you will decide that; but I tell you this on +my word of honour: I shall ask you only as much as will decide me +whether to publish or to withhold certain grave things that I have +found out about your husband’s death, things not suspected by any one +else, nor, I think, likely to be so. What I have discovered—what I +believe that I have practically proved—will be a great shock to you in +any case. But it may be worse for you than that; and if you give me +reason to think it would be so, then I shall suppress this manuscript,” +he laid a long envelope on the small table beside him, “and nothing of +what it has to tell shall ever be printed. It consists, I may tell you, +of a short private note to my editor, followed by a long dispatch for +publication in the _Record_. Now you may refuse to say anything to me. +If you do refuse, my duty to my employers, as I see it, is to take this +up to London with me today and leave it with my editor to be dealt with +at his discretion. My view is, you understand, that I am not entitled +to suppress it on the strength of a mere possibility that presents +itself to my imagination. But if I gather from you—and I can gather it +from no other person—that there is substance in that imaginary +possibility I speak of, then I have only one thing to do as a gentleman +and as one who”—he hesitated for a phrase—“wishes you well. I shall not +publish that dispatch of mine. In some directions I decline to assist +the police. Have you followed me so far?” he asked with a touch of +anxiety in his careful coldness; for her face, but for its pallor, gave +no sign as she regarded him, her hands clasped before her, and her +shoulders drawn back in a pose of rigid calm. She looked precisely as +she had looked at the inquest. + +“I understand quite well,” said Mrs. Manderson in a low voice. She drew +a deep breath, and went on: “I don’t know what dreadful thing you have +found out, or what the possibility that has occurred to you can be, but +it was good, it was honourable of you to come to me about it. Now will +you please tell me?” + +“I cannot do that,” Trent replied. “The secret is my newspaper’s if it +is not yours. If I find it is yours, you shall have my manuscript to +read and destroy. Believe me,” he broke out with something of his old +warmth, “I detest such mystery-making from the bottom of my soul; but +it is not I who have made this mystery. This is the most painful hour +of my life, and you make it worse by not treating me like a hound. The +first thing I ask you to tell me,” he reverted with an effort to his +colourless tone, “is this: is it true, as you stated at the inquest, +that you had no idea at all of the reason why your late husband had +changed his attitude toward you, and become mistrustful and reserved, +during the last few months of his life?” + +Mrs. Manderson’s dark brows lifted and her eyes flamed; she quickly +rose from her chair. Trent got up at the same moment, and took his +envelope from the table; his manner said that he perceived the +interview to be at an end. But she held up a hand, and there was colour +in her cheeks and quick breathing in her voice as she said: “Do you +know what you ask, Mr Trent? You ask me if I perjured myself.” + +“I do,” he answered unmoved; and he added after a pause, “you knew +already that I had not come here to preserve the polite fictions, Mrs. +Manderson. The theory that no reputable person, being on oath, could +withhold a part of the truth under any circumstances is a polite +fiction.” He still stood as awaiting dismissal, but she was silent. She +walked to the window, and he stood miserably watching the slight +movement of her shoulders until it subsided. Then with face averted, +looking out on the dismal weather, she spoke at last clearly. + +“Mr. Trent,” she said, “you inspire confidence in people, and I feel +that things which I don’t want known or talked about are safe with you. +And I know you must have a very serious reason for doing what you are +doing, though I don’t know what it is. I suppose it would be assisting +justice in some way if I told you the truth about what you asked just +now. To understand that truth you ought to know about what went +before—I mean about my marriage. After all, a good many people could +tell you as well as I can that it was not... a very successful union. I +was only twenty. I admired his force and courage and certainty; he was +the only strong man I had ever known. But it did not take me long to +find out that he cared for his business more than for me, and I think I +found out even sooner that I had been deceiving myself and blinding +myself, promising myself impossible things and wilfully +misunderstanding my own feelings, because I was dazzled by the idea of +having more money to spend than an English girl ever dreams of. I have +been despising myself for that for five years. My husband’s feeling for +me... well, I cannot speak of that... what I want to say is that along +with it there had always been a belief of his that I was the sort of +woman to take a great place in society, and that I should throw myself +into it with enjoyment, and become a sort of personage and do him great +credit—that was his idea; and the idea remained with him after other +delusions had gone. I was a part of his ambition. That was his really +bitter disappointment, that I failed him as a social success. I think +he was too shrewd not to have known in his heart that such a man as he +was, twenty years older than I, with great business responsibilities +that filled every hour of his life, and caring for nothing else—he must +have felt that there was a risk of great unhappiness in marrying the +sort of girl I was, brought up to music and books and unpractical +ideas, always enjoying myself in my own way. But he had really reckoned +on me as a wife who would do the honours of his position in the world; +and I found I couldn’t.” + +Mrs. Manderson had talked herself into a more emotional mood than she +had yet shown to Trent. Her words flowed freely, and her voice had +begun to ring and give play to a natural expressiveness that must +hitherto have been dulled, he thought, by the shock and self-restraint +of the past few days. Now she turned swiftly from the window and faced +him as she went on, her beautiful face flushed and animated, her eyes +gleaming, her hands moving in slight emphatic gestures, as she +surrendered herself to the impulse of giving speech to things long pent +up. + +“The people,” she said. “Oh, those people! Can you imagine what it must +be for any one who has lived in a world where there was always creative +work in the background, work with some dignity about it, men and women +with professions or arts to follow, with ideals and things to believe +in and quarrel about, some of them wealthy, some of them quite poor; +can you think what it means to step out of that into another world +where you _have_ to be very rich, shamefully rich, to exist at +all—where money is the only thing that counts and the first thing in +everybody’s thoughts—where the men who make the millions are so jaded +by the work, that sport is the only thing they can occupy themselves +with when they have any leisure, and the men who don’t have to work are +even duller than the men who do, and vicious as well; and the women +live for display and silly amusements and silly immoralities; do you +know how awful that life is? Of course I know there are clever people, +and people of taste in that set, but they’re swamped and spoiled, and +it’s the same thing in the end; empty, empty! Oh! I suppose I’m +exaggerating, and I did make friends and have some happy times; but +that’s how I feel after it all. The seasons in New York and London—how +I hated them! And our house-parties and cruises in the yacht and the +rest—the same people, the same emptiness. + +“And you see, don’t you, that my husband couldn’t have an idea of all +this. _His_ life was never empty. He did not live it in society, and +when he was in society he had always his business plans and +difficulties to occupy his mind. He hadn’t a suspicion of what I felt, +and I never let him know; I couldn’t, it wouldn’t have been fair. I +felt I must do _something_ to justify myself as his wife, sharing his +position and fortune; and the only thing I could do was to try, and +try, to live up to his idea about my social qualities... I did try. I +acted my best. And it became harder year by year... I never was what +they call a popular hostess, how could I be? I was a failure; but I +went on trying... I used to steal holidays now and then. I used to feel +as if I was not doing my part of a bargain—it sounds horrid to put it +like that, I know, but it _was_ so—when I took one of my old +school-friends, who couldn’t afford to travel, away to Italy for a +month or two, and we went about cheaply all by ourselves, and were +quite happy; or when I went and made a long stay in London with some +quiet people who had known me all my life, and we all lived just as in +the old days, when we had to think twice about seats at the theatre, +and told each other about cheap dressmakers. Those and a few other +expeditions of the same sort were my best times after I was married, +and they helped me to go through with it the rest of the time. But I +felt my husband would have hated to know how much I enjoyed every hour +of those returns to the old life. + +“And in the end, in spite of everything I could do, he came to know.... +He could see through anything, I think, once his attention was turned +to it. He had always been able to see that I was not fulfilling his +idea of me as a figure in the social world, and I suppose he thought it +was my misfortune rather than my fault. But the moment he began to see, +in spite of my pretending, that I wasn’t playing my part with any +spirit, he knew the whole story; he divined how I loathed and was weary +of the luxury and the brilliancy and the masses of money just because +of the people who lived among them—who were made so by them, I +suppose.... It happened last year. I don’t know just how or when. It +may have been suggested to him by some woman—for _they_ all understood, +of course. He said nothing to me, and I think he tried not to change in +his manner to me at first; but such things hurt—and it was working in +both of us. I knew that he knew. After a time we were just being polite +and considerate to each other. Before he found me out we had been on a +footing of—how can I express it to you?—of intelligent companionship, I +might say. We talked without restraint of many things of the kind we +could agree or disagree about without its going very deep... if you +understand. And then that came to an end. I felt that the only possible +basis of our living in each other’s company was going under my feet. +And at last it was gone. + +“It had been like that,” she ended simply, “for months before he died.” +She sank into the corner of a sofa by the window, as though relaxing +her body after an effort. For a few moments both were silent. Trent was +hastily sorting out a tangle of impressions. He was amazed at the +frankness of Mrs. Manderson’s story. He was amazed at the vigorous +expressiveness in her telling of it. In this vivid being, carried away +by an impulse to speak, talking with her whole personality, he had seen +the real woman in a temper of activity, as he had already seen the real +woman by chance in a temper of reverie and unguarded emotion. In both +she was very unlike the pale, self-disciplined creature of majesty that +she had been to the world. With that amazement of his went something +like terror of her dark beauty, which excitement kindled into an +appearance scarcely mortal in his eyes. Incongruously there rushed into +his mind, occupied as it was with the affair of the moment, a little +knot of ideas... she was unique not because of her beauty but because +of its being united with intensity of nature; in England all the very +beautiful women were placid, all the fiery women seemed to have burnt +up the best of their beauty; that was why no beautiful woman had ever +cast this sort of spell on him before; when it was a question of wit in +women he had preferred the brighter flame to the duller, without much +regarding the lamp. “All this is very disputable,” said his reason; and +instinct answered, “Yes, except that I am under a spell”; and a deeper +instinct cried out, “Away with it!” He forced his mind back to her +story, and found growing swiftly in him an irrepressible conviction. It +was all very fine; but it would not do. + +“I feel as if I had led you into saying more than you meant to say, or +than I wanted to learn,” he said slowly. “But there is one brutal +question which is the whole point of my enquiry.” He braced his frame +like one preparing for a plunge into cold waters. “Mrs. Manderson, will +you assure me that your husband’s change toward you had nothing to do +with John Marlowe?” + +And what he had dreaded came. “Oh!” she cried with a sound of anguish, +her face thrown up and open hands stretched out as if for pity; and +then the hands covered the burning face, and she flung herself aside +among the cushions at her elbow, so that he saw nothing but her heavy +crown of black hair, and her body moving with sobs that stabbed his +heart, and a foot turned inward gracelessly in an abandonment of +misery. Like a tall tower suddenly breaking apart she had fallen in +ruins, helplessly weeping. + +Trent stood up, his face white and calm. With a senseless particularity +he placed his envelope exactly in the centre of the little polished +table. He walked to the door, closed it noiselessly as he went out, and +in a few minutes was tramping through the rain out of sight of White +Gables, going nowhere, seeing nothing, his soul shaken in the fierce +effort to kill and trample the raving impulse that had seized him in +the presence of her shame, that clamoured to him to drag himself before +her feet, to pray for pardon, to pour out words—he knew not what words, +but he knew that they had been straining at his lips—to wreck his +self-respect for ever, and hopelessly defeat even the crazy purpose +that had almost possessed him, by drowning her wretchedness in disgust, +by babbling with the tongue of infatuation to a woman with a husband +not yet buried, to a woman who loved another man. + +Such was the magic of her tears, quickening in a moment the thing +which, as his heart had known, he must not let come to life. For Philip +Trent was a young man, younger in nature even than his years, and a way +of life that kept his edge keen and his spirit volcanic had prepared +him very ill for the meeting that comes once in the early manhood of +most of us, usually—as in his case, he told himself harshly—to no +purpose but the testing of virtue and the power of the will. + + + + +Chapter XI. +Hitherto Unpublished + + +My Dear Molloy:—This is in case I don’t find you at your office. I have +found out who killed Manderson, as this dispatch will show. This was my +problem; yours is to decide what use to make of it. It definitely +charges an unsuspected person with having a hand in the crime, and +practically accuses him of being the murderer, so I don’t suppose you +will publish it before his arrest, and I believe it is illegal to do so +afterwards until he has been tried and found guilty. You may decide to +publish it then; and you may find it possible to make some use or other +before then of the facts I have given. That is your affair. Meanwhile, +will you communicate with Scotland Yard, and let them see what I have +written? I have done with the Manderson mystery, and I wish to God I +had never touched it. Here follows my dispatch. P.T. + +Marlstone, _June_ 16_th_. + + +I begin this, my third and probably my final dispatch to the _Record_ +upon the Manderson murder, with conflicting feelings. I have a strong +sense of relief, because in my two previous dispatches I was obliged, +in the interests of justice, to withhold facts ascertained by me which +would, if published then, have put a certain person upon his guard and +possibly have led to his escape; for he is a man of no common boldness +and resource. These facts I shall now set forth. But I have, I confess, +no liking for the story of treachery and perverted cleverness which I +have to tell. It leaves an evil taste in the mouth, a savour of +something revolting in the deeper puzzle of motive underlying the +puzzle of the crime itself, which I believe I have solved. + +It will be remembered that in my first dispatch I described the +situation as I found it on reaching this place early on Tuesday +morning. I told how the body was found, and in what state; dwelt upon +the complete mystery surrounding the crime, and mentioned one or two +local theories about it; gave some account of the dead man’s domestic +surroundings; and furnished a somewhat detailed description of his +movements on the evening before his death. I gave, too, a little fact +which may or may not have seemed irrelevant: that a quantity of whisky +much larger than Manderson habitually drank at night had disappeared +from his private decanter since the last time he was seen alive. On the +following day, the day of the inquest, I wired little more than an +abstract of the proceedings in the coroner’s court, of which a verbatim +report was made at my request by other representatives of the _Record_. +That day is not yet over as I write these lines; and I have now +completed an investigation which has led me directly to the man who +must be called upon to clear himself of the guilt of the death of +Manderson. + +Apart from the central mystery of Manderson’s having arisen long before +his usual hour to go out and meet his death, there were two minor +points of oddity about this affair which, I suppose, must have occurred +to thousands of those who have read the accounts in the newspapers: +points apparent from the very beginning. The first of these was that, +whereas the body was found at a spot not thirty yards from the house, +all the people of the house declared that they had heard no cry or +other noise in the night. Manderson had not been gagged; the marks on +his wrists pointed to a struggle with his assailant; and there had been +at least one pistol-shot. (I say at least one, because it is the fact +that in murders with firearms, especially if there has been a struggle, +the criminal commonly misses his victim at least once.) This odd fact +seemed all the more odd to me when I learned that Martin the butler was +a bad sleeper, very keen of hearing, and that his bedroom, with the +window open, faced almost directly toward the shed by which the body +was found. + +The second odd little fact that was apparent from the outset was +Manderson’s leaving his dental plate by the bedside. It appeared that +he had risen and dressed himself fully, down to his necktie and watch +and chain, and had gone out of doors without remembering to put in this +plate, which he had carried in his mouth every day for years, and which +contained all the visible teeth of the upper jaw. It had evidently not +been a case of frantic hurry; and even if it had been, he would have +been more likely to forget almost anything than this denture. Any one +who wears such a removable plate will agree that the putting it in on +rising is a matter of second nature. Speaking as well as eating, to say +nothing of appearances, depend upon it. + +Neither of these queer details, however, seemed to lead to anything at +the moment. They only awakened in me a suspicion of something lurking +in the shadows, something that lent more mystery to the already +mysterious question how and why and through whom Manderson met his end. + +With this much of preamble I come at once to the discovery which, in +the first few hours of my investigation, set me upon the path which so +much ingenuity had been directed to concealing. + +I have already described Manderson’s bedroom, the rigorous simplicity +of its furnishing, contrasted so strangely with the multitude of +clothes and shoes, and the manner of its communication with Mrs. +Manderson’s room. On the upper of the two long shelves on which the +shoes were ranged I found, where I had been told I should find them, +the pair of patent leather shoes which Manderson had worn on the +evening before his death. I had glanced over the row, not with any idea +of their giving me a clue, but merely because it happens that I am a +judge of shoes, and all these shoes were of the very best workmanship. +But my attention was at once caught by a little peculiarity in this +particular pair. They were the lightest kind of lace-up dress shoes, +very thin in the sole, without toe-caps, and beautifully made, like all +the rest. These shoes were old and well worn; but being carefully +polished, and fitted, as all the shoes were, upon their trees, they +looked neat enough. What caught my eye was a slight splitting of the +leather in that part of the upper known as the vamp—a splitting at the +point where the two laced parts of the shoe rise from the upper. It is +at this point that the strain comes when a tight shoe of this sort is +forced upon the foot, and it is usually guarded with a strong stitching +across the bottom of the opening. In both the shoes I was examining +this stitching had parted, and the leather below had given way. The +splitting was a tiny affair in each case, not an eighth of an inch +long, and the torn edges having come together again on the removal of +the strain, there was nothing that a person who was not something of a +connoisseur of shoe-leather would have noticed. Even less noticeable, +and indeed not to be seen at all unless one were looking for it, was a +slight straining of the stitches uniting the upper to the sole. At the +toe and on the outer side of each shoe this stitching had been dragged +until it was visible on a close inspection of the join. + +These indications, of course, could mean only one thing—the shoes had +been worn by some one for whom they were too small. + +Now it was clear at a glance that Manderson was always thoroughly well +shod, and careful, perhaps a little vain, of his small and narrow feet. +Not one of the other shoes in the collection, as I soon ascertained, +bore similar marks; they had not belonged to a man who squeezed himself +into tight shoe-leather. Someone who was not Manderson had worn these +shoes, and worn them recently; the edges of the tears were quite fresh. + +The possibility of some one having worn them since Manderson’s death +was not worth considering; the body had only been found about +twenty-six hours when I was examining the shoes; besides, why should +any one wear them? The possibility of some one having borrowed +Manderson’s shoes and spoiled them for him while he was alive seemed +about as negligible. With others to choose from he would not have worn +these. Besides, the only men in the place were the butler and the two +secretaries. But I do not say that I gave those possibilities even as +much consideration as they deserved, for my thoughts were running away +with me, and I have always found it good policy, in cases of this sort, +to let them have their heads. Ever since I had got out of the train at +Marlstone early that morning I had been steeped in details of the +Manderson affair; the thing had not once been out of my head. Suddenly +the moment had come when the daemon wakes and begins to range. + +Let me put it less fancifully. After all, it is a detail of psychology +familiar enough to all whose business or inclination brings them in +contact with difficult affairs of any kind. Swiftly and spontaneously, +when chance or effort puts one in possession of the key-fact in any +system of baffling circumstances, one’s ideas seem to rush to group +themselves anew in relation to that fact, so that they are suddenly +rearranged almost before one has consciously grasped the significance +of the key-fact itself. In the present instance, my brain had scarcely +formulated within itself the thought, “Somebody who was not Manderson +has been wearing these shoes,” when there flew into my mind a flock of +ideas, all of the same character and all bearing upon this new notion. +It was unheard-of for Manderson to drink much whisky at night. It was +very unlike him to be untidily dressed, as the body was when found—the +cuffs dragged up inside the sleeves, the shoes unevenly laced; very +unlike him not to wash when he rose, and to put on last night’s evening +shirt and collar and underclothing; very unlike him to have his watch +in the waistcoat pocket that was not lined with leather for its +reception. (In my first dispatch I mentioned all these points, but +neither I nor any one else saw anything significant in them when +examining the body.) It was very strange, in the existing domestic +situation, that Manderson should be communicative to his wife about his +doings, especially at the time of his going to bed, when he seldom +spoke to her at all. It was extraordinary that Manderson should leave +his bedroom without his false teeth. + +All these thoughts, as I say, came flocking into my mind together, +drawn from various parts of my memory of the morning’s enquiries and +observations. They had all presented themselves, in far less time than +it takes to read them as set down here, as I was turning over the +shoes, confirming my own certainty on the main point. And yet when I +confronted the definite idea that had sprung up suddenly and +unsupported before me—“_It was not Manderson who was in the house that +night_”—it seemed a stark absurdity at the first formulating. It was +certainly Manderson who had dined at the house and gone out with +Marlowe in the car. People had seen him at close quarters. But was it +he who returned at ten? That question too seemed absurd enough. But I +could not set it aside. It seemed to me as if a faint light was +beginning to creep over the whole expanse of my mind, as it does over +land at dawn, and that presently the sun would be rising. I set myself +to think over, one by one, the points that had just occurred to me, so +as to make out, if possible, why any man masquerading as Manderson +should have done these things that Manderson would not have done. + +I had not to cast about very long for the motive a man might have in +forcing his feet into Manderson’s narrow shoes. The examination of +footmarks is very well understood by the police. But not only was the +man concerned to leave no footmarks of his own: he was concerned to +leave Manderson’s, if any; his whole plan, if my guess was right, must +have been directed to producing the belief that Manderson was in the +place that night. Moreover, his plan did not turn upon leaving +footmarks. He meant to leave the shoes themselves, and he did so. The +maidservant had found them outside the bedroom door, as Manderson +always left his shoes, and had polished them, replacing them on the +shoe-shelves later in the morning, after the body had been found. + +When I came to consider in this new light the leaving of the false +teeth, an explanation of what had seemed the maddest part of the affair +broke upon me at once. A dental plate is not inseparable from its +owner. If my guess was right, the unknown had brought the denture to +the house with him, and left it in the bedroom, with the same object as +he had in leaving the shoes: to make it impossible that any one should +doubt that Manderson had been in the house and had gone to bed there. +This, of course, led me to the inference that _Manderson was dead +before the false Manderson came to the house_; and other things +confirmed this. + +For instance, the clothing, to which I now turned in my review of the +position. If my guess was right, the unknown in Manderson’s shoes had +certainly had possession of Manderson’s trousers, waistcoat, and +shooting jacket. They were there before my eyes in the bedroom; and +Martin had seen the jacket—which nobody could have mistaken—upon the +man who sat at the telephone in the library. It was now quite plain (if +my guess was right) that this unmistakable garment was a cardinal +feature of the unknown’s plan. He knew that Martin would take him for +Manderson at the first glance. + +And there my thinking was interrupted by the realization of a thing +that had escaped me before. So strong had been the influence of the +unquestioned assumption that it was Manderson who was present that +night, that neither I nor, as far as I know, any one else had noted the +point. _Martin had not seen the man’s face, nor had Mrs. Manderson._ + +Mrs. Manderson (judging by her evidence at the inquest, of which, as I +have said, I had a full report made by the _Record_ stenographers in +court) had not seen the man at all. She hardly could have done, as I +shall show presently. She had merely spoken with him as she lay half +asleep, resuming a conversation which she had had with her living +husband about an hour before. Martin, I perceived, could only have seen +the man’s back, as he sat crouching over the telephone; no doubt a +characteristic pose was imitated there. And the man had worn his hat, +Manderson’s broad-brimmed hat! There is too much character in the back +of a head and neck. The unknown, in fact, supposing him to have been of +about Manderson’s build, had had no need for any disguise, apart from +the jacket and the hat and his powers of mimicry. + +I paused there to contemplate the coolness and ingenuity of the man. +The thing, I now began to see, was so safe and easy, provided that his +mimicry was good enough, and that his nerve held. Those two points +assured, only some wholly unlikely accident could unmask him. + +To come back to my puzzling out of the matter as I sat in the dead +man’s bedroom with the tell-tale shoes before me. The reason for the +entrance by the window instead of by the front door will already have +occurred to any one reading this. Entering by the door, the man would +almost certainly have been heard by the sharp-eared Martin in his +pantry just across the hall; he might have met him face to face. + +Then there was the problem of the whisky. I had not attached much +importance to it; whisky will sometimes vanish in very queer ways in a +household of eight or nine persons; but it had seemed strange that it +should go in that way on that evening. Martin had been plainly quite +dumbfounded by the fact. It seemed to me now that many a man—fresh, as +this man in all likelihood was, from a bloody business, from the +unclothing of a corpse, and with a desperate part still to play—would +turn to that decanter as to a friend. No doubt he had a drink before +sending for Martin; after making that trick with ease and success, he +probably drank more. + +But he had known when to stop. The worst part of the enterprise was +before him: the business—clearly of such vital importance to him, for +whatever reason—of shutting himself in Manderson’s room and preparing a +body of convincing evidence of its having been occupied by Manderson; +and this with the risk—very slight, as no doubt he understood, but how +unnerving!—of the woman on the other side of the half-open door awaking +and somehow discovering him. True, if he kept out of her limited field +of vision from the bed, she could only see him by getting up and going +to the door. I found that to a person lying in her bed, which stood +with its head to the wall a little beyond the door, nothing was visible +through the doorway but one of the cupboards by Manderson’s bed-head. +Moreover, since this man knew the ways of the household, he would think +it most likely that Mrs. Manderson was asleep. Another point with him, +I guessed, might have been the estrangement between the husband and +wife, which they had tried to cloak by keeping up, among other things, +their usual practice of sleeping in connected rooms, but which was well +known to all who had anything to do with them. He would hope from this +that if Mrs. Manderson heard him, she would take no notice of the +supposed presence of her husband. + +So, pursuing my hypothesis, I followed the unknown up to the bedroom, +and saw him setting about his work. And it was with a catch in my own +breath that I thought of the hideous shock with which he must have +heard the sound of all others he was dreading most: the drowsy voice +from the adjoining room. + +What Mrs. Manderson actually said, she was unable to recollect at the +inquest. She thinks she asked her supposed husband whether he had had a +good run in the car. And now what does the unknown do? Here, I think, +we come to a supremely significant point. Not only does he—standing +rigid there, as I picture him, before the dressing-table, listening to +the sound of his own leaping heart—not only does he answer the lady in +the voice of Manderson; he volunteers an explanatory statement. He +tells her that he has, on a sudden inspiration, sent Marlowe in the car +to Southampton; that he has sent him to bring back some important +information from a man leaving for Paris by the steamboat that morning. +Why these details from a man who had long been uncommunicative to his +wife, and that upon a point scarcely likely to interest her? Why these +details _about Marlowe?_ + +Having taken my story so far, I now put forward the following definite +propositions: that between a time somewhere about ten, when the car +started, and a time somewhere about eleven, Manderson was shot—probably +at a considerable distance from the house, as no shot was heard; that +the body was brought back, left by the shed, and stripped of its outer +clothing; that at some time round about eleven o’clock a man who was +not Manderson, wearing Manderson’s shoes, hat, and jacket, entered the +library by the garden window; that he had with him Manderson’s black +trousers, waistcoat, and motor-coat, the denture taken from Manderson’s +mouth, and the weapon with which he had been murdered; that he +concealed these, rang the bell for the butler, and sat down at the +telephone with his hat on and his back to the door; that he was +occupied with the telephone all the time Martin was in the room; that +on going up to the bedroom floor he quietly entered Marlowe’s room and +placed the revolver with which the crime had been committed—Marlowe’s +revolver—in the case on the mantelpiece from which it had been taken; +and that he then went to Manderson’s room, placed Manderson’s shoes +outside the door, threw Manderson’s garments on a chair, placed the +denture in the bowl by the bedside, and selected a suit of clothes, a +pair of shoes, and a tie from those in the bedroom. + +Here I will pause in my statement of this man’s proceedings to go into +a question for which the way is now sufficiently prepared: + +_Who was the false Manderson?_ + +Reviewing what was known to me, or might almost with certainty be +surmised, about that person, I set down the following five conclusions: + +(1.) He had been in close relations with the dead man. In his acting +before Martin and his speaking to Mrs. Manderson he had made no +mistake. + +(2.) He was of a build not unlike Manderson’s, especially as to height +and breadth of shoulder, which mainly determine the character of the +back of a seated figure when the head is concealed and the body loosely +clothed. But his feet were larger, though not greatly larger, than +Manderson’s. + +(3.) He had considerable aptitude for mimicry and acting—probably some +experience too. + +(4.) He had a minute acquaintance with the ways of the Manderson +household. + +(5.) He was under a vital necessity of creating the belief that +Manderson was alive and in that house until some time after midnight on +the Sunday night. + +So much I took as either certain or next door to it. It was as far as I +could see. And it was far enough. + +I proceed to give, in an order corresponding with the numbered +paragraphs above, such relevant facts as I was able to obtain about Mr. +John Marlowe, from himself and other sources: + +(1.) He had been Mr. Manderson’s private secretary, upon a footing of +great intimacy, for nearly four years. + +(2.) The two men were nearly of the same height, about five feet eleven +inches; both were powerfully built and heavy in the shoulder. Marlowe, +who was the younger by some twenty years, was rather slighter about the +body, though Manderson was a man in good physical condition. Marlowe’s +shoes (of which I examined several pairs) were roughly about one +shoemaker’s size longer and broader than Manderson’s. + +(3.) In the afternoon of the first day of my investigation, after +arriving at the results already detailed, I sent a telegram to a +personal friend, a Fellow of a college at Oxford, whom I knew to be +interested in theatrical matters, in these terms: + +_Please wire John Marlowe’s record in connection with acting at Oxford +some time past decade very urgent and confidential._ + +My friend replied in the following telegram, which reached me next +morning (the morning of the inquest): + +_Marlowe was member O.U.D.S for three years and president 19— played +Bardolph Cleon and Mercutio excelled in character acting and imitations +in great demand at smokers was hero of some historic hoaxes._ + +I had been led to send the telegram which brought this very helpful +answer by seeing on the mantel-shelf in Marlowe’s bedroom a photograph +of himself and two others in the costume of Falstaff’s three followers, +with an inscription from _The Merry Wives_, and by noting that it bore +the imprint of an Oxford firm of photographers. + +(4.) During his connection with Manderson, Marlowe had lived as one of +the family. No other person, apart from the servants, had his +opportunities for knowing the domestic life of the Mandersons in +detail. + +(5.) I ascertained beyond doubt that Marlowe arrived at a hotel in +Southampton on the Monday morning at 6.30, and there proceeded to carry +out the commission which, according to his story, and according to the +statement made to Mrs. Manderson in the bedroom by the false Manderson, +had been entrusted to him by his employer. He had then returned in the +car to Marlstone, where he had shown great amazement and horror at the +news of the murder. + +These, I say, are the relevant facts about Marlowe. We must now examine +fact number 5 (as set out above) in connection with conclusion number 5 +about the false Manderson. + +I would first draw attention to one important fact. _The only person +who professed to have heard Manderson mention Southampton at all before +he started in the car was Marlowe_. His story—confirmed to some extent +by what the butler overheard—was that the journey was all arranged in a +private talk before they set out, and he could not say, when I put the +question to him, why Manderson should have concealed his intentions by +giving out that he was going with Marlowe for a moonlight drive. This +point, however, attracted no attention. Marlowe had an absolutely +air-tight alibi in his presence at Southampton by 6.30; nobody thought +of him in connection with a murder which must have been committed after +12.30—the hour at which Martin the butler had gone to bed. But it was +the Manderson who came back from the drive who went out of his way to +mention Southampton openly to two persons. _He even went so far as to +ring up a hotel at Southampton and ask questions which bore out +Marlowe’s story of his errand._ This was the call he was busy with when +Martin was in the library. + +Now let us consider the alibi. If Manderson was in the house that +night, and if he did not leave it until some time after 12.30, Marlowe +could not by any possibility have had a direct hand in the murder. It +is a question of the distance between Marlstone and Southampton. If he +had left Marlstone in the car at the hour when he is supposed to have +done so—between 10 and 10.30—with a message from Manderson, the run +would be quite an easy one to do in the time. But it would be +physically impossible for the car—a 15 h.p. four-cylinder +Northumberland, an average medium-power car—to get to Southampton by +half-past six unless it left Marlstone by midnight at latest. Motorists +who will examine the road-map and make the calculations required, as I +did in Manderson’s library that day, will agree that on the facts as +they appeared there was absolutely no case against Marlowe. + +But even if they were not as they appeared; if Manderson was dead by +eleven o’clock, and if at about that time Marlowe impersonated him at +White Gables; if Marlowe retired to Manderson’s bedroom—how can all +this be reconciled with his appearance next morning at Southampton? _He +had to get out of the house, unseen and unheard, and away in the car by +midnight._ And Martin, the sharp-eared Martin, was sitting up until +12.30 in his pantry, with the door open, listening for the telephone +bell. Practically he was standing sentry over the foot of the +staircase, the only staircase leading down from the bedroom floor. + +With this difficulty we arrive at the last and crucial phase of my +investigation. Having the foregoing points clearly in mind, I spent the +rest of the day before the inquest in talking to various persons and in +going over my story, testing it link by link. I could only find the one +weakness which seemed to be involved in Martin’s sitting up until +12.30; and since his having been instructed to do so was certainly a +part of the plan, meant to clinch the alibi for Marlowe, I knew there +must be an explanation somewhere. If I could not find that explanation, +my theory was valueless. I must be able to show that at the time Martin +went up to bed the man who had shut himself in Manderson’s bedroom +might have been many miles away on the road to Southampton. + +I had, however, a pretty good idea already—as perhaps the reader of +these lines has by this time, if I have made myself clear—of how the +escape of the false Manderson before midnight had been contrived. But I +did not want what I was now about to do to be known. If I had chanced +to be discovered at work, there would have been no concealing the +direction of my suspicions. I resolved not to test them on this point +until the next day, during the opening proceedings at the inquest. This +was to be held, I knew, at the hotel, and I reckoned upon having White +Gables to myself so far as the principal inmates were concerned. + +So in fact it happened. By the time the proceedings at the hotel had +begun I was hard at work at White Gables. I had a camera with me. I +made search, on principles well known to and commonly practised by the +police, and often enough by myself, for certain indications. Without +describing my search, I may say at once that I found and was able to +photograph two fresh fingerprints, very large and distinct, on the +polished front of the right-hand top drawer of the chest of drawers in +Manderson’s bedroom; five more (among a number of smaller and less +recent impressions made by other hands) on the glasses of the French +window in Mrs. Manderson’s room, a window which always stood open at +night with a curtain before it; and three more upon the glass bowl in +which Manderson’s dental plate had been found lying. + +I took the bowl with me from White Gables. I took also a few articles +which I selected from Marlowe’s bedroom, as bearing the most distinct +of the innumerable fingerprints which are always to be found upon +toilet articles in daily use. I already had in my possession, made upon +leaves cut from my pocket diary, some excellent fingerprints of +Marlowe’s which he had made in my presence without knowing it. I had +shown him the leaves, asking if he recognized them; and the few seconds +during which he had held them in his fingers had sufficed to leave +impressions which I was afterwards able to bring out. + +By six o’clock in the evening, two hours after the jury had brought in +their verdict against a person or persons unknown, I had completed my +work, and was in a position to state that two of the five large prints +made on the window-glasses, and the three on the bowl, were made by the +left hand of Marlowe; that the remaining three on the window and the +two on the drawer were made by his right hand. + +By eight o’clock I had made at the establishment of Mr. H. T. Copper, +photographer, of Bishopsbridge, and with his assistance, a dozen +enlarged prints of the finger-marks of Marlowe, clearly showing the +identity of those which he unknowingly made in my presence and those +left upon articles in his bedroom, with those found by me as I have +described, and thus establishing the facts that Marlowe was recently in +Manderson’s bedroom, where he had in the ordinary way no business, and +in Mrs Manderson’s room, where he had still less. I hope it may be +possible to reproduce these prints for publication with this dispatch. + +At nine o’clock I was back in my room at the hotel and sitting down to +begin this manuscript. I had my story complete. I bring it to a close +by advancing these further propositions: that on the night of the +murder the impersonator of Manderson, being in Manderson’s bedroom, +told Mrs Manderson, as he had already told Martin, that Marlowe was at +that moment on his way to Southampton; that having made his +dispositions in the room, he switched off the light, and lay in the bed +in his clothes; that he waited until he was assured that Mrs. Manderson +was asleep; that he then arose and stealthily crossed Mrs. Manderson’s +bedroom in his stocking feet, having under his arm the bundle of +clothing and shoes for the body; that he stepped behind the curtain, +pushing the doors of the window a little further open with his hands, +strode over the iron railing of the balcony, and let himself down until +only a drop of a few feet separated him from the soft turf of the lawn. + +All this might very well have been accomplished within half an hour of +his entering Manderson’s bedroom, which, according to Martin, he did at +about half-past eleven. + +What followed your readers and the authorities may conjecture for +themselves. The corpse was found next morning clothed—rather untidily. +Marlowe in the car appeared at Southampton by half-past six. + +I bring this manuscript to an end in my sitting-room at the hotel at +Marlstone. It is four o’clock in the morning. I leave for London by the +noon train from Bishopsbridge, and immediately after arriving I shall +place these pages in your hands. I ask you to communicate the substance +of them to the Criminal Investigation Department. + +PHILIP TRENT. + + + + +Chapter XII. +Evil Days + + +“I am returning the cheque you sent for what I did on the Manderson +case,” Trent wrote to Sir James Molloy from Munich, whither he had gone +immediately after handing in at the _Record_ office a brief dispatch +bringing his work on the case to an unexciting close. “What I sent you +wasn’t worth one-tenth of the amount; but I should have no scruple +about pocketing it if I hadn’t taken a fancy—never mind why—not to +touch any money at all for this business. I should like you, if there +is no objection, to pay for the stuff at your ordinary space-rate, and +hand the money to some charity which does not devote itself to bullying +people, if you know of any such. I have come to this place to see some +old friends and arrange my ideas, and the idea that comes out uppermost +is that for a little while I want some employment with activity in it. +I find I can’t paint at all: I couldn’t paint a fence. Will you try me +as your Own Correspondent somewhere? If you can find me a good +adventure I will send you good accounts. After that I could settle down +and work.” + +Sir James sent him instructions by telegram to proceed at once to +Kurland and Livonia, where Citizen Browning was abroad again, and town +and countryside blazed in revolt. It was a roving commission, and for +two months Trent followed his luck. It served him not less well than +usual. He was the only correspondent who saw General Dragilew killed in +the street at Volmar by a girl of eighteen. He saw burnings, lynchings, +fusillades, hangings; each day his soul sickened afresh at the +imbecilities born of misrule. Many nights he lay down in danger. Many +days he went fasting. But there was never an evening or a morning when +he did not see the face of the woman whom he hopelessly loved. + +He discovered in himself an unhappy pride at the lasting force of this +infatuation. It interested him as a phenomenon; it amazed and +enlightened him. Such a thing had not visited him before. It confirmed +so much that he had found dubious in the recorded experience of men. + +It was not that, at thirty-two, he could pretend to ignorance of this +world of emotion. About his knowledge let it be enough to say that what +he had learned had come unpursued and unpurchased, and was without +intolerable memories; broken to the realities of sex, he was still +troubled by its inscrutable history. He went through life full of a +strange respect for certain feminine weakness and a very simple terror +of certain feminine strength. He had held to a rather lukewarm faith +that something remained in him to be called forth, and that the voice +that should call would be heard in its own time, if ever, and not +through any seeking. + +But he had not thought of the possibility that, if this proved true +some day, the truth might come in a sinister shape. The two things that +had taken him utterly by surprise in the matter of his feeling towards +Mabel Manderson were the insane suddenness of its uprising in full +strength and its extravagant hopelessness. Before it came, he had been +much disposed to laugh at the permanence of unrequited passion as a +generous boyish delusion. He knew now that he had been wrong, and he +was living bitterly in the knowledge. + +Before the eye of his fancy the woman always came just as she was when +he had first had sight of her, with the gesture which he had surprised +as he walked past unseen on the edge of the cliff; that great gesture +of passionate joy in her new liberty which had told him more plainly +than speech that her widowhood was a release from torment, and had +confirmed with terrible force the suspicion, active in his mind before, +that it was her passport to happiness with a man whom she loved. He +could not with certainty name to himself the moment when he had first +suspected that it might be so. The seed of the thought must have been +sown, he believed, at his first meeting with Marlowe; his mind would +have noted automatically that such evident strength and grace, with the +sort of looks and manners that the tall young man possessed, might go +far with any woman of unfixed affections. And the connection of this +with what Mr. Cupples had told him of the Mandersons’ married life must +have formed itself in the unconscious depths of his mind. Certainly it +had presented itself as an already established thing when he began, +after satisfying himself of the identity of the murderer, to cast about +for the motive of the crime. Motive, motive! How desperately he had +sought for another, turning his back upon that grim thought, that +Marlowe—obsessed by passion like himself, and privy perhaps to +maddening truths about the wife’s unhappiness—had taken a leaf, the +guiltiest, from the book of Bothwell. But in all his investigations at +the time, in all his broodings on the matter afterwards, he had been +able to discover nothing that could prompt Marlowe to such a +deed—nothing but that temptation, the whole strength of which he could +not know, but which if it had existed must have pressed urgently upon a +bold spirit in which scruple had been somehow paralysed. If he could +trust his senses at all, the young man was neither insane nor by nature +evil. But that could not clear him. Murder for a woman’s sake, he +thought, was not a rare crime, Heaven knew! If the modern feebleness of +impulse in the comfortable classes, and their respect for the modern +apparatus of detection, had made it rare among them, it was yet far +from impossible. It only needed a man of equal daring and intelligence, +his soul drugged with the vapours of an intoxicating intrigue, to plan +and perform such a deed. + +A thousand times, with a heart full of anguish, he had sought to reason +away the dread that Mabel Manderson had known too much of what had been +intended against her husband’s life. That she knew all the truth after +the thing was done he could not doubt; her unforgettable collapse in +his presence when the question about Marlowe was suddenly and bluntly +put, had swept away his last hope that there was no love between the +pair, and had seemed to him, moreover, to speak of dread of discovery. +In any case, she knew the truth after reading what he had left with +her; and it was certain that no public suspicion had been cast upon +Marlowe since. She had destroyed his manuscript, then, and taken him at +his word to keep the secret that threatened her lover’s life. + +But it was the monstrous thought that she might have known murder was +brewing, and guiltily kept silence, that haunted Trent’s mind. She +might have suspected, have guessed something; was it conceivable that +she was aware of the whole plot, that she connived? He could never +forget that his first suspicion of Marlowe’s motive in the crime had +been roused by the fact that his escape was made through the lady’s +room. At that time, when he had not yet seen her, he had been ready +enough to entertain the idea of her equal guilt and her co-operation. +He had figured to himself some passionate _hystérique_, merciless as a +cat in her hate and her love, a zealous abettor, perhaps even the +ruling spirit in the crime. + +Then he had seen her, had spoken with her, had helped her in her +weakness; and such suspicions, since their first meeting, had seemed +the vilest of infamy. He had seen her eyes and her mouth; he had +breathed the woman’s atmosphere. Trent was one of those who fancy they +can scent true wickedness in the air. In her presence he had felt an +inward certainty of her ultimate goodness of heart; and it was nothing +against this that she had abandoned herself a moment, that day on the +cliff, to the sentiment of relief at the ending of her bondage, of her +years of starved sympathy and unquickened motherhood. That she had +turned to Marlowe in her destitution he believed; that she had any +knowledge of his deadly purpose he did not believe. + +And yet, morning and evening the sickening doubts returned, and he +recalled again that it was almost in her presence that Marlowe had made +his preparations in the bedroom of the murdered man, that it was by the +window of her own chamber that he had escaped from the house. Had he +forgotten his cunning and taken the risk of telling her then? Or had +he, as Trent thought more likely, still played his part with her then, +and stolen off while she slept? He did not think she had known of the +masquerade when she gave evidence at the inquest; it read like honest +evidence. Or—the question would never be silenced, though he scorned +it—had she lain expecting the footsteps in the room and the whisper +that should tell her that it was done? Among the foul possibilities of +human nature, was it possible that black ruthlessness and black deceit +as well were hidden behind that good and straight and gentle seeming? + +These thoughts would scarcely leave him when he was alone. + +Trent served Sir James, well earning his pay for six months, and then +returned to Paris where he went to work again with a better heart. His +powers had returned to him, and he began to live more happily than he +had expected among a tribe of strangely assorted friends, French, +English, and American, artists, poets, journalists, policemen, +hotel-keepers, soldiers, lawyers, business men, and others. His old +faculty of sympathetic interest in his fellows won for him, just as in +his student days, privileges seldom extended to the Briton. He enjoyed +again the rare experience of being taken into the bosom of a +Frenchman’s family. He was admitted to the momentous confidence of _les +jeunes_, and found them as sure that they had surprised the secrets of +art and life as the departed _jeunes_ of ten years before had been. + +The bosom of the Frenchman’s family was the same as those he had known +in the past, even to the patterns of the wallpaper and movables. But +the _jeunes_, he perceived with regret, were totally different from +their forerunners. They were much more shallow and puerile, much less +really clever. The secrets they wrested from the Universe were not such +important and interesting secrets as had been wrested by the old +_jeunes_. This he believed and deplored until one day he found himself +seated at a restaurant next to a too well-fed man whom, in spite of the +ravages of comfortable living, he recognized as one of the _jeunes_ of +his own period. This one had been wont to describe himself and three or +four others as the Hermits of the New Parnassus. He and his school had +talked outside cafes and elsewhere more than solitaries do as a rule; +but, then, rules were what they had vowed themselves to destroy. They +proclaimed that verse, in particular, was free. The Hermit of the New +Parnassus was now in the Ministry of the Interior, and already +decorated: he expressed to Trent the opinion that what France needed +most was a hand of iron. He was able to quote the exact price paid for +certain betrayals of the country, of which Trent had not previously +heard. + +Thus he was brought to make the old discovery that it was he who had +changed, like his friend of the Administration, and that _les jeunes_ +were still the same. Yet he found it hard to say what precisely he had +lost that so greatly mattered; unless indeed it were so simple a thing +as his high spirits. + +One morning in June, as he descended the slope of the Rue des Martyrs, +he saw approaching a figure that he remembered. He glanced quickly +round, for the thought of meeting Mr. Bunner again was unacceptable. +For some time he had recognized that his wound was healing under the +spell of creative work; he thought less often of the woman he loved, +and with less pain. He would not have the memory of those three days +reopened. + +But the straight and narrow thoroughfare offered no refuge, and the +American saw him almost at once. + +His unforced geniality made Trent ashamed, for he had liked the man. +They sat long over a meal, and Mr. Bunner talked. Trent listened to +him, now that he was in for it, with genuine pleasure, now and then +contributing a question or remark. Besides liking his companion, he +enjoyed his conversation, with its unending verbal surprises, for its +own sake. + +Bunner was, it appeared, resident in Paris as the chief Continental +agent of the Manderson firm, and fully satisfied with his position and +prospects. He discoursed on these for some twenty minutes. This subject +at length exhausted, he went on to tell Trent, who confessed that he +had been away from England for a year, that Marlowe had shortly after +the death of Manderson entered his father’s business, which was now +again in a flourishing state, and had already come to be practically in +control of it. They had kept up their intimacy, and were even now +planning a holiday for the summer. Mr. Bunner spoke with generous +admiration of his friend’s talent for affairs. “Jack Marlowe has a +natural big head,” he declared, “and if he had more experience, I +wouldn’t want to have him up against me. He would put a crimp in me +every time.” + +As the American’s talk flowed on, Trent listened with a slowly growing +perplexity. It became more and more plain that something was very wrong +in his theory of the situation; there was no mention of its central +figure. Presently Mr. Bunner mentioned that Marlowe was engaged to be +married to an Irish girl, whose charms he celebrated with native +enthusiasm. + +Trent clasped his hands savagely together beneath the table. What could +have happened? His ideas were sliding and shifting. At last he forced +himself to put a direct question. + +Mr. Bunner was not very fully informed. He knew that Mrs. Manderson had +left England immediately after the settlement of her husband’s affairs, +and had lived for some time in Italy. She had returned not long ago to +London, where she had decided not to live in the house in Mayfair, and +had bought a smaller one in the Hampstead neighbourhood; also, he +understood, one somewhere in the country. She was said to go but little +into society. “And all the good hard dollars just waiting for some one +to spraddle them around,” said Mr. Bunner, with a note of pathos in his +voice. “Why, she has money to burn—money to feed to the birds—and +nothing doing. The old man left her more than half his wad. And think +of the figure she might make in the world. She is beautiful, and she is +the best woman I ever met, too. But she couldn’t ever seem to get the +habit of spending money the way it ought to be spent.” + +His words now became a soliloquy: Trent’s thoughts were occupying all +his attention. He pleaded business soon, and the two men parted with +cordiality. + +Half an hour later Trent was in his studio, swiftly and mechanically +“cleaning up”. He wanted to know what had happened; somehow he must +find out. He could never approach herself, he knew; he would never +bring back to her the shame of that last encounter with him; it was +scarcely likely that he would even set eyes on her. But he must get to +know!... Cupples was in London, Marlowe was there.... And, anyhow, he +was sick of Paris. + +Such thoughts came and went; and below them all strained the fibres of +an unseen cord that dragged mercilessly at his heart, and that he +cursed bitterly in the moments when he could not deny to himself that +it was there. The folly, the useless, pitiable folly of it! + +In twenty-four hours his feeble roots in Paris had been torn out. He +was looking over a leaden sea at the shining fortress-wall of the Dover +cliffs. + +But though he had instinctively picked out the lines of a set purpose +from among the welter of promptings in his mind, he found it delayed at +the very outset. + +He had decided that he must first see Mr. Cupples, who would be in a +position to tell him much more than the American knew. But Mr. Cupples +was away on his travels, not expected to return for a month; and Trent +had no reasonable excuse for hastening his return. Marlowe he would not +confront until he had tried at least to reconnoitre the position. He +constrained himself not to commit the crowning folly of seeking out +Mrs. Manderson’s house in Hampstead; he could not enter it, and the +thought of the possibility of being seen by her lurking in its +neighbourhood brought the blood to his face. + +He stayed at an hotel, took a studio, and while he awaited Mr. +Cupples’s return attempted vainly to lose himself in work. + +At the end of a week he had an idea that he acted upon with eager +precipitancy. She had let fall some word at their last meeting, of a +taste for music. Trent went that evening, and thenceforward regularly, +to the opera. He might see her; and if, in spite of his caution, she +caught sight of him, they could be blind to each other’s +presence—anybody might happen to go to the opera. + +So he went alone each evening, passing as quickly as he might through +the people in the vestibule; and each evening he came away knowing that +she had not been in the house. It was a habit that yielded him a sort +of satisfaction along with the guilty excitement of his search; for he +too loved music, and nothing gave him so much peace while its magic +endured. + +One night as he entered, hurrying through the brilliant crowd, he felt +a touch on his arm. Flooded with an incredible certainty at the touch, +he turned. + +It was she: so much more radiant in the absence of grief and anxiety, +in the fact that she was smiling, and in the allurement of evening +dress, that he could not speak. She, too, breathed a little quickly, +and there was a light of daring in her eyes and cheeks as she greeted +him. + +Her words were few. “I wouldn’t miss a note of _Tristan_,” she said, +“nor must you. Come and see me in the interval.” She gave him the +number of the box. + + + + +Chapter XIII. +Eruption + + +The following two months were a period in Trent’s life that he has +never since remembered without shuddering. He met Mrs. Manderson half a +dozen times, and each time her cool friendliness, a nicely calculated +mean between mere acquaintance and the first stage of intimacy, baffled +and maddened him. At the opera he had found her, to his further +amazement, with a certain Mrs. Wallace, a frisky matron whom he had +known from childhood. Mrs. Manderson, it appeared, on her return from +Italy, had somehow wandered into circles to which he belonged by +nurture and disposition. It came, she said, of her having pitched her +tent in their hunting-grounds; several of his friends were near +neighbours. He had a dim but horrid recollection of having been on that +occasion unlike himself, ill at ease, burning in the face, talking with +idiot loquacity of his adventures in the Baltic provinces, and finding +from time to time that he was addressing himself exclusively to Mrs. +Wallace. The other lady, when he joined them, had completely lost the +slight appearance of agitation with which she had stopped him in the +vestibule. She had spoken pleasantly to him of her travels, of her +settlement in London, and of people whom they both knew. + +During the last half of the opera, which he had stayed in the box to +hear, he had been conscious of nothing, as he sat behind them, but the +angle of her cheek and the mass of her hair, the lines of her shoulder +and arm, her hand upon the cushion. The black hair had seemed at last a +forest, immeasurable, pathless and enchanted, luring him to a fatal +adventure.... At the end he had been pale and subdued, parting with +them rather formally. + +The next time he saw her—it was at a country house where both were +guests—and the subsequent times, he had had himself in hand. He had +matched her manner and had acquitted himself, he thought, decently, +considering— + +Considering that he lived in an agony of bewilderment and remorse and +longing. He could make nothing, absolutely nothing, of her attitude. +That she had read his manuscript and understood the suspicion indicated +in his last question to her at White Gables was beyond the possibility +of doubt. Then how could she treat him thus and frankly, as she treated +all the world of men who had done no injury? + +For it had become clear to his intuitive sense, for all the absence of +any shade of differentiation in her outward manner, that an injury had +been done, and that she had felt it. Several times, on the rare and +brief occasions when they had talked apart, he had warning from the +same sense that she was approaching this subject; and each time he had +turned the conversation with the ingenuity born of fear. Two +resolutions he made. The first was that when he had completed a +commissioned work which tied him to London he would go away and stay +away. The strain was too great. He no longer burned to know the truth; +he wanted nothing to confirm his fixed internal conviction by faith, +that he had blundered, that he had misread the situation, +misinterpreted her tears, written himself down a slanderous fool. He +speculated no more on Marlowe’s motive in the killing of Manderson. Mr. +Cupples returned to London, and Trent asked him nothing. He knew now +that he had been right in those words—Trent remembered them for the +emphasis with which they were spoken—“So long as she considered herself +bound to him... no power on earth could have persuaded her.” He met +Mrs. Manderson at dinner at her uncle’s large and tomb-like house in +Bloomsbury, and there he conversed most of the evening with a professor +of archaeology from Berlin. + +His other resolution was that he would not be with her alone. + +But when, a few days after, she wrote asking him to come and see her on +the following afternoon, he made no attempt to excuse himself. This was +a formal challenge. + +While she celebrated the rites of tea, and for some little time +thereafter, she joined with such natural ease in his slightly fevered +conversation on matters of the day that he began to hope she had +changed what he could not doubt had been her resolve, to corner him and +speak to him gravely. She was to all appearance careless now, smiling +so that he recalled, not for the first time since that night at the +opera, what was written long ago of a Princess of Brunswick: “Her mouth +has ten thousand charms that touch the soul.” She made a tour of the +beautiful room where she had received him, singling out this treasure +or that from the spoils of a hundred bric-à-brac shops, laughing over +her quests, discoveries, and bargainings. And when he asked if she +would delight him again with a favourite piece of his which he had +heard her play at another house, she consented at once. + +She played with a perfection of execution and feeling that moved him +now as it had moved him before. “You are a musician born,” he said +quietly when she had finished, and the last tremor of the music had +passed away. “I knew that before I first heard you.” + +“I have played a great deal ever since I can remember. It has been a +great comfort to me,” she said simply, and half-turned to him smiling. +“When did you first detect music in me? Oh, of course: I was at the +opera. But that wouldn’t prove much, would it?” + +“No,” he said abstractedly, his sense still busy with the music that +had just ended. “I think I knew it the first time I saw you.” Then +understanding of his own words came to him, and turned him rigid. For +the first time the past had been invoked. + +There was a short silence. Mrs. Manderson looked at Trent, then hastily +looked away. Colour began to rise in her cheeks, and she pursed her +lips as if for whistling. Then with a defiant gesture of the shoulders +which he remembered she rose suddenly from the piano and placed herself +in a chair opposite to him. + +“That speech of yours will do as well as anything,” she began slowly, +looking at the point of her shoe, “to bring us to what I wanted to say. +I asked you here today on purpose, Mr. Trent, because I couldn’t bear +it any longer. Ever since the day you left me at White Gables I have +been saying to myself that it didn’t matter what you thought of me in +that affair; that you were certainly not the kind of man to speak to +others of what you believed about me, after what you had told me of +your reasons for suppressing your manuscript. I asked myself how it +could matter. But all the time, of course, I knew it did matter. It +mattered horribly. Because what you thought was not true.” She raised +her eyes and met his gaze calmly. Trent, with a completely +expressionless face, returned her look. + +“Since I began to know you,” he said, “I have ceased to think it.” +“Thank you,” said Mrs. Manderson; and blushed suddenly and deeply. +Then, playing with a glove, she added, “But I want you to know what +_was_ true. + +“I did not know if I should ever see you again,” she went on in a lower +voice, “but I felt that if I did I must speak to you about this. I +thought it would not be hard to do so, because you seemed to me an +understanding person; and besides, a woman who has been married isn’t +expected to have the same sort of difficulty as a young girl in +speaking about such things when it is necessary. And then we did meet +again, and I discovered that it was very difficult indeed. You made it +difficult.” + +“How?” he asked quietly. + +“I don’t know,” said the lady. “But yes—I do know. It was just because +you treated me exactly as if you had never thought or imagined anything +of that sort about me. I had always supposed that if I saw you again +you would turn on me that hard, horrible sort of look you had when you +asked me that last question—do you remember?—at White Gables. Instead +of that you were just like any other acquaintance. You were just”—she +hesitated and spread out her hands—“nice. You know. After that first +time at the opera when I spoke to you I went home positively wondering +if you had really recognized me. I mean, I thought you might have +recognized my face without remembering who it was.” + +A short laugh broke from Trent in spite of himself, but he said +nothing. + +She smiled deprecatingly. “Well, I couldn’t remember if you had spoken +my name; and I thought it might be so. But the next time, at the +Iretons’, you did speak it, so I knew; and a dozen times during those +few days I almost brought myself to tell you, but never quite. I began +to feel that you wouldn’t let me, that you would slip away from the +subject if I approached it. Wasn’t I right? Tell me, please.” He +nodded. “But why?” He remained silent. + +“Well,” she said, “I will finish what I had to say, and then you will +tell me, I hope, why you had to make it so hard. When I began to +understand that you wouldn’t let me talk of the matter to you, it made +me more determined than ever. I suppose you didn’t realize that I would +insist on speaking even if you were quite discouraging. I dare say I +couldn’t have done it if I had been guilty, as you thought. You walked +into my parlour today, never thinking I should dare. Well, now you +see.” + +Mrs. Manderson had lost all her air of hesitancy. She had, as she was +wont to say, talked herself enthusiastic, and in the ardour of her +purpose to annihilate the misunderstanding that had troubled her so +long she felt herself mistress of the situation. + +“I am going to tell you the story of the mistake you made,” she +continued, as Trent, his hands clasped between his knees, still looked +at her enigmatically. “You will have to believe it, Mr. Trent; it is +utterly true to life, with its confusions and hidden things and +cross-purposes and perfectly natural mistakes that nobody thinks twice +about taking for facts. Please understand that I don’t blame you in the +least, and never did, for jumping to the conclusion you did. You knew +that I was estranged from my husband, and you knew what that so often +means. You knew before I told you, I expect, that he had taken up an +injured attitude towards me; and I was silly enough to try and explain +it away. I gave you the explanation of it that I had given myself at +first, before I realized the wretched truth; I told you he was +disappointed in me because I couldn’t take a brilliant lead in society. +Well, that was true; he was so. But I could see you weren’t convinced. +You had guessed what it took me much longer to see, because I knew how +irrational it was. Yes; my husband was jealous of John Marlowe; you +divined that. + +“Then I behaved like a fool when you let me see you had divined it; it +was such a blow, you understand, when I had supposed all the +humiliation and strain was at an end, and that his delusion had died +with him. You practically asked me if my husband’s secretary was not my +lover, Mr. Trent—I _have_ to say it, because I want you to understand +why I broke down and made a scene. You took that for a confession; you +thought I was guilty of that, and I think you even thought I might be a +party to the crime, that I had consented.... That did hurt me; but +perhaps you couldn’t have thought anything else—I don’t know.” + +Trent, who had not hitherto taken his eyes from her face, hung his head +at the words. He did not raise it again as she continued. “But really +it was simple shock and distress that made me give way, and the memory +of all the misery that mad suspicion had meant to me. And when I pulled +myself together again you had gone.” + +She rose and went to an escritoire beside the window, unlocked a +drawer, and drew out a long, sealed envelope. + +“This is the manuscript you left with me,” she said. “I have read it +through again and again. I have always wondered, as everybody does, at +your cleverness in things of this kind.” A faintly mischievous smile +flashed upon her face, and was gone. “I thought it was splendid, Mr. +Trent—I almost forgot that the story was my own, I was so interested. +And I want to say now, while I have this in my hand, how much I thank +you for your generous, chivalrous act in sacrificing this triumph of +yours rather than put a woman’s reputation in peril. If all had been as +you supposed, the facts must have come out when the police took up the +case you put in their hands. Believe me, I understood just what you had +done, and I never ceased to be grateful even when I felt most crushed +by your suspicion.” + +As she spoke her thanks her voice shook a little, and her eyes were +bright. Trent perceived nothing of this. His head was still bent. He +did not seem to hear. She put the envelope into his hand as it lay +open, palm upwards, on his knee. There was a touch of gentleness about +the act which made him look up. + +“Can you—” he began slowly. + +She raised her hand as she stood before him. “No, Mr. Trent; let me +finish before you say anything. It is such an unspeakable relief to me +to have broken the ice at last, and I want to end the story while I am +still feeling the triumph of beginning it.” She sank down into the sofa +from which she had first risen. “I am telling you a thing that nobody +else knows. Everybody knew, I suppose, that something had come between +us, though I did everything in my power to hide it. But I don’t think +any one in the world ever guessed what my husband’s notion was. People +who know me don’t think that sort of thing about me, I believe. And his +fancy was so ridiculously opposed to the facts. I will tell you what +the situation was. Mr. Marlowe and I had been friendly enough since he +came to us. For all his cleverness—my husband said he had a keener +brain than any man he knew—I looked upon him as practically a boy. You +know I am a little older than he is, and he had a sort of amiable lack +of ambition that made me feel it the more. One day my husband asked me +what I thought was the best thing about Marlowe, and not thinking much +about it I said, ‘His manners.’ He surprised me very much by looking +black at that, and after a silence he said, ‘Yes, Marlowe is a +gentleman; that’s so’, not looking at me. + +“Nothing was ever said about that again until about a year ago, when I +found that Mr. Marlowe had done what I always expected he would +do—fallen desperately in love with an American girl. But to my disgust +he had picked out the most worthless girl, I do believe, of all those +whom we used to meet. She was the daughter of wealthy parents, and she +did as she liked with them; very beautiful, well educated, very good at +games—what they call a woman-athlete—and caring for nothing on earth +but her own amusement. She was one of the most unprincipled flirts I +ever knew, and quite the cleverest. Every one knew it, and Mr. Marlowe +must have heard it; but she made a complete fool of him, brain and all. +I don’t know how she managed it, but I can imagine. She liked him, of +course; but it was quite plain to me that she was playing with him. The +whole affair was so idiotic, I got perfectly furious. One day I asked +him to row me in a boat on the lake—all this happened at our house by +Lake George. We had never been alone together for any length of time +before. In the boat I talked to him. I was very kind about it, I think, +and he took it admirably, but he didn’t believe me a bit. He had the +impudence to tell me that I misunderstood Alice’s nature. When I hinted +at his prospects—I knew he had scarcely anything of his own—he said +that if she loved him he could make himself a position in the world. I +dare say that was true, with his abilities and his friends—he is rather +well connected, you know, as well as popular. But his enlightenment +came very soon after that. + +“My husband helped me out of the boat when we got back. He joked with +Mr Marlowe about something, I remember; for through all that followed +he never once changed in his manner to him, and that was one reason why +I took so long to realize what he thought about him and myself. But to +me he was reserved and silent that evening—not angry. He was always +perfectly cold and expressionless to me after he took this idea into +his head. After dinner he only spoke to me once. Mr. Marlowe was +telling him about some horse he had bought for the farm in Kentucky, +and my husband looked at me and said, ‘Marlowe may be a gentleman, but +he seldom quits loser in a horse-trade.’ I was surprised at that, but +at that time—and even on the next occasion when he found us together—I +didn’t understand what was in his mind. That next time was the morning +when Mr Marlowe received a sweet little note from the girl asking for +his congratulations on her engagement. It was in our New York house. He +looked so wretched at breakfast that I thought he was ill, and +afterwards I went to the room where he worked, and asked what was the +matter. He didn’t say anything, but just handed me the note, and turned +away to the window. I was very glad that was all over, but terribly +sorry for him too, of course. I don’t remember what I said, but I +remember putting my hand on his arm as he stood there staring out on +the garden and just then my husband appeared at the open door with some +papers. He just glanced at us, and then turned and walked quietly back +to his study. I thought that he might have heard what I was saying to +comfort Mr. Marlowe, and that it was rather nice of him to slip away. +Mr. Marlowe neither saw nor heard him. My husband left the house that +morning for the West while I was out. Even then I did not understand. +He used often to go off suddenly like that, if some business project +called him. + +“It was not until he returned a week later that I grasped the +situation. He was looking white and strange, and as soon as he saw me +he asked me where Mr. Marlowe was. Somehow the tone of his question +told me everything in a flash. + +“I almost gasped; I was wild with indignation. You know, Mr. Trent, I +don’t think I should have minded at all if any one had thought me +capable of openly breaking with my husband and leaving him for somebody +else. I dare say I might have done that. But that coarse suspicion... a +man whom he trusted... and the notion of concealment. It made me see +scarlet. Every shred of pride in me was strung up till I quivered, and +I swore to myself on the spot that I would never show by any word or +sign that I was conscious of his having such a thought about me. I +would behave exactly as I always had behaved, I determined—and that I +did, up to the very last. Though I knew that a wall had been made +between us now that could never be broken down—even if he asked my +pardon and obtained it—I never once showed that I noticed any change. + +“And so it went on. I never could go through such a time again. My +husband showed silent and cold politeness to me always when we were +alone—and that was only when it was unavoidable. He never once alluded +to what was in his mind; but I felt it, and he knew that I felt it. +Both of us were stubborn in our different attitudes. To Mr. Marlowe he +was more friendly, if anything, than before—Heaven only knows why. I +fancied he was planning some sort of revenge; but that was only a +fancy. Certainly Mr. Marlowe never knew what was suspected of him. He +and I remained good friends, though we never spoke of anything intimate +after that disappointment of his; but I made a point of seeing no less +of him than I had always done. Then we came to England and to White +Gables, and after that followed—my husband’s dreadful end.” + +She threw out her right hand in a gesture of finality. “You know about +the rest—so much more than any other man,” she added, and glanced up at +him with a quaint expression. + +Trent wondered at that look, but the wonder was only a passing shadow +on his thought. Inwardly his whole being was possessed by thankfulness. +All the vivacity had returned to his face. Long before the lady had +ended her story he had recognized the certainty of its truth, as from +the first days of their renewed acquaintance he had doubted the story +that his imagination had built up at White Gables, upon foundations +that seemed so good to him. + +He said, “I don’t know how to begin the apologies I have to make. There +are no words to tell you how ashamed and disgraced I feel when I +realize what a crude, cock-sure blundering at a conclusion my suspicion +was. Yes, I suspected—you! I had almost forgotten that I was ever such +a fool. Almost—not quite. Sometimes when I have been alone I have +remembered that folly, and poured contempt on it. I have tried to +imagine what the facts were. I have tried to excuse myself.” + +She interrupted him quickly. “What nonsense! Do be sensible, Mr. Trent. +You had only seen me on two occasions in your life before you came to +me with your solution of the mystery.” Again the quaint expression came +and was gone. “If you talk of folly, it really is folly for a man like +you to pretend to a woman like me that I had innocence written all over +me in large letters—so large that you couldn’t believe very strong +evidence against me after seeing me twice.” + +“What do you mean by ‘a man like me’?” he demanded with a sort of +fierceness. “Do you take me for a person without any normal instincts? +I don’t say you impress people as a simple, transparent sort of +character—what Mr. Calvin Bunner calls a case of open-work; I don’t say +a stranger might not think you capable of wickedness, if there was good +evidence for it: but I say that a man who, after seeing you and being +in your atmosphere, could associate you with the particular kind of +abomination I imagined, is a fool—the kind of fool who is afraid to +trust his senses.... As for my making it hard for you to approach the +subject, as you say, it is true. It was simply moral cowardice. I +understood that you wished to clear the matter up; and I was revolted +at the notion of my injurious blunder being discussed. I tried to show +you by my actions that it was as if it had never been. I hoped you +would pardon me without any words. I can’t forgive myself, and I never +shall. And yet if you could know—” He stopped short, and then added +quietly, “Well, will you accept all that as an apology? The very +scrubbiest sackcloth made, and the grittiest ashes on the heap.... I +didn’t mean to get worked up,” he ended lamely. + +Mrs. Manderson laughed, and her laugh carried him away with it. He knew +well by this time that sudden rush of cascading notes of mirth, the +perfect expression of enjoyment; he had many times tried to amuse her +merely for his delight in the sound of it. + +“But I love to see you worked up,” she said. “The bump with which you +always come down as soon as you realize that you are up in the air at +all is quite delightful. Oh, we’re actually both laughing. What a +triumphant end to our explanations, after all my dread of the time when +I should have it out with you. And now it’s all over, and you know; and +we’ll never speak of it any more.” + +“I hope not,” Trent said in sincere relief. “If you’re resolved to be +so kind as this about it, I am not high-principled enough to insist on +your blasting me with your lightnings. And now, Mrs. Manderson, I had +better go. Changing the subject after this would be like playing +puss-in-the-corner after an earthquake.” He rose to his feet. + +“You are right,” she said. “But no! Wait. There is another thing—part +of the same subject; and we ought to pick up all the pieces now while +we are about it. Please sit down.” She took the envelope containing +Trent’s manuscript dispatch from the table where he had laid it. “I +want to speak about this.” + +His brows bent, and he looked at her questioningly. “So do I, if you +do,” he said slowly. “I want very much to know one thing.” + +“Tell me.” + +“Since my reason for suppressing that information was all a fantasy, +why did you never make any use of it? When I began to realize that I +had been wrong about you, I explained your silence to myself by saying +that you could not bring yourself to do a thing that would put a rope +round a man’s neck, whatever he might have done. I can quite understand +that feeling. Was that what it was? Another possibility I thought of +was that you knew of something that was by way of justifying or +excusing Marlowe’s act. Or I thought you might have a simple horror, +quite apart from humanitarian scruples, of appearing publicly in +connection with a murder trial. Many important witnesses in such cases +have to be practically forced into giving their evidence. They feel +there is defilement even in the shadow of the scaffold.” + +Mrs. Manderson tapped her lips with the envelope without quite +concealing a smile. “You didn’t think of another possibility, I +suppose, Mr. Trent,” she said. + +“No.” He looked puzzled. + +“I mean the possibility of your having been wrong about Mr. Marlowe as +well as about me. No, no; you needn’t tell me that the chain of +evidence is complete. I know it is. But evidence of what? Of Mr. +Marlowe having impersonated my husband that night, and having escaped +by way of my window, and built up an alibi. I have read your dispatch +again and again, Mr. Trent, and I don’t see that those things can be +doubted.” + +Trent gazed at her with narrowed eyes. He said nothing to fill the +brief pause that followed. Mrs. Manderson smoothed her skirt with a +preoccupied air, as one collecting her ideas. + +“I did not make any use of the facts found out by you,” she slowly said +at last, “because it seemed to me very likely that they would be fatal +to Mr. Marlowe.” + +“I agree with you,” Trent remarked in a colourless tone. + +“And,” pursued the lady, looking up at him with a mild reasonableness +in her eyes, “as I knew that he was innocent I was not going to expose +him to that risk.” + +There was another little pause. Trent rubbed his chin, with an +affectation of turning over the idea. Inwardly he was telling himself, +somewhat feebly, that this was very right and proper; that it was quite +feminine, and that he liked her to be feminine. It was permitted to +her—more than permitted—to set her loyal belief in the character of a +friend above the clearest demonstrations of the intellect. +Nevertheless, it chafed him. He would have had her declaration of faith +a little less positive in form. It was too irrational to say she +“knew”. In fact (he put it to himself bluntly), it was quite unlike +her. If to be unreasonable when reason led to the unpleasant was a +specially feminine trait, and if Mrs. Manderson had it, she was +accustomed to wrap it up better than any woman he had known. + +“You suggest,” he said at length, “that Marlowe constructed an alibi +for himself, by means which only a desperate man would have attempted, +to clear himself of a crime he did not commit. Did he tell you he was +innocent?” + +She uttered a little laugh of impatience. “So you think he has been +talking me round. No, that is not so. I am merely sure he did not do +it. Ah! I see you think that absurd. But see how unreasonable you are, +Mr Trent! Just now you were explaining to me quite sincerely that it +was foolishness in you to have a certain suspicion of me after seeing +me and being in my atmosphere, as you said.” Trent started in his +chair. She glanced at him, and went on: “Now, I and my atmosphere are +much obliged to you, but we must stand up for the rights of other +atmospheres. I know a great deal more about Mr. Marlowe’s atmosphere +than you know about mine even now. I saw him constantly for several +years. I don’t pretend to know all about him; but I do know that he is +incapable of a crime of bloodshed. The idea of his planning a murder is +as unthinkable to me as the idea of your picking a poor woman’s pocket, +Mr. Trent. I can imagine you killing a man, you know... if the man +deserved it and had an equal chance of killing you. I could kill a +person myself in some circumstances. But Mr. Marlowe was incapable of +doing it, I don’t care what the provocation might be. He had a temper +that nothing could shake, and he looked upon human nature with a sort +of cold magnanimity that would find excuses for absolutely anything. It +wasn’t a pose; you could see it was a part of him. He never put it +forward, but it was there always. It was quite irritating at times.... +Now and then in America, I remember, I have heard people talking about +lynching, for instance, when he was there. He would sit quite silent +and expressionless, appearing not to listen; but you could feel disgust +coming from him in waves. He really loathed and hated physical +violence. He was a very strange man in some ways, Mr. Trent. He gave +one a feeling that he might do unexpected things—do you know that +feeling one has about some people? What part he really played in the +events of that night I have never been able to guess. But nobody who +knew anything about him could possibly believe in his deliberately +taking a man’s life.” Again the movement of her head expressed +finality, and she leaned back in the sofa, calmly regarding him. + +“Then,” said Trent, who had followed this with earnest attention, “we +are forced back on two other possibilities, which I had not thought +worth much consideration until this moment. Accepting what you say, he +might still conceivably have killed in self-defence; or he might have +done so by accident.” + +The lady nodded. “Of course I thought of those two explanations when I +read your manuscript.” + +“And I suppose you felt, as I did myself, that in either of those cases +the natural thing, and obviously the safest thing, for him to do was to +make a public statement of the truth, instead of setting up a series of +deceptions which would certainly stamp him as guilty in the eyes of the +law, if anything went wrong with them.” + +“Yes,” she said wearily, “I thought over all that until my head ached. +And I thought somebody else might have done it, and that he was somehow +screening the guilty person. But that seemed wild. I could see no light +in the mystery, and after a while I simply let it alone. All I was +clear about was that Mr. Marlowe was not a murderer, and that if I told +what you had found out, the judge and jury would probably think he was. +I promised myself that I would speak to you about it if we should meet +again; and now I’ve kept my promise.” + +Trent, his chin resting on his hand, was staring at the carpet. The +excitement of the hunt for the truth was steadily rising in him. He had +not in his own mind accepted Mrs. Manderson’s account of Marlowe’s +character as unquestionable. But she had spoken forcibly; he could by +no means set it aside, and his theory was much shaken. + +“There is only one thing for it,” he said, looking up. “I must see +Marlowe. It worries me too much to have the thing left like this. I +will get at the truth. Can you tell me,” he broke off, “how he behaved +after the day I left White Gables?” + +“I never saw him after that,” said Mrs. Manderson simply. “For some +days after you went away I was ill, and didn’t go out of my room. When +I got down he had left and was in London, settling things with the +lawyers. He did not come down to the funeral. Immediately after that I +went abroad. After some weeks a letter from him reached me, saying he +had concluded his business and given the solicitors all the assistance +in his power. He thanked me very nicely for what he called all my +kindness, and said goodbye. There was nothing in it about his plans for +the future, and I thought it particularly strange that he said not a +word about my husband’s death. I didn’t answer. Knowing what I knew, I +couldn’t. In those days I shuddered whenever I thought of that +masquerade in the night. I never wanted to see or hear of him again.” + +“Then you don’t know what has become of him?” + +“No, but I dare say Uncle Burton—Mr. Cupples, you know—could tell you. +Some time ago he told me that he had met Mr. Marlowe in London, and had +some talk with him. I changed the conversation.” She paused and smiled +with a trace of mischief. “I rather wonder what you supposed had +happened to Mr. Marlowe after you withdrew from the scene of the drama +that you had put together so much to your satisfaction.” + +Trent flushed. “Do you really want to know?” he said. + +“I ask you,” she retorted quietly. + +“You ask me to humiliate myself again, Mrs. Manderson. Very well. I +will tell you what I thought I should most likely find when I returned +to London after my travels: that you had married Marlowe to live +abroad.” + +She heard him with unmoved composure. “We certainly couldn’t have lived +very comfortably in England on his money and mine,” she observed +thoughtfully. “He had practically nothing then.” + +He stared at her—“gaped”, she told him some time afterwards. At the +moment she laughed with a little embarrassment. + +“Dear me, Mr. Trent! Have I said anything dreadful? You surely must +know.... I thought everybody understood by now.... I’m sure I’ve had to +explain it often enough... if I marry again I lose everything that my +husband left me.” + +The effect of this speech upon Trent was curious. For an instant his +face was flooded with the emotion of surprise. As this passed away he +gradually drew himself together, as he sat, into a tense attitude. He +looked, she thought as she saw his knuckles grow white on the arms of +the chair, like a man prepared for pain under the hand of the surgeon. +But all he said, in a voice lower than his usual tone, was, “I had no +idea of it.” + +“It is so,” she said calmly, trifling with a ring on her finger. +“Really, Mr. Trent, it is not such a very unusual thing. I think I am +glad of it. For one thing, it has secured me—at least since it became +generally known—from a good many attentions of a kind that a woman in +my position has to put up with as a rule.” + +“No doubt,” he said gravely. “And... the other kind?” + +She looked at him questioningly. “Ah!” she laughed. “The other kind +trouble me even less. I have not yet met a man silly enough to want to +marry a widow with a selfish disposition, and luxurious habits and +tastes, and nothing but the little my father left me.” + +She shook her head, and something in the gesture shattered the last +remnants of Trent’s self-possession. + +“Haven’t you, by Heaven!” he exclaimed, rising with a violent movement +and advancing a step towards her. “Then I am going to show you that +human passion is not always stifled by the smell of money. I am going +to end the business—my business. I am going to tell you what I dare say +scores of better men have wanted to tell you, but couldn’t summon up +what I have summoned up—the infernal cheek to do it. They were afraid +of making fools of themselves. I am not. You have accustomed me to the +feeling this afternoon.” He laughed aloud in his rush of words, and +spread out his hands. “Look at me! It is the sight of the century! It +is one who says he loves you, and would ask you to give up very great +wealth to stand at his side.” + +She was hiding her face in her hands. He heard her say brokenly, +“Please... don’t speak in that way.” + +He answered: “It will make a great difference to me if you will allow +me to say all I have to say before I leave you. Perhaps it is in bad +taste, but I will risk that; I want to relieve my soul; it needs open +confession. This is the truth. You have troubled me ever since the +first time I saw you—and you did not know it—as you sat under the edge +of the cliff at Marlstone, and held out your arms to the sea. It was +only your beauty that filled my mind then. As I passed by you it seemed +as if all the life in the place were crying out a song about you in the +wind and the sunshine. And the song stayed in my ears; but even your +beauty would be no more than an empty memory to me by now if that had +been all. It was when I led you from the hotel there to your house, +with your hand on my arm, that—what was it that happened? I only knew +that your stronger magic had struck home, and that I never should +forget that day, whatever the love of my life should be. Till that day +I had admired as I should admire the loveliness of a still lake; but +that day I felt the spell of the divinity of the lake. And next morning +the waters were troubled, and she rose—the morning when I came to you +with my questions, tired out with doubts that were as bitter as pain, +and when I saw you without your pale, sweet mask of composure—when I +saw you moved and glowing, with your eyes and your hands alive, and +when you made me understand that for such a creature as you there had +been emptiness and the mere waste of yourself for so long. Madness rose +in me then, and my spirit was clamouring to say what I say at last now: +that life would never seem a full thing again because you could not +love me, that I was taken for ever in the nets of your black hair and +by the incantation of your voice—” + +“Oh, stop!” she cried, suddenly throwing back her head, her face +flaming and her hands clutching the cushions beside her. She spoke fast +and disjointedly, her breath coming quick. “You shall not talk me into +forgetting common sense. What does all this mean? Oh, I do not +recognize you at all—you seem another man. We are not children; have +you forgotten that? You speak like a boy in love for the first time. It +is foolish, unreal—I know that if you do not. I will not hear it. What +has happened to you?” She was half sobbing. “How can these +sentimentalities come from a man like you? Where is your +self-restraint?” + +“Gone!” exclaimed Trent, with an abrupt laugh. “It has got right away. +I am going after it in a minute.” He looked gravely down into her eyes. +“I don’t care so much now. I never could declare myself to you under +the cloud of your great fortune. It was too heavy. There’s nothing +creditable in that feeling, as I look at it; as a matter of simple fact +it was a form of cowardice—fear of what you would think, and very +likely say—fear of the world’s comment too, I suppose. But the cloud +being rolled away, I have spoken, and I don’t care so much. I can face +things with a quiet mind now that I have told you the truth in its own +terms. You may call it sentimentality or any other nickname you like. +It is quite true that it was not intended for a scientific statement. +Since it annoys you, let it be extinguished. But please believe that it +was serious to me if it was comedy to you. I have said that I love you, +and honour you, and would hold you dearest of all the world. Now give +me leave to go.” + +But she held out her hands to him. + + + + +Chapter XIV. +Writing a Letter + + +“If you insist,” Trent said, “I suppose you will have your way. But I +had much rather write it when I am not with you. However, if I must, +bring me a tablet whiter than a star, or hand of hymning angel; I mean +a sheet of note-paper not stamped with your address. Don’t +underestimate the sacrifice I am making. I never felt less like +correspondence in my life.” + +She rewarded him. + +“What shall I say?” he enquired, his pen hovering over the paper. +“Shall I compare him to a summer’s day? What _shall_ I say?” + +“Say what you want to say,” she suggested helpfully. + +He shook his head. “What I want to say—what I have been wanting for the +past twenty-four hours to say to every man, woman, and child I met—is +‘Mabel and I are betrothed, and all is gas and gaiters.’ But that +wouldn’t be a very good opening for a letter of strictly formal, not to +say sinister, character. I have got as far as ‘Dear Mr. Marlowe.’ What +comes next?” + +“I am sending you a manuscript,” she prompted, “which I thought you +might like to see.” + +“Do you realize,” he said, “that in that sentence there are only two +words of more than one syllable? This letter is meant to impress, not +to put him at his ease. We must have long words.” + +“I don’t see why,” she answered. “I know it is usual, but why is it? I +have had a great many letters from lawyers and business people, and +they always begin, ‘with reference to our communication’, or some such +mouthful, and go on like that all the way through. Yet when I see them +they don’t talk like that. It seems ridiculous to me.” + +“It is not at all ridiculous to them.” Trent laid aside the pen with an +appearance of relief and rose to his feet. “Let me explain. A people +like our own, not very fond of using its mind, gets on in the ordinary +way with a very small and simple vocabulary. Long words are abnormal, +and like everything else that is abnormal, they are either very funny +or tremendously solemn. Take the phrase ‘intelligent anticipation’, for +instance. If such a phrase had been used in any other country in +Europe, it would not have attracted the slightest attention. With us it +has become a proverb; we all grin when we hear it in a speech or read +it in a leading article; it is considered to be one of the best things +ever said. Why? Just because it consists of two long words. The idea +expressed is as commonplace as cold mutton. Then there’s +‘terminological inexactitude’. How we all roared, and are still +roaring, at that! And the whole of the joke is that the words are long. +It’s just the same when we want to be very serious; we mark it by +turning to long words. When a solicitor can begin a sentence with, +‘pursuant to the instructions communicated to our representative,’ or +some such gibberish, he feels that he is earning his +six-and-eightpence. Don’t laugh! It is perfectly true. Now Continentals +haven’t got that feeling. They are always bothering about ideas, and +the result is that every shopkeeper or peasant has a vocabulary in +daily use that is simply Greek to the vast majority of Britons. I +remember some time ago I was dining with a friend of mine who is a +Paris cabman. We had dinner at a dirty little restaurant opposite the +central post office, a place where all the clients were cabmen or +porters. Conversation was general, and it struck me that a London +cabman would have felt a little out of his depth. Words like +‘functionary’ and ‘unforgettable’ and ‘exterminate’ and ‘independence’ +hurtled across the table every instant. And these were just ordinary, +vulgar, jolly, red-faced cabmen. Mind you,” he went on hurriedly, as +the lady crossed the room and took up his pen, “I merely mention this +to illustrate my point. I’m not saying that cab-men ought to be +intellectuals. I don’t think so; I agree with Keats—happy is England, +sweet her artless cabmen, enough their simple loveliness for me. But +when you come to the people who make up the collective industrial +brain-power of the country.... Why, do you know—” + +“Oh no, no, no!” cried Mrs. Manderson. “I don’t know anything at the +moment, except that your talking must be stopped somehow, if we are to +get any further with that letter to Mr. Marlowe. You shall not get out +of it. Come!” She put the pen into his hand. + +Trent looked at it with distaste. “I warn you not to discourage my +talking,” he said dejectedly. “Believe me, men who don’t talk are even +worse to live with than men who do. O have a care of natures that are +mute. I confess I’m shirking writing this thing. It is almost an +indecency. It’s mixing two moods to write the sort of letter I mean to +write, and at the same time to be sitting in the same room with you.” + +She led him to his abandoned chair before the escritoire and pushed him +gently into it. “Well, but please try. I want to see what you write, +and I want it to go to him at once. You see, I would be contented +enough to leave things as they are; but you say you must get at the +truth, and if you must, I want it to be as soon as possible. Do it +now—you know you can if you will—and I’ll send it off the moment it’s +ready. Don’t you ever feel that—the longing to get the worrying letter +into the post and off your hands, so that you can’t recall it if you +would, and it’s no use fussing any more about it?” + +“I will do as you wish,” he said, and turned to the paper, which he +dated as from his hotel. Mrs. Manderson looked down at his bent head +with a gentle light in her eyes, and made as if to place a smoothing +hand upon his rather untidy crop of hair. But she did not touch it. +Going in silence to the piano, she began to play very softly. It was +ten minutes before Trent spoke. + +“If he chooses to reply that he will say nothing?” + +Mrs. Manderson looked over her shoulder. “Of course he dare not take +that line. He will speak to prevent you from denouncing him.” + +“But I’m not going to do that anyhow. You wouldn’t allow it—you said +so; besides, I won’t if you would. The thing’s too doubtful now.” + +“But,” she laughed, “poor Mr. Marlowe doesn’t know you won’t, does he?” + +Trent sighed. “What extraordinary things codes of honour are!” he +remarked abstractedly. “I know that there are things I should do, and +never think twice about, which would make you feel disgraced if you did +them—such as giving any one who grossly insulted me a black eye, or +swearing violently when I barked my shin in a dark room. And now you +are calmly recommending me to bluff Marlowe by means of a tacit threat +which I don’t mean; a thing which hell’s most abandoned fiend did +never, in the drunkenness of guilt—well, anyhow, I won’t do it.” He +resumed his writing, and the lady, with an indulgent smile, returned to +playing very softly. + +In a few minutes more, Trent said: “At last I am his faithfully. Do you +want to see it?” She ran across the twilight room, and turned on a +reading lamp beside the escritoire. Then, leaning on his shoulder, she +read what follows: + +DEAR MR. MARLOWE,—_You will perhaps remember that we met, under unhappy +circumstances, in June of last year at Marlstone._ + _On that occasion it was my duty, as representing a newspaper, to + make an independent investigation of the circumstances of the death + of the late Sigsbee Manderson. I did so, and I arrived at certain + conclusions. You may learn from the enclosed manuscript, which was + originally written as a dispatch for my newspaper, what those + conclusions were. For reasons which it is not necessary to state I + decided at the last moment not to make them public, or to + communicate them to you, and they are known to only two persons + beside myself._ + + +At this point Mrs. Manderson raised her eyes quickly from the letter. +Her dark brows were drawn together. “Two persons?” she said with a note +of enquiry. + +“Your uncle is the other. I sought him out last night and told him the +whole story. Have you anything against it? I always felt uneasy at +keeping it from him as I did, because I had led him to expect I should +tell him all I discovered, and my silence looked like mystery-making. +Now it is to be cleared up finally, and there is no question of +shielding you, I wanted him to know everything. He is a very shrewd +adviser, too, in a way of his own; and I should like to have him with +me when I see Marlowe. I have a feeling that two heads will be better +than one on my side of the interview.” + +She sighed. “Yes, of course, uncle ought to know the truth. I hope +there is nobody else at all.” She pressed his hand. “I so much want all +that horror buried—buried deep. I am very happy now, dear, but I shall +be happier still when you have satisfied that curious mind of yours and +found out everything, and stamped down the earth upon it all.” She +continued her reading. + +_Quite recently, however [the letter went on], facts have come to my +knowledge which have led me to change my decision. I do not mean that I +shall publish what I discovered, but that I have determined to approach +you and ask you for a private statement. If you have anything to say +which would place the matter in another light, I can imagine no reason +why you should withhold it._ + _I expect, then, to hear from you when and where I may call upon + you; unless you prefer the interview to take place at my hotel. In + either case I desire that Mr. Cupples whom you will remember, and + who has read the enclosed document, should be present + also.—Faithfully yours,_ + + +_Philip Trent._ + + +“What a very stiff letter!” she said. “Now I am sure you couldn’t have +made it any stiffer in your own rooms.” + +Trent slipped the letter and enclosure into a long envelope. “Yes,” he +said, “I think it will make him sit up suddenly. Now this thing mustn’t +run any risk of going wrong. It would be best to send a special +messenger with orders to deliver it into his own hands. If he’s away it +oughtn’t to be left.” + +She nodded. “I can arrange that. Wait here for a little.” + +When Mrs. Manderson returned, he was hunting through the music cabinet. +She sank on the carpet beside him in a wave of dark brown skirts. “Tell +me something, Philip,” she said. + +“If it is among the few things that I know.” + +“When you saw uncle last night, did you tell him about—about us?” + +“I did not,” he answered. “I remembered you had said nothing about +telling any one. It is for you—isn’t it?—to decide whether we take the +world into our confidence at once or later on.” + +“Then will you tell him?” She looked down at her clasped hands. “I wish +you to tell him. Perhaps if you think you will guess why.... There! +that is settled.” She lifted her eyes again to his, and for a time +there was silence between them. + +He leaned back at length in the deep chair. “What a world!” he said. +“Mabel, will you play something on the piano that expresses mere joy, +the genuine article, nothing feverish or like thorns under a pot, but +joy that has decided in favour of the universe? It’s a mood that can’t +last altogether, so we had better get all we can out of it.” + +She went to the instrument and struck a few chords while she thought. +Then she began to work with all her soul at the theme in the last +movement of the Ninth Symphony which is like the sound of the opening +of the gates of Paradise. + + + + +Chapter XV. +Double Cunning + + +An old oaken desk with a deep body stood by the window in a room that +overlooked St. James’s Park from a height. The room was large, +furnished and decorated by some one who had brought taste to the work; +but the hand of the bachelor lay heavy upon it. John Marlowe unlocked +the desk and drew a long, stout envelope from the back of the well. + +“I understand,” he said to Mr. Cupples, “that you have read this.” + +“I read it for the first time two days ago,” replied Mr. Cupples, who, +seated on a sofa, was peering about the room with a benignant face. “We +have discussed it fully.” + +Marlowe turned to Trent. “There is your manuscript,” he said, laying +the envelope on the table. “I have gone over it three times. I do not +believe there is another man who could have got at as much of the truth +as you have set down there.” + +Trent ignored the compliment. He sat by the table gazing stonily at the +fire, his long legs twisted beneath his chair. “You mean, of course, he +said, drawing the envelope towards him, “that there is more of the +truth to be disclosed now. We are ready to hear you as soon as you +like. I expect it will be a long story, and the longer the better, so +far as I am concerned; I want to understand thoroughly. What we should +both like, I think, is some preliminary account of Manderson and your +relations with him. It seemed to me from the first that the character +of the dead man must be somehow an element in the business.” + +“You were right, Marlowe answered grimly. He crossed the room and +seated himself on a corner of the tall cushion-topped fender. “I will +begin as you suggest.” + +“I ought to tell you beforehand,” said Trent, looking him in the eyes, +“that although I am here to listen to you, I have not as yet any reason +to doubt the conclusions I have stated here.” He tapped the envelope. +“It is a defence that you will be putting forward—you understand that?” + +“Perfectly.” Marlowe was cool and in complete possession of himself, a +man different indeed from the worn-out, nervous being Trent remembered +at Marlstone a year and a half ago. His tall, lithe figure was held +with the perfection of muscular tone. His brow was candid, his blue +eyes were clear, though they still had, as he paused collecting his +ideas, the look that had troubled Trent at their first meeting. Only +the lines of his mouth showed that he knew himself in a position of +difficulty, and meant to face it. + +“Sigsbee Manderson was not a man of normal mind,” Marlowe began in his +quiet voice. “Most of the very rich men I met with in America had +become so by virtue of abnormal greed, or abnormal industry, or +abnormal personal force, or abnormal luck. None of them had remarkable +intellects. Manderson delighted too in heaping up wealth; he worked +incessantly at it; he was a man of dominant will; he had quite his +share of luck; but what made him singular was his brainpower. In his +own country they would perhaps tell you that it was his ruthlessness in +pursuit of his aims that was his most striking characteristic; but +there are hundreds of them who would have carried out his plans with +just as little consideration for others if they could have formed the +plans. + +“I’m not saying Americans aren’t clever; they are ten times cleverer +than we are, as a nation; but I never met another who showed such a +degree of sagacity and foresight, such gifts of memory and mental +tenacity, such sheer force of intelligence, as there was behind +everything Manderson did in his money-making career. They called him +the ‘Napoleon of Wall Street’ often enough in the papers; but few +people knew so well as I did how much truth there was in the phrase. He +seemed never to forget a fact that might be of use to him, in the first +place; and he did systematically with the business facts that concerned +him what Napoleon did, as I have read, with military facts. He studied +them in special digests which were prepared for him at short intervals, +and which he always had at hand, so that he could take up his report on +coal or wheat or railways, or whatever it might be, in any unoccupied +moment. Then he could make a bolder and cleverer plan than any man of +them all. People got to know that Manderson would never do the obvious +thing, but they got no further; the thing he did do was almost always a +surprise, and much of his success flowed from that. The Street got +rattled, as they used to put it, when it was known that the old man was +out with his gun, and often his opponents seemed to surrender as easily +as Colonel Crockett’s coon in the story. The scheme I am going to +describe to you would have occupied most men long enough. Manderson +could have plotted the thing, down to the last detail, while he shaved +himself. + +“I used to think that his strain of Indian blood, remote as it was, +might have something to do with the cunning and ruthlessness of the +man. Strangely enough, its existence was unknown to any one but himself +and me. It was when he asked me to apply my taste for genealogical work +to his own obscure family history that I made the discovery that he had +in him a share of the blood of the Iroquois chief Montour and his +French wife, a terrible woman who ruled the savage politics of the +tribes of the Wilderness two hundred years ago. The Mandersons were +active in the fur trade on the Pennsylvanian border in those days, and +more than one of them married Indian women. Other Indian blood than +Montour’s may have descended to Manderson, for all I can say, through +previous and subsequent unions; some of the wives’ antecedents were +quite untraceable, and there were so many generations of pioneering +before the whole country was brought under civilization. My researches +left me with the idea that there is a very great deal of the aboriginal +blood present in the genealogical make-up of the people of America, and +that it is very widely spread. The newer families have constantly +intermarried with the older, and so many of them had a strain of the +native in them—and were often rather proud of it, too, in those days. +But Manderson had the idea about the disgracefulness of mixed blood, +which grew much stronger, I fancy, with the rise of the negro question +after the war. He was thunderstruck at what I told him, and was anxious +to conceal it from every soul. Of course I never gave it away while he +lived, and I don’t think he supposed I would; but I have thought since +that his mind took a turn against me from that time onward. It happened +about a year before his death.” + +“Had Manderson,” asked Mr. Cupples, so unexpectedly that the others +started, “any definable religious attitude?” + +Marlowe considered a moment. “None that ever I heard of,” he said. +“Worship and prayer were quite unknown to him, so far as I could see, +and I never heard him mention religion. I should doubt if he had any +real sense of God at all, or if he was capable of knowing God through +the emotions. But I understood that as a child he had had a religious +upbringing with a strong moral side to it. His private life was, in the +usual limited sense, blameless. He was almost ascetic in his habits, +except as to smoking. I lived with him four years without ever knowing +him to tell a direct verbal falsehood, constantly as he used to +practise deceit in other forms. Can you understand the soul of a man +who never hesitated to take steps that would have the effect of +hoodwinking people, who would use every trick of the markets to +mislead, and who was at the same time scrupulous never to utter a +direct lie on the most insignificant matter? Manderson was like that, +and he was not the only one. I suppose you might compare the state of +mind to that of a soldier who is personally a truthful man, but who +will stick at nothing to deceive the enemy. The rules of the game allow +it; and the same may be said of business as many business men regard +it. Only with them it is always wartime.” + +“It is a sad world,” observed Mr. Cupples. + +“As you say,” Marlowe agreed. “Now I was saying that one could always +take Manderson’s word if he gave it in a definite form. The first time +I ever heard him utter a downright lie was on the night he died; and +hearing it, I believe, saved me from being hanged as his murderer.” + +Marlowe stared at the light above his head and Trent moved impatiently +in his chair. “Before we come to that,” he said, “will you tell us +exactly on what footing you were with Manderson during the years you +were with him?” + +“We were on very good terms from beginning to end,” answered Marlowe. +“Nothing like friendship—he was not a man for making friends—but the +best of terms as between a trusted employee and his chief. I went to +him as private secretary just after getting my degree at Oxford. I was +to have gone into my father’s business, where I am now, but my father +suggested that I should see the world for a year or two. So I took this +secretaryship, which seemed to promise a good deal of varied +experience, and I had let the year or two run on to four years before +the end came. The offer came to me through the last thing in the world +I should have put forward as a qualification for a salaried post, and +that was chess.” + +At the word Trent struck his hands together with a muttered +exclamation. The others looked at him in surprise. + +“Chess!” repeated Trent. “Do you know,” he said, rising and approaching +Marlowe, “what was the first thing I noted about you at our first +meeting? It was your eye, Mr. Marlowe. I couldn’t place it then, but I +know now where I had seen your eyes before. They were in the head of no +less a man than the great Nikolay Korchagin, with whom I once sat in +the same railway carriage for two days. I thought I should never forget +the chess eye after that, but I could not put a name to it when I saw +it in you. I beg your pardon,” he ended suddenly, resuming his +marmoreal attitude in his chair. + +“I have played the game from my childhood, and with good players,” said +Marlowe simply. “It is an hereditary gift, if you can call it a gift. +At the University I was nearly as good as anybody there, and I gave +most of my brains to that and the O.U.D.S. and playing about generally. +At Oxford, as I dare say you know, inducements to amuse oneself at the +expense of one’s education are endless, and encouraged by the +authorities. Well, one day toward the end of my last term, Dr. Munro of +Queen’s, whom I had never defeated, sent for me. He told me that I +played a fairish game of chess. I said it was very good of him to say +so. Then he said, ‘They tell me you hunt, too.’ I said, ‘Now and then.’ +He asked, ‘Is there anything else you can do?’ ‘No,’ I said, not much +liking the tone of the conversation—the old man generally succeeded in +putting people’s backs up. He grunted fiercely, and then told me that +enquiries were being made on behalf of a wealthy American man of +business who wanted an English secretary. Manderson was the name, he +said. He seemed never to have heard it before, which was quite +possible, as he never opened a newspaper and had not slept a night +outside the college for thirty years. If I could rub up my spelling—as +the old gentleman put it—I might have a good chance for the post, as +chess and riding and an Oxford education were the only indispensable +points. + +“Well, I became Manderson’s secretary. For a long time I liked the +position greatly. When one is attached to an active American plutocrat +in the prime of life one need not have many dull moments. Besides, it +made me independent. My father had some serious business reverses about +that time, and I was glad to be able to do without an allowance from +him. At the end of the first year Manderson doubled my salary. ‘It’s +big money,’ he said, ‘but I guess I don’t lose.’ You see, by that time +I was doing a great deal more than accompany him on horseback in the +morning and play chess in the evening, which was mainly what he had +required. I was attending to his houses, his farm in Ohio, his shooting +in Maine, his horses, his cars, and his yacht. I had become a walking +railway-guide and an expert cigar-buyer. I was always learning +something. + +“Well, now you understand what my position was in regard to Manderson +during the last two or three years of my connection with him. It was a +happy life for me on the whole. I was busy, my work was varied and +interesting; I had time to amuse myself too, and money to spend. At one +time I made a fool of myself about a girl, and that was not a happy +time; but it taught me to understand the great goodness of Mrs. +Manderson.” Marlowe inclined his head to Mr. Cupples as he said this. +“She may choose to tell you about it. As for her husband, he had never +varied in his attitude towards me, in spite of the change that came +over him in the last months of his life, as you know. He treated me +well and generously in his unsympathetic way, and I never had a feeling +that he was less than satisfied with his bargain—that was the sort of +footing we lived upon. And it was that continuance of his attitude +right up to the end that made the revelation so shocking when I was +suddenly shown, on the night on which he met his end, the depth of +crazy hatred of myself that was in Manderson’s soul.” + +The eyes of Trent and Mr. Cupples met for an instant. + +“You never suspected that he hated you before that time?” asked Trent; +and Mr. Cupples asked at the same moment, “To what did you attribute +it?” + +“I never guessed until that night,” answered Marlowe, “that he had the +smallest ill-feeling toward me. How long it had existed I do not know. +I cannot imagine why it was there. I was forced to think, when I +considered the thing in those awful days after his death, that it was a +case of a madman’s delusion, that he believed me to be plotting against +him, as they so often do. Some such insane conviction must have been at +the root of it. But who can sound the abysses of a lunatic’s fancy? Can +you imagine the state of mind in which a man dooms himself to death +with the object of delivering some one he hates to the hangman?” + +Mr. Cupples moved sharply in his chair. “You say Manderson was +responsible for his own death?” he asked. + +Trent glanced at him with an eye of impatience, and resumed his intent +watch upon the face of Marlowe. In the relief of speech it was now less +pale and drawn. + +“I do say so,” Marlowe answered concisely, and looked his questioner in +the face. Mr. Cupples nodded. + +“Before we proceed to the elucidation of your statement,” observed the +old gentleman, in a tone of one discussing a point of abstract science, +“it may be remarked that the state of mind which you attribute to +Manderson—” + +“Suppose we have the story first,” Trent interrupted, gently laying a +hand on Mr. Cupples’s arm. “You were telling us,” he went on, turning +to Marlowe, “how things stood between you and Manderson. Now will you +tell us the facts of what happened that night?” + +Marlowe flushed at the barely perceptible emphasis which Trent laid +upon the word “facts”. He drew himself up. + +“Bunner and myself dined with Mr. and Mrs. Manderson that Sunday +evening,” he began, speaking carefully. “It was just like other dinners +at which the four of us had been together. Manderson was taciturn and +gloomy, as we had latterly been accustomed to see him. We others kept a +conversation going. We rose from the table, I suppose, about nine. Mrs. +Manderson went to the drawing-room, and Bunner went up to the hotel to +see an acquaintance. Manderson asked me to come into the orchard behind +the house, saying he wished to have a talk. We paced up and down the +pathway there, out of earshot from the house, and Manderson, as he +smoked his cigar, spoke to me in his cool, deliberate way. He had never +seemed more sane, or more well-disposed to me. He said he wanted me to +do him an important service. There was a big thing on. It was a secret +affair. Bunner knew nothing of it, and the less I knew the better. He +wanted me to do exactly as he directed, and not bother my head about +reasons. + +“This, I may say, was quite characteristic of Manderson’s method of +going to work. If at times he required a man to be a mere tool in his +hand, he would tell him so. He had used me in the same kind of way a +dozen times. I assured him he could rely on me, and said I was ready. +‘Right now?’ he asked. I said of course I was. + +“He nodded, and said—I tell you his words as well as I can recollect +them—attend to this. ‘There is a man in England now who is in this +thing with me. He was to have left tomorrow for Paris by the noon boat +from Southampton to Havre. His name is George Harris—at least that’s +the name he is going by. Do you remember that name?’ ‘Yes,’ I said, +‘when I went up to London a week ago you asked me to book a cabin in +that name on the boat that goes tomorrow. I gave you the ticket.’ ‘Here +it is,’ he said, producing it from his pocket. + +“‘Now,’ Manderson said to me, poking his cigar-butt at me with each +sentence in a way he used to have, ‘George Harris cannot leave England +tomorrow. I find I shall want him where he is. And I want Bunner where +he is. But somebody has got to go by that boat and take certain papers +to Paris. Or else my plan is going to fall to pieces. Will you go?’ I +said, ‘Certainly. I am here to obey orders.’ + +“He bit his cigar, and said, ‘That’s all right; but these are not just +ordinary orders. Not the kind of thing one can ask of a man in the +ordinary way of his duty to an employer. The point is this. The deal I +am busy with is one in which neither myself nor any one known to be +connected with me must appear as yet. That is vital. But these people I +am up against know your face as well as they know mine. If my secretary +is known in certain quarters to have crossed to Paris at this time and +to have interviewed certain people—and that would be known as soon as +it happened—then the game is up.’ He threw away his cigar-end and +looked at me questioningly. + +“I didn’t like it much, but I liked failing Manderson at a pinch still +less. I spoke lightly. I said I supposed I should have to conceal my +identity, and I would do my best. I told him I used to be pretty good +at make-up. + +“He nodded in approval. He said, ‘That’s good. I judged you would not +let me down.’ Then he gave me my instructions. ‘You take the car right +now,’ he said, ‘and start for Southampton—there’s no train that will +fit in. You’ll be driving all night. Barring accidents, you ought to +get there by six in the morning. But whenever you arrive, drive +straight to the Bedford Hotel and ask for George Harris. If he’s there, +tell him you are to go over instead of him, and ask him to telephone me +here. It is very important he should know that at the earliest moment +possible. But if he isn’t there, that means he has got the instructions +I wired today, and hasn’t gone to Southampton. In that case you don’t +want to trouble about him any more, but just wait for the boat. You can +leave the car at a garage under a fancy name—mine must not be given. +See about changing your appearance—I don’t care how, so you do it well. +Travel by the boat as George Harris. Let on to be anything you like, +but be careful, and don’t talk much to anybody. When you arrive, take a +room at the Hotel St Petersbourg. You will receive a note or message +there, addressed to George Harris, telling you where to take the wallet +I shall give you. The wallet is locked, and you want to take good care +of it. Have you got that all clear?’ + +“I repeated the instructions. I asked if I should return from Paris +after handing over the wallet. ‘As soon as you like,’ he said. ‘And +mind this—whatever happens, don’t communicate with me at any stage of +the journey. If you don’t get the message in Paris at once, just wait +until you do—days, if necessary. But not a line of any sort to me. +Understand? Now get ready as quick as you can. I’ll go with you in the +car a little way. Hurry.’ + +“That is, as far as I can remember, the exact substance of what +Manderson said to me that night. I went to my room, changed into day +clothes, and hastily threw a few necessaries into a kit-bag. My mind +was in a whirl, not so much at the nature of the business as at the +suddenness of it. I think I remember telling you the last time we +met”—he turned to Trent—“that Manderson shared the national fondness +for doings things in a story-book style. Other things being equal, he +delighted in a bit of mystification and melodrama, and I told myself +that this was Manderson all over. I hurried downstairs with my bag and +rejoined him in the library. He handed me a stout leather letter-case, +about eight inches by six, fastened with a strap with a lock on it. I +could just squeeze it into my side-pocket. Then I went to get the car +from the garage behind the house. + +“As I was bringing it round to the front a disconcerting thought struck +me. I remembered that I had only a few shillings in my pocket. + +“For some time past I had been keeping myself very short of cash, and +for this reason—which I tell you because it is a vital point, as you +shall see in a minute. I was living temporarily on borrowed money. I +had always been careless about money while I was with Manderson, and +being a gregarious animal I had made many friends, some of them +belonging to a New York set that had little to do but get rid of the +large incomes given them by their parents. Still, I was very well paid, +and I was too busy even to attempt to go very far with them in that +amusing occupation. I was still well on the right side of the ledger +until I began, merely out of curiosity, to play at speculation. It’s a +very old story—particularly in Wall Street. I thought it was easy; I +was lucky at first; I would always be prudent—and so on. Then came the +day when I went out of my depth. In one week I was separated from my +toll, as Bunner expressed it when I told him; and I owed money too. I +had had my lesson. Now in this pass I went to Manderson and told him +what I had done and how I stood. He heard me with a very grim smile, +and then, with the nearest approach to sympathy I had ever found in +him, he advanced me a sum on account of my salary that would clear me. +‘Don’t play the markets any more,’ was all he said. + +“Now on that Sunday night Manderson knew that I was practically without +any money in the world. He knew that Bunner knew it too. He may have +known that I had even borrowed a little more from Bunner for +pocket-money until my next cheque was due, which, owing to my +anticipation of my salary, would not have been a large one. Bear this +knowledge of Manderson’s in mind. + +“As soon as I had brought the car round I went into the library and +stated the difficulty to Manderson. + +“What followed gave me, slight as it was, my first impression of +something odd being afoot. As soon as I mentioned the word ‘expenses’ +his hand went mechanically to his left hip-pocket, where he always kept +a little case containing notes to the value of about a hundred pounds +in our money. This was such a rooted habit in him that I was astonished +to see him check the movement suddenly. Then, to my greater amazement, +he swore under his breath. I had never heard him do this before; but +Bunner had told me that of late he had often shown irritation in this +way when they were alone. ‘Has he mislaid his note-case?’ was the +question that flashed through my mind. But it seemed to me that it +could not affect his plan at all, and I will tell you why. The week +before, when I had gone up to London to carry out various commissions, +including the booking of a berth for Mr. George Harris, I had drawn a +thousand pounds for Manderson from his bankers, and all, at his +request, in notes of small amounts. I did not know what this unusually +large sum in cash was for, but I did know that the packets of notes +were in his locked desk in the library, or had been earlier in the day, +when I had seen him fingering them as he sat at the desk. + +“But instead of turning to the desk, Manderson stood looking at me. +There was fury in his face, and it was a strange sight to see him +gradually master it until his eyes grew cold again. ‘Wait in the car,’ +he said slowly. ‘I will get some money.’ We both went out, and as I was +getting into my overcoat in the hall I saw him enter the drawing-room, +which, you remember, was on the other side of the entrance hall. + +“I stepped out on to the lawn before the house and smoked a cigarette, +pacing up and down. I was asking myself again and again where that +thousand pounds was; whether it was in the drawing-room, and if so, +why. Presently, as I passed one of the drawing-room windows, I noticed +Mrs Manderson’s shadow on the thin silk curtain. She was standing at +her escritoire. The window was open, and as I passed I heard her say, +‘I have not quite thirty pounds here. Will that be enough?’ I did not +hear the answer, but next moment Manderson’s shadow was mingled with +hers, and I heard the chink of money. Then, as he stood by the window, +and as I was moving away, these words of his came to my ears—and these +at least I can repeat exactly, for astonishment stamped them on my +memory—‘I’m going out now. Marlowe has persuaded me to go for a +moonlight run in the car. He is very urgent about it. He says it will +help me to sleep, and I guess he is right.’ + +I have told you that in the course of four years I had never once heard +Manderson utter a direct lie about anything, great or small. I believed +that I understood the man’s queer, skin-deep morality, and I could have +sworn that if he was firmly pressed with a question that could not be +evaded he would either refuse to answer or tell the truth. But what had +I just heard? No answer to any question. A voluntary statement, precise +in terms, that was utterly false. The unimaginable had happened. It was +almost as if some one I knew well, in a moment of closest sympathy, had +suddenly struck me in the face. The blood rushed to my head, and I +stood still on the grass. I stood there until I heard his step at the +front door, and then I pulled myself together and stepped quickly to +the car. He handed me a banker’s paper bag with gold and notes in it. +‘There’s more than you’ll want there,’ he said, and I pocketed it +mechanically. + +“For a minute or so I stood discussing with Manderson—it was by one of +those _tours de force_ of which one’s mind is capable under great +excitement—points about the route of the long drive before me. I had +made the run several times by day, and I believe I spoke quite calmly +and naturally about it. But while I spoke my mind was seething in a +flood of suddenly born suspicion and fear. I did not know what I +feared. I simply felt fear, somehow—I did not know how—connected with +Manderson. My soul once opened to it, fear rushed in like an assaulting +army. I felt—I knew—that something was altogether wrong and sinister, +and I felt myself to be the object of it. Yet Manderson was surely no +enemy of mine. Then my thoughts reached out wildly for an answer to the +question why he had told that lie. And all the time the blood hammered +in my ears, ‘Where is that money?’ Reason struggled hard to set up the +suggestion that the two things were not necessarily connected. The +instinct of a man in danger would not listen to it. As we started, and +the car took the curve into the road, it was merely the unconscious +part of me that steered and controlled it, and that made occasional +empty remarks as we slid along in the moonlight. Within me was a +confusion and vague alarm that was far worse than any definite terror I +ever felt. + +“About a mile from the house, you remember, one passed on one’s left a +gate, on the other side of which was the golf-course. There Manderson +said he would get down, and I stopped the car. ‘You’ve got it all +clear?’ he asked. With a sort of wrench I forced myself to remember and +repeat the directions given me. ‘That’s OK,’ he said. ‘Goodbye, then. +Stay with that wallet.’ Those were the last words I heard him speak, as +the car moved gently away from him.” + +Marlowe rose from his chair and pressed his hands to his eyes. He was +flushed with the excitement of his own narrative, and there was in his +look a horror of recollection that held both the listeners silent. He +shook himself with a movement like a dog’s, and then, his hands behind +him, stood erect before the fire as he continued his tale. + +“I expect you both know what the back-reflector of a motor car is.” + +Trent nodded quickly, his face alive with anticipation; but Mr. +Cupples, who cherished a mild but obstinate prejudice against motor +cars, readily confessed to ignorance. + +“It is a small round or more often rectangular mirror,” Marlowe +explained, “rigged out from the right side of the screen in front of +the driver, and adjusted in such a way that he can see, without turning +round, if anything is coming up behind to pass him. It is quite an +ordinary appliance, and there was one on this car. As the car moved on, +and Manderson ceased speaking behind me, I saw in that mirror a thing +that I wish I could forget.” + +Marlowe was silent for a moment, staring at the wall before him. + +“Manderson’s face,” he said in a low tone. “He was standing in the +road, looking after me, only a few yards behind, and the moonlight was +full on his face. The mirror happened to catch it for an instant. + +“Physical habit is a wonderful thing. I did not shift hand or foot on +the controlling mechanism of the car. Indeed, I dare say it steadied me +against the shock to have myself braced to the business of driving. You +have read in books, no doubt, of hell looking out of a man’s eyes, but +perhaps you don’t know what a good metaphor that is. If I had not known +Manderson was there, I should not have recognized the face. It was that +of a madman, distorted, hideous in the imbecility of hate, the teeth +bared in a simian grin of ferocity and triumph; the eyes.... In the +little mirror I had this glimpse of the face alone. I saw nothing of +whatever gesture there may have been as that writhing white mask glared +after me. And I saw it only for a flash. The car went on, gathering +speed, and as it went, my brain, suddenly purged of the vapours of +doubt and perplexity, was as busy as the throbbing engine before my +feet. I knew. + +“You say something in that manuscript of yours, Mr. Trent, about the +swift automatic way in which one’s ideas arrange themselves about some +new illuminating thought. It is quite true. The awful intensity of +ill-will that had flamed after me from those straining eyeballs poured +over my mind like a searchlight. I was thinking quite clearly now, and +almost coldly, for I knew what—at least I knew whom—I had to fear, and +instinct warned me that it was not a time to give room to the emotions +that were fighting to possess me. The man hated me insanely. That +incredible fact I suddenly knew. But the face had told me, it would +have told anybody, more than that. It was a face of hatred gratified, +it proclaimed some damnable triumph. It had gloated over me driving +away to my fate. This too was plain to me. And to what fate? + +“I stopped the car. It had gone about two hundred and fifty yards, and +a sharp bend of the road hid the spot where I had set Manderson down. I +lay back in the seat and thought it out. Something was to happen to me. +In Paris? Probably—why else should I be sent there, with money and a +ticket? But why Paris? That puzzled me, for I had no melodramatic ideas +about Paris. I put the point aside for a moment. I turned to the other +things that had roused my attention that evening. The lie about my +‘persuading him to go for a moonlight run’. What was the intention of +that? Manderson, I said to myself, will be returning without me while I +am on my way to Southampton. What will he tell them about me? How +account for his returning alone, and without the car? As I asked myself +that sinister question there rushed into my mind the last of my +difficulties: ‘Where are the thousand pounds?’ And in the same instant +came the answer: ‘The thousand pounds are in my pocket.’ + +“I got up and stepped from the car. My knees trembled and I felt very +sick. I saw the plot now, as I thought. The whole of the story about +the papers and the necessity of their being taken to Paris was a blind. +With Manderson’s money about me, of which he would declare I had robbed +him, I was, to all appearance, attempting to escape from England, with +every precaution that guilt could suggest. He would communicate with +the police at once, and would know how to put them on my track. I +should be arrested in Paris, if I got so far, living under a false +name, after having left the car under a false name, disguised myself, +and travelled in a cabin which I had booked in advance, also under a +false name. It would be plainly the crime of a man without money, and +for some reason desperately in want of it. As for my account of the +affair, it would be too preposterous. + +“As this ghastly array of incriminating circumstances rose up before +me, I dragged the stout letter-case from my pocket. In the intensity of +the moment, I never entertained the faintest doubt that I was right, +and that the money was there. It would easily hold the packets of +notes. But as I felt it and weighed it in my hands it seemed to me +there must be more than this. It was too bulky. What more was to be +laid to my charge? After all, a thousand pounds was not much to tempt a +man like myself to run the risk of penal servitude. In this new +agitation, scarcely knowing what I did, I caught the surrounding strap +in my fingers just above the fastening and tore the staple out of the +lock. Those locks, you know, are pretty flimsy as a rule.” + +Here Marlowe paused and walked to the oaken desk before the window. +Opening a drawer full of miscellaneous objects, he took out a box of +odd keys, and selected a small one distinguished by a piece of pink +tape. + +He handed it to Trent. “I keep that by me as a sort of morbid memento. +It is the key to the lock I smashed. I might have saved myself the +trouble, if I had known that this key was at that moment in the +left-hand side-pocket of my overcoat. Manderson must have slipped it +in, either while the coat was hanging in the hall or while he sat at my +side in the car. I might not have found the tiny thing there for weeks: +as a matter of fact I did find it two days after Manderson was dead, +but a police search would have found it in five minutes. And then I—I +with the case and its contents in my pocket, my false name and my sham +spectacles and the rest of it—I should have had no explanation to offer +but the highly convincing one that I didn’t know the key was there.” + +Trent dangled the key by its tape idly. Then: “How do you know this is +the key of that case?” he asked quickly. + +“I tried it. As soon as I found it I went up and fitted it to the lock. +I knew where I had left the thing. So do you, I think, Mr. Trent. Don’t +you?” There was a faint shade of mockery in Marlowe’s voice. + +“_Touché_,” Trent said, with a dry smile. “I found a large empty +letter-case with a burst lock lying with other odds and ends on the +dressing-table in Manderson’s room. Your statement is that you put it +there. I could make nothing of it.” He closed his lips. + +“There was no reason for hiding it,” said Marlowe. “But to get back to +my story. I burst the lock of the strap. I opened the case before one +of the lamps of the car. The first thing I found in it I ought to have +expected, of course, but I hadn’t.” He paused and glanced at Trent. + +“It was—” began Trent mechanically, and then stopped himself. “Try not +to bring me in any more, if you don’t mind,” he said, meeting the +other’s eye. “I have complimented you already in that document on your +cleverness. You need not prove it by making the judge help you out with +your evidence.” + +“All right,” agreed Marlowe. “I couldn’t resist just that much. If +_you_ had been in my place you would have known before I did that +Manderson’s little pocket-case was there. As soon as I saw it, of +course, I remembered his not having had it about him when I asked for +money, and his surprising anger. He had made a false step. He had +already fastened his note-case up with the rest of what was to figure +as my plunder, and placed it in my hands. I opened it. It contained a +few notes as usual, I didn’t count them. + +“Tucked into the flaps of the big case in packets were the other notes, +just as I had brought them from London. And with them were two small +wash-leather bags, the look of which I knew well. My heart jumped +sickeningly again, for this, too, was utterly unexpected. In those bags +Manderson kept the diamonds in which he had been investing for some +time past. I didn’t open them; I could feel the tiny stones shifting +under the pressure of my fingers. How many thousands of pounds’ worth +there were there I have no idea. We had regarded Manderson’s +diamond-buying as merely a speculative fad. I believe now that it was +the earliest movement in the scheme for my ruin. For any one like +myself to be represented as having robbed him, there ought to be a +strong inducement shown. That had been provided with a vengeance. + +“Now, I thought, I have the whole thing plain, and I must act. I saw +instantly what I must do. I had left Manderson about a mile from the +house. It would take him twenty minutes, fifteen if he walked fast, to +get back to the house, where he would, of course, immediately tell his +story of robbery, and probably telephone at once to the police in +Bishopsbridge. I had left him only five or six minutes ago; for all +that I have just told you was as quick thinking as I ever did. It would +be easy to overtake him in the car before he neared the house. There +would be an awkward interview. I set my teeth as I thought of it, and +all my fears vanished as I began to savour the gratification of telling +him my opinion of him. There are probably few people who ever +positively looked forward to an awkward interview with Manderson; but I +was mad with rage. My honour and my liberty had been plotted against +with detestable treachery. I did not consider what would follow the +interview. That would arrange itself. + +“I had started and turned the car, I was already going fast toward +White Gables, when I heard the sound of a shot in front of me, to the +right. + +“Instantly I stopped the car. My first wild thought was that Manderson +was shooting at me. Then I realized that the noise had not been close +at hand. I could see nobody on the road, though the moonlight flooded +it. I had left Manderson at a spot just round the corner that was now +about a hundred yards ahead of me. After half a minute or so, I started +again, and turned the corner at a slow pace. Then I stopped again with +a jar, and for a moment I sat perfectly still. + +“Manderson lay dead a few steps from me on the turf within the gate, +clearly visible to me in the moonlight.” + +Marlowe made another pause, and Trent, with a puckered brow, enquired, +“On the golf-course?” + +“Obviously,” remarked Mr. Cupples. “The eighth green is just there.” He +had grown more and more interested as Marlowe went on, and was now +playing feverishly with his thin beard. + +“On the green, quite close to the flag,” said Marlowe. “He lay on his +back, his arms were stretched abroad, his jacket and heavy overcoat +were open; the light shone hideously on his white face and his +shirt-front; it glistened on his bared teeth and one of the eyes. The +other... you saw it. The man was certainly dead. As I sat there +stunned, unable for the moment to think at all, I could even see a thin +dark line of blood running down from the shattered socket to the ear. +Close by lay his soft black hat, and at his feet a pistol. + +“I suppose it was only a few seconds that I sat helplessly staring at +the body. Then I rose and moved to it with dragging feet; for now the +truth had come to me at last, and I realized the fullness of my +appalling danger. It was not only my liberty or my honour that the +maniac had undermined. It was death that he had planned for me; death +with the degradation of the scaffold. To strike me down with certainty, +he had not hesitated to end his life; a life which was, no doubt, +already threatened by a melancholic impulse to self-destruction; and +the last agony of the suicide had been turned, perhaps, to a devilish +joy by the thought that he dragged down my life with his. For as far as +I could see at the moment my situation was utterly hopeless. If it had +been desperate on the assumption that Manderson meant to denounce me as +a thief, what was it now that his corpse denounced me as a murderer? + +“I picked up the revolver and saw, almost without emotion, that it was +my own. Manderson had taken it from my room, I suppose, while I was +getting out the car. At the same moment I remembered that it was by +Manderson’s suggestion that I had had it engraved with my initials, to +distinguish it from a precisely similar weapon which he had of his own. + +“I bent over the body and satisfied myself that there was no life left +in it. I must tell you here that I did not notice, then or afterwards, +the scratches and marks on the wrists, which were taken as evidence of +a struggle with an assailant. But I have no doubt that Manderson +deliberately injured himself in this way before firing the shot; it was +a part of his plan. + +“Though I never perceived that detail, however, it was evident enough +as I looked at the body that Manderson had not forgotten, in his last +act on earth, to tie me tighter by putting out of court the question of +suicide. He had clearly been at pains to hold the pistol at arm’s +length, and there was not a trace of smoke or of burning on the face. +The wound was absolutely clean, and was already ceasing to bleed +outwardly. I rose and paced the green, reckoning up the points in the +crushing case against me. + +“I was the last to be seen with Manderson. I had persuaded him—so he +had lied to his wife and, as I afterwards knew, to the butler—to go +with me for the drive from which he never returned. My pistol had +killed him. It was true that by discovering his plot I had saved myself +from heaping up further incriminating facts—flight, concealment, the +possession of the treasure. But what need of them, after all? As I +stood, what hope was there? What could I do?” + +Marlowe came to the table and leaned forward with his hands upon it. “I +want,” he said very earnestly, “to try to make you understand what was +in my mind when I decided to do what I did. I hope you won’t be bored, +because I must do it. You may both have thought I acted like a fool. +But after all the police never suspected me. I walked that green for a +quarter of an hour, I suppose, thinking the thing out like a game of +chess. I had to think ahead and think coolly; for my safety depended on +upsetting the plans of one of the longest-headed men who ever lived. +And remember that, for all I knew, there were details of the scheme +still hidden from me, waiting to crush me. + +“Two plain courses presented themselves at once. Either of them, I +thought, would certainly prove fatal. I could, in the first place, do +the completely straightforward thing: take back the dead man, tell my +story, hand over the notes and diamonds, and trust to the saving power +of truth and innocence. I could have laughed as I thought of it. I saw +myself bringing home the corpse and giving an account of myself, +boggling with sheer shame over the absurdity of my wholly unsupported +tale, as I brought a charge of mad hatred and fiendish treachery +against a man who had never, as far as I knew, had a word to say +against me. At every turn the cunning of Manderson had forestalled me. +His careful concealment of such a hatred was a characteristic feature +of the stratagem; only a man of his iron self-restraint could have done +it. You can see for yourselves how every fact in my statement would +appear, in the shadow of Manderson’s death, a clumsy lie. I tried to +imagine myself telling such a story to the counsel for my defence. I +could see the face with which he would listen to it; I could read in +the lines of it his thought, that to put forward such an impudent +farrago would mean merely the disappearance of any chance there might +be of a commutation of the capital sentence. + +“True, I had not fled. I had brought back the body; I had handed over +the property. But how did that help me? It would only suggest that I +had yielded to a sudden funk after killing my man, and had no nerve +left to clutch at the fruits of the crime; it would suggest, perhaps, +that I had not set out to kill but only to threaten, and that when I +found that I had done murder the heart went out of me. Turn it which +way I would, I could see no hope of escape by this plan of action. + +“The second of the obvious things that I might do was to take the hint +offered by the situation, and to fly at once. That too must prove +fatal. There was the body. I had no time to hide it in such a way that +it would not be found at the first systematic search. But whatever I +should do with the body, Manderson’s not returning to the house would +cause uneasiness in two or three hours at most. Martin would suspect an +accident to the car, and would telephone to the police. At daybreak the +roads would be scoured and enquiries telegraphed in every direction. +The police would act on the possibility of there being foul play. They +would spread their nets with energy in such a big business as the +disappearance of Manderson. Ports and railway termini would be watched. +Within twenty-four hours the body would be found, and the whole country +would be on the alert for me—all Europe, scarcely less; I did not +believe there was a spot in Christendom where the man accused of +Manderson’s murder could pass unchallenged, with every newspaper crying +the fact of his death into the ears of all the world. Every stranger +would be suspect; every man, woman, and child would be a detective. The +car, wherever I should abandon it, would put people on my track. If I +had to choose between two utterly hopeless courses, I decided, I would +take that of telling the preposterous truth. + +“But now I cast about desperately for some tale that would seem more +plausible than the truth. Could I save my neck by a lie? One after +another came into my mind; I need not trouble to remember them now. +Each had its own futilities and perils; but every one split upon the +fact—or what would be taken for fact—that I had induced Manderson to go +out with me, and the fact that he had never returned alive. Notion +after notion I swiftly rejected as I paced there by the dead man, and +doom seemed to settle down upon me more heavily as the moments passed. +Then a strange thought came to me. + +“Several times I had repeated to myself half-consciously, as a sort of +refrain, the words in which I had heard Manderson tell his wife that I +had induced him to go out. ‘Marlowe has persuaded me to go for a +moonlight run in the car. He is very urgent about it.’ All at once it +struck me that, without meaning to do so, I was saying this in +Manderson’s voice. + +“As you found out for yourself, Mr. Trent, I have a natural gift of +mimicry. I had imitated Manderson’s voice many times so successfully as +to deceive even Bunner, who had been much more in his company than his +own wife. It was, you remember”—Marlowe turned to Mr. Cupples—“a +strong, metallic voice, of great carrying power, so unusual as to make +it a very fascinating voice to imitate, and at the same time very easy. +I said the words carefully to myself again, like this—” he uttered +them, and Mr. Cupples opened his eyes in amazement—“and then I struck +my hand upon the low wall beside me. ‘Manderson never returned alive?’ +I said aloud. ‘But Manderson _shall_ return alive!’” + +“In thirty seconds the bare outline of the plan was complete in my +mind. I did not wait to think over details. Every instant was precious +now. I lifted the body and laid it on the floor of the car, covered +with a rug. I took the hat and the revolver. Not one trace remained on +the green, I believe, of that night’s work. As I drove back to White +Gables my design took shape before me with a rapidity and ease that +filled me with a wild excitement. I should escape yet! It was all so +easy if I kept my pluck. Putting aside the unusual and unlikely, I +should not fail. I wanted to shout, to scream! + +“Nearing the house I slackened speed, and carefully reconnoitred the +road. Nothing was moving. I turned the car into the open field on the +other side of the road, about twenty paces short of the little door at +the extreme corner of the grounds. I brought it to rest behind a stack. +When, with Manderson’s hat on my head and the pistol in my pocket, I +had staggered with the body across the moonlit road and through that +door, I left much of my apprehension behind me. With swift action and +an unbroken nerve I thought I ought to succeed.” + +With a long sigh Marlowe threw himself into one of the deep chairs at +the fireside and passed his handkerchief over his damp forehead. Each +of his hearers, too, drew a deep breath, but not audibly. + +“Everything else you know,” he said. He took a cigarette from a box +beside him and lighted it. Trent watched the very slight quiver of the +hand that held the match, and privately noted that his own was at the +moment not so steady. + +“The shoes that betrayed me to you,” pursued Marlowe after a short +silence, “were painful all the time I wore them, but I never dreamed +that they had given anywhere. I knew that no footstep of mine must +appear by any accident in the soft ground about the hut where I laid +the body, or between the hut and the house, so I took the shoes off and +crammed my feet into them as soon as I was inside the little door. I +left my own shoes, with my own jacket and overcoat, near the body, +ready to be resumed later. I made a clear footmark on the soft gravel +outside the French window, and several on the drugget round the carpet. +The stripping off of the outer clothing of the body, and the dressing +of it afterwards in the brown suit and shoes, and putting the things +into the pockets, was a horrible business; and getting the teeth out of +the mouth was worse. The head—but you don’t want to hear about it. I +didn’t feel it much at the time. I was wriggling my own head out of a +noose, you see. I wish I had thought of pulling down the cuffs, and had +tied the shoes more neatly. And putting the watch in the wrong pocket +was a bad mistake. It had all to be done so hurriedly. + +“You were wrong, by the way, about the whisky. After one stiffish drink +I had no more; but I filled up a flask that was in the cupboard, and +pocketed it. I had a night of peculiar anxiety and effort in front of +me and I didn’t know how I should stand it. I had to take some once or +twice during the drive. Speaking of that, you give rather a generous +allowance of time in your document for doing that run by night. You say +that to get to Southampton by half-past six in that car, under the +conditions, a man must, even if he drove like a demon, have left +Marlstone by twelve at latest. I had not got the body dressed in the +other suit, with tie and watch-chain and so forth, until nearly ten +minutes past; and then I had to get to the car and start it going. But +then I don’t suppose any other man would have taken the risks I did in +that car at night, without a headlight. It turns me cold to think of it +now. + +“There’s nothing much to say about what I did in the house. I spent the +time after Martin had left me in carefully thinking over the remaining +steps in my plan, while I unloaded and thoroughly cleaned the revolver +using my handkerchief and a penholder from the desk. I also placed the +packets of notes, the note-case, and the diamonds in the roll-top desk, +which I opened and relocked with Manderson’s key. When I went upstairs +it was a trying moment, for though I was safe from the eyes of Martin, +as he sat in his pantry, there was a faint possibility of somebody +being about on the bedroom floor. I had sometimes found the French maid +wandering about there when the other servants were in bed. Bunner, I +knew, was a deep sleeper. Mrs. Manderson, I had gathered from things I +had heard her say, was usually asleep by eleven; I had thought it +possible that her gift of sleep had helped her to retain all her beauty +and vitality in spite of a marriage which we all knew was an unhappy +one. Still it was uneasy work mounting the stairs, and holding myself +ready to retreat to the library again at the least sound from above. +But nothing happened. + +“The first thing I did on reaching the corridor was to enter my room +and put the revolver and cartridges back in the case. Then I turned off +the light and went quietly into Manderson’s room. + +“What I had to do there you know. I had to take off the shoes and put +them outside the door, leave Manderson’s jacket, waistcoat, trousers, +and black tie, after taking everything out of the pockets, select a +suit and tie and shoes for the body, and place the dental plate in the +bowl, which I moved from the washing-stand to the bedside, leaving +those ruinous finger-marks as I did so. The marks on the drawer must +have been made when I shut it after taking out the tie. Then I had to +lie down in the bed and tumble it. You know all about it—all except my +state of mind, which you couldn’t imagine and I couldn’t describe. + +“The worst came when I had hardly begun my operations: the moment when +Mrs Manderson spoke from the room where I supposed her asleep. I was +prepared for it happening; it was a possibility; but I nearly lost my +nerve all the same. However.... + +“By the way, I may tell you this: in the extremely unlikely contingency +of Mrs. Manderson remaining awake, and so putting out of the question +my escape by way of her window, I had planned simply to remain where I +was a few hours, and then, not speaking to her, to leave the house +quickly and quietly by the ordinary way. Martin would have been in bed +by that time. I might have been heard to leave, but not seen. I should +have done just as I had planned with the body, and then made the best +time I could in the car to Southampton. The difference would have been +that I couldn’t have furnished an unquestionable alibi by turning up at +the hotel at 6.30. I should have made the best of it by driving +straight to the docks, and making my ostentatious enquiries there. I +could in any case have got there long before the boat left at noon. I +couldn’t see that anybody could suspect me of the supposed murder in +any case; but if any one had, and if I hadn’t arrived until ten +o’clock, say, I shouldn’t have been able to answer, ‘It is impossible +for me to have got to Southampton so soon after shooting him.’ I should +simply have had to say I was delayed by a breakdown after leaving +Manderson at half-past ten, and challenged any one to produce any fact +connecting me with the crime. They couldn’t have done it. The pistol, +left openly in my room, might have been used by anybody, even if it +could be proved that that particular pistol was used. Nobody could +reasonably connect me with the shooting so long as it was believed that +it was Manderson who had returned to the house. The suspicion could +not, I was confident, enter any one’s mind. All the same, I wanted to +introduce the element of absolute physical impossibility; I knew I +should feel ten times as safe with that. So when I knew from the sound +of her breathing that Mrs. Manderson was asleep again, I walked quickly +across her room in my stocking feet, and was on the grass with my +bundle in ten seconds. I don’t think I made the least noise. The +curtain before the window was of soft, thick stuff and didn’t rustle, +and when I pushed the glass doors further open there was not a sound.” + +“Tell me,” said Trent, as the other stopped to light a new cigarette, +“why you took the risk of going through Mrs. Manderson’s room to escape +from the house. I could see when I looked into the thing on the spot +why it had to be on that side of the house; there was a danger of being +seen by Martin, or by some servant at a bedroom window, if you got out +by a window on one of the other sides. But there were three unoccupied +rooms on that side; two spare bedrooms and Mrs. Manderson’s +sitting-room. I should have thought it would have been safer, after you +had done what was necessary to your plan in Manderson’s room, to leave +it quietly and escape through one of those three rooms.... The fact +that you went through her window, you know,” he added coldly, “would +have suggested, if it became known, various suspicions in regard to the +lady herself. I think you understand me.” + +Marlowe turned upon him with a glowing face. “And I think you will +understand me, Mr. Trent,” he said in a voice that shook a little, +“when I say that if such a possibility had occurred to me then, I would +have taken any risk rather than make my escape by that way.... Oh +well!” he went on more coolly, “I suppose that to any one who didn’t +know her, the idea of her being privy to her husband’s murder might not +seem so indescribably fatuous. Forgive the expression.” He looked +attentively at the burning end of his cigarette, studiously unconscious +of the red flag that flew in Trent’s eyes for an instant at his words +and the tone of them. + +That emotion, however, was conquered at once. “Your remark is perfectly +just,” Trent said with answering coolness. “I can quite believe, too, +that at the time you didn’t think of the possibility I mentioned. But +surely, apart from that, it would have been safer to do as I said; go +by the window of an unoccupied room.” + +“Do you think so?” said Marlowe. “All I can say is, I hadn’t the nerve +to do it. I tell you, when I entered Manderson’s room I shut the door +of it on more than half my terrors. I had the problem confined before +me in a closed space, with only one danger in it, and that a known +danger: the danger of Mrs. Manderson. The thing was almost done; I had +only to wait until she was certainly asleep after her few moments of +waking up, for which, as I told you, I was prepared as a possibility. +Barring accidents, the way was clear. But now suppose that I, carrying +Manderson’s clothes and shoes, had opened that door again and gone in +my shirt-sleeves and socks to enter one of the empty rooms. The +moonlight was flooding the corridor through the end window. Even if my +face was concealed, nobody could mistake my standing figure for +Manderson’s. Martin might be going about the house in his silent way. +Bunner might come out of his bedroom. One of the servants who were +supposed to be in bed might come round the corner from the other +passage—I had found Célestine prowling about quite as late as it was +then. None of these things was very likely; but they were all too +likely for me. They were uncertainties. Shut off from the household in +Manderson’s room I knew exactly what I had to face. As I lay in my +clothes in Manderson’s bed and listened for the almost inaudible +breathing through the open door, I felt far more ease of mind, terrible +as my anxiety was, than I had felt since I saw the dead body on the +turf. I even congratulated myself that I had had the chance, through +Mrs Manderson’s speaking to me, of tightening one of the screws in my +scheme by repeating the statement about my having been sent to +Southampton.” + +Marlowe looked at Trent, who nodded as who should say that his point +was met. + +“As for Southampton,” pursued Marlowe, “you know what I did when I got +there, I have no doubt. I had decided to take Manderson’s story about +the mysterious Harris and act it out on my own lines. It was a +carefully prepared lie, better than anything I could improvise. I even +went so far as to get through a trunk call to the hotel at Southampton +from the library before starting, and ask if Harris was there. As I +expected, he wasn’t.” + +“Was that why you telephoned?” Trent enquired quickly. + +“The reason for telephoning was to get myself into an attitude in which +Martin couldn’t see my face or anything but the jacket and hat, yet +which was a natural and familiar attitude. But while I was about it, it +was obviously better to make a genuine call. If I had simply pretended +to be telephoning, the people at the exchange could have told at once +that there hadn’t been a call from White Gables that night.” + +“One of the first things I did was to make that enquiry,” said Trent. +“That telephone call, and the wire you sent from Southampton to the +dead man to say Harris hadn’t turned up, and you were returning—I +particularly appreciated both those.” + +A constrained smile lighted Marlowe’s face for a moment. “I don’t know +that there’s anything more to tell. I returned to Marlstone, and faced +your friend the detective with such nerve as I had left. The worst was +when I heard you had been put on the case—no, that wasn’t the worst. +The worst was when I saw you walk out of the shrubbery the next day, +coming away from the shed where I had laid the body. For one ghastly +moment I thought you were going to give me in charge on the spot. Now +I’ve told you everything, you don’t look so terrible.” + +He closed his eyes, and there was a short silence. Then Trent got +suddenly to his feet. + +“Cross-examination?” enquired Marlowe, looking at him gravely. + +“Not at all,” said Trent, stretching his long limbs. “Only stiffness of +the legs. I don’t want to ask any questions. I believe what you have +told us. I don’t believe it simply because I always liked your face, or +because it saves awkwardness, which are the most usual reasons for +believing a person, but because my vanity will have it that no man +could lie to me steadily for an hour without my perceiving it. Your +story is an extraordinary one; but Manderson was an extraordinary man, +and so are you. You acted like a lunatic in doing what you did; but I +quite agree with you that if you had acted like a sane man you wouldn’t +have had the hundredth part of a dog’s chance with a judge and jury. +One thing is beyond dispute on any reading of the affair: you are a man +of courage.” + +The colour rushed into Marlowe’s face, and he hesitated for words. +Before he could speak Mr. Cupples arose with a dry cough. + +“For my part,” he said, “I never supposed you guilty for a moment.” +Marlowe turned to him in grateful amazement, Trent with an incredulous +stare. “But,” pursued Mr. Cupples, holding up his hand, “there is one +question which I should like to put.” + +Marlowe bowed, saying nothing. + +“Suppose,” said Mr. Cupples, “that some one else had been suspected of +the crime and put upon trial. What would you have done?” + +“I think my duty was clear. I should have gone with my story to the +lawyers for the defence, and put myself in their hands.” + +Trent laughed aloud. Now that the thing was over, his spirits were +rapidly becoming ungovernable. “I can see their faces!” he said. “As a +matter of fact, though, nobody else was ever in danger. There wasn’t a +shred of evidence against any one. I looked up Murch at the Yard this +morning, and he told me he had come round to Bunner’s view, that it was +a case of revenge on the part of some American black-hand gang. So +there’s the end of the Manderson case. Holy, suffering Moses! _What_ an +ass a man can make of himself when he thinks he’s being preternaturally +clever!” He seized the bulky envelope from the table and stuffed it +into the heart of the fire. “There’s for you, old friend! For want of +you the world’s course will not fail. But look here! It’s getting +late—nearly seven, and Cupples and I have an appointment at half-past. +We must go. Mr. Marlowe, goodbye.” He looked into the other’s eyes. “I +am a man who has worked hard to put a rope round your neck. Considering +the circumstances, I don’t know whether you will blame me. Will you +shake hands?” + + + + +Chapter XVI. +The Last Straw + + +“What was that you said about our having an appointment at half-past +seven?” asked Mr. Cupples as the two came out of the great gateway of +the pile of flats. “Have we such an appointment?” + +“Certainly we have,” replied Trent. “You are dining with me. Only one +thing can properly celebrate this occasion, and that is a dinner for +which I pay. No, no! I asked you first. I have got right down to the +bottom of a case that must be unique—a case that has troubled even my +mind for over a year—and if that isn’t a good reason for standing a +dinner, I don’t know what is. Cupples, we will not go to my club. This +is to be a festival, and to be seen in a London club in a state of +pleasurable emotion is more than enough to shatter any man’s career. +Besides that, the dinner there is always the same, or, at least, they +always make it taste the same, I know not how. The eternal dinner at my +club hath bored millions of members like me, and shall bore; but +tonight let the feast be spread in vain, so far as we are concerned. We +will not go where the satraps throng the hall. We will go to +Sheppard’s.” + +“Who is Sheppard?” asked Mr. Cupples mildly, as they proceeded up +Victoria Street. His companion went with an unnatural lightness, and a +policeman, observing his face, smiled indulgently at a look of +happiness which he could only attribute to alcohol. + +“Who is Sheppard?” echoed Trent with bitter emphasis. “That question, +if you will pardon me for saying so, Cupples, is thoroughly +characteristic of the spirit of aimless enquiry prevailing in this +restless day. I suggest our dining at Sheppard’s, and instantly you +fold your arms and demand, in a frenzy of intellectual pride, to know +who Sheppard is before you will cross the threshold of Sheppard’s. I am +not going to pander to the vices of the modern mind. Sheppard’s is a +place where one can dine. I do not know Sheppard. It never occurred to +me that Sheppard existed. Probably he is a myth of totemistic origin. +All I know is that you can get a bit of saddle of mutton at Sheppard’s +that has made many an American visitor curse the day that Christopher +Columbus was born.... Taxi!” + +A cab rolled smoothly to the kerb, and the driver received his +instructions with a majestic nod. + +“Another reason I have for suggesting Sheppard’s,” continued Trent, +feverishly lighting a cigarette, “is that I am going to be married to +the most wonderful woman in the world. I trust the connection of ideas +is clear.” + +“You are going to marry Mabel!” cried Mr. Cupples. “My dear friend, +what good news this is! Shake hands, Trent; this is glorious! I +congratulate you both from the bottom of my heart. And may I say—I +don’t want to interrupt your flow of high spirits, which is very +natural indeed, and I remember being just the same in similar +circumstances long ago—but may I say how earnestly I have hoped for +this? Mabel has seen so much unhappiness, yet she is surely a woman +formed in the great purpose of humanity to be the best influence in the +life of a good man. But I did not know her mind as regarded yourself. +_Your_ mind I have known for some time,” Mr. Cupples went on, with a +twinkle in his eye that would have done credit to the worldliest of +creatures. “I saw it at once when you were both dining at my house, and +you sat listening to Professor Peppmuller and looking at her. Some of +us older fellows have our wits about us still, my dear boy.” + +“Mabel says she knew it before that,” replied Trent, with a slightly +crestfallen air. “And I thought I was acting the part of a person who +was not mad about her to the life. Well, I never was any good at +dissembling. I shouldn’t wonder if even old Peppmuller noticed +something through his double convex lenses. But however crazy I may +have been as an undeclared suitor,” he went on with a return to +vivacity, “I am going to be much worse now. As for your +congratulations, thank you a thousand times, because I know you mean +them. You are the sort of uncomfortable brute who would pull a face +three feet long if you thought we were making a mistake. By the way, I +can’t help being an ass tonight; I’m obliged to go on blithering. You +must try to bear it. Perhaps it would be easier if I sang you a +song—one of your old favourites. What was that song you used always to +be singing? Like this, wasn’t it?” He accompanied the following stave +with a dexterous clog-step on the floor of the cab: + +“There was an old nigger, and he had a wooden leg. +He had no tobacco, no tobacco could he beg. +Another old nigger was as cunning as a fox, +And he always had tobacco in his old tobacco-box. + + +Now for the chorus! + +Yes, he always had tobacco in his old tobacco-box. + + +But you’re not singing. I thought you would be making the welkin ring.” + +“I never sang that song in my life,” protested Mr. Cupples. “I never +heard it before.” + +“Are you sure?” enquired Trent doubtfully. “Well, I suppose I must take +your word for it. It is a beautiful song, anyhow: not the whole +warbling grove in concert heard can beat it. Somehow it seems to +express my feelings at the present moment as nothing else could; it +rises unbidden to the lips. Out of the fullness of the heart the mouth +speaketh, as the Bishop of Bath and Wells said when listening to a +speech of Mr. Balfour’s.” + +“When was that?” asked Mr. Cupples. + +“On the occasion,” replied Trent, “of the introduction of the +Compulsory Notification of Diseases of Poultry Bill, which ill-fated +measure you of course remember. Hullo!” he broke off, as the cab rushed +down a side street and swung round a corner into a broad and populous +thoroughfare, “we’re there already”. The cab drew up. + +“Here we are,” said Trent, as he paid the man, and led Mr. Cupples into +a long, panelled room set with many tables and filled with a hum of +talk. “This is the house of fulfilment of craving, this is the bower +with the roses around it. I see there are three bookmakers eating pork +at my favourite table. We will have that one in the opposite corner.” + +He conferred earnestly with a waiter, while Mr. Cupples, in a pleasant +meditation, warmed himself before the great fire. “The wine here,” +Trent resumed, as they seated themselves, “is almost certainly made out +of grapes. What shall we drink?” + +Mr. Cupples came out of his reverie. “I think,” he said, “I will have +milk and soda water.” + +“Speak lower!” urged Trent. “The head-waiter has a weak heart, and +might hear you. Milk and soda water! Cupples, you may think you have a +strong constitution, and I don’t say you have not, but I warn you that +this habit of mixing drinks has been the death of many a robuster man +than you. Be wise in time. Fill high the bowl with Samian wine, leave +soda to the Turkish hordes. Here comes our food.” He gave another order +to the waiter, who ranged the dishes before them and darted away. Trent +was, it seemed, a respected customer. “I have sent,” he said, “for wine +that I know, and I hope you will try it. If you have taken a vow, then +in the name of all the teetotal saints drink water, which stands at +your elbow, but don’t seek a cheap notoriety by demanding milk and +soda.” + +“I have never taken any pledge,” said Mr. Cupples, examining his mutton +with a favourable eye. “I simply don’t care about wine. I bought a +bottle once and drank it to see what it was like, and it made me ill. +But very likely it was bad wine. I will taste some of yours, as it is +your dinner, and I do assure you, my dear Trent, I should like to do +something unusual to show how strongly I feel on the present occasion. +I have not been so delighted for many years. To think,” he reflected +aloud as the waiter filled his glass, “of the Manderson mystery +disposed of, the innocent exculpated, and your own and Mabel’s +happiness crowned—all coming upon me together! I drink to you, my dear +friend.” And Mr. Cupples took a very small sip of the wine. + +“You have a great nature,” said Trent, much moved. “Your outward +semblance doth belie your soul’s immensity. I should have expected as +soon to see an elephant conducting at the opera as you drinking my +health. Dear Cupples! May his beak retain ever that delicate +rose-stain!—No, curse it all!” he broke out, surprising a shade of +discomfort that flitted over his companion’s face as he tasted the wine +again. “I have no business to meddle with your tastes. I apologize. You +shall have what you want, even if it causes the head-waiter to perish +in his pride.” + +When Mr. Cupples had been supplied with his monastic drink, and the +waiter had retired, Trent looked across the table with significance. +“In this babble of many conversations,” he said, “we can speak as +freely as if we were on a bare hillside. The waiter is whispering soft +nothings into the ear of the young woman at the pay-desk. We are alone. +What do you think of that interview of this afternoon?” He began to +dine with an appetite. + +Without pausing in the task of cutting his mutton into very small +pieces Mr. Cupples replied: “The most curious feature of it, in my +judgement, was the irony of the situation. We both held the clue to +that mad hatred of Manderson’s which Marlowe found so mysterious. We +knew of his jealous obsession; which knowledge we withheld, as was very +proper, if only in consideration of Mabel’s feelings. Marlowe will +never know of what he was suspected by that person. Strange! Nearly all +of us, I venture to think, move unconsciously among a network of +opinions, often quite erroneous, which other people entertain about us. +I remember, for instance, discovering quite by accident some years ago +that a number of people of my acquaintance believed me to have been +secretly received into the Church of Rome. This absurd fiction was +based upon the fact, which in the eyes of many appeared conclusive, +that I had expressed myself in talk as favouring the plan of a weekly +abstinence from meat. Manderson’s belief in regard to his secretary +probably rested upon a much slighter ground. It was Mr Bunner, I think +you said, who told you of his rooted and apparently hereditary temper +of suspicious jealousy.... With regard to Marlowe’s story, it appeared +to me entirely straightforward, and not, in its essential features, +especially remarkable, once we have admitted, as we surely must, that +in the case of Manderson we have to deal with a more or less disordered +mind.” + +Trent laughed loudly. “I confess,” he said, “that the affair struck me +as a little unusual. + +“Only in the development of the details,” argued Mr. Cupples. “What is +there abnormal in the essential facts? A madman conceives a crazy +suspicion; he hatches a cunning plot against his fancied injurer; it +involves his own destruction. Put thus, what is there that any man with +the least knowledge of the ways of lunatics would call remarkable? Turn +now to Marlowe’s proceedings. He finds himself in a perilous position +from which, though he is innocent, telling the truth will not save him. +Is that an unheard-of situation? He escapes by means of a bold and +ingenious piece of deception. That seems to me a thing that might +happen every day, and probably does so.” He attacked his now +unrecognizable mutton. + +“I should like to know,” said Trent, after an alimentary pause in the +conversation, “whether there is anything that ever happened on the face +of the earth that you could not represent as quite ordinary and +commonplace by such a line of argument as that.” + +A gentle smile illuminated Mr. Cupples’s face. “You must not suspect me +of empty paradox,” he said. “My meaning will become clearer, perhaps, +if I mention some things which do appear to me essentially remarkable. +Let me see .... Well, I would call the life history of the liver-fluke, +which we owe to the researches of Poulton, an essentially remarkable +thing.” + +“I am unable to argue the point,” replied Trent. “Fair science may have +smiled upon the liver-fluke’s humble birth, but I never even heard it +mentioned.” + +“It is not, perhaps, an appetizing subject,” said Mr. Cupples +thoughtfully, “and I will not pursue it. All I mean is, my dear Trent, +that there are really remarkable things going on all round us if we +will only see them; and we do our perceptions no credit in regarding as +remarkable only those affairs which are surrounded with an accumulation +of sensational detail.” + +Trent applauded heartily with his knife-handle on the table, as Mr. +Cupples ceased and refreshed himself with milk and soda water. “I have +not heard you go on like this for years,” he said. “I believe you must +be almost as much above yourself as I am. It is a bad case of the +unrest which men miscall delight. But much as I enjoy it, I am not +going to sit still and hear the Manderson affair dismissed as +commonplace. You may say what you like, but the idea of impersonating +Manderson in those circumstances was an extraordinarily ingenious +idea.” + +“Ingenious—certainly!” replied Mr. Cupples. “Extraordinarily so—no! In +those circumstances (your own words) it was really not strange that it +should occur to a clever man. It lay almost on the surface of the +situation. Marlowe was famous for his imitation of Manderson’s voice; +he had a talent for acting; he had a chess-player’s mind; he knew the +ways of the establishment intimately. I grant you that the idea was +brilliantly carried out; but everything favoured it. As for the +essential idea, I do not place it, as regards ingenuity, in the same +class with, for example, the idea of utilizing the force of recoil in a +discharged firearm to actuate the mechanism of ejecting and reloading. +I do, however, admit, as I did at the outset, that in respect of +details the case had unusual features. It developed a high degree of +complexity.” + +“Did it really strike you in that way?” enquired Trent with desperate +sarcasm. + +“The affair became complicated,” went on Mr. Cupples unmoved, “because +after Marlowe’s suspicions were awakened, a second subtle mind came in +to interfere with the plans of the first. That sort of duel often +happens in business and politics, but less frequently, I imagine, in +the world of crime.” + +“I should say never,” Trent replied; “and the reason is, that even the +cleverest criminals seldom run to strategic subtlety. When they do, +they don’t get caught, since clever policemen have if possible less +strategic subtlety than the ordinary clever criminal. But that rather +deep quality seems very rarely to go with the criminal make-up. Look at +Crippen. He was a very clever criminal as they go. He solved the +central problem of every clandestine murder, the disposal of the body, +with extreme neatness. But how far did he see through the game? The +criminal and the policeman are often swift and bold tacticians, but +neither of them is good for more than a quite simple plan. After all, +it’s a rare faculty in any walk of life.” + +“One disturbing reflection was left on my mind,” said Mr. Cupples, who +seemed to have had enough of abstractions for the moment, “by what we +learned today. If Marlowe had suspected nothing and walked into the +trap, he would almost certainly have been hanged. Now how often may not +a plan to throw the guilt of murder on an innocent person have been +practised successfully? There are, I imagine, numbers of cases in which +the accused, being found guilty on circumstantial evidence, have died +protesting their innocence. I shall never approve again of a +death-sentence imposed in a case decided upon such evidence.” + +“I never have done so, for my part,” said Trent. “To hang in such cases +seems to me flying in the face of the perfectly obvious and sound +principle expressed in the saying that ‘you never can tell’. I agree +with the American jurist who lays it down that we should not hang a +yellow dog for stealing jam on circumstantial evidence, not even if he +has jam all over his nose. As for attempts being made by malevolent +persons to fix crimes upon innocent men, of course it is constantly +happening. It’s a marked feature, for instance, of all systems of rule +by coercion, whether in Ireland or Russia or India or Korea; if the +police cannot get hold of a man they think dangerous by fair means, +they do it by foul. But there’s one case in the State Trials that is +peculiarly to the point, because not only was it a case of fastening a +murder on innocent people, but the plotter did in effect what Manderson +did; he gave up his own life in order to secure the death of his +victims. Probably you have heard of the Campden Case.” + +Mr. Cupples confessed his ignorance and took another potato. + +“John Masefield has written a very remarkable play about it,” said +Trent, “and if it ever comes on again in London, you should go and see +it, if you like having the fan-tods. I have often seen women weeping in +an undemonstrative manner at some slab of oleo-margarine sentiment in +the theatre. By George! what everlasting smelling-bottle hysterics they +ought to have if they saw that play decently acted! Well, the facts +were that John Perry accused his mother and brother of murdering a man, +and swore he had helped them to do it. He told a story full of +elaborate detail, and had an answer to everything, except the curious +fact that the body couldn’t be found; but the judge, who was probably +drunk at the time—this was in Restoration days—made nothing of that. +The mother and brother denied the accusation. All three prisoners were +found guilty and hanged, purely on John’s evidence. Two years after, +the man whom they were hanged for murdering came back to Campden. He +had been kidnapped by pirates and taken to sea. His disappearance had +given John his idea. The point about John is, that his including +himself in the accusation, which amounted to suicide, was the thing in +his evidence which convinced everybody of its truth. It was so obvious +that no man would do himself to death to get somebody else hanged. Now +that is exactly the answer which the prosecution would have made if +Marlowe had told the truth. Not one juryman in a million would have +believed in the Manderson plot.” + +Mr. Cupples mused upon this a few moments. “I have not your +acquaintance with that branch of history,” he said at length; “in fact, +I have none at all. But certain recollections of my own childhood +return to me in connection with this affair. We know from the things +Mabel told you what may be termed the spiritual truth underlying this +matter; the insane depth of jealous hatred which Manderson concealed. +We can understand that he was capable of such a scheme. But as a rule +it is in the task of penetrating to the spiritual truth that the +administration of justice breaks down. Sometimes that truth is +deliberately concealed, as in Manderson’s case. Sometimes, I think, it +is concealed because simple people are actually unable to express it, +and nobody else divines it. When I was a lad in Edinburgh the whole +country went mad about the Sandyford Place murder.” + +Trent nodded. “Mrs. M’Lachlan’s case. She was innocent right enough.” + +“My parents thought so,” said Mr. Cupples. “I thought so myself when I +became old enough to read and understand that excessively sordid story. +But the mystery of the affair was so dark, and the task of getting at +the truth behind the lies told by everybody concerned proved so +hopeless, that others were just as fully convinced of the innocence of +old James Fleming. All Scotland took sides on the question. It was the +subject of debates in Parliament. The press divided into two camps, and +raged with a fury I have never seen equalled. Yet it is obvious, is it +not? for I see you have read of the case—that if the spiritual truth +about that old man could have been known there would have been very +little room for doubt in the matter. If what some surmised about his +disposition was true, he was quite capable of murdering Jessie +M’Pherson and then casting the blame on the poor feeble-minded creature +who came so near to suffering the last penalty of the law.” + +“Even a commonplace old dotard like Fleming can be an unfathomable +mystery to all the rest of the human race,” said Trent, “and most of +all in a court of justice. The law certainly does not shine when it +comes to a case requiring much delicacy of perception. It goes wrong +easily enough over the Flemings of this world. As for the people with +temperaments who get mixed up in legal proceedings, they must feel as +if they were in a forest of apes, whether they win or lose. Well, I +dare say it’s good for their sort to have their noses rubbed in reality +now and again. But what would twelve red-faced realities in a jury-box +have done to Marlowe? His story would, as he says, have been a great +deal worse than no defence at all. It’s not as if there were a single +piece of evidence in support of his tale. Can’t you imagine how the +prosecution would tear it to rags? Can’t you see the judge simply +taking it in his stride when it came to the summing up? And the +jury—you’ve served on juries, I expect—in their room, snorting with +indignation over the feebleness of the lie, telling each other it was +the clearest case they ever heard of, and that they’d have thought +better of him if he hadn’t lost his nerve at the crisis, and had +cleared off with the swag as he intended. Imagine yourself on that +jury, not knowing Marlowe, and trembling with indignation at the record +unrolled before you—cupidity, murder, robbery, sudden cowardice, +shameless, impenitent, desperate lying! Why, you and I believed him to +be guilty until—” + +“I beg your pardon! I beg your pardon!” interjected Mr. Cupples, laying +down his knife and fork. “I was most careful, when we talked it all +over the other night, to say nothing indicating such a belief. _I_ was +always certain that he was innocent.” + +“You said something of the sort at Marlowe’s just now. I wondered what +on earth you could mean. Certain that he was innocent! How can you be +certain? You are generally more careful about terms than that, +Cupples.” + +“I said ‘certain’,” Mr. Cupples repeated firmly. + +Trent shrugged his shoulders. “If you really were, after reading my +manuscript and discussing the whole thing as we did,” he rejoined, +“then I can only say that you must have totally renounced all trust in +the operations of the human reason; an attitude which, while it is bad +Christianity and also infernal nonsense, is oddly enough bad Positivism +too, unless I misunderstand that system. Why, man—” + +“Let me say a word,” Mr. Cupples interposed again, folding his hands +above his plate. “I assure you I am far from abandoning reason. I am +certain he is innocent, and I always was certain of it, because of +something that I know, and knew from the very beginning. You asked me +just now to imagine myself on the jury at Marlowe’s trial. That would +be an unprofitable exercise of the mental powers, because I know that I +should be present in another capacity. I should be in the witness-box, +giving evidence for the defence. You said just now, ‘If there were a +single piece of evidence in support of his tale.’ There is, and it is +my evidence. And,” he added quietly, “it is conclusive.” He took up his +knife and fork and went contentedly on with his dinner. + +The pallor of sudden excitement had turned Trent to marble while Mr +Cupples led laboriously up to this statement. At the last word the +blood rushed to his face again, and he struck the table with an +unnatural laugh. “It can’t be!” he exploded. “It’s something you +fancied, something you dreamed after one of those debauches of soda and +milk. You can’t really mean that all the time I was working on the case +down there you knew Marlowe was innocent.” + +Mr. Cupples, busy with his last mouthful, nodded brightly. He made an +end of eating, wiped his sparse moustache, and then leaned forward over +the table. “It’s very simple,” he said. “I shot Manderson myself.” + +“I am afraid I startled you,” Trent heard the voice of Mr. Cupples say. +He forced himself out of his stupefaction like a diver striking upward +for the surface, and with a rigid movement raised his glass. But half +of the wine splashed upon the cloth, and he put it carefully down again +untasted. He drew a deep breath, which was exhaled in a laugh wholly +without merriment. “Go on,” he said. + +“It was not murder,” began Mr. Cupples, slowly measuring off inches +with a fork on the edge of the table. “I will tell you the whole story. +On that Sunday night I was taking my before-bedtime constitutional, +having set out from the hotel about a quarter past ten. I went along +the field path that runs behind White Gables, cutting off the great +curve of the road, and came out on the road nearly opposite that gate +that is just by the eighth hole on the golf-course. Then I turned in +there, meaning to walk along the turf to the edge of the cliff, and go +back that way. I had only gone a few steps when I heard the car coming, +and then I heard it stop near the gate. I saw Manderson at once. Do you +remember my telling you I had seen him once alive after our quarrel in +front of the hotel? Well, this was the time. You asked me if I had, and +I did not care to tell a falsehood.” + +A slight groan came from Trent. He drank a little wine, and said +stonily, “Go on, please.” + +“It was, as you know,” pursued Mr. Cupples, “a moonlight night, but I +was in shadow under the trees by the stone wall, and anyhow they could +not suppose there was any one near them. I heard all that passed just +as Marlowe has narrated it to us, and I saw the car go off towards +Bishopsbridge. I did not see Manderson’s face as it went, because his +back was to me, but he shook the back of his left hand at the car with +extraordinary violence, greatly to my amazement. Then I waited for him +to go back to White Gables, as I did not want to meet him again. But he +did not go. He opened the gate through which I had just passed, and he +stood there on the turf of the green, quite still. His head was bent, +his arms hung at his sides, and he looked somehow—rigid. For a few +moments he remained in this tense attitude, then all of a sudden his +right arm moved swiftly, and his hand was at the pocket of his +overcoat. I saw his face raised in the moonlight, the teeth bared, and +the eyes glittering, and all at once I knew that the man was not sane. +Almost as quickly as that flashed across my mind, something else +flashed in the moonlight. He held the pistol before him, pointing at +his breast. + +“Now I may say here I shall always be doubtful whether Manderson really +meant to kill himself then. Marlowe naturally thinks so, knowing +nothing of my intervention. But I think it quite likely he only meant +to wound himself, and to charge Marlowe with attempted murder and +robbery. + +“At that moment, however, I assumed it was suicide. Before I knew what +I was doing I had leapt out of the shadows and seized his arm. He shook +me off with a furious snarling noise, giving me a terrific blow in the +chest, and presenting the revolver at my head. But I seized his wrists +before he could fire, and clung with all my strength—you remember how +bruised and scratched they were. I knew I was fighting for my own life +now, for murder was in his eyes. We struggled like two beasts, without +an articulate word, I holding his pistol-hand down and keeping a grip +on the other. I never dreamed that I had the strength for such an +encounter. Then, with a perfectly instinctive movement—I never knew I +meant to do it—I flung away his free hand and clutched like lightning +at the weapon, tearing it from his fingers. By a miracle it did not go +off. I darted back a few steps, he sprang at my throat like a wild cat, +and I fired blindly in his face. He would have been about a yard away, +I suppose. His knees gave way instantly, and he fell in a heap on the +turf. + +“I flung the pistol down and bent over him. The heart’s action ceased +under my hand. I knelt there staring, struck motionless; and I don’t +know how long it was before I heard the noise of the car returning. + +“Trent, all the time that Marlowe paced that green, with the moonlight +on his white and working face, I was within a few yards of him, +crouching in the shadow of the furze by the ninth tee. I dared not show +myself. I was thinking. My public quarrel with Manderson the same +morning was, I suspected, the talk of the hotel. I assure you that +every horrible possibility of the situation for me had rushed across my +mind the moment I saw Manderson fall. I became cunning. I knew what I +must do. I must get back to the hotel as fast as I could, get in +somehow unperceived, and play a part to save myself. I must never tell +a word to any one. Of course I was assuming that Marlowe would tell +every one how he had found the body. I knew he would suppose it was +suicide; I thought every one would suppose so. + +“When Marlowe began at last to lift the body, I stole away down the +wall and got out into the road by the clubhouse, where he could not see +me. I felt perfectly cool and collected. I crossed the road, climbed +the fence, and ran across the meadow to pick up the field path I had +come by that runs to the hotel behind White Gables. I got back to the +hotel very much out of breath.” + +“Out of breath,” repeated Trent mechanically, still staring at his +companion as if hypnotized. + +“I had had a sharp run,” Mr. Cupples reminded him. “Well, approaching +the hotel from the back I could see into the writing-room through the +open window. There was nobody in there, so I climbed over the sill, +walked to the bell and rang it, and then sat down to write a letter I +had meant to write the next day. I saw by the clock that it was a +little past eleven. When the waiter answered the bell I asked for a +glass of milk and a postage stamp. Soon afterwards I went up to bed. +But I could not sleep.” + +Mr. Cupples, having nothing more to say, ceased speaking. He looked in +mild surprise at Trent, who now sat silent, supporting his bent head in +his hands. + +“He could not sleep,” murmured Trent at last in a hollow tone. “A +frequent result of over-exertion during the day. Nothing to be alarmed +about.” He was silent again, then looked up with a pale face. “Cupples, +I am cured. I will never touch a crime-mystery again. The Manderson +affair shall be Philip Trent’s last case. His high-blown pride at +length breaks under him.” Trent’s smile suddenly returned. “I could +have borne everything but that last revelation of the impotence of +human reason. Cupples, I have absolutely nothing left to say, except +this: you have beaten me. I drink your health in a spirit of +self-abasement. And _you_ shall pay for the dinner.” + +THE END. + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TRENT’S LAST CASE *** + +***** This file should be named 2568-0.txt or 2568-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/5/6/2568/ + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the +United States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +concept and trademark. 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(Edmund Clerihew) Bentley</title> +<link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> +<style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: 90%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +p.center {text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.right {text-align: right; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +div.fig { display:block; + margin:0 auto; + text-align:center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em;} + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold;'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Trent’s Last Case, by E.C. Bentley</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Trent’s Last Case<br /> + The Woman in Black</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: E.C. (Edmund Clerihew) Bentley</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Release Date: April 28, 2000 [eBook #2568]<br /> +[Most recently updated: February 8, 2021]</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Stuart E. Thiel and David Widger</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em;margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TRENT’S LAST CASE ***</div> + +<div class="fig" style="width:55%;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="[Illustration]" /> +</div> + +<h1>Trent’s Last Case</h1> + +<h4>THE WOMAN IN BLACK</h4> + +<h2>By E.C. Bentley</h2> + +<hr /> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p class="center"> +To<br /> +GILBERT KEITH CHESTERTON. +</p> + +<p> +My dear Gilbert, +</p> + +<p> +I dedicate this story to you. First: because the only really noble motive I had +in writing it was the hope that you would enjoy it. Second: because I owe you a +book in return for “The Man Who Was Thursday.” Third: because I +said I would when I unfolded the plan of it to you, surrounded by Frenchmen, +two years ago. Fourth: because I remember the past. +</p> + +<p> +I have been thinking again to-day of those astonishing times when neither of us +ever looked at a newspaper; when we were purely happy in the boundless +consumption of paper, pencils, tea, and our elders’ patience; when we +embraced the most severe literature, and ourselves produced such light reading +as was necessary; when (in the words of Canada’s poet) we studied the +works of nature, also those little frogs; when, in short, we were extremely +young. For the sake of that age I offer you this book. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +Yours always,<br /> +E. C. BENTLEY +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap01">I. Bad News</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap02">II. Knocking the Town Endways</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap03">III. Breakfast</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap04">IV. Handcuffs in the Air</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap05">V. Poking About</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap06">VI. Mr. Bunner on the Case</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap07">VII. The Lady in Black</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap08">VIII. The Inquest</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap09">IX. A Hot Scent</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap10">X. The Wife of Dives</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap11">XI. Hitherto Unpublished</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap12">XII. Evil Days</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap13">XIII. Eruption</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap14">XIV. Writing a Letter</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap15">XV. Double Cunning</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap16">XVI. The Last Straw</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<img src="images/01.jpg" width="414" height="600" alt="[Illustration]" /> +</div> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap01"></a>Chapter I.<br /> Bad News</h2> + +<p> +Between what matters and what seems to matter, how should the world we know +judge wisely? +</p> + +<p> +When the scheming, indomitable brain of Sigsbee Manderson was scattered by a +shot from an unknown hand, that world lost nothing worth a single tear; it +gained something memorable in a harsh reminder of the vanity of such wealth as +this dead man had piled up—without making one loyal friend to mourn him, +without doing an act that could help his memory to the least honour. But when +the news of his end came, it seemed to those living in the great vortices of +business as if the earth too shuddered under a blow. +</p> + +<p> +In all the lurid commercial history of his country there had been no figure +that had so imposed itself upon the mind of the trading world. He had a niche +apart in its temples. Financial giants, strong to direct and augment the forces +of capital, and taking an approved toll in millions for their labour, had +existed before; but in the case of Manderson there had been this singularity, +that a pale halo of piratical romance, a thing especially dear to the hearts of +his countrymen, had remained incongruously about his head through the years +when he stood in every eye as the unquestioned guardian of stability, the +stamper-out of manipulated crises, the foe of the raiding chieftains that +infest the borders of Wall Street. +</p> + +<p> +The fortune left by his grandfather, who had been one of those chieftains on +the smaller scale of his day, had descended to him with accretion through his +father, who during a long life had quietly continued to lend money and never +had margined a stock. Manderson, who had at no time known what it was to be +without large sums to his hand, should have been altogether of that newer +American plutocracy which is steadied by the tradition and habit of great +wealth. But it was not so. While his nurture and education had taught him +European ideas of a rich man’s proper external circumstance; while they +had rooted in him an instinct for quiet magnificence, the larger costliness +which does not shriek of itself with a thousand tongues; there had been handed +on to him nevertheless much of the Forty-Niner and financial buccaneer, his +forbear. During that first period of his business career which had been called +his early bad manner, he had been little more than a gambler of genius, his +hand against every man’s—an infant prodigy—who brought to the +enthralling pursuit of speculation a brain better endowed than any opposed to +it. At St Helena it was laid down that war is <i>une belle occupation;</i> and +so the young Manderson had found the multitudinous and complicated dog-fight of +the Stock Exchange of New York. +</p> + +<p> +Then came his change. At his father’s death, when Manderson was thirty +years old, some new revelation of the power and the glory of the god he served +seemed to have come upon him. With the sudden, elastic adaptability of his +nation he turned to steady labour in his father’s banking business, +closing his ears to the sound of the battles of the Street. In a few years he +came to control all the activity of the great firm whose unimpeached +conservatism, safety, and financial weight lifted it like a cliff above the +angry sea of the markets. All mistrust founded on the performances of his youth +had vanished. He was quite plainly a different man. How the change came about +none could with authority say, but there was a story of certain last words +spoken by his father, whom alone he had respected and perhaps loved. +</p> + +<p> +He began to tower above the financial situation. Soon his name was current in +the bourses of the world. One who spoke the name of Manderson called up a +vision of all that was broad-based and firm in the vast wealth of the United +States. He planned great combinations of capital, drew together and centralized +industries of continental scope, financed with unerring judgement the large +designs of state or of private enterprise. Many a time when he “took +hold” to smash a strike, or to federate the ownership of some great field +of labour, he sent ruin upon a multitude of tiny homes; and if miners or +steelworkers or cattlemen defied him and invoked disorder, he could be more +lawless and ruthless than they. But this was done in the pursuit of legitimate +business ends. Tens of thousands of the poor might curse his name, but the +financier and the speculator execrated him no more. He stretched a hand to +protect or to manipulate the power of wealth in every corner of the country. +Forcible, cold, and unerring, in all he did he ministered to the national lust +for magnitude; and a grateful country surnamed him the Colossus. +</p> + +<p> +But there was an aspect of Manderson in this later period that lay long unknown +and unsuspected save by a few, his secretaries and lieutenants and certain of +the associates of his bygone hurling time. This little circle knew that +Manderson, the pillar of sound business and stability in the markets, had his +hours of nostalgia for the lively times when the Street had trembled at his +name. It was, said one of them, as if Blackbeard had settled down as a decent +merchant in Bristol on the spoils of the Main. Now and then the pirate would +glare suddenly out, the knife in his teeth and the sulphur matches sputtering +in his hatband. During such spasms of reversion to type a score of tempestuous +raids upon the market had been planned on paper in the inner room of the +offices of Manderson, Colefax and Company. But they were never carried out. +Blackbeard would quell the mutiny of his old self within him and go soberly +down to his counting-house—humming a stave or two of “Spanish +Ladies”, perhaps, under his breath. Manderson would allow himself the +harmless satisfaction, as soon as the time for action had gone by, of pointing +out to some Rupert of the markets a coup worth a million to the depredator +might have been made. “Seems to me,” he would say almost wistfully, +“the Street is getting to be a mighty dull place since I quit.” By +slow degrees this amiable weakness of the Colossus became known to the business +world, which exulted greatly in the knowledge. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +At the news of his death panic went through the markets like a hurricane; for +it came at a luckless time. Prices tottered and crashed like towers in an +earthquake. For two days Wall Street was a clamorous inferno of pale despair. +All over the United States, wherever speculation had its devotees, went a waft +of ruin, a plague of suicide. In Europe also not a few took with their own +hands lives that had become pitiably linked to the destiny of a financier whom +most of them had never seen. In Paris a well-known banker walked quietly out of +the Bourse and fell dead upon the broad steps among the raving crowd of Jews, a +phial crushed in his hand. In Frankfort one leapt from the Cathedral top, +leaving a redder stain where he struck the red tower. Men stabbed and shot and +strangled themselves, drank death or breathed it as the air, because in a +lonely corner of England the life had departed from one cold heart vowed to the +service of greed. +</p> + +<p> +The blow could not have fallen at a more disastrous moment. It came when Wall +Street was in a condition of suppressed “scare”—suppressed, +because for a week past the great interests known to act with or to be actually +controlled by the Colossus had been desperately combating the effects of the +sudden arrest of Lucas Hahn, and the exposure of his plundering of the Hahn +banks. This bombshell, in its turn, had fallen at a time when the market had +been “boosted” beyond its real strength. In the language of the +place, a slump was due. Reports from the corn-lands had not been good, and +there had been two or three railway statements which had been expected to be +much better than they were. But at whatever point in the vast area of +speculation the shudder of the threatened break had been felt, “the +Manderson crowd” had stepped in and held the market up. All through the +week the speculator’s mind, as shallow as it is quick-witted, as +sentimental as greedy, had seen in this the hand of the giant stretched out in +protection from afar. Manderson, said the newspapers in chorus, was in hourly +communication with his lieutenants in the Street. One journal was able to give +in round figures the sum spent on cabling between New York and Marlstone in the +past twenty-four hours; it told how a small staff of expert operators had been +sent down by the Post Office authorities to Marlstone to deal with the flood of +messages. Another revealed that Manderson, on the first news of the Hahn crash, +had arranged to abandon his holiday and return home by the <i>Lusitania;</i> +but that he soon had the situation so well in hand that he had determined to +remain where he was. +</p> + +<p> +All this was falsehood, more or less consciously elaborated by the +“finance editors”, consciously initiated and encouraged by the +shrewd business men of the Manderson group, who knew that nothing could better +help their plans than this illusion of hero-worship—knew also that no +word had come from Manderson in answer to their messages, and that Howard B. +Jeffrey, of Steel and Iron fame, was the true organizer of victory. So they +fought down apprehension through four feverish days, and minds grew calmer. On +Saturday, though the ground beneath the feet of Mr. Jeffrey yet rumbled now and +then with Etna-mutterings of disquiet, he deemed his task almost done. The +market was firm, and slowly advancing. Wall Street turned to its sleep of +Sunday, worn out but thankfully at peace. +</p> + +<p> +In the first trading hour of Monday a hideous rumour flew round the sixty acres +of the financial district. It came into being as the lightning comes—a +blink that seems to begin nowhere; though it is to be suspected that it was +first whispered over the telephone—together with an urgent selling order +by some employee in the cable service. A sharp spasm convulsed the convalescent +share-list. In five minutes the dull noise of the kerbstone market in Broad +Street had leapt to a high note of frantic interrogation. From within the hive +of the Exchange itself could be heard a droning hubbub of fear, and men rushed +hatless in and out. Was it true? asked every man; and every man replied, with +trembling lips, that it was a lie put out by some unscrupulous +“short” interest seeking to cover itself. In another quarter of an +hour news came of a sudden and ruinous collapse of “Yankees” in +London at the close of the Stock Exchange day. It was enough. New York had +still four hours’ trading in front of her. The strategy of pointing to +Manderson as the saviour and warden of the markets had recoiled upon its +authors with annihilating force, and Jeffrey, his ear at his private telephone, +listened to the tale of disaster with a set jaw. The new Napoleon had lost his +Marengo. He saw the whole financial landscape sliding and falling into chaos +before him. In half an hour the news of the finding of Manderson’s body, +with the inevitable rumour that it was suicide, was printing in a dozen +newspaper offices; but before a copy reached Wall Street the tornado of the +panic was in full fury, and Howard B. Jeffrey and his collaborators were +whirled away like leaves before its breath. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +All this sprang out of nothing. +</p> + +<p> +Nothing in the texture of the general life had changed. The corn had not ceased +to ripen in the sun. The rivers bore their barges and gave power to a myriad +engines. The flocks fattened on the pastures, the herds were unnumbered. Men +laboured everywhere in the various servitudes to which they were born, and +chafed not more than usual in their bonds. Bellona tossed and murmured as ever, +yet still slept her uneasy sleep. To all mankind save a million or two of +half-crazed gamblers, blind to all reality, the death of Manderson meant +nothing; the life and work of the world went on. Weeks before he died strong +hands had been in control of every wire in the huge network of commerce and +industry that he had supervised. Before his corpse was buried his countrymen +had made a strange discovery—that the existence of the potent engine of +monopoly that went by the name of Sigsbee Manderson had not been a condition of +even material prosperity. The panic blew itself out in two days, the pieces +were picked up, the bankrupts withdrew out of sight; the market +“recovered a normal tone”. +</p> + +<p> +While the brief delirium was yet subsiding there broke out a domestic scandal +in England that suddenly fixed the attention of two continents. Next morning +the Chicago Limited was wrecked, and the same day a notable politician was shot +down in cold blood by his wife’s brother in the streets of New Orleans. +Within a week of its rising, “the Manderson story”, to the trained +sense of editors throughout the Union, was “cold”. The tide of +American visitors pouring through Europe made eddies round the memorial or +statue of many a man who had died in poverty; and never thought of their most +famous plutocrat. Like the poet who died in Rome, so young and poor, a hundred +years ago, he was buried far away from his own land; but for all the men and +women of Manderson’s people who flock round the tomb of Keats in the +cemetery under the Monte Testaccio, there is not one, nor ever will be, to +stand in reverence by the rich man’s grave beside the little church of +Marlstone. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap02"></a>Chapter II.<br />Knocking the Town Endways</h2> + +<p> +In the only comfortably furnished room in the offices of the <i>Record,</i> the +telephone on Sir James Molloy’s table buzzed. Sir James made a motion +with his pen, and Mr. Silver, his secretary, left his work and came over to the +instrument. +</p> + +<p> +“Who is that?” he said. “Who?... I can’t hear you.... +Oh, it’s Mr. Bunner, is it?... Yes, but... I know, but he’s +fearfully busy this afternoon. Can’t you... Oh, really? Well, in that +case—just hold on, will you?” +</p> + +<p> +He placed the receiver before Sir James. “It’s Calvin Bunner, +Sigsbee Manderson’s right-hand man,” he said concisely. “He +insists on speaking to you personally. Says it is the gravest piece of news. He +is talking from the house down by Bishopsbridge, so it will be necessary to +speak clearly.” +</p> + +<p> +Sir James looked at the telephone, not affectionately, and took up the +receiver. “Well?” he said in his strong voice, and listened. +“Yes,” he said. The next moment Mr. Silver, eagerly watching him, +saw a look of amazement and horror. “Good God!” murmured Sir James. +Clutching the instrument, he slowly rose to his feet, still bending ear +intently. At intervals he repeated “Yes.” Presently, as he +listened, he glanced at the clock, and spoke quickly to Mr. Silver over the top +of the transmitter. “Go and hunt up Figgis and young Williams. +Hurry.” Mr. Silver darted from the room. +</p> + +<p> +The great journalist was a tall, strong, clever Irishman of fifty, swart and +black-moustached, a man of untiring business energy, well known in the world, +which he understood very thoroughly, and played upon with the half-cynical +competence of his race. Yet was he without a touch of the charlatan: he made no +mysteries, and no pretences of knowledge, and he saw instantly through these in +others. In his handsome, well-bred, well-dressed appearance there was something +a little sinister when anger or intense occupation put its imprint about his +eyes and brow; but when his generous nature was under no restraint he was the +most cordial of men. He was managing director of the company which owned that +most powerful morning paper, the <i>Record,</i> and also that most +indispensable evening paper, the <i>Sun,</i> which had its offices on the other +side of the street. He was, moreover, editor-in-chief of the <i>Record,</i> to +which he had in the course of years attached the most variously capable +personnel in the country. It was a maxim of his that where you could not get +gifts, you must do the best you could with solid merit; and he employed a great +deal of both. He was respected by his staff as few are respected in a +profession not favourable to the growth of the sentiment of reverence. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re sure that’s all?” asked Sir James, after a few +minutes of earnest listening and questioning. “And how long has this been +known?... Yes, of course, the police are; but the servants? Surely it’s +all over the place down there by now.... Well, we’ll have a try.... Look +here, Bunner, I’m infinitely obliged to you about this. I owe you a good +turn. You know I mean what I say. Come and see me the first day you get to +town.... All right, that’s understood. Now I must act on your news. +Goodbye.” +</p> + +<p> +Sir James hung up the receiver, and seized a railway timetable from the rack +before him. After a rapid consultation of this oracle, he flung it down with a +forcible word as Mr. Silver hurried into the room, followed by a hard-featured +man with spectacles, and a youth with an alert eye. +</p> + +<p> +“I want you to jot down some facts, Figgis,” said Sir James, +banishing all signs of agitation and speaking with a rapid calmness. +“When you have them, put them into shape just as quick as you can for a +special edition of the <i>Sun</i>.” The hard-featured man nodded and +glanced at the clock, which pointed to a few minutes past three; he pulled out +a notebook and drew a chair up to the big writing-table. “Silver,” +Sir James went on, “go and tell Jones to wire our local correspondent +very urgently, to drop everything and get down to Marlstone at once. He is not +to say why in the telegram. There must not be an unnecessary word about this +news until the <i>Sun</i> is on the streets with it—you all understand. +Williams, cut across the way and tell Mr. Anthony to hold himself ready for a +two-column opening that will knock the town endways. Just tell him that he must +take all measures and precautions for a scoop. Say that Figgis will be over in +five minutes with the facts, and that he had better let him write up the story +in his private room. As you go, ask Miss Morgan to see me here at once, and +tell the telephone people to see if they can get Mr. Trent on the wire for me. +After seeing Mr. Anthony, return here and stand by.” The alert-eyed young +man vanished like a spirit. +</p> + +<p> +Sir James turned instantly to Mr. Figgis, whose pencil was poised over the +paper. “Sigsbee Manderson has been murdered,” he began quickly and +clearly, pacing the floor with his hands behind him. Mr. Figgis scratched down +a line of shorthand with as much emotion as if he had been told that the day +was fine—the pose of his craft. “He and his wife and two +secretaries have been for the past fortnight at the house called White Gables, +at Marlstone, near Bishopsbridge. He bought it four years ago. He and Mrs. +Manderson have since spent a part of each summer there. Last night he went to +bed about half-past eleven, just as usual. No one knows when he got up and left +the house. He was not missed until this morning. About ten o’clock his +body was found by a gardener. It was lying by a shed in the grounds. He was +shot in the head, through the left eye. Death must have been instantaneous. The +body was not robbed, but there were marks on the wrists which pointed to a +struggle having taken place. Dr Stock, of Marlstone, was at once sent for, and +will conduct the post-mortem examination. The police from Bishopsbridge, who +were soon on the spot, are reticent, but it is believed that they are quite +without a clue to the identity of the murderer. There you are, Figgis. Mr. +Anthony is expecting you. Now I must telephone him and arrange things.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Figgis looked up. “One of the ablest detectives at Scotland +Yard,” he suggested, “has been put in charge of the case. +It’s a safe statement.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you like,” said Sir James. +</p> + +<p> +“And Mrs. Manderson? Was she there?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. What about her?” +</p> + +<p> +“Prostrated by the shock,” hinted the reporter, “and sees +nobody. Human interest.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wouldn’t put that in, Mr. Figgis,” said a quiet voice. It +belonged to Miss Morgan, a pale, graceful woman, who had silently made her +appearance while the dictation was going on. “I have seen Mrs. +Manderson,” she proceeded, turning to Sir James. “She looks quite +healthy and intelligent. Has her husband been murdered? I don’t think the +shock would prostrate her. She is more likely to be doing all she can to help +the police.” +</p> + +<p> +“Something in your own style, then, Miss Morgan,” he said with a +momentary smile. Her imperturbable efficiency was an office proverb. “Cut +it out, Figgis. Off you go! Now, madam, I expect you know what I want.” +</p> + +<p> +“Our Manderson biography happens to be well up to date,” replied +Miss Morgan, drooping her dark eyelashes as she considered the position. +“I was looking over it only a few months ago. It is practically ready for +tomorrow’s paper. I should think the <i>Sun</i> had better use the sketch +of his life they had about two years ago, when he went to Berlin and settled +the potash difficulty. I remember it was a very good sketch, and they +won’t be able to carry much more than that. As for our paper, of course +we have a great quantity of cuttings, mostly rubbish. The sub-editors shall +have them as soon as they come in. Then we have two very good portraits that +are our own property; the best is a drawing Mr. Trent made when they were both +on the same ship somewhere. It is better than any of the photographs; but you +say the public prefers a bad photograph to a good drawing. I will send them +down to you at once, and you can choose. As far as I can see, the Record is +well ahead of the situation, except that you will not be able to get a special +man down there in time to be of any use for tomorrow’s paper.” +</p> + +<p> +Sir James sighed deeply. “What are we good for, anyhow?” he +enquired dejectedly of Mr. Silver, who had returned to his desk. “She +even knows Bradshaw by heart.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Morgan adjusted her cuffs with an air of patience. “Is there +anything else?” she asked, as the telephone bell rang. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, one thing,” replied Sir James, as he took up the receiver. +“I want you to make a bad mistake some time, Miss Morgan—an +everlasting bloomer—just to put us in countenance.” She permitted +herself the fraction of what would have been a charming smile as she went out. +</p> + +<p> +“Anthony?” asked Sir James, and was at once deep in consultation +with the editor on the other side of the road. He seldom entered the <i>Sun</i> +building in person; the atmosphere of an evening paper, he would say, was all +very well if you liked that kind of thing. Mr. Anthony, the Murat of Fleet +Street, who delighted in riding the whirlwind and fighting a tumultuous battle +against time, would say the same of a morning paper. +</p> + +<p> +It was some five minutes later that a uniformed boy came in to say that Mr. +Trent was on the wire. Sir James abruptly closed his talk with Mr. Anthony. +</p> + +<p> +“They can put him through at once,” he said to the boy. +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo!” he cried into the telephone after a few moments. +</p> + +<p> +A voice in the instrument replied, “Hullo be blowed! What do you +want?” +</p> + +<p> +“This is Molloy,” said Sir James. +</p> + +<p> +“I know it is,” the voice said. “This is Trent. He is in the +middle of painting a picture, and he has been interrupted at a critical moment. +Well, I hope it’s something important, that’s all!” +</p> + +<p> +“Trent,” said Sir James impressively, “it is important. I +want you to do some work for us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Some play, you mean,” replied the voice. “Believe me, I +don’t want a holiday. The working fit is very strong. I am doing some +really decent things. Why can’t you leave a man alone?” +</p> + +<p> +“Something very serious has happened.” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sigsbee Manderson has been murdered—shot through the +brain—and they don’t know who has done it. They found the body this +morning. It happened at his place near Bishopsbridge.” Sir James +proceeded to tell his hearer, briefly and clearly, the facts that he had +communicated to Mr. Figgis. “What do you think of it?” he ended. A +considering grunt was the only answer. “Come now,” urged Sir James. +</p> <p> +“Tempter!” +</p> + +<p> +“You will go down?” +</p> + +<p> +There was a brief pause. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you there?” said Sir James. +</p> + +<p> +“Look here, Molloy,” the voice broke out querulously, “the +thing may be a case for me, or it may not. We can’t possibly tell. It may +be a mystery; it may be as simple as bread and cheese. The body not being +robbed looks interesting, but he may have been outed by some wretched tramp +whom he found sleeping in the grounds and tried to kick out. It’s the +sort of thing he would do. Such a murderer might easily have sense enough to +know that to leave the money and valuables was the safest thing. I tell you +frankly, I wouldn’t have a hand in hanging a poor devil who had let +daylight into a man like Sig Manderson as a measure of social protest.” +</p> + +<p> +Sir James smiled at the telephone—a smile of success. “Come, my +boy, you’re getting feeble. Admit you want to go and have a look at the +case. You know you do. If it’s anything you don’t want to handle, +you’re free to drop it. By the by, where are you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am blown along a wandering wind,” replied the voice +irresolutely, “and hollow, hollow, hollow all delight.” +</p> + +<p> +“Can you get here within an hour?” persisted Sir James. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose I can,” the voice grumbled. “How much time have +I?” +</p> + +<p> +“Good man! Well, there’s time enough—that’s just the +worst of it. I’ve got to depend on our local correspondent for tonight. +The only good train of the day went half an hour ago. The next is a slow one, +leaving Paddington at midnight. You could have the Buster, if you +like”—Sir James referred to a very fast motor car of +his—“but you wouldn’t get down in time to do anything +tonight.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I’d miss my sleep. No, thanks. The train for me. I am quite +fond of railway travelling, you know; I have a gift for it. I am the stoker and +the stoked. I am the song the porter sings.” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s that you say?” +</p> + +<p> +“It doesn’t matter,” said the voice sadly. “I +say,” it continued, “will your people look out a hotel near the +scene of action, and telegraph for a room?” +</p> + +<p> +“At once,” said Sir James. “Come here as soon as you +can.” +</p> + +<p> +He replaced the receiver. As he turned to his papers again a shrill outcry +burst forth in the street below. He walked to the open window. A band of +excited boys was rushing down the steps of the <i>Sun</i> building and up the +narrow thoroughfare toward Fleet Street. Each carried a bundle of newspapers +and a large broadsheet with the simple legend: +</p> + +<p class="center"> +<b>MURDER OF SIGSBEE MANDERSON</b> +</p> + +<p> +Sir James smiled and rattled the money in his pockets cheerfully. “It +makes a good bill,” he observed to Mr. Silver, who stood at his elbow. +</p> + +<p> +Such was Manderson’s epitaph. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap03"></a>Chapter III.<br />Breakfast</h2> + +<p> +At about eight o’clock in the morning of the following day Mr. Nathaniel +Burton Cupples stood on the veranda of the hotel at Marlstone. He was thinking +about breakfast. In his case the colloquialism must be taken literally: he +really was thinking about breakfast, as he thought about every conscious act of +his life when time allowed deliberation. He reflected that on the preceding day +the excitement and activity following upon the discovery of the dead man had +disorganized his appetite, and led to his taking considerably less nourishment +than usual. This morning he was very hungry, having already been up and about +for an hour; and he decided to allow himself a third piece of toast and an +additional egg; the rest as usual. The remaining deficit must be made up at +luncheon, but that could be gone into later. +</p> + +<p> +So much being determined, Mr. Cupples applied himself to the enjoyment of the +view for a few minutes before ordering his meal. With a connoisseur’s eye +he explored the beauty of the rugged coast, where a great pierced rock rose +from a glassy sea, and the ordered loveliness of the vast tilted levels of +pasture and tillage and woodland that sloped gently up from the cliffs toward +the distant moor. Mr. Cupples delighted in landscape. +</p> + +<p> +He was a man of middle height and spare figure, nearly sixty years old, by +constitution rather delicate in health, but wiry and active for his age. A +sparse and straggling beard and moustache did not conceal a thin but kindly +mouth; his eyes were keen and pleasant; his sharp nose and narrow jaw gave him +very much of a clerical air, and this impression was helped by his commonplace +dark clothes and soft black hat. The whole effect of him, indeed, was priestly. +He was a man of unusually conscientious, industrious, and orderly mind, with +little imagination. His father’s household had been used to recruit its +domestic establishment by means of advertisements in which it was truthfully +described as a serious family. From that fortress of gloom he had escaped with +two saintly gifts somehow unspoiled: an inexhaustible kindness of heart, and a +capacity for innocent gaiety which owed nothing to humour. In an earlier day +and with a clerical training he might have risen to the scarlet hat. He was, in +fact, a highly regarded member of the London Positivist Society, a retired +banker, a widower without children. His austere but not unhappy life was spent +largely among books and in museums; his profound and patiently accumulated +knowledge of a number of curiously disconnected subjects which had stirred his +interest at different times had given him a place in the quiet, half-lit world +of professors and curators and devotees of research; at their amiable, +unconvivial dinner parties he was most himself. His favourite author was +Montaigne. +</p> + +<p> +Just as Mr. Cupples was finishing his meal at a little table on the veranda, a +big motor car turned into the drive before the hotel. “Who is +this?” he enquired of the waiter. “Id is der manager,” said +the young man listlessly. “He have been to meed a gendleman by der +train.” +</p> + +<p> +The car drew up and the porter hurried from the entrance. Mr. Cupples uttered +an exclamation of pleasure as a long, loosely built man, much younger than +himself, stepped from the car and mounted the veranda, flinging his hat on a +chair. His high-boned, quixotic face wore a pleasant smile; his rough tweed +clothes, his hair and short moustache were tolerably untidy. +</p> + +<p> +“Cupples, by all that’s miraculous!” cried the man, pouncing +upon Mr. Cupples before he could rise, and seizing his outstretched hand in a +hard grip. “My luck is serving me today,” the newcomer went on +spasmodically. “This is the second slice within an hour. How are you, my +best of friends? And why are you here? Why sit’st thou by that ruined +breakfast? Dost thou its former pride recall, or ponder how it passed away? I +<i>am</i> glad to see you!” +</p> + +<p> +“I was half expecting you, Trent,” Mr. Cupples replied, his face +wreathed in smiles. “You are looking splendid, my dear fellow. I will +tell you all about it. But you cannot have had your own breakfast yet. Will you +have it at my table here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Rather!” said the man. “An enormous great breakfast, +too—with refined conversation and tears of recognition never dry. Will +you get young Siegfried to lay a place for me while I go and wash? I +shan’t be three minutes.” He disappeared into the hotel, and Mr. +Cupples, after a moment’s thought, went to the telephone in the +porter’s office. +</p> + +<p> +He returned to find his friend already seated, pouring out tea, and showing an +unaffected interest in the choice of food. “I expect this to be a hard +day for me,” he said, with the curious jerky utterance which seemed to be +his habit. “I shan’t eat again till the evening, very likely. You +guess why I’m here, don’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Undoubtedly,” said Mr. Cupples. “You have come down to write +about the murder.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is rather a colourless way of stating it,” the man called +Trent replied, as he dissected a sole. “I should prefer to put it that I +have come down in the character of avenger of blood, to hunt down the guilty, +and vindicate the honour of society. That is my line of business. Families +waited on at their private residences. I say, Cupples, I have made a good +beginning already. Wait a bit, and I’ll tell you.” There was a +silence, during which the newcomer ate swiftly and abstractedly, while Mr. +Cupples looked on happily. +</p> + +<p> +“Your manager here,” said the tall man at last, “is a fellow +of remarkable judgement. He is an admirer of mine. He knows more about my best +cases than I do myself. The <i>Record</i> wired last night to say I was coming, +and when I got out of the train at seven o’clock this morning, there he +was waiting for me with a motor car the size of a haystack. He is beside +himself with joy at having me here. It is fame.” He drank a cup of tea +and continued: “Almost his first words were to ask me if I would like to +see the body of the murdered man—if so, he thought he could manage it for +me. He is as keen as a razor. The body lies in Dr Stock’s surgery, you +know, down in the village, exactly as it was when found. It’s to be +post-mortem’d this morning, by the way, so I was only just in time. Well, +he ran me down here to the doctor’s, giving me full particulars about the +case all the way. I was pretty well <i>au fait</i> by the time we arrived. I +suppose the manager of a place like this has some sort of a pull with the +doctor. Anyhow, he made no difficulties, nor did the constable on duty, though +he was careful to insist on my not giving him away in the paper.” +</p> + +<p> +“I saw the body before it was removed,” remarked Mr. Cupples. +“I should not have said there was anything remarkable about it, except +that the shot in the eye had scarcely disfigured the face at all, and caused +scarcely any effusion of blood, apparently. The wrists were scratched and +bruised. I expect that, with your trained faculties, you were able to remark +other details of a suggestive nature.” +</p> + +<p> +“Other details, certainly; but I don’t know that they suggest +anything. They are merely odd. Take the wrists, for instance. How was it you +could see bruises and scratches on them? I dare say you saw something of +Manderson down here before the murder.” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly,” Mr. Cupples said. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, did you ever see his wrists?” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Cupples reflected. “No. Now you raise the point, I am reminded that +when I interviewed Manderson here he was wearing stiff cuffs, coming well down +over his hands.” +</p> + +<p> +“He always did,” said Trent. “My friend the manager says so. +I pointed out to him the fact you didn’t observe, that there were no +cuffs visible, and that they had, indeed, been dragged up inside the +coat-sleeves, as yours would be if you hurried into a coat without pulling your +cuffs down. That was why you saw his wrists.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I call that suggestive,” observed Mr. Cupples mildly. +“You might infer, perhaps, that when he got up he hurried over his +dressing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but did he? The manager said just what you say. ‘He was +always a bit of a swell in his dress,’ he told me, and he drew the +inference that when Manderson got up in that mysterious way, before the house +was stirring, and went out into the grounds, he was in a great hurry. +‘Look at his shoes,’ he said to me: ‘Mr. Manderson was always +specially neat about his footwear. But those shoe-laces were tied in a +hurry.’ I agreed. ‘And he left his false teeth in his room,’ +said the manager. ‘Doesn’t <i>that</i> prove he was flustered and +hurried?’ I allowed that it looked like it. But I said, ‘Look here: +if he was so very much pressed, why did he part his hair so carefully? That +parting is a work of art. Why did he put on so much? for he had on a complete +outfit of underclothing, studs in his shirt, sock-suspenders, a watch and +chain, money and keys and things in his pockets. That’s what I said to +the manager. He couldn’t find an explanation. Can you?’ +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Cupples considered. “Those facts might suggest that he was hurried +only at the end of his dressing. Coat and shoes would come last.” +</p> + +<p> +“But not false teeth. You ask anybody who wears them. And besides, +I’m told he hadn’t washed at all on getting up, which in a neat man +looks like his being in a violent hurry from the beginning. And here’s +another thing. One of his waistcoat pockets was lined with wash-leather for the +reception of his gold watch. But he had put his watch into the pocket on the +other side. Anybody who has settled habits can see how odd that is. The fact +is, there are signs of great agitation and haste, and there are signs of +exactly the opposite. For the present I am not guessing. I must reconnoitre the +ground first, if I can manage to get the right side of the people of the +house.” Trent applied himself again to his breakfast. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Cupples smiled at him benevolently. “That is precisely the +point,” he said, “on which I can be of some assistance to +you.” Trent glanced up in surprise. “I told you I half expected +you. I will explain the situation. Mrs. Manderson, who is my +niece—” +</p> + +<p> +“What!” Trent laid down his knife and fork with a clash. +“Cupples, you are jesting with me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am perfectly serious, Trent, really,” returned Mr. Cupples +earnestly. “Her father, John Peter Domecq, was my wife’s brother. I +never mentioned my niece or her marriage to you before, I suppose. To tell the +truth, it has always been a painful subject to me, and I have avoided +discussing it with anybody. To return to what I was about to say: last night, +when I was over at the house—by the way, you can see it from here. You +passed it in the car.” He indicated a red roof among poplars some three +hundred yards away, the only building in sight that stood separate from the +tiny village in the gap below them. +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly I did,” said Trent. “The manager told me all about +it, among other things, as he drove me in from Bishopsbridge.” +</p> + +<p> +“Other people here have heard of you and your performances,” Mr. +Cupples went on. “As I was saying, when I was over there last night, Mr. +Bunner, who is one of Manderson’s two secretaries, expressed a hope that +the <i>Record</i> would send you down to deal with the case, as the police +seemed quite at a loss. He mentioned one or two of your past successes, and +Mabel—my niece—was interested when I told her afterwards. She is +bearing up wonderfully well, Trent; she has remarkable fortitude of character. +She said she remembered reading your articles about the Abinger case. She has a +great horror of the newspaper side of this sad business, and she had entreated +me to do anything I could to keep journalists away from the +place—I’m sure you can understand her feeling, Trent; it +isn’t really any reflection on that profession. But she said you appeared +to have great powers as a detective, and she would not stand in the way of +anything that might clear up the crime. Then I told her you were a personal +friend of mine, and gave you a good character for tact and consideration of +others’ feelings; and it ended in her saying that, if you should come, +she would like you to be helped in every way.” +</p> + +<p> +Trent leaned across the table and shook Mr. Cupples by the hand in silence. Mr. +Cupples, much delighted with the way things were turning out, resumed: +</p> + +<p> +“I spoke to my niece on the telephone only just now, and she is glad you +are here. She asks me to say that you may make any enquiries you like, and she +puts the house and grounds at your disposal. She had rather not see you +herself; she is keeping to her own sitting-room. She has already been +interviewed by a detective officer who is there, and she feels unequal to any +more. She adds that she does not believe she could say anything that would be +of the smallest use. The two secretaries and Martin, the butler (who is a most +intelligent man), could tell you all you want to know, she thinks.” +</p> + +<p> +Trent finished his breakfast with a thoughtful brow. He filled a pipe slowly, +and seated himself on the rail of the veranda. “Cupples,” he said +quietly, “is there anything about this business that you know and would +rather not tell me?” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Cupples gave a slight start, and turned an astonished gaze on the +questioner. “What do you mean?” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“I mean about the Mandersons. Look here! Shall I tell you a thing that +strikes me about this affair at the very beginning? Here’s a man suddenly +and violently killed, and nobody’s heart seems to be broken about it, to +say the least. The manager of this hotel spoke to me about him as coolly as if +he’d never set eyes on him, though I understand they’ve been +neighbours every summer for some years. Then you talk about the thing in the +coldest of blood. And Mrs. Manderson—well, you won’t mind my saying +that I have heard of women being more cut up about their husbands being +murdered than she seems to be. Is there something in this, Cupples, or is it my +fancy? Was there something queer about Manderson? I travelled on the same boat +with him once, but never spoke to him. I only know his public character, which +was repulsive enough. You see, this may have a bearing on the case; +that’s the only reason why I ask.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Cupples took time for thought. He fingered his sparse beard and looked out +over the sea. At last he turned to Trent. “I see no reason,” he +said, “why I shouldn’t tell you as between ourselves, my dear +fellow. I need not say that this must not be referred to, however distantly. +The truth is that nobody really liked Manderson; and I think those who were +nearest to him liked him least.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” the other interjected. +</p> + +<p> +“Most people found a difficulty in explaining why. In trying to account +to myself for my own sensations, I could only put it that one felt in the man a +complete absence of the sympathetic faculty. There was nothing outwardly +repellent about him. He was not ill-mannered, or vicious, or dull—indeed, +he could be remarkably interesting. But I received the impression that there +could be no human creature whom he would not sacrifice in the pursuit of his +schemes, in his task of imposing himself and his will upon the world. Perhaps +that was fanciful, but I think not altogether so. However, the point is that +Mabel, I am sorry to say, was very unhappy. I am nearly twice your age, my dear +boy, though you always so kindly try to make me feel as if we were +contemporaries—I am getting to be an old man, and a great many people +have been good enough to confide their matrimonial troubles to me; but I never +knew another case like my niece’s and her husband’s. I have known +her since she was a baby, Trent, and I know—you understand, I think, that +I do not employ that word lightly—I <i>know</i> that she is as amiable +and honourable a woman, to say nothing of her other good gifts, as any man +could wish. But Manderson, for some time past, had made her miserable.” +</p> + +<p> +“What did he do?” asked Trent, as Mr. Cupples paused. +</p> + +<p> +“When I put that question to Mabel, her words were that he seemed to +nurse a perpetual grievance. He maintained a distance between them, and he +would say nothing. I don’t know how it began or what was behind it; and +all she would tell me on that point was that he had no cause in the world for +his attitude. I think she knew what was in his mind, whatever it was; but she +is full of pride. This seems to have gone on for months. At last, a week ago, +she wrote to me. I am the only near relative she has. Her mother died when she +was a child; and after John Peter died I was something like a father to her +until she married—that was five years ago. She asked me to come and help +her, and I came at once. That is why I am here now.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Cupples paused and drank some tea. Trent smoked and stared out at the hot +June landscape. +</p> + +<p> +“I would not go to White Gables,” Mr. Cupples resumed. “You +know my views, I think, upon the economic constitution of society, and the +proper relationship of the capitalist to the employee, and you know, no doubt, +what use that person made of his vast industrial power upon several very +notorious occasions. I refer especially to the trouble in the Pennsylvania +coal-fields, three years ago. I regarded him, apart from an all personal +dislike, in the light of a criminal and a disgrace to society. I came to this +hotel, and I saw my niece here. She told me what I have more briefly told you. +She said that the worry and the humiliation of it, and the strain of trying to +keep up appearances before the world, were telling upon her, and she asked for +my advice. I said I thought she should face him and demand an explanation of +his way of treating her. But she would not do that. She had always taken the +line of affecting not to notice the change in his demeanour, and nothing, I +knew, would persuade her to admit to him that she was injured, once pride had +led her into that course. Life is quite full, my dear Trent,” said Mr. +Cupples with a sigh, “of these obstinate silences and cultivated +misunderstandings.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did she love him?” Trent enquired abruptly. Mr. Cupples did not +reply at once. “Had she any love left for him?” Trent amended. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Cupples played with his teaspoon. “I am bound to say,” he +answered slowly, “that I think not. But you must not misunderstand the +woman, Trent. No power on earth would have persuaded her to admit that to any +one—even to herself, perhaps—so long as she considered herself +bound to him. And I gather that, apart from this mysterious sulking of late, he +had always been considerate and generous.” +</p> + +<p> +“You were saying that she refused to have it out with him.” +</p> + +<p> +“She did,” replied Mr. Cupples. “And I knew by experience +that it was quite useless to attempt to move a Domecq where the sense of +dignity was involved. So I thought it over carefully, and next day I watched my +opportunity and met Manderson as he passed by this hotel. I asked him to favour +me with a few minutes’ conversation, and he stepped inside the gate down +there. We had held no communication of any kind since my niece’s +marriage, but he remembered me, of course. I put the matter to him at once and +quite definitely. I told him what Mabel had confided to me. I said that I would +neither approve nor condemn her action in bringing me into the business, but +that she was suffering, and I considered it my right to ask how he could +justify himself in placing her in such a position.” +</p> + +<p> +“And how did he take that?” said Trent, smiling secretly at the +landscape. The picture of this mildest of men calling the formidable Manderson +to account pleased him. +</p> + +<p> +“Not very well,” Mr. Cupples replied sadly. “In fact, far +from well. I can tell you almost exactly what he said—it wasn’t +much. He said, ‘See here, Cupples, you don’t want to butt in. My +wife can look after herself. I’ve found that out, along with other +things.’ He was perfectly quiet—you know he was said never to lose +control of himself—though there was a light in his eyes that would have +frightened a man who was in the wrong, I dare say. But I had been thoroughly +roused by his last remark, and the tone of it, which I cannot reproduce. You +see,” said Mr. Cupples simply, “I love my niece. She is the only +child that there has been in our—in my house. Moreover, my wife brought +her up as a girl, and any reflection on Mabel I could not help feeling, in the +heat of the moment, as an indirect reflection upon one who is gone.” +</p> + +<p> +“You turned upon him,” suggested Trent in a low tone. “You +asked him to explain his words.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is precisely what I did,” said Mr. Cupples. “For a +moment he only stared at me, and I could see a vein on his forehead +swelling—an unpleasant sight. Then he said quite quietly, ‘This +thing has gone far enough, I guess,’ and turned to go.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did he mean your interview?” Trent asked thoughtfully. +</p> + +<p> +“From the words alone you would think so,” Mr. Cupples answered. +“But the way in which he uttered them gave me a strange and very +apprehensive feeling. I received the impression that the man had formed some +sinister resolve. But I regret to say I had lost the power of dispassionate +thought. I fell into a great rage”—Mr. Cupples’s tone was +mildly apologetic—“and said a number of foolish things. I reminded +him that the law allowed a measure of freedom to wives who received intolerable +treatment. I made some utterly irrelevant references to his public record, and +expressed the view that such men as he were unfit to live. I said these things, +and others as ill-considered, under the eyes, and very possibly within earshot, +of half a dozen persons sitting on this veranda. I noticed them, in spite of my +agitation, looking at me as I walked up to the hotel again after relieving my +mind for it undoubtedly did relieve it,” sighed Mr. Cupples, lying back +in his chair. +</p> + +<p> +“And Manderson? Did he say no more?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not a word. He listened to me with his eyes on my face, as quiet as +before. When I stopped he smiled very slightly, and at once turned away and +strolled through the gate, making for White Gables.” +</p> + +<p> +“And this happened—?” +</p> + +<p> +“On the Sunday morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I suppose you never saw him alive again?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Mr. Cupples. “Or rather yes—once. It was +later in the day, on the golf-course. But I did not speak to him. And next +morning he was found dead.” +</p> + +<p> +The two regarded each other in silence for a few moments. A party of guests who +had been bathing came up the steps and seated themselves, with much chattering, +at a table near them. The waiter approached. Mr. Cupples rose, and, taking +Trent’s arm, led him to a long tennis-lawn at the side of the hotel. +</p> + +<p> +“I have a reason for telling you all this,” began Mr. Cupples as +they paced slowly up and down. +</p> + +<p> +“Trust you for that,” rejoined Trent, carefully filling his pipe +again. He lit it, smoked a little, and then said, “I’ll try and +guess what your reason is, if you like.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Cupples’s face of solemnity relaxed into a slight smile. He said +nothing. +</p> + +<p> +“You thought it possible,” said Trent meditatively—“may +I say you thought it practically certain?—that I should find out for +myself that there had been something deeper than a mere conjugal tiff between +the Mandersons. You thought that my unwholesome imagination would begin at once +to play with the idea of Mrs. Manderson having something to do with the crime. +Rather than that I should lose myself in barren speculations about this, you +decided to tell me exactly how matters stood, and incidentally to impress upon +me, who know how excellent your judgement is, your opinion of your niece. Is +that about right?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is perfectly right. Listen to me, my dear fellow,” said Mr. +Cupples earnestly, laying his hand on the other’s arm. “I am going +to be very frank. I am extremely glad that Manderson is dead. I believe him to +have done nothing but harm in the world as an economic factor. I know that he +was making a desert of the life of one who was like my own child to me. But I +am under an intolerable dread of Mabel being involved in suspicion with regard +to the murder. It is horrible to me to think of her delicacy and goodness being +in contact, if only for a time, with the brutalities of the law. She is not +fitted for it. It would mark her deeply. Many young women of twenty-six in +these days could face such an ordeal, I suppose. I have observed a sort of +imitative hardness about the products of the higher education of women today +which would carry them through anything, perhaps. +</p> + +<p> +“I am not prepared to say it is a bad thing in the conditions of feminine +life prevailing at present. Mabel, however, is not like that. She is as unlike +that as she is unlike the simpering misses that used to surround me as a child. +She has plenty of brains; she is full of character; her mind and her tastes are +cultivated; but it is all mixed up”—Mr. Cupples waved his hands in +a vague gesture—“with ideals of refinement and reservation and +womanly mystery. I fear she is not a child of the age. You never knew my wife, +Trent. Mabel is my wife’s child.” +</p> + +<p> +The younger man bowed his head. They paced the length of the lawn before he +asked gently, “Why did she marry him?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” said Mr. Cupples briefly. +</p> + +<p> +“Admired him, I suppose,” suggested Trent. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Cupples shrugged his shoulders. “I have been told that a woman will +usually be more or less attracted by the most successful man in her circle. Of +course we cannot realize how a wilful, dominating personality like his would +influence a girl whose affections were not bestowed elsewhere; especially if he +laid himself out to win her. It is probably an overwhelming thing to be courted +by a man whose name is known all over the world. She had heard of him, of +course, as a financial great power, and she had no idea—she had lived +mostly among people of artistic or literary propensities—how much +soulless inhumanity that might involve. For all I know, she has no adequate +idea of it to this day. When I first heard of the affair the mischief was done, +and I knew better than to interpose my unsought opinions. She was of age, and +there was absolutely nothing against him from the conventional point of view. +Then I dare say his immense wealth would cast a spell over almost any woman. +Mabel had some hundreds a year of her own; just enough, perhaps, to let her +realize what millions really meant. But all this is conjecture. She certainly +had not wanted to marry some scores of young fellows who to my knowledge had +asked her; and though I don’t believe, and never did believe, that she +really loved this man of forty-five, she certainly did want to marry him. But +if you ask me why, I can only say I don’t know.” +</p> + +<p> +Trent nodded, and after a few more paces looked at his watch. +“You’ve interested me so much,” he said, “that I had +quite forgotten my main business. I mustn’t waste my morning. I am going +down the road to White Gables at once, and I dare say I shall be poking about +there until midday. If you can meet me then, Cupples, I should like to talk +over anything I find out with you, unless something detains me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am going for a walk this morning,” Mr. Cupples replied. “I +meant to have luncheon at a little inn near the golf-course, The Three Tuns. +You had better join me there. It’s further along the road, about a +quarter of a mile beyond White Gables. You can just see the roof between those +two trees. The food they give one there is very plain, but good.” +</p> + +<p> +“So long as they have a cask of beer,” said Trent, “they are +all right. We will have bread and cheese, and oh, may Heaven our simple lives +prevent from luxury’s contagion, weak and vile! Till then, +goodbye.” He strode off to recover his hat from the veranda, waved it to +Mr. Cupples, and was gone. +</p> + +<p> +The old gentleman, seating himself in a deck-chair on the lawn, clasped his +hands behind his head and gazed up into the speckless blue sky. “He is a +dear fellow,” he murmured. “The best of fellows. And a terribly +acute fellow. Dear me! How curious it all is!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap04"></a>Chapter IV.<br />Handcuffs in the Air</h2> + +<p> +A painter and the son of a painter, Philip Trent had while yet in his twenties +achieved some reputation within the world of English art. Moreover, his +pictures sold. An original, forcible talent and a habit of leisurely but +continuous working, broken by fits of strong creative enthusiasm, were at the +bottom of it. His father’s name had helped; a patrimony large enough to +relieve him of the perilous imputation of being a struggling man had certainly +not hindered. But his best aid to success had been an unconscious power of +getting himself liked. Good spirits and a lively, humorous fancy will always be +popular. Trent joined to these a genuine interest in others that gained him +something deeper than popularity. His judgement of persons was penetrating, but +its process was internal; no one felt on good behaviour with a man who seemed +always to be enjoying himself. Whether he was in a mood for floods of nonsense +or applying himself vigorously to a task, his face seldom lost its expression +of contained vivacity. Apart from a sound knowledge of his art and its history, +his culture was large and loose, dominated by a love of poetry. At thirty-two +he had not yet passed the age of laughter and adventure. +</p> + +<p> +His rise to a celebrity a hundred times greater than his proper work had won +for him came of a momentary impulse. One day he had taken up a newspaper to +find it chiefly concerned with a crime of a sort curiously rare in our +country—a murder done in a railway train. The circumstances were +puzzling; two persons were under arrest upon suspicion. Trent, to whom an +interest in such affairs was a new sensation, heard the thing discussed among +his friends, and set himself in a purposeless mood to read up the accounts +given in several journals. He became intrigued; his imagination began to work, +in a manner strange to him, upon facts; an excitement took hold of him such as +he had only known before in his bursts of art-inspiration or of personal +adventure. At the end of the day he wrote and dispatched a long letter to the +editor of the <i>Record</i>, which he chose only because it had contained the +fullest and most intelligent version of the facts. +</p> + +<p> +In this letter he did very much what Poe had done in the case of the murder of +Mary Rogers. With nothing but the newspapers to guide him, he drew attention to +the significance of certain apparently negligible facts, and ranged the +evidence in such a manner as to throw grave suspicion upon a man who had +presented himself as a witness. Sir James Molloy had printed this letter in +leaded type. The same evening he was able to announce in the Sun the arrest and +full confession of the incriminated man. +</p> + +<p> +Sir James, who knew all the worlds of London, had lost no time in making +Trent’s acquaintance. The two men got on well, for Trent possessed some +secret of native tact which had the effect of almost abolishing differences of +age between himself and others. The great rotary presses in the basement of the +<i>Record</i> building had filled him with a new enthusiasm. He had painted +there, and Sir James had bought at sight, what he called a machinery-scape in +the manner of Heinrich Kley. +</p> + +<p> +Then a few months later came the affair known as the Ilkley mystery. Sir James +had invited Trent to an emollient dinner, and thereafter offered him what +seemed to the young man a fantastically large sum for his temporary services as +special representative of the <i>Record</i> at Ilkley. +</p> + +<p> +“You could do it,” the editor had urged. “You can write good +stuff, and you know how to talk to people, and I can teach you all the +technicalities of a reporter’s job in half an hour. And you have a head +for a mystery; you have imagination and cool judgement along with it. Think how +it would feel if you pulled it off!” +</p> + +<p> +Trent had admitted that it would be rather a lark. He had smoked, frowned, and +at last convinced himself that the only thing that held him back was fear of an +unfamiliar task. To react against fear had become a fixed moral habit with him, +and he had accepted Sir James’s offer. +</p> + +<p> +He had pulled it off. For the second time he had given the authorities a start +and a beating, and his name was on all tongues. He withdrew and painted +pictures. He felt no leaning towards journalism, and Sir James, who knew a good +deal about art, honourably refrained—as other editors did not—from +tempting him with a good salary. But in the course of a few years he had +applied to him perhaps thirty times for his services in the unravelling of +similar problems at home and abroad. Sometimes Trent, busy with work that held +him, had refused; sometimes he had been forestalled in the discovery of the +truth. But the result of his irregular connection with the <i>Record</i> had +been to make his name one of the best known in England. It was characteristic +of him that his name was almost the only detail of his personality known to the +public. He had imposed absolute silence about himself upon the Molloy papers; +and the others were not going to advertise one of Sir James’s men. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +The Manderson case, he told himself as he walked rapidly up the sloping road to +White Gables, might turn out to be terribly simple. Cupples was a wise old boy, +but it was probably impossible for him to have an impartial opinion about his +niece. But it was true that the manager of the hotel, who had spoken of her +beauty in terms that aroused his attention, had spoken even more emphatically +of her goodness. Not an artist in words, the manager had yet conveyed a very +definite idea to Trent’s mind. “There isn’t a child about +here that don’t brighten up at the sound of her voice,” he had +said, “nor yet a grown-up, for the matter of that. Everybody used to look +forward to her coming over in the summer. I don’t mean that she’s +one of those women that are all kind heart and nothing else. There’s +backbone with it, if you know what I mean—pluck— any amount of go. +There’s nobody in Marlstone that isn’t sorry for the lady in her +trouble—not but what some of us may think she’s lucky at the last +of it.” Trent wanted very much to meet Mrs. Manderson. +</p> + +<p> +He could see now, beyond a spacious lawn and shrubbery, the front of the +two-storied house of dull-red brick, with the pair of great gables from which +it had its name. He had had but a glimpse of it from the car that morning. A +modern house, he saw; perhaps ten years old. The place was beautifully kept, +with that air of opulent peace that clothes even the smallest houses of the +well-to-do in an English countryside. Before it, beyond the road, the rich +meadow-land ran down to the edge of the cliffs; behind it a woody landscape +stretched away across a broad vale to the moors. That such a place could be the +scene of a crime of violence seemed fantastic; it lay so quiet and well +ordered, so eloquent of disciplined service and gentle living. Yet there beyond +the house, and near the hedge that rose between the garden and the hot, white +road, stood the gardener’s toolshed, by which the body had been found, +lying tumbled against the wooden wall, Trent walked past the gate of the drive +and along the road until he was opposite this shed. Some forty yards further +along the road turned sharply away from the house, to run between thick +plantations; and just before the turn the grounds of the house ended, with a +small white gate at the angle of the boundary hedge. He approached the gate, +which was plainly for the use of gardeners and the service of the +establishment. It swung easily on its hinges, and he passed slowly up a path +that led towards the back of the house, between the outer hedge and a tall wall +of rhododendrons. Through a gap in this wall a track led him to the little +neatly built erection of wood, which stood among trees that faced a corner of +the front. The body had lain on the side away from the house; a servant, he +thought, looking out of the nearer windows in the earlier hours of the day +before, might have glanced unseeing at the hut, as she wondered what it could +be like to be as rich as the master. +</p> + +<p> +He examined the place carefully and ransacked the hut within, but he could note +no more than the trodden appearance of the uncut grass where the body had lain. +Crouching low, with keen eyes and feeling fingers, he searched the ground +minutely over a wide area; but the search was fruitless. +</p> + +<p> +It was interrupted by the sound—the first he had heard from the +house—of the closing of the front door. Trent unbent his long legs and +stepped to the edge of the drive. A man was walking quickly away from the house +in the direction of the great gate. +</p> + +<p> +At the noise of a footstep on the gravel, the man wheeled with nervous +swiftness and looked earnestly at Trent. The sudden sight of his face was +almost terrible, so white and worn it was. Yet it was a young man’s face. +There was not a wrinkle about the haggard blue eyes, for all their tale of +strain and desperate fatigue. As the two approached each other, Trent noted +with admiration the man’s breadth of shoulder and lithe, strong figure. +In his carriage, inelastic as weariness had made it; in his handsome, regular +features; in his short, smooth, yellow hair; and in his voice as he addressed +Trent, the influence of a special sort of training was confessed. “Oxford +was your playground, I think, my young friend,” said Trent to himself. +</p> + +<p> +“If you are Mr. Trent,” said the young man pleasantly, “you +are expected. Mr. Cupples telephoned from the hotel. My name is Marlowe.” +</p> + +<p> +“You were secretary to Mr. Manderson, I believe,” said Trent. He +was much inclined to like young Mr. Marlowe. Though he seemed so near a +physical breakdown, he gave out none the less that air of clean living and +inward health that is the peculiar glory of his social type at his years. But +there was something in the tired eyes that was a challenge to Trent’s +penetration; an habitual expression, as he took it to be, of meditating and +weighing things not present to their sight. It was a look too intelligent, too +steady and purposeful, to be called dreamy. Trent thought he had seen such a +look before somewhere. He went on to say: “It is a terrible business for +all of you. I fear it has upset you completely, Mr. Marlowe.” +</p> + +<p> +“A little limp, that’s all,” replied the young man wearily. +“I was driving the car all Sunday night and most of yesterday, and I +didn’t sleep last night after hearing the news—who would? But I +have an appointment now, Mr. Trent, down at the doctor’s—arranging +about the inquest. I expect it’ll be tomorrow. If you will go up to the +house and ask for Mr. Bunner, you’ll find him expecting you; he will tell +you all about things and show you round. He’s the other secretary; an +American, and the best of fellows; he’ll look after you. There’s a +detective here, by the way—Inspector Murch, from Scotland Yard. He came +yesterday.” +</p> + +<p> +“Murch!” Trent exclaimed. “But he and I are old friends. How +under the sun did he get here so soon?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have no idea,” Mr. Marlowe answered. “But he was here last +evening, before I got back from Southampton, interviewing everybody, and +he’s been about here since eight this morning. He’s in the library +now—that’s where the open French window is that you see at the end +of the house there. Perhaps you would like to step down there and talk about +things.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think I will,” said Trent. Marlowe nodded and went on his way. +The thick turf of the lawn round which the drive took its circular sweep made +Trent’s footsteps as noiseless as a cat’s. In a few moments he was +looking in through the open leaves of the window at the southward end of the +house, considering with a smile a very broad back and a bent head covered with +short grizzled hair. The man within was stooping over a number of papers laid +out on the table. +</p> + +<p> +“’Twas ever thus,” said Trent in a melancholy tone, at the +first sound of which the man within turned round with startling swiftness. +“From childhood’s hour I’ve seen my fondest hopes decay. I +did think I was ahead of Scotland Yard this time, and now here is the hugest +officer in the entire Metropolitan force already occupying the position.” +</p> + +<p> +The detective smiled grimly and came to the window. “I was expecting you, +Mr. Trent,” he said. “This is the sort of case that you +like.” +</p> + +<p> +“Since my tastes were being considered,” Trent replied, stepping +into the room, “I wish they had followed up the idea by keeping my hated +rival out of the business. You have got a long start, too—I know all +about it.” His eyes began to wander round the room. “How did you +manage it? You are a quick mover, I know; the dun deer’s hide on fleeter +foot was never tied; but I don’t see how you got here in time to be at +work yesterday evening. Has Scotland Yard secretly started an aviation corps? +Or is it in league with the infernal powers? In either case the Home Secretary +should be called upon to make a statement.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s simpler than that,” said Mr. Murch with professional +stolidity. “I happened to be on leave with the missus at Havley, which is +only twelve miles or so along the coast. As soon as our people there heard of +the murder they told me. I wired to the Chief, and was put in charge of the +case at once. I bicycled over yesterday evening, and have been at it since +then.” +</p> + +<p> +“Arising out of that reply,” said Trent inattentively, “how +is Mrs. Inspector Murch?” +</p> + +<p> +“Never better, thank you,” answered the inspector, “and +frequently speaks of you and the games you used to have with our kids. But +you’ll excuse me saying, Mr. Trent, that you needn’t trouble to +talk your nonsense to me while you’re using your eyes. I know your ways +by now. I understand you’ve fallen on your feet as usual, and have the +lady’s permission to go over the place and make enquiries.” +</p> + +<p> +“Such is the fact,” said Trent. “I am going to cut you out +again, inspector. I owe you one for beating me over the Abinger case, you old +fox. But if you really mean that you’re not inclined for the social +amenities just now, let us leave compliments and talk business.” He +stepped to the table, glanced through the papers arranged there in order, and +then turned to the open roll-top desk. He looked into the drawers swiftly. +“I see this has been cleared out. Well now, inspector, I suppose we play +the game as before.” +</p> + +<p> +Trent had found himself on a number of occasions in the past thrown into the +company of Inspector Murch, who stood high in the councils of the Criminal +Investigation Department. He was a quiet, tactful, and very shrewd officer, a +man of great courage, with a vivid history in connection with the more +dangerous class of criminals. His humanity was as broad as his frame, which was +large even for a policeman. Trent and he, through some obscure working of +sympathy, had appreciated one another from the beginning, and had formed one of +those curious friendships with which it was the younger man’s delight to +adorn his experience. The inspector would talk more freely to him than to any +one, under the rose, and they would discuss details and possibilities of every +case, to their mutual enlightenment. There were necessarily rules and limits. +It was understood between them that Trent made no journalistic use of any point +that could only have come to him from an official source. Each of them, +moreover, for the honour and prestige of the institution he represented, openly +reserved the right to withhold from the other any discovery or inspiration that +might come to him which he considered vital to the solution of the difficulty. +Trent had insisted on carefully formulating these principles of what he called +detective sportsmanship. Mr. Murch, who loved a contest, and who only stood to +gain by his association with the keen intelligence of the other, entered very +heartily into “the game”. In these strivings for the credit of the +press and of the police, victory sometimes attended the experience and method +of the officer, sometimes the quicker brain and livelier imagination of Trent, +his gift of instinctively recognizing the significant through all disguises. +</p> + +<p> +The inspector then replied to Trent’s last words with cordial agreement. +Leaning on either side of the French window, with the deep peace and hazy +splendor of the summer landscape before them, they reviewed the case. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Trent had taken out a thin notebook, and as they talked he began to make, with +light, secure touches, a rough sketch plan of the room. It was a thing he did +habitually on such occasions, and often quite idly, but now and then the habit +had served him to good purpose. +</p> + +<p> +This was a large, light apartment at the corner of the house, with generous +window-space in two walls. A broad table stood in the middle. As one entered by +the window the roll-top desk stood just to the left of it against the wall. The +inner door was in the wall to the left, at the farther end of the room; and was +faced by a broad window divided into openings of the casement type. A +beautifully carved old corner-cupboard rose high against the wall beyond the +door, and another cupboard filled a recess beside the fireplace. Some coloured +prints of Harunobu, with which Trent promised himself a better acquaintance, +hung on what little wall-space was unoccupied by books. These had a very +uninspiring appearance of having been bought by the yard and never taken from +their shelves. Bound with a sober luxury, the great English novelists, +essayists, historians, and poets stood ranged like an army struck dead in its +ranks. There were a few chairs made, like the cupboard and table, of old carved +oak; a modern armchair and a swivel office-chair before the desk. The room +looked costly but very bare. Almost the only portable objects were a great +porcelain bowl of a wonderful blue on the table, a clock and some cigar boxes +on the mantelshelf, and a movable telephone standard on the top of the desk. +</p> + +<p> +“Seen the body?” enquired the inspector. +</p> + +<p> +Trent nodded. “And the place where it lay,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“First impressions of this case rather puzzle me,” said the +inspector. “From what I heard at Halvey I guessed it might be common +robbery and murder by some tramp, though such a thing is very far from common +in these parts. But as soon as I began my enquiries I came on some curious +points, which by this time I dare say you’ve noted for yourself. The man +is shot in his own grounds, quite near the house, to begin with. Yet +there’s not the slightest trace of any attempt at burglary. And the body +wasn’t robbed. In fact, it would be as plain a case of suicide as you +could wish to see, if it wasn’t for certain facts. Here’s another +thing: for a month or so past, they tell me, Manderson had been in a queer +state of mind. I expect you know already that he and his wife had some trouble +between them. The servants had noticed a change in his manner to her for a long +time, and for the past week he had scarcely spoken to her. They say he was a +changed man, moody and silent—whether on account of that or something +else. The lady’s maid says he looked as if something was going to arrive. +It’s always easy to remember that people looked like that, after +something has happened to them. Still, that’s what they say. There you +are again, then: suicide! Now, why wasn’t it suicide, Mr. Trent?” +</p> + +<p> +“The facts so far as I know them are really all against it,” Trent +replied, sitting on the threshold of the window and clasping his knees. +“First, of course, no weapon is to be found. I’ve searched, and +you’ve searched, and there’s no trace of any firearm anywhere +within a stone’s throw of where the body lay. Second, the marks on the +wrists, fresh scratches and bruises, which we can only assume to have been done +in a struggle with somebody. Third, who ever heard of anybody shooting himself +in the eye? Then I heard from the manager of the hotel here another fact, which +strikes me as the most curious detail in this affair. Manderson had dressed +himself fully before going out there, but he forgot his false teeth. Now how +could a suicide who dressed himself to make a decent appearance as a corpse +forget his teeth?” +</p> + +<p> +“That last argument hadn’t struck me,” admitted Mr. Murch. +“There’s something in it. But on the strength of the other points, +which had occurred to me, I am not considering suicide. I have been looking +about for ideas in this house, this morning. I expect you were thinking of +doing the same.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is so. It is a case for ideas, it seems to me. Come, Murch, let us +make an effort; let us bend our spirits to a temper of general suspicion. Let +us suspect everybody in the house, to begin with. Listen: I will tell you whom +I suspect. I suspect Mrs. Manderson, of course. I also suspect both the +secretaries—I hear there are two, and I hardly know which of them I +regard as more thoroughly open to suspicion. I suspect the butler and the +lady’s maid. I suspect the other domestics, and especially do I suspect +the boot-boy. By the way, what domestics are there? I have more than enough +suspicion to go round, whatever the size of the establishment; but as a matter +of curiosity I should like to know.” +</p> + +<p> +“All very well to laugh,” replied the inspector, “but at the +first stage of affairs it’s the only safe principle, and you know that as +well as I do, Mr. Trent. However, I’ve seen enough of the people here, +last night and today, to put a few of them out of my mind for the present at +least. You will form your own conclusions. As for the establishment, +there’s the butler and lady’s maid, cook, and three other maids, +one a young girl. One chauffeur, who’s away with a broken wrist. No +boy.” +</p> + +<p> +“What about the gardener? You say nothing about that shadowy and sinister +figure, the gardener. You are keeping him in the background, Murch. Play the +game. Out with him—or I report you to the Rules Committee.” +</p> + +<p> +“The garden is attended to by a man in the village, who comes twice a +week. I’ve talked to him. He was here last on Friday.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I suspect him all the more,” said Trent. “And now as to +the house itself. What I propose to do, to begin with, is to sniff about a +little in this room, where I am told Manderson spent a great deal of his time, +and in his bedroom; especially the bedroom. But since we’re in this room, +let’s start here. You seem to be at the same stage of the inquiry. +Perhaps you’ve done the bedrooms already?” +</p> + +<p> +The inspector nodded. “I’ve been over Manderson’s and his +wife’s. Nothing to be got there, I think. His room is very simple and +bare, no signs of any sort—that <i>I</i> could see. Seems to have +insisted on the simple life, does Manderson. Never employed a valet. The +room’s almost like a cell, except for the clothes and shoes. You’ll +find it all exactly as I found it; and they tell me that’s exactly as +Manderson left it, at we don’t know what o’clock yesterday morning. +Opens into Mrs. Manderson’s bedroom—not much of the cell about +that, I can tell you. I should say the lady was as fond of pretty things as +most. But she cleared out of it on the morning of the discovery—told the +maid she could never sleep in a room opening into her murdered husband’s +room. Very natural feeling in a woman, Mr. Trent. She’s camping out, so +to say, in one of the spare bedrooms now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, my friend,” Trent was saying to himself, as he made a few +notes in his little book. “Have you got your eye on Mrs. Manderson? Or +haven’t you? I know that colourless tone of the inspectorial voice. I +wish I had seen her. Either you’ve got something against her and you +don’t want me to get hold of it; or else you’ve made up your mind +she’s innocent, but have no objection to my wasting my time over her. +Well, it’s all in the game; which begins to look extremely interesting as +we go on.” To Mr. Murch he said aloud: “Well, I’ll draw the +bedroom later on. What about this?” +</p> + +<p> +“They call it the library,” said the inspector. “Manderson +used to do his writing and that in here; passed most of the time he spent +indoors here. Since he and his wife ceased to hit it off together, he had taken +to spending his evenings alone, and when at this house he always spent +’em in here. He was last seen alive, as far as the servants are +concerned, in this room.” +</p> + +<p> +Trent rose and glanced again through the papers set out on the table. +“Business letters and documents, mostly,” said Mr. Murch. +“Reports, prospectuses, and that. A few letters on private matters, +nothing in them that I can see. The American secretary—Bunner his name +is, and a queerer card I never saw turned—he’s been through this +desk with me this morning. He had got it into his head that Manderson had been +receiving threatening letters, and that the murder was the outcome of that. But +there’s no trace of any such thing; and we looked at every blessed paper. +The only unusual things we found were some packets of banknotes to a +considerable amount, and a couple of little bags of unset diamonds. I asked Mr. +Bunner to put them in a safer place. It appears that Manderson had begun buying +diamonds lately as a speculation—it was a new game to him, the secretary +said, and it seemed to amuse him.” +</p> + +<p> +“What about these secretaries?” Trent enquired. “I met one +called Marlowe just now outside; a nice-looking chap with singular eyes, +unquestionably English. The other, it seems, is an American. What did Manderson +want with an English secretary?” +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Marlowe explained to me how that was. The American was his +right-hand business man, one of his office staff, who never left him. Mr. +Marlowe had nothing to do with Manderson’s business as a financier, knew +nothing of it. His job was to look after Manderson’s horses and motors +and yacht and sporting arrangements and that—make himself generally +useful, as you might say. He had the spending of a lot of money, I should +think. The other was confined entirely to the office affairs, and I dare say he +had his hands full. As for his being English, it was just a fad of +Manderson’s to have an English secretary. He’d had several before +Mr. Marlowe.” +</p> + +<p> +“He showed his taste,” observed Trent. “It might be more than +interesting, don’t you think, to be minister to the pleasures of a modern +plutocrat with a large P. Only they say that Manderson’s were exclusively +of an innocent kind. Certainly Marlowe gives me the impression that he would be +weak in the part of Petronius. But to return to the matter in hand.” He +looked at his notes. “You said just now that he was last seen alive here, +‘so far as the servants were concerned’. That meant—?” +</p> + +<p> +“He had a conversation with his wife on going to bed. But for that, the +manservant, Martin by name, last saw him in this room. I had his story last +night, and very glad he was to tell it. An affair like this is meat and drink +to the servants of the house.” +</p> + +<p> +Trent considered for some moments, gazing through the open window over the +sun-flooded slopes. “Would it bore you to hear what he has to say +again?” he asked at length. For reply, Mr. Murch rang the bell. A spare, +clean-shaven, middle-aged man, having the servant’s manner in its most +distinguished form, answered it. +</p> + +<p> +“This is Mr. Trent, who is authorized by Mrs. Manderson to go over the +house and make enquiries,” explained the detective. “He would like +to hear your story.” Martin bowed distantly. He recognized Trent for a +gentleman. Time would show whether he was what Martin called a gentleman in +every sense of the word. +</p> + +<p> +“I observed you approaching the house, sir,” said Martin with +impassive courtesy. He spoke with a slow and measured utterance. “My +instructions are to assist you in every possible way. Should you wish me to +recall the circumstances of Sunday night?” +</p> + +<p> +“Please,” said Trent with ponderous gravity. Martin’s style +was making clamorous appeal to his sense of comedy. He banished with an effort +all vivacity of expression from his face. +</p> + +<p> +“I last saw Mr. Manderson—” +</p> + +<p> +“No, not that yet,” Trent checked him quietly. “Tell me all +you saw of him that evening—after dinner, say. Try to recollect every +little detail.” +</p> + +<p> +“After dinner, sir?—yes. I remember that after dinner Mr. Manderson +and Mr. Marlowe walked up and down the path through the orchard, talking. If +you ask me for details, it struck me they were talking about something +important, because I heard Mr. Manderson say something when they came in +through the back entrance. He said, as near as I can remember, ‘If Harris +is there, every minute is of importance. You want to start right away. And not +a word to a soul.’ Mr. Marlowe answered, ‘Very well. I will just +change out of these clothes and then I am ready’—or words to that +effect. I heard this plainly as they passed the window of my pantry. Then Mr. +Marlowe went up to his bedroom, and Mr. Manderson entered the library and rang +for me. He handed me some letters for the postman in the morning and directed +me to sit up, as Mr. Marlowe had persuaded him to go for a drive in the car by +moonlight.” +</p> + +<p> +“That was curious,” remarked Trent. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought so, sir. But I recollected what I had heard about ‘not a +word to a soul’, and I concluded that this about a moonlight drive was +intended to mislead.” +</p> + +<p> +“What time was this?” +</p> + +<p> +“It would be about ten, sir, I should say. After speaking to me, Mr. +Manderson waited until Mr. Marlowe had come down and brought round the car. He +then went into the drawing-room, where Mrs. Manderson was.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did that strike you as curious?” +</p> + +<p> +Martin looked down his nose. “If you ask me the question, sir,” he +said with reserve, “I had not known him enter that room since we came +here this year. He preferred to sit in the library in the evenings. That +evening he only remained with Mrs. Manderson for a few minutes. Then he and Mr. +Marlowe started immediately.” +</p> + +<p> +“You saw them start?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir. They took the direction of Bishopsbridge.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you saw Mr. Manderson again later?” +</p> + +<p> +“After an hour or thereabouts, sir, in the library. That would have been +about a quarter past eleven, I should say; I had noticed eleven striking from +the church. I may say I am peculiarly quick of hearing, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Manderson had rung the bell for you, I suppose. Yes? And what passed +when you answered it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Manderson had put out the decanter of whisky and a syphon and glass, +sir, from the cupboard where he kept them—” +</p> + +<p> +Trent held up his hand. “While we are on that point, Martin, I want to +ask you plainly, did Mr. Manderson drink very much? You understand this is not +impertinent curiosity on my part. I want you to tell me, because it may +possibly help in the clearing up of this case.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perfectly, sir,” replied Martin gravely. “I have no +hesitation in telling you what I have already told the inspector. Mr. Manderson +was, considering his position in life, a remarkably abstemious man. In my four +years of service with him I never knew anything of an alcoholic nature pass his +lips, except a glass or two of wine at dinner, very rarely a little at +luncheon, and from time to time a whisky and soda before going to bed. He never +seemed to form a habit of it. Often I used to find his glass in the morning +with only a little soda water in it; sometimes he would have been having whisky +with it, but never much. He never was particular about his drinks; ordinary +soda was what he preferred, though I had ventured to suggest some of the +natural minerals, having personally acquired a taste for them in my previous +service. He used to keep them in the cupboard here, because he had a great +dislike of being waited on more than was necessary. It was an understood thing +that I never came near him after dinner unless sent for. And when he sent for +anything, he liked it brought quick, and to be left alone again at once. He +hated to be asked if he required anything more. Amazingly simple in his tastes, +sir, Mr. Manderson was.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well; and he rang for you that night about a quarter past eleven. +Now can you remember exactly what he said?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think I can tell you with some approach to accuracy, sir. It was not +much. First he asked me if Mr. Bunner had gone to bed, and I replied that he +had been gone up some time. He then said that he wanted some one to sit up +until 12.30, in case an important message should come by telephone, and that +Mr. Marlowe having gone to Southampton for him in the motor, he wished me to do +this, and that I was to take down the message if it came, and not disturb him. +He also ordered a fresh syphon of soda water. I believe that was all, +sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“You noticed nothing unusual about him, I suppose?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir, nothing unusual. When I answered the ring, he was seated at the +desk listening at the telephone, waiting for a number, as I supposed. He gave +his orders and went on listening at the same time. “When I returned with +the syphon he was engaged in conversation over the wire.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you remember anything of what he was saying?” +</p> + +<p> +“Very little, sir; it was something about somebody being at some +hotel—of no interest to me. I was only in the room just time enough to +place the syphon on the table and withdraw. As I closed the door he was saying, +‘You’re sure he isn’t in the hotel?’ or words to that +effect.” +</p> + +<p> +“And that was the last you saw and heard of him alive?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir. A little later, at half-past eleven, when I had settled down in +my pantry with the door ajar, and a book to pass the time, I heard Mr. +Manderson go upstairs to bed. I immediately went to close the library window, +and slipped the lock of the front door. I did not hear anything more.” +</p> + +<p> +Trent considered. “I suppose you didn’t doze at all,” he said +tentatively, “while you were sitting up waiting for the telephone +message?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no, sir. I am always very wakeful about that time. I’m a bad +sleeper, especially in the neighbourhood of the sea, and I generally read in +bed until somewhere about midnight.” +</p> + +<p> +“And did any message come?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“No. And I suppose you sleep with your window open, these warm +nights?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is never closed at night, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +Trent added a last note; then he looked thoughtfully through those he had +taken. He rose and paced up and down the room for some moments with a downcast +eye. At length he paused opposite Martin. +</p> + +<p> +“It all seems perfectly ordinary and simple,” he said. “I +just want to get a few details clear. You went to shut the windows in the +library before going to bed. Which windows?” +</p> + +<p> +“The French window, sir. It had been open all day. The windows opposite +the door were seldom opened.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what about the curtains? I am wondering whether any one outside the +house could have seen into the room.” +</p> + +<p> +“Easily, sir, I should say, if he had got into the grounds on that side. +The curtains were never drawn in the hot weather. Mr. Manderson would often sit +right in the doorway at nights, smoking and looking out into the darkness. But +nobody could have seen him who had any business to be there.” +</p> + +<p> +“I see. And now tell me this. Your hearing is very acute, you say, and +you heard Mr. Manderson enter the house when he came in after dinner from the +garden. Did you hear him re-enter it after returning from the motor +drive?” +</p> + +<p> +Martin paused. “Now you mention it, sir, I remember that I did not. His +ringing the bell in this room was the first I knew of his being back. I should +have heard him come in, if he had come in by the front. I should have heard the +door go. But he must have come in by the window.” The man reflected for a +moment, then added, “As a general rule, Mr. Manderson would come in by +the front, hang up his hat and coat in the hall, and pass down the hall into +the study. It seems likely to me that he was in a great hurry to use the +telephone, and so went straight across the lawn to the window. He was like +that, sir, when there was anything important to be done. He had his hat on, now +I remember, and had thrown his greatcoat over the end of the table. He gave his +order very sharp, too, as he always did when busy. A very precipitate man +indeed was Mr. Manderson; a hustler, as they say.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! he appeared to be busy. But didn’t you say just now that you +noticed nothing unusual about him?” +</p> + +<p> +A melancholy smile flitted momentarily over Martin’s face. “That +observation shows that you did not know Mr. Manderson, sir, if you will pardon +my saying so. His being like that was nothing unusual; quite the contrary. It +took me long enough to get used to it. Either he would be sitting quite still +and smoking a cigar, thinking or reading, or else he would be writing, +dictating, and sending off wires all at the same time, till it almost made one +dizzy to see it, sometimes for an hour or more at a stretch. As for being in a +hurry over a telephone message, I may say it wasn’t in him to be anything +else.” +</p> + +<p> +Trent turned to the inspector, who met his eye with a look of answering +intelligence. Not sorry to show his understanding of the line of inquiry opened +by Trent, Mr. Murch for the first time put a question. +</p> + +<p> +“Then you left him telephoning by the open window, with the lights on, +and the drinks on the table; is that it?” “That is so, Mr. +Murch.” The delicacy of the change in Martin’s manner when called +upon to answer the detective momentarily distracted Trent’s appreciative +mind. But the big man’s next question brought it back to the problem at +once. +</p> + +<p> +“About those drinks. You say Mr. Manderson often took no whisky before +going to bed. Did he have any that night?” +</p> + +<p> +“I could not say. The room was put to rights in the morning by one of the +maids, and the glass washed, I presume, as usual. I know that the decanter was +nearly full that evening. I had refilled it a few days before, and I glanced at +it when I brought the fresh syphon, just out of habit, to make sure there was a +decent-looking amount.” +</p> + +<p> +The inspector went to the tall corner-cupboard and opened it. He took out a +decanter of cut glass and set it on the table before Martin. “Was it +fuller than that?” he asked quietly. “That’s how I found it +this morning.” The decanter was more than half empty. +</p> + +<p> +For the first time Martin’s self-possession wavered. He took up the +decanter quickly, tilted it before his eyes, and then stared amazedly at the +others. He said slowly: “There’s not much short of half a bottle +gone out of this since I last set eyes on it—and that was that Sunday +night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nobody in the house, I suppose?” suggested Trent discreetly. +</p> + +<p> +“Out of the question!” replied Martin briefly; then he added, +“I beg pardon, sir, but this is a most extraordinary thing to me. Such a +thing never happened in all my experience of Mr. Manderson. As for the +women-servants, they never touch anything, I can answer for it; and as for me, +when I want a drink I can help myself without going to the decanters.” He +took up the decanter again and aimlessly renewed his observation of the +contents, while the inspector eyed him with a look of serene satisfaction, as a +master contemplates his handiwork. +</p> + +<p> +Trent turned to a fresh page of his notebook, and tapped it thoughtfully with +his pencil. Then he looked up and said, “I suppose Mr. Manderson had +dressed for dinner that night?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly, sir. He had on a suit with a dress-jacket, what he used to +refer to as a Tuxedo, which he usually wore when dining at home.” +</p> + +<p> +“And he was dressed like that when you saw him last?” +</p> + +<p> +“All but the jacket, sir. When he spent the evening in the library, as +usually happened, he would change it for an old shooting-jacket after dinner, a +light-coloured tweed, a little too loud in pattern for English tastes, perhaps. +He had it on when I saw him last. It used to hang in this cupboard +here”—Martin opened the door of it as he spoke—“along +with Mr. Manderson’s fishing-rods and such things, so that he could slip +it on after dinner without going upstairs.” +</p> + +<p> +“Leaving the dinner-jacket in the cupboard?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir. The housemaid used to take it upstairs in the morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“In the morning,” Trent repeated slowly. “And now that we are +speaking of the morning, will you tell me exactly what you know about that? I +understand that Mr. Manderson was not missed until the body was found about ten +o’clock.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is so, sir. Mr. Manderson would never be called, or have anything +brought to him in the morning. He occupied a separate bedroom. Usually he would +get up about eight and go round to the bathroom, and he would come down some +time before nine. But often he would sleep till nine or ten o’clock. Mrs. +Manderson was always called at seven. The maid would take in tea to her. +Yesterday morning Mrs. Manderson took breakfast about eight in her sitting-room +as usual, and every one supposed that Mr. Manderson was still in bed and +asleep, when Evans came rushing up to the house with the shocking +intelligence.” +</p> + +<p> +“I see,” said Trent. “And now another thing. You say you +slipped the lock of the front door before going to bed. Was that all the +locking-up you did?” +</p> + +<p> +“To the front door, sir, yes; I slipped the lock. No more is considered +necessary in these parts. But I had locked both the doors at the back, and seen +to the fastenings of all the windows on the ground floor. In the morning +everything was as I had left it.” +</p> + +<p> +“As you had left it. Now here is another point—the last, I think. +Were the clothes in which the body was found the clothes that Mr. Manderson +would naturally have worn that day?” +</p> + +<p> +Martin rubbed his chin. “You remind me how surprised I was when I first +set eyes on the body, sir. At first I couldn’t make out what was unusual +about the clothes, and then I saw what it was. The collar was a shape of collar +Mr. Manderson never wore except with evening dress. Then I found that he had +put on all the same things that he had worn the night before—large +fronted shirt and all—except just the coat and waistcoat and trousers, +and the brown shoes, and blue tie. As for the suit, it was one of half a dozen +he might have worn. But for him to have simply put on all the rest just because +they were there, instead of getting out the kind of shirt and things he always +wore by day; well, sir, it was unprecedented. It shows, like some other things, +what a hurry he must have been in when getting up.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course,” said Trent. “Well, I think that’s all I +wanted to know. You have put everything with admirable clearness, Martin. If we +want to ask any more questions later on, I suppose you will be somewhere +about.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall be at your disposal, sir.” Martin bowed, and went out +quietly. +</p> + +<p> +Trent flung himself into the armchair and exhaled a long breath. “Martin +is a great creature,” he said. “He is far, far better than a play. +There is none like him, none, nor will be when our summers have deceased. +Straight, too; not an atom of harm in dear old Martin. Do you know, Murch, you +are wrong in suspecting that man.” +</p> + +<p> +“I never said a word about suspecting him.” The inspector was taken +aback. “You know, Mr. Trent, he would never have told his story like that +if he thought I suspected him.” +</p> + +<p> +“I dare say he doesn’t think so. He is a wonderful creature, a +great artist; but, in spite of that, he is not at all a sensitive type. It has +never occurred to his mind that you, Murch, could suspect him, Martin, the +complete, the accomplished. But I know it. You must understand, inspector, that +I have made a special study of the psychology of officers of the law. It is a +grossly neglected branch of knowledge. They are far more interesting than +criminals, and not nearly so easy. All the time I was questioning him I saw +handcuffs in your eye. Your lips were mutely framing the syllables of those +tremendous words: ‘It is my duty to tell you that anything you now say +will be taken down and used in evidence against you.’ Your manner would +have deceived most men, but it could not deceive me.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Murch laughed heartily. Trent’s nonsense never made any sort of +impression on his mind, but he took it as a mark of esteem, which indeed it +was; so it never failed to please him. “Well, Mr. Trent,” he said, +“you’re perfectly right. There’s no point in denying it, I +have got my eye on him. Not that there’s anything definite; but you know +as well as I do how often servants are mixed up in affairs of this kind, and +this man is such a very quiet customer. You remember the case of Lord William +Russell’s valet, who went in as usual, in the morning, to draw up the +blinds in his master’s bedroom, as quiet and starchy as you please, a few +hours after he had murdered him in his bed. I’ve talked to all the women +of the house, and I don’t believe there’s a morsel of harm in one +of them. But Martin’s not so easy set aside. I don’t like his +manner; I believe he’s hiding something. If so, I shall find it +out.” +</p> + +<p> +“Cease!” said Trent. “Drain not to its dregs the urn of +bitter prophecy. Let us get back to facts. Have you, as a matter of evidence, +anything at all to bring against Martin’s story as he has told it to +us?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing whatever at present. As for his suggestion that Manderson came +in by way of the window after leaving Marlowe and the car, that’s right +enough, I should say. I questioned the servant who swept the room next morning, +and she tells me there were gravelly marks near the window, on this plain +drugget that goes round the carpet. And there’s a footprint in this soft +new gravel just outside.” The inspector took a folding rule from his +pocket and with it pointed out the traces. “One of the patent shoes +Manderson was wearing that night exactly fits that print; you’ll find +them,” he added, “on the top shelf in the bedroom, near the window +end, the only patents in the row. The girl who polished them in the morning +picked them out for me.” +</p> + +<p> +Trent bent down and studied the faint marks keenly. “Good!” he +said. “You have covered a lot of ground, Murch, I must say. That was +excellent about the whisky; you made your point finely. I felt inclined to +shout ‘Encore!’ It’s a thing that I shall have to think +over.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought you might have fitted it in already,” said Mr. Murch. +“Come, Mr. Trent, we’re only at the beginning of our enquiries, but +what do you say to this for a preliminary theory? There’s a plan of +burglary, say a couple of men in it and Martin squared. They know where the +plate is, and all about the handy little bits of stuff in the drawing-room and +elsewhere. They watch the house; see Manderson off to bed; Martin comes to shut +the window, and leaves it ajar, accidentally on purpose. They wait till Martin +goes to bed at twelve-thirty; then they just walk into the library, and begin +to sample the whisky first thing. Now suppose Manderson isn’t asleep, and +suppose they make a noise opening the window, or however it might be. He hears +it; thinks of burglars; gets up very quietly to see if anything’s wrong; +creeps down on them, perhaps, just as they’re getting ready for work. +They cut and run; he chases them down to the shed, and collars one; +there’s a fight; one of them loses his temper and his head, and makes a +swinging job of it. Now, Mr. Trent, pick that to pieces.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well,” said Trent; “just to oblige you, Murch, +especially as I know you don’t believe a word of it. First: no traces of +any kind left by your burglar or burglars, and the window found fastened in the +morning, according to Martin. Not much force in that, I allow. Next: nobody in +the house hears anything of this stampede through the library, nor hears any +shout from Manderson either inside the house or outside. Next: Manderson goes +down without a word to anybody, though Bunner and Martin are both at hand. +Next: did you ever hear, in your long experience, of a householder getting up +in the night to pounce on burglars, who dressed himself fully, with +underclothing, shirt; collar and tie, trousers, waistcoat and coat, socks and +hard leather shoes; and who gave the finishing touches to a somewhat dandified +toilet by doing his hair, and putting on his watch and chain? Personally, I +call that over-dressing the part. The only decorative detail he seems to have +forgotten is his teeth.” +</p> + +<p> +The inspector leaned forward thinking, his large hands clasped before him. +“No,” he said at last. “Of course there’s no help in +that theory. I rather expect we have some way to go before we find out why a +man gets up before the servants are awake, dresses himself awry, and is +murdered within sight of his house early enough to be “cold and stiff by +ten in the morning.” +</p> + +<p> +Trent shook his head. “We can’t build anything on that last +consideration. I’ve gone into the subject with people who know. I +shouldn’t wonder,” he added, “if the traditional notions +about loss of temperature and rigour after death had occasionally brought an +innocent man to the gallows, or near it. Dr. Stock has them all, I feel sure; +most general practitioners of the older generation have. That Dr. Stock will +make an ass of himself at the inquest, is almost as certain as that +tomorrow’s sun will rise. I’ve seen him. He will say the body must +have been dead about so long, because of the degree of coldness and <i>rigor +mortis</i>. I can see him nosing it all out in some textbook that was out of +date when he was a student. Listen, Murch, and I will tell you some facts which +will be a great hindrance to you in your professional career. There are many +things that may hasten or retard the cooling of the body. This one was lying in +the long dewy grass on the shady side of the shed. As for rigidity, if +Manderson died in a struggle, or labouring under sudden emotion, his corpse +might stiffen practically instantaneously; there are dozens of cases noted, +particularly in cases of injury to the skull, like this one. On the other hand, +the stiffening might not have begun until eight or ten hours after death. You +can’t hang anybody on <i>rigor mortis</i> nowadays, inspector, much as +you may resent the limitation. No, what we <i>can</i> say is this. If he had +been shot after the hour at which the world begins to get up and go about its +business, it would have been heard, and very likely seen too. In fact, we must +reason, to begin with, at any rate, on the assumption that he wasn’t shot +at a time when people might be awake; it isn’t done in these parts. Put +that time at 6.30 a.m. Manderson went up to bed at 11 p.m., and Martin sat up +till 12.30. Assuming that he went to sleep at once on turning in, that leaves +us something like six hours for the crime to be committed in; and that is a +long time. But whenever it took place, I wish you would suggest a reason why +Manderson, who was a fairly late riser, was up and dressed at or before 6.30; +and why neither Martin, who sleeps lightly, nor Bunner, nor his wife heard him +moving about, or letting himself out of the house. He must have been careful. +He must have crept about like a cat. Do you feel as I do, Murch, about all +this; that it is very, very strange and baffling?” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s how it looks,” agreed the inspector. +</p> + +<p> +“And now,” said Trent, rising to his feet, “I’ll leave +you to your meditations, and take a look at the bedrooms. Perhaps the +explanation of all this will suddenly burst upon you while I am poking about up +there. But,” concluded Trent in a voice of sudden exasperation, turning +round in the doorway, “if you can tell me at any time, how under the sun +a man who put on all those clothes could forget to put in his teeth, you may +kick me from here to the nearest lunatic asylum, and hand me over as an +incipient dement.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap05"></a>Chapter V.<br />Poking About</h2> + +<p> +There are moments in life, as one might think, when that which is within us, +busy about its secret affair, lets escape into consciousness some hint of a +fortunate thing ordained. Who does not know what it is to feel at times a wave +of unaccountable persuasion that it is about to go well with him?—not the +feverish confidence of men in danger of a blow from fate, not the persistent +illusion of the optimist, but an unsought conviction, springing up like a bird +from the heather, that success is at hand in some great or fine thing. The +general suddenly knows at dawn that the day will bring him victory; the man on +the green suddenly knows that he will put down the long putt. As Trent mounted +the stairway outside the library door he seemed to rise into certainty of +achievement. A host of guesses and inferences swarmed apparently unsorted +through his mind; a few secret observations that he had made, and which he felt +must have significance, still stood unrelated to any plausible theory of the +crime; yet as he went up he seemed to know indubitably that light was going to +appear. +</p> + +<p> +The bedrooms lay on either side of a broad carpeted passage, lighted by a tall +end window. It went the length of the house until it ran at right angles into a +narrower passage, out of which the servants’ rooms opened. Martin’s +room was the exception: it opened out of a small landing half-way to the upper +floor. As Trent passed it he glanced within. A little square room, clean and +commonplace. In going up the rest of the stairway he stepped with elaborate +precaution against noise, hugging the wall closely and placing each foot with +care; but a series of very audible creaks marked his passage. +</p> + +<p> +He knew that Manderson’s room was the first on the right hand when the +bedroom floor was reached, and he went to it at once. He tried the latch and +the lock, which worked normally, and examined the wards of the key. Then he +turned to the room. +</p> + +<p> +It was a small apartment, strangely bare. The plutocrat’s toilet +appointments were of the simplest. All remained just as it had been on the +morning of the ghastly discovery in the grounds. The sheets and blankets of the +unmade bed lay tumbled over a narrow wooden bedstead, and the sun shone +brightly through the window upon them. It gleamed, too, upon the gold parts of +the delicate work of dentistry that lay in water in a shallow bowl of glass +placed on a small, plain table by the bedside. On this also stood a +wrought-iron candlestick. Some clothing lay untidily over one of the two +rush-bottomed chairs. Various objects on the top of a chest of drawers, which +had been used as a dressing-table, lay in such disorder as a hurried man might +make. Trent looked them over with a questing eye. He noted also that the +occupant of the room had neither washed nor shaved. With his finger he turned +over the dental plate in the bowl, and frowned again at its incomprehensible +presence. +</p> + +<p> +The emptiness and disarray of the little room, flooded by the sunbeams, were +producing in Trent a sense of gruesomeness. His fancy called up a picture of a +haggard man dressing himself in careful silence by the first light of dawn, +glancing constantly at the inner door behind which his wife slept, his eyes +full of some terror. +</p> + +<p> +Trent shivered, and to fix his mind again on actualities, opened two tall +cupboards in the wall on either side of the bed. They contained clothing, a +large choice of which had evidently been one of the very few conditions of +comfort for the man who had slept there. +</p> + +<p> +In the matter of shoes, also, Manderson had allowed himself the advantage of +wealth. An extraordinary number of these, treed and carefully kept, was ranged +on two long low shelves against the wall. No boots were among them. Trent, +himself an amateur of good shoe-leather, now turned to these, and glanced over +the collection with an appreciative eye. It was to be seen that Manderson had +been inclined to pride himself on a rather small and well-formed foot. The +shoes were of a distinctive shape, narrow and round-toed, beautifully made; all +were evidently from the same last. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly his eyes narrowed themselves over a pair of patent-leather shoes on +the upper shelf. +</p> + +<p> +These were the shoes of which the inspector had already described the position +to him; the shoes worn by Manderson the night before his death. They were a +well-worn pair, he saw at once; he saw, too, that they had been very recently +polished. Something about the uppers of these shoes had seized his attention. +He bent lower and frowned over them, comparing what he saw with the appearance +of the neighbouring shoes. Then he took them up and examined the line of +junction of the uppers with the soles. +</p> + +<p> +As he did this, Trent began unconsciously to whistle faintly, and with great +precision, an air which Inspector Murch, if he had been present, would have +recognized. +</p> + +<p> +Most men who have the habit of self-control have also some involuntary trick +which tells those who know them that they are suppressing excitement. The +inspector had noted that when Trent had picked up a strong scent he whistled +faintly a certain melodious passage; though the inspector could not have told +you that it was in fact the opening movement of Mendelssohn’s <i>Lied +ohne Worter</i> in A Major. +</p> + +<p> +He turned the shoes over, made some measurements with a marked tape, and looked +minutely at the bottoms. On each, in the angle between the heel and the instep, +he detected a faint trace of red gravel. +</p> + +<p> +Trent placed the shoes on the floor, and walked with his hands behind him to +the window, out of which, still faintly whistling, he gazed with eyes that saw +nothing. Once his lips opened to emit mechanically the Englishman’s +expletive of sudden enlightenment. At length he turned to the shelves again, +and swiftly but carefully examined every one of the shoes there. +</p> + +<p> +This done, he took up the garments from the chair, looked them over closely and +replaced them. He turned to the wardrobe cupboards again, and hunted through +them carefully. The litter on the dressing-table now engaged his attention for +the second time. Then he sat down on the empty chair, took his head in his +hands, and remained in that attitude, staring at the carpet, for some minutes. +He rose at last and opened the inner door leading to Mrs. Manderson’s +room. +</p> + +<p> +It was evident at a glance that the big room had been hurriedly put down from +its place as the lady’s bower. All the array of objects that belong to a +woman’s dressing-table had been removed; on bed and chairs and smaller +tables there were no garments or hats, bags or boxes; no trace remained of the +obstinate conspiracy of gloves and veils, handkerchiefs and ribbons, to break +the captivity of the drawer. The room was like an unoccupied guest-chamber. Yet +in every detail of furniture and decoration it spoke of an unconventional but +exacting taste. Trent, as his expert eye noted the various perfection of colour +and form amid which the ill-mated lady dreamed her dreams and thought her +loneliest thoughts, knew that she had at least the resources of an artistic +nature. His interest in this unknown personality grew stronger; and his brows +came down heavily as he thought of the burdens laid upon it, and of the deed of +which the history was now shaping itself with more and more of substance before +his busy mind. +</p> + +<p> +He went first to the tall French window in the middle of the wall that faced +the door, and opening it, stepped out upon a small balcony with an iron +railing. He looked down on a broad stretch of lawn that began immediately +beneath him, separated from the house-wall only by a narrow flower-bed, and +stretched away, with an abrupt dip at the farther end, toward the orchard. The +other window opened with a sash above the garden-entrance of the library. In +the farther inside corner of the room was a second door giving upon the +passage; the door by which the maid was wont to come in, and her mistress to go +out, in the morning. +</p> + +<p> +Trent, seated on the bed, quickly sketched in his notebook a plan of the room +and its neighbour. The bed stood in the angle between the communicating-door +and the sash-window, its head against the wall dividing the room from +Manderson’s. Trent stared at the pillows; then he lay down with +deliberation on the bed and looked through the open door into the adjoining +room. +</p> + +<p> +This observation taken, he rose again and proceeded to note on his plan that on +either side of the bed was a small table with a cover. Upon that furthest from +the door was a graceful electric-lamp standard of copper connected by a free +wire with the wall. Trent looked at it thoughtfully, then at the switches +connected with the other lights in the room. They were, as usual, on the wall +just within the door, and some way out of his reach as he sat on the bed. He +rose, and satisfied himself that the lights were all in order. Then he turned +on his heel, walked quickly into Manderson’s room, and rang the bell. +</p> + +<p> +“I want your help again, Martin,” he said, as the butler presented +himself, upright and impassive, in the doorway. “I want you to prevail +upon Mrs. Manderson’s maid to grant me an interview.” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly, sir,” said Martin. +</p> + +<p> +“What sort of a woman is she? Has she her wits about her?” +</p> + +<p> +“She’s French, sir,” replied Martin succinctly; adding after +a pause: “She has not been with us long, sir, but I have formed the +impression that the young woman knows as much of the world as is good for +her—since you ask me.” +</p> + +<p> +“You think butter might possibly melt in her mouth, do you?” said +Trent. “Well, I am not afraid. I want to put some questions to +her.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will send her up immediately, sir.” The butler withdrew, and +Trent wandered round the little room with his hands at his back. Sooner than he +had expected, a small neat figure in black appeared quietly before him. +</p> + +<p> +The lady’s maid, with her large brown eyes, had taken favourable notice +of Trent from a window when he had crossed the lawn, and had been hoping +desperately that the resolver of mysteries (whose reputation was as great +below-stairs as elsewhere) would send for her. For one thing, she felt the need +to make a scene; her nerves were overwrought. But her scenes were at a discount +with the other domestics, and as for Mr. Murch, he had chilled her into +self-control with his official manner. Trent, her glimpse of him had told her, +had not the air of a policeman, and at a distance he had appeared +<i>sympathique</i>. +</p> + +<p> +As she entered the room, however, instinct decided for her that any approach to +coquetry would be a mistake, if she sought to make a good impression at the +beginning. It was with an air of amiable candour, then, that she said, +“Monsieur desire to speak with me.” She added helpfully, “I +am called Célestine.” +</p> + +<p> +“Naturally,” said Trent with businesslike calm. “Now what I +want you to tell me, Célestine, is this. When you took tea to your mistress +yesterday morning at seven o’clock, was the door between the two +bedrooms—this door here—open?” +</p> + +<p> +Célestine became intensely animated in an instant. “Oh yes!” she +said, using her favourite English idiom. “The door was open as always, +monsieur, and I shut it as always. But it is necessary to explain. Listen! When +I enter the room of madame from the other door in there—ah! but if +monsieur will give himself the pain to enter the other room, all explains +itself.” She tripped across to the door, and urged Trent before her into +the larger bedroom with a hand on his arm. “See! I enter the room with +the tea like this. I approach the bed. Before I come quite near the bed, here +is the door to my right hand—open always—so! But monsieur can +perceive that I see nothing in the room of Monsieur Manderson. The door opens +to the bed, not to me who approach from down there. I shut it without seeing +in. It is the order. Yesterday it was as ordinary. I see nothing of the next +room. Madame sleep like an angel—she see nothing. I shut the door. I +place the <i>plateau</i>—I open the curtains—I prepare the +toilette—I retire—voilà!” Célestine paused for breath and +spread her hands abroad. +</p> + +<p> +Trent, who had followed her movements and gesticulations with deepening +gravity, nodded his head. “I see exactly how it was now,” he said. +“Thank you, Célestine. So Mr. Manderson was supposed to be still in his +room while your mistress was getting up, and dressing, and having breakfast in +her boudoir?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oui, monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nobody missed him, in fact,” remarked Trent. “Well, +Célestine, I am very much obliged to you.” He reopened the door to the +outer bedroom. +</p> + +<p> +“It is nothing, monsieur,” said Célestine, as she crossed the small +room. “I hope that monsieur will catch the assassin of Monsieur +Manderson. But I not regret him too much,” she added with sudden and +amazing violence, turning round with her hand on the knob of the outer door. +She set her teeth with an audible sound, and the colour rose in her small dark +face. English departed from her. “Je ne le regrette pas du tout, du +tout!” she cried with a flood of words. “Madame—ah! je me +jetterais au feu pour madame—une femme si charmante, si adorable! Mais un +homme comme monsieur—maussade, boudeur, impassible! Ah, non!—de ma +vie! J’en avais par-dessus la tête, de monsieur! Ah! vrai! Est-ce +insupportable, tout de même, qu’il existe des types comme ça? Je vous +jure que—” +</p> + +<p> +“Finissez ce chahut, Célestine!” Trent broke in sharply. +Célestine’s tirade had brought back the memory of his student days with a +rush. “En voilà une scène! C’est rasant, vous savez. Faut rentret +ça, mademoiselle. Du reste, c’est bien imprudent, croyez-moi. Hang it! +Have some common sense! If the inspector downstairs heard you saying that kind +of thing, you would get into trouble. And don’t wave your fists about so +much; you might hit something. You seem,” he went on more pleasantly, as +Célestine grew calmer under his authoritative eye, “to be even more glad +than other people that Mr. Manderson is out of the way. I could almost suspect, +Célestine, that Mr. Manderson did not take as much notice of you as you thought +necessary and right.” +</p> + +<p> +“A peine s’il m’avait regardé!” Célestine answered +simply. +</p> + +<p> +“Ça, c’est un comble!” observed Trent. “You are a nice +young woman for a small tea-party, I don’t think. A star upon your +birthday burned, whose fierce, serene, red, pulseless planet never yearned in +heaven, Célestine. Mademoiselle, I am busy. Bon jour. You certainly are a +beauty!” +</p> + +<p> +Célestine took this as a scarcely expected compliment. The surprise restored +her balance. With a sudden flash of her eyes and teeth at Trent over her +shoulder, the lady’s maid opened the door and swiftly disappeared. +</p> + +<p> +Trent, left alone in the little bedroom, relieved his mind with two forcible +descriptive terms in Célestine’s language, and turned to his problem. He +took the pair of shoes which he had already examined, and placed them on one of +the two chairs in the room, then seated himself on the other opposite to this. +With his hands in his pockets he sat with eyes fixed upon those two dumb +witnesses. Now and then he whistled, almost inaudibly, a few bars. It was very +still in the room. A subdued twittering came from the trees through the open +window. From time to time a breeze rustled in the leaves of the thick creeper +about the sill. But the man in the room, his face grown hard and sombre now +with his thoughts, never moved. +</p> + +<p> +So he sat for the space of half an hour. Then he rose quickly to his feet. He +replaced the shoes on their shelf with care, and stepped out upon the landing. +</p> + +<p> +Two bedroom doors faced him on the other side of the passage. He opened that +which was immediately opposite, and entered a bedroom by no means austerely +tidy. Some sticks and fishing-rods stood confusedly in one corner, a pile of +books in another. The housemaid’s hand had failed to give a look of order +to the jumble of heterogeneous objects left on the dressing-table and on the +mantelshelf—pipes, penknives, pencils, keys, golf-balls, old letters, +photographs, small boxes, tins, and bottles. Two fine etchings and some +water-colour sketches hung on the walls; leaning against the end of the +wardrobe, unhung, were a few framed engravings. A row of shoes and boots was +ranged beneath the window. Trent crossed the room and studied them intently; +then he measured some of them with his tape, whistling very softly. This done, +he sat on the side of the bed, and his eyes roamed gloomily about the room. +</p> + +<p> +The photographs on the mantelshelf attracted him presently. He rose and +examined one representing Marlowe and Manderson on horseback. Two others were +views of famous peaks in the Alps. There was a faded print of three +youths—one of them unmistakably his acquaintance of the haggard blue +eyes—clothed in tatterdemalion soldier’s gear of the sixteenth +century. Another was a portrait of a majestic old lady, slightly resembling +Marlowe. Trent, mechanically taking a cigarette from an open box on the +mantel-shelf, lit it and stared at the photographs. Next he turned his +attention to a flat leathern case that lay by the cigarette-box. +</p> + +<p> +It opened easily. A small and light revolver, of beautiful workmanship, was +disclosed, with a score or so of loose cartridges. On the stock were engraved +the initials “J. M.” +</p> + +<p> +A step was heard on the stairs, and as Trent opened the breech and peered into +the barrel of the weapon, Inspector Murch appeared at the open door of the +room. “I was wondering—” he began; then stopped as he saw +what the other was about. His intelligent eyes opened slightly. “Whose is +the revolver, Mr. Trent?” he asked in a conversational tone. +</p> + +<p> +“Evidently it belongs to the occupant of the room, Mr. Marlowe,” +replied Trent with similar lightness, pointing to the initials. “I found +this lying about on the mantelpiece. It seems a handy little pistol to me, and +it has been very carefully cleaned, I should say, since the last time it was +used. But I know little about firearms.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I know a good deal,” rejoined the inspector quietly, taking +the revolver from Trent’s outstretched hand. “It’s a bit of a +speciality with me, is firearms, as I think you know, Mr. Trent. But it +don’t require an expert to tell one thing.” He replaced the +revolver in its case on the mantel-shelf, took out one of the cartridges, and +laid it on the spacious palm of one hand; then, taking a small object from his +waistcoat pocket, he laid it beside the cartridge. It was a little leaden +bullet, slightly battered about the nose, and having upon it some bright new +scratches. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that <i>the</i> one?” Trent murmured as he bent over the +inspector’s hand. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s him,” replied Mr. Murch. “Lodged in the bone at +the back of the skull. Dr Stock got it out within the last hour, and handed it +to the local officer, who has just sent it on to me. These bright scratches you +see were made by the doctor’s instruments. These other marks were made by +the rifling of the barrel—a barrel like this one.” He tapped the +revolver. “Same make, same calibre. There is no other that marks the +bullet just like this.” +</p> + +<p> +With the pistol in its case between them, Trent and the inspector looked into +each other’s eyes for some moments. Trent was the first to speak. +“This mystery is all wrong,” he observed. “It is insanity. +The symptoms of mania are very marked. Let us see how we stand. We were not in +any doubt, I believe, about Manderson having dispatched Marlowe in the car to +Southampton, or about Marlowe having gone, returning late last night, many +hours after the murder was committed.” +</p> + +<p> +“There <i>is</i> no doubt whatever about all that,” said Mr. Murch, +with a slight emphasis on the verb. +</p> + +<p> +“And now,” pursued Trent, “we are invited by this polished +and insinuating firearm to believe the following line of propositions: that +Marlowe never went to Southampton; that he returned to the house in the night; +that he somehow, without waking Mrs. Manderson or anybody else, got Manderson +to get up, dress himself, and go out into the grounds; that he then and there +shot the said Manderson with his incriminating pistol; that he carefully +cleaned the said pistol, returned to the house and, again without disturbing +any one, replaced it in its case in a favourable position to be found by the +officers of the law; that he then withdrew and spent the rest of the day in +hiding—<i>with</i> a large motor car; and that he turned up, feigning +ignorance of the whole affair, at—what time was it?” +</p> + +<p> +“A little after 9 p.m.” The inspector still stared moodily at +Trent. “As you say, Mr. Trent, that is the first theory suggested by this +find, and it seems wild enough—at least it would do if it didn’t +fall to pieces at the very start. When the murder was done Marlowe must have +been fifty to a hundred miles away. He <i>did</i> go to Southampton.” +</p> + +<p> +“How do you know?” +</p> + +<p> +“I questioned him last night, and took down his story. He arrived in +Southampton about 6.30 on the Monday morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come off” exclaimed Trent bitterly. “What do I care about +his story? What do you care about his story? I want to know how you <i>know</i> +he went to Southampton.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Murch chuckled. “I thought I should take a rise out of you, Mr. +Trent,” he said. “Well, there’s no harm in telling you. After +I arrived yesterday evening, as soon as I had got the outlines of the story +from Mrs. Manderson and the servants, the first thing I did was to go to the +telegraph office and wire to our people in Southampton. Manderson had told his +wife when he went to bed that he had changed his mind, and sent Marlowe to +Southampton to get some important information from some one who was crossing by +the next day’s boat. It seemed right enough, but, you see, Marlowe was +the only one of the household who wasn’t under my hand, so to speak. He +didn’t return in the car until later in the evening; so before thinking +the matter out any further, I wired to Southampton making certain enquiries. +Early this morning I got this reply.” He handed a series of telegraph +slips to Trent, who read: +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +Person answering description in motor answering description arrived Bedford +Hotel here 6.30 this morning gave name Marlowe left car hotel garage told +attendant car belonged Manderson had bath and breakfast went out heard of later +at docks inquiring for passenger name Harris on Havre boat inquired repeatedly +until boat left at noon next heard of at hotel where he lunched about 1.15 left +soon afterwards in car company’s agents inform berth was booked name +Harris last week but Harris did not travel by boat Burke Inspector. +</p> + +<p> +“Simple and satisfactory,” observed Mr. Murch as Trent, after twice +reading the message, returned it to him. “His own story corroborated in +every particular. He told me he hung about the dock for half an hour or so on +the chance of Harris turning up late, then strolled back, lunched, and decided +to return at once. He sent a wire to Manderson—‘Harris not turned +up missed boat returning Marlowe,’ which was duly delivered here in the +afternoon, and placed among the dead man’s letters. He motored back at a +good rate, and arrived dog-tired. When he heard of Manderson’s death from +Martin, he nearly fainted. What with that and the being without sleep for so +long, he was rather a wreck when I came to interview him last night; but he was +perfectly coherent.” +</p> + +<p> +Trent picked up the revolver and twirled the cylinder idly for a few moments. +“It was unlucky for Manderson that Marlowe left his pistol and cartridges +about so carelessly,” he remarked at length, as he put it back in the +case. “It was throwing temptation in somebody’s way, don’t +you think?” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Murch shook his head. “There isn’t really much to lay hold of +about the revolver, when you come to think. That particular make of revolver is +common enough in England. It was introduced from the States. Half the people +who buy a revolver today for self-defence or mischief provide themselves with +that make, of that calibre. It is very reliable, and easily carried in the +hip-pocket. There must be thousands of them in the possession of crooks and +honest men. For instance,” continued the inspector with an air of +unconcern, “Manderson himself had one, the double of this. I found it in +one of the top drawers of the desk downstairs, and it’s in my overcoat +pocket now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aha! so you were going to keep that little detail to yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“I was,” said the inspector; “but as you’ve found one +revolver, you may as well know about the other. As I say, neither of them may +do us any good. The people in the house—” +</p> + +<p> +Both men started, and the inspector checked his speech abruptly, as the +half-closed door of the bedroom was slowly pushed open, and a man stood in the +doorway. His eyes turned from the pistol in its open case to the faces of Trent +and the inspector. They, who had not heard a sound to herald this entrance, +simultaneously looked at his long, narrow feet. He wore rubber-soled tennis +shoes. +</p> + +<p> +“You must be Mr. Bunner,” said Trent. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap06"></a>Chapter VI.<br />Mr. Bunner on the Case</h2> + +<p> +“Calvin C. Bunner, at your service,” amended the newcomer, with a +touch of punctilio, as he removed an unlighted cigar from his mouth. He was +used to finding Englishmen slow and ceremonious with strangers, and +Trent’s quick remark plainly disconcerted him a little. “You are +Mr. Trent, I expect,” he went on. “Mrs. Manderson was telling me a +while ago. Captain, good-morning.” Mr. Murch acknowledged the outlandish +greeting with a nod. “I was coming up to my room, and I heard a strange +voice in here, so I thought I would take a look in.” Mr. Bunner laughed +easily. “You thought I might have been eavesdropping, perhaps,” he +said. “No, sir; I heard a word or two about a pistol—this one, I +guess—and that’s all.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Bunner was a thin, rather short young man with a shaven, pale, bony, almost +girlish face, and large, dark, intelligent eyes. His waving dark hair was +parted in the middle. His lips, usually occupied with a cigar, in its absence +were always half open with a curious expression as of permanent eagerness. By +smoking or chewing a cigar this expression was banished, and Mr. Bunner then +looked the consummately cool and sagacious Yankee that he was. +</p> + +<p> +Born in Connecticut, he had gone into a broker’s office on leaving +college, and had attracted the notice of Manderson, whose business with his +firm he had often handled. The Colossus had watched him for some time, and at +length offered him the post of private secretary. Mr. Bunner was a pattern +business man, trustworthy, long-headed, methodical, and accurate. Manderson +could have found many men with those virtues; but he engaged Mr Bunner because +he was also swift and secret, and had besides a singular natural instinct in +regard to the movements of the stock market. +</p> + +<p> +Trent and the American measured one another coolly with their eyes. Both +appeared satisfied with what they saw. “I was having it explained to +me,” said Trent pleasantly, “that my discovery of a pistol that +might have shot Manderson does not amount to very much. I am told it is a +favourite weapon among your people, and has become quite popular over +here.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Bunner stretched out a bony hand and took the pistol from its case. +“Yes, sir,” he said, handling it with an air of familiarity; +“the captain is right. This is what we call out home a Little Arthur, and +I dare say there are duplicates of it in a hundred thousand hip-pockets this +minute. I consider it too light in the hand myself,” Mr. Bunner went on, +mechanically feeling under the tail of his jacket, and producing an ugly +looking weapon. “Feel of that, now, Mr. Trent—it’s loaded, by +the way. Now this Little Arthur—Marlowe bought it just before we came +over this year to please the old man. Manderson said it was ridiculous for a +man to be without a pistol in the twentieth century. So he went out and bought +what they offered him, I guess—never consulted me. Not but what +it’s a good gun,” Mr. Bunner conceded, squinting along the sights. +“Marlowe was poor with it at first, but I’ve coached him some in +the last month or so, and he’s practised until he is pretty good. But he +never could get the habit of carrying it around. Why, it’s as natural to +me as wearing my pants. I have carried one for some years now, because there +was always likely to be somebody laying for Manderson. And now,” Mr. +Bunner concluded sadly, “they got him when I wasn’t around. Well, +gentlemen, you must excuse me. I am going into Bishopsbridge. There is a lot to +do these days, and I have to send off a bunch of cables big enough to choke a +cow.” +</p> + +<p> +“I must be off too,” said Trent. “I have an appointment at +the ‘Three Tuns’ inn.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let me give you a lift in the automobile,” said Mr. Bunner +cordially. “I go right by that joint. Say, cap., are you coming my way +too? No? Then come along, Mr. Trent, and help me get out the car. The chauffeur +is out of action, and we have to do ’most everything ourselves except +clean the dirt off her.” +</p> + +<p> +Still tirelessly talking in his measured drawl, Mr. Bunner led Trent downstairs +and through the house to the garage at the back. It stood at a little distance +from the house, and made a cool retreat from the blaze of the midday sun. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Bunner seemed to be in no hurry to get out the car. He offered Trent a +cigar, which was accepted, and for the first time lit his own. Then he seated +himself on the footboard of the car, his thin hands clasped between his knees, +and looked keenly at the other. +</p> + +<p> +“See here, Mr. Trent,” he said, after a few moments. “There +are some things I can tell you that may be useful to you. I know your record. +You are a smart man, and I like dealing with smart men. I don’t know if I +have that detective sized up right, but he strikes me as a mutt. I would answer +any questions he had the gumption to ask me—I have done so, in +fact—but I don’t feel encouraged to give him any notions of mine +without his asking. See?” +</p> + +<p> +Trent nodded. “That is a feeling many people have in the presence of our +police,” he said. “It’s the official manner, I suppose. But +let me tell you, Murch is anything but what you think. He is one of the +shrewdest officers in Europe. He is not very quick with his mind, but he is +very sure. And his experience is immense. My forte is imagination, but I assure +you in police work experience outweighs it by a great deal.” +</p> + +<p> +“Outweigh nothing!” replied Mr. Bunner crisply. “This is no +ordinary case, Mr. Trent. I will tell you one reason why. I believe the old man +knew there was something coming to him. Another thing: I believe it was +something he thought he couldn’t dodge.” +</p> + +<p> +Trent pulled a crate opposite to Mr. Bunner’s place on the footboard and +seated himself. “This sounds like business,” he said. “Tell +me your ideas.” +</p> + +<p> +“I say what I do because of the change in the old man’s manner this +last few weeks. I dare say you have heard, Mr. Trent, that he was a man who +always kept himself well in hand. That was so. I have always considered him the +coolest and hardest head in business. That man’s calm was just +deadly—I never saw anything to beat it. And I knew Manderson as nobody +else did. I was with him in the work he really lived for. I guess I knew him a +heap better than his wife did, poor woman. I knew him better than Marlowe +could—he never saw Manderson in his office when there was a big thing on. +I knew him better than any of his friends.” +</p> + +<p> +“Had he any friends?” interjected Trent. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Bunner glanced at him sharply. “Somebody has been putting you next, I +see that,” he remarked. “No: properly speaking, I should say not. +He had many acquaintances among the big men, people he saw, most every day; +they would even go yachting or hunting together. But I don’t believe +there ever was a man that Manderson opened a corner of his heart to. But what I +was going to say was this. Some months ago the old man began to get like I +never knew him before—gloomy and sullen, just as if he was everlastingly +brooding over something bad, something that he couldn’t fix. This went on +without any break; it was the same down town as it was up home, he acted just +as if there was something lying heavy on his mind. But it wasn’t until a +few weeks back that his self-restraint began to go; and let me tell you this, +Mr. Trent”—the American laid his bony claw on the other’s +knee—“I’m the only man that knows it. With every one else he +would be just morose and dull; but when he was alone with me in his office, or +anywhere where we would be working together, if the least little thing went +wrong, by George! he would fly off the handle to beat the Dutch. In this +library here I have seen him open a letter with something that didn’t +just suit him in it, and he would rip around and carry on like an Indian, +saying he wished he had the man that wrote it here, he wouldn’t do a +thing to him, and so on, till it was just pitiful. I never saw such a change. +And here’s another thing. For a week before he died Manderson neglected +his work, for the first time in my experience. He wouldn’t answer a +letter or a cable, though things looked like going all to pieces over there. I +supposed that this anxiety of his, whatever it was, had got on to his nerves +till they were worn out. Once I advised him to see a doctor, and he told me to +go to hell. But nobody saw this side of him but me. If he was having one of +these rages in the library here, for example, and Mrs. Manderson would come +into the room, he would be all calm and cold again in an instant.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you put this down to some secret anxiety, a fear that somebody had +designs on his life?” asked Trent. +</p> + +<p> +The American nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose,” Trent resumed, “you had considered the idea of +there being something wrong with his mind—a break-down from overstrain, +say. That is the first thought that your account suggests to me. Besides, it is +what is always happening to your big business men in America, isn’t it? +That is the impression one gets from the newspapers.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t let them slip you any of that bunk,” said Mr. Bunner +earnestly. “It’s only the ones who have got rich too quick, and +can’t make good, who go crazy. Think of all our really big men—the +men anywhere near Manderson’s size: did you ever hear of any one of them +losing his senses? They don’t do it—believe <i>me</i>. I know they +say every man has his loco point,” Mr. Bunner added reflectively, +“but that doesn’t mean genuine, sure-enough craziness; it just +means some personal eccentricity in a man ... like hating cats ... or my own +weakness of not being able to touch any kind of fish-food.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what was Manderson’s?” +</p> + +<p> +“He was full of them—the old man. There was his objection to all +the unnecessary fuss and luxury that wealthy people don’t kick at much, +as a general rule. He didn’t have any use for expensive trifles and +ornaments. He wouldn’t have anybody do little things for him; he hated to +have servants tag around after him unless he wanted them. And although +Manderson was as careful about his clothes as any man I ever knew, and his +shoes—well, sir, the amount of money he spent on shoes was +sinful—in spite of that, I tell you, he never had a valet. He never liked +to have anybody touch him. All his life nobody ever shaved him.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve heard something of that,” Trent remarked. “Why +was it, do you think?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” Mr. Bunner answered slowly, “it was the Manderson +habit of mind, I guess; a sort of temper of general suspicion and jealousy. +</p> + +<p> +“They say his father and grandfather were just the same.... Like a dog +with a bone, you know, acting as if all the rest of creation was laying for a +chance to steal it. He didn’t really <i>think</i> the barber would start +in to saw his head off; he just felt there was a possibility that he +<i>might</i>, and he was taking no risks. Then again in business he was always +convinced that somebody else was after his bone—which was true enough a +good deal of the time; but not all the time. The consequence of that was that +the old man was the most cautious and secret worker in the world of finance; +and that had a lot to do with his success, too.... But that doesn’t +amount to being a lunatic, Mr. Trent; not by a long way. You ask me if +Manderson was losing his mind before he died. I say I believe he was just worn +out with worrying over something, and was losing his nerve.” +</p> + +<p> +Trent smoked thoughtfully. He wondered how much Mr. Bunner knew of the domestic +difficulty in his chief’s household, and decided to put out a feeler. +“I understood that he had trouble with his wife.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sure,” replied Mr. Bunner. “But do you suppose a thing like +that was going to upset Sig Manderson that way? No, sir! He was a sight too big +a man to be all broken up by any worry of that kind.” +</p> + +<p> +Trent looked half-incredulously into the eyes of the young man. But behind all +their shrewdness and intensity he saw a massive innocence. Mr. Bunner really +believed a serious breach between husband and wife to be a minor source of +trouble for a big man. +</p> + +<p> +“What <i>was</i> the trouble between them, anyhow?” Trent inquired. +</p> + +<p> +“You can search me,” Mr. Bunner replied briefly. He puffed at his +cigar. “Marlowe and I have often talked about it, and we could never make +out a solution. I had a notion at first,” said Mr. Bunner in a lower +voice, leaning forward, “that the old man was disappointed and vexed +because he had expected a child; but Marlowe told me that the disappointment on +that score was the other way around, likely as not. His idea was all right, I +guess; he gathered it from something said by Mrs. Manderson’s French +maid.” +</p> + +<p> +Trent looked up at him quickly. “Célestine!” he said; and his +thought was, “So that was what she was getting at!” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Bunner misunderstood his glance. “Don’t you think I’m +giving a man away, Mr. Trent,” he said. “Marlowe isn’t that +kind. Célestine just took a fancy to him because he talks French like a native, +and she would always be holding him up for a gossip. French servants are quite +unlike English that way. And servant or no servant,” added Mr. Bunner +with emphasis, “I don’t see how a woman could mention such a +subject to a man. But the French beat me.” He shook his head slowly. +</p> + +<p> +“But to come back to what you were telling me just now,” Trent +said. “You believe that Manderson was going in terror of his life for +some time. Who should threaten it? I am quite in the dark.” +</p> + +<p> +“Terror—I don’t know,” replied Mr. Bunner meditatively. +“Anxiety, if you like. Or suspense—that’s rather my idea of +it. The old man was hard to terrify, anyway; and more than that, he +wasn’t taking any precautions—he was actually avoiding them. It +looked more like he was asking for a quick finish—supposing there’s +any truth in my idea. Why, he would sit in that library window, nights, looking +out into the dark, with his white shirt just a target for anybody’s gun. +As for who should threaten his life well, sir,” said Mr. Bunner with a +faint smile, “it’s certain you have not lived in the States. To +take the Pennsylvania coal hold-up alone, there were thirty thousand men, with +women and children to keep, who would have jumped at the chance of drilling a +hole through the man who fixed it so that they must starve or give in to his +terms. Thirty thousand of the toughest aliens in the country, Mr. Trent. +There’s a type of desperado you find in that kind of push who has been +known to lay for a man for years, and kill him when he had forgotten what he +did. They have been known to dynamite a man in Idaho who had done them dirt in +New Jersey ten years before. Do you suppose the Atlantic is going to stop +them?... It takes some sand, I tell you, to be a big business man in our +country. No, sir: the old man knew—had always known—that there was +a whole crowd of dangerous men scattered up and down the States who had it in +for him. My belief is that he had somehow got to know that some of them were +definitely after him at last. What licks me altogether is why he should have +just laid himself open to them the way he did—why he never tried to +dodge, but walked right down into the garden yesterday morning to be shot +at.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Bunner ceased to speak, and for a little while both men sat with wrinkled +brows, faint blue vapours rising from their cigars. Then Trent rose. +“Your theory is quite fresh to me,” he said. “It’s +perfectly rational, and it’s only a question of whether it fits all the +facts. I mustn’t give away what I’m doing for my newspaper, Mr. +Bunner, but I will say this: I have already satisfied myself that this was a +premeditated crime, and an extraordinarily cunning one at that. I’m +deeply obliged to you. We must talk it over again.” He looked at his +watch. “I have been expected for some time by my friend. Shall we make a +move?” +</p> + +<p> +“Two o’clock,” said Mr. Bunner, consulting his own, as he got +up from the foot-board. “Ten a.m. in little old New York. You don’t +know Wall Street, Mr. Trent. Let’s you and I hope we never see anything +nearer hell than what’s loose in the Street this minute.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap07"></a>Chapter VII.<br />The Lady in Black</h2> + +<p> +The sea broke raging upon the foot of the cliff under a good breeze; the sun +flooded the land with life from a dappled blue sky. In this perfection of +English weather Trent, who had slept ill, went down before eight o’clock +to a pool among the rocks, the direction of which had been given him, and dived +deep into clear water. Between vast grey boulders he swam out to the tossing +open, forced himself some little way against a coast-wise current, and then +returned to his refuge battered and refreshed. Ten minutes later he was scaling +the cliff again, and his mind, cleared for the moment of a heavy disgust for +the affair he had in hand, was turning over his plans for the morning. +</p> + +<p> +It was the day of the inquest, the day after his arrival in the place. He had +carried matters not much further after parting with the American on the road to +Bishopsbridge. In the afternoon he had walked from the inn into the town, +accompanied by Mr. Cupples, and had there made certain purchases at a +chemist’s shop, conferred privately for some time with a photographer, +sent off a reply-paid telegram, and made an enquiry at the telephone exchange. +He had said but little about the case to Mr. Cupples, who seemed incurious on +his side, and nothing at all about the results of his investigation or the +steps he was about to take. After their return from Bishopsbridge, Trent had +written a long dispatch for the <i>Record</i> and sent it to be telegraphed by +the proud hands of the paper’s local representative. He had afterwards +dined with Mr. Cupples, and had spent the rest of the evening in meditative +solitude on the veranda. +</p> + +<p> +This morning as he scaled the cliff he told himself that he had never taken up +a case he liked so little, or which absorbed him so much. The more he +contemplated it in the golden sunshine of this new day, the more evil and the +more challenging it appeared. All that he suspected and all that he almost knew +had occupied his questing brain for hours to the exclusion of sleep; and in +this glorious light and air, though washed in body and spirit by the fierce +purity of the sea, he only saw the more clearly the darkness of the guilt in +which he believed, and was more bitterly repelled by the motive at which he +guessed. But now at least his zeal was awake again, and the sense of the hunt +quickened. He would neither slacken nor spare; here need be no compunction. In +the course of the day, he hoped, his net would be complete. He had work to do +in the morning; and with very vivid expectancy, though not much serious hope, +he awaited the answer to the telegram which he had shot into the sky, as it +were, the day before. +</p> + +<p> +The path back to the hotel wound for some way along the top of the cliff, and +on nearing a spot he had marked from the sea level, where the face had fallen +away long ago, he approached the edge and looked down, hoping to follow with +his eyes the most delicately beautiful of all the movements of water—the +wash of a light sea over broken rock. But no rock was there. A few feet below +him a broad ledge stood out, a rough platform as large as a great room, thickly +grown with wiry grass and walled in steeply on three sides. There, close to the +verge where the cliff at last dropped sheer, a woman was sitting, her arms +about her drawn-up knees, her eyes fixed on the trailing smoke of a distant +liner, her face full of some dream. +</p> + +<p> +This woman seemed to Trent, whose training had taught him to live in his eyes, +to make the most beautiful picture he had ever seen. Her face of southern +pallor, touched by the kiss of the wind with colour on the cheek, presented to +him a profile of delicate regularity in which there was nothing hard; +nevertheless the black brows bending down toward the point where they almost +met gave her in repose a look of something like severity, strangely redeemed by +the open curves of the mouth. Trent said to himself that the absurdity or +otherwise of a lover writing sonnets to his mistress’s eyebrow depended +after all on the quality of the eyebrow. Her nose was of the straight and fine +sort, exquisitely escaping the perdition of too much length, which makes a +conscientious mind ashamed that it cannot help, on occasion, admiring the +tip-tilted. Her hat lay pinned to the grass beside her, and the lively breeze +played with her thick dark hair, blowing backward the two broad bandeaux that +should have covered much of her forehead, and agitating a hundred tiny curls +from the mass gathered at her nape. Everything about this lady was black, from +her shoes of suede to the hat that she had discarded; lustreless black covered +her to her bare throat. All she wore was fine and well put on. Dreamy and +delicate of spirit as her looks declared her, it was very plain that she was +long-practised as only a woman grown can be in dressing well, the oldest of the +arts, and had her touch of primal joy in the excellence of the body that was so +admirably curved now in the attitude of embraced knees. With the suggestion of +French taste in her clothes, she made a very modern figure seated there, until +one looked at her face and saw the glow and triumph of all vigorous beings that +ever faced sun and wind and sea together in the prime of the year. One saw, +too, a womanhood so unmixed and vigorous, so unconsciously sure of itself, as +scarcely to be English, still less American. +</p> + +<p> +Trent, who had halted only for a moment in the surprise of seeing the woman in +black, had passed by on the cliff above her, perceiving and feeling as he went +the things set down. At all times his keen vision and active brain took in and +tasted details with an easy swiftness that was marvellous to men of slower +chemistry; the need to stare, he held, was evidence of blindness. Now the +feeling of beauty was awakened and exultant, and doubled the power of his +sense. In these instants a picture was printed on his memory that would never +pass away. +</p> + +<p> +As he went by unheard on the turf the woman, still alone with her thoughts, +suddenly moved. She unclasped her long hands from about her knees, stretched +her limbs and body with feline grace, then slowly raised her head and extended +her arms with open, curving fingers, as if to gather to her all the glory and +overwhelming sanity of the morning. This was a gesture not to be mistaken: it +was a gesture of freedom, the movement of a soul’s resolution to be, to +possess, to go forward, perhaps to enjoy. +</p> + +<p> +So he saw her for an instant as he passed, and he did not turn. He knew +suddenly who the woman must be, and it was as if a curtain of gloom were drawn +between him and the splendour of the day. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +During breakfast at the hotel Mr. Cupples found Trent little inclined to talk. +He excused himself on the plea of a restless night. Mr. Cupples, on the other +hand, was in a state of bird-like alertness. The prospect of the inquest seemed +to enliven him. He entertained Trent with a disquisition upon the history of +that most ancient and once busy tribunal, the coroner’s court, and +remarked upon the enviable freedom of its procedure from the shackles of rule +and precedent. From this he passed to the case that was to come before it that +morning. +</p> + +<p> +“Young Bunner mentioned to me last night,” he said, “when I +went up there after dinner, the hypothesis which he puts forward in regard to +the crime. A very remarkable young man, Trent. His meaning is occasionally +obscure, but in my opinion he is gifted with a clearheaded knowledge of the +world quite unusual in one of his apparent age. Indeed, his promotion by +Manderson to the position of his principal lieutenant speaks for itself. He +seems to have assumed with perfect confidence the control at this end of the +wire, as he expresses it, of the complicated business situation caused by the +death of his principal, and he has advised very wisely as to the steps I should +take on Mabel’s behalf, and the best course for her to pursue until +effect has been given to the provisions of the will. I was accordingly less +disposed than I might otherwise have been to regard his suggestion of an +industrial vendetta as far-fetched. When I questioned him he was able to +describe a number of cases in which attacks of one sort or another—too +often successful—had been made upon the lives of persons who had incurred +the hostility of powerful labour organizations. This is a terrible time in +which we live, my dear boy. There is none recorded in history, I think, in +which the disproportion between the material and the moral constituents of +society has been so great or so menacing to the permanence of the fabric. But +nowhere, in my judgement, is the prospect so dark as it is in the United +States.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought,” said Trent listlessly, “that Puritanism was +about as strong there as the money-getting craze.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your remark,” answered Mr. Cupples, with as near an approach to +humour as was possible to him, “is not in the nature of a testimonial to +what you call Puritanism—a convenient rather than an accurate term; for I +need not remind you that it was invented to describe an Anglican party which +aimed at the purging of the services and ritual of their Church from certain +elements repugnant to them. The sense of your observation, however, is none the +less sound, and its truth is extremely well illustrated by the case of +Manderson himself, who had, I believe, the virtues of purity, abstinence, and +self-restraint in their strongest form. No, Trent, there are other and more +worthy things among the moral constituents of which I spoke; and in our finite +nature, the more we preoccupy ourselves with the bewildering complexity of +external apparatus which science places in our hands, the less vigour have we +left for the development of the holier purposes of humanity within us. +Agricultural machinery has abolished the festival of the Harvest Home. +Mechanical travel has abolished the inn, or all that was best in it. I need not +multiply instances. The view I am expressing to you,” pursued Mr. +Cupples, placidly buttering a piece of toast, “is regarded as +fundamentally erroneous by many of those who think generally as I do about the +deeper concerns of life, but I am nevertheless firmly persuaded of its +truth.” +</p> + +<p> +“It needs epigrammatic expression,” said Trent, rising from the +table. “If only it could be crystallized into some handy formula, like +‘No Popery’, or ‘Tax the Foreigner’, you would find +multitudes to go to the stake for it. But you were planning to go to White +Gables before the inquest, I think. You ought to be off if you are to get back +to the court in time. I have something to attend to there myself, so we might +walk up together. I will just go and get my camera.” +</p> + +<p> +“By all means,” Mr. Cupples answered; and they set off at once in +the ever-growing warmth of the morning. The roof of White Gables, a surly patch +of dull red against the dark trees, seemed to harmonize with Trent’s +mood; he felt heavy, sinister, and troubled. If a blow must fall that might +strike down that creature radiant of beauty and life whom he had seen that +morning, he did not wish it to come from his hand. An exaggerated chivalry had +lived in Trent since the first teachings of his mother; but at this moment the +horror of bruising anything so lovely was almost as much the artist’s +revulsion as the gentleman’s. On the other hand, was the hunt to end in +nothing? The quality of the affair was such that the thought of forbearance was +an agony. There never was such a case; and he alone, he was confident, held the +truth of it under his hand. At least, he determined, that day should show +whether what he believed was a delusion. He would trample his compunction +underfoot until he was quite sure that there was any call for it. That same +morning he would know. +</p> + +<p> +As they entered at the gate of the drive they saw Marlowe and the American +standing in talk before the front door. In the shadow of the porch was the lady +in black. +</p> + +<p> +She saw them, and came gravely forward over the lawn, moving as Trent had known +that she would move, erect and balanced, stepping lightly. When she welcomed +him on Mr. Cupples’s presentation her eyes of golden-flecked brown +observed him kindly. In her pale composure, worn as the mask of distress, there +was no trace of the emotion that had seemed a halo about her head on the ledge +of the cliff. She spoke the appropriate commonplace in a low and even voice. +After a few words to Mr. Cupples she turned her eyes on Trent again. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope you will succeed,” she said earnestly. “Do you think +you will succeed?” +</p> + +<p> +He made his mind up as the words left her lips. He said, “I believe I +shall do so, Mrs. Manderson. When I have the case sufficiently complete I shall +ask you to let me see you and tell you about it. It may be necessary to consult +you before the facts are published.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked puzzled, and distress showed for an instant in her eyes. “If +it is necessary, of course you shall do so,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +On the brink of his next speech Trent hesitated. He remembered that the lady +had not wished to repeat to him the story already given to the +inspector—or to be questioned at all. He was not unconscious that he +desired to hear her voice and watch her face a little longer, if it might be; +but the matter he had to mention really troubled his mind, it was a queer thing +that fitted nowhere into the pattern within whose corners he had by this time +brought the other queer things in the case. It was very possible that she could +explain it away in a breath; it was unlikely that any one else could. He +summoned his resolution. +</p> + +<p> +“You have been so kind,” he said, “in allowing me access to +the house and every opportunity of studying the case, that I am going to ask +leave to put a question or two to yourself—nothing that you would rather +not answer, I think. May I?” +</p> + +<p> +She glanced at him wearily. “It would be stupid of me to refuse. Ask your +questions, Mr. Trent.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s only this,” said Trent hurriedly. “We know that +your husband lately drew an unusually large sum of ready money from his London +bankers, and was keeping it here. It is here now, in fact. Have you any idea +why he should have done that?” +</p> + +<p> +She opened her eyes in astonishment. “I cannot imagine,” she said. +“I did not know he had done so. I am very much surprised to hear +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why is it surprising?” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought my husband had very little money in the house. On Sunday +night, just before he went out in the motor, he came into the drawing-room +where I was sitting. He seemed to be irritated about something, and asked me at +once if I had any notes or gold I could let him have until next day. I was +surprised at that, because he was never without money; he made it a rule to +carry a hundred pounds or so about him always in a note-case. I unlocked my +escritoire, and gave him all I had by me. It was nearly thirty pounds.” +</p> + +<p> +“And he did not tell you why he wanted it?” +</p> + +<p> +“No. He put it in his pocket, and then said that Mr. Marlowe had +persuaded him to go for a run in the motor by moonlight, and he thought it +might help him to sleep. He had been sleeping badly, as perhaps you know. Then +he went off with Mr. Marlowe. I thought it odd he should need money on Sunday +night, but I soon forgot about it. I never remembered it again until +now.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was curious, certainly,” said Trent, staring into the distance. +Mr Cupples began to speak to his niece of the arrangements for the inquest, and +Trent moved away to where Marlowe was pacing slowly upon the lawn. The young +man seemed relieved to talk about the coming business of the day. Though he +still seemed tired out and nervous, he showed himself not without a quiet +humour in describing the pomposities of the local police and the portentous +airs of Dr Stock. Trent turned the conversation gradually toward the problem of +the crime, and all Marlowe’s gravity returned. +</p> + +<p> +“Bunner has told me what he thinks,” he said when Trent referred to +the American’s theory. “I don’t find myself convinced by it, +because it doesn’t really explain some of the oddest facts. But I have +lived long enough in the United States to know that such a stroke of revenge, +done in a secret, melodramatic way, is not an unlikely thing. It is quite a +characteristic feature of certain sections of the labour movement there. +Americans have a taste and a talent for that sort of business. Do you know +<i>Huckleberry Finn?</i>” +</p> + +<p> +“Do I know my own name?” exclaimed Trent. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I think the most American thing in that great American epic is Tom +Sawyer’s elaboration of an extremely difficult and romantic scheme, +taking days to carry out, for securing the escape of the nigger Jim, which +could have been managed quite easily in twenty minutes. You know how fond they +are of lodges and brotherhoods. Every college club has its secret signs and +handgrips. You’ve heard of the Know-Nothing movement in politics, I dare +say, and the Ku Klux Klan. Then look at Brigham Young’s penny-dreadful +tyranny in Utah, with real blood. The founders of the Mormon State were of the +purest Yankee stock in America; and you know what they did. It’s all part +of the same mental tendency. Americans make fun of it among themselves. For my +part, I take it very seriously.” +</p> + +<p> +“It can have a very hideous side to it, certainly,” said Trent, +“when you get it in connection with crime—or with vice—or +even mere luxury. But I have a sort of sneaking respect for the determination +to make life interesting and lively in spite of civilization. To return to the +matter in hand, however; has it struck you as a possibility that +Manderson’s mind was affected to some extent by this menace that Bunner +believes in? For instance, it was rather an extraordinary thing to send you +posting off like that in the middle of the night.” +</p> + +<p> +“About ten o’clock, to be exact,” replied Marlowe. +“Though, mind you, if he’d actually roused me out of my bed at +midnight I shouldn’t have been very much surprised. It all chimes in with +what we’ve just been saying. Manderson had a strong streak of the +national taste for dramatic proceedings. He was rather fond of his well-earned +reputation for unexpected strokes and for going for his object with ruthless +directness through every opposing consideration. He had decided suddenly that +he wanted to have word from this man Harris—” +</p> + +<p> +“Who is Harris?” interjected Trent. +</p> + +<p> +“Nobody knows. Even Bunner never heard of him, and can’t imagine +what the business in hand was. All I know is that when I went up to London last +week to attend to various things I booked a deck-cabin, at Manderson’s +request, for a Mr. George Harris on the boat that sailed on Monday. It seems +that Manderson suddenly found he wanted news from Harris which presumably was +of a character too secret for the telegraph; and there was no train that +served; so I was sent off as you know.” +</p> + +<p> +Trent looked round to make sure that they were not overheard, then faced the +other gravely, “There is one thing I may tell you,” he said +quietly, “that I don’t think you know. Martin the butler caught a +few words at the end of your conversation with Manderson in the orchard before +you started with him in the car. He heard him say, ‘If Harris is there, +every moment is of importance.’ Now, Mr. Marlowe, you know my business +here. I am sent to make enquiries, and you mustn’t take offence. I want +to ask you if, in the face of that sentence, you will repeat that you know +nothing of what the business was.” +</p> + +<p> +Marlowe shook his head. “I know nothing, indeed. I’m not easily +offended, and your question is quite fair. What passed during that conversation +I have already told the detective. Manderson plainly said to me that he could +not tell me what it was all about. He simply wanted me to find Harris, tell him +that he desired to know how matters stood, and bring back a letter or message +from him. Harris, I was further told, might not turn up. If he did, +‘every moment was of importance’. And now you know as much as I +do.” +</p> + +<p> +“That talk took place <i>before</i> he told his wife that you were taking +him for a moonlight run. Why did he conceal your errand in that way, I +wonder.” +</p> + +<p> +The young man made a gesture of helplessness. “Why? I can guess no better +than you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why,” muttered Trent as if to himself, gazing on the ground, +“did he conceal it—from Mrs. Manderson?” He looked up at +Marlowe. +</p> + +<p> +“And from Martin,” the other amended coolly. “He was told the +same thing.” +</p> + +<p> +With a sudden movement of his head Trent seemed to dismiss the subject. He drew +from his breast-pocket a letter-case, and thence extracted two small leaves of +clean, fresh paper. +</p> + +<p> +“Just look at these two slips, Mr. Marlowe,” he said. “Did +you ever see them before? Have you any idea where they come from?” he +added as Marlowe took one in each hand and examined them curiously. +</p> + +<p> +“They seem to have been cut with a knife or scissors from a small diary +for this year from the October pages,” Marlowe observed, looking them +over on both sides. “I see no writing of any kind on them. Nobody here +has any such diary so far as I know. What about them?” +</p> + +<p> +“There may be nothing in it,” Trent said dubiously. “Any one +in the house, of course, might have such a diary without your having seen it. +But I didn’t much expect you would be able to identify the +leaves—in fact, I should have been surprised if you had.” +</p> + +<p> +He stopped speaking as Mrs. Manderson came towards them. “My uncle thinks +we should be going now,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“I think I will walk on with Mr. Bunner,” Mr. Cupples said as he +joined them. “There are certain business matters that must be disposed of +as soon as possible. Will you come on with these two gentlemen, Mabel? We will +wait for you before we reach the place.” +</p> + +<p> +Trent turned to her. “Mrs. Manderson will excuse me, I hope,” he +said. “I really came up this morning in order to look about me here for +some indications I thought I might possibly find. I had not thought of +attending the—the court just yet.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him with eyes of perfect candour. “Of course, Mr. Trent. +Please do exactly as you wish. We are all relying upon you. If you will wait a +few moments, Mr. Marlowe, I shall be ready.” +</p> + +<p> +She entered the house. Her uncle and the American had already strolled towards +the gate. +</p> + +<p> +Trent looked into the eyes of his companion. “That is a wonderful +woman,” he said in a lowered voice. +</p> + +<p> +“You say so without knowing her,” replied Marlowe in a similar +tone. “She is more than that.” +</p> + +<p> +Trent said nothing to this. He stared out over the fields towards the sea. In +the silence a noise of hobnailed haste rose on the still air. A little distance +down the road a boy appeared trotting towards them from the direction of the +hotel. In his hand was the orange envelope, unmistakable afar off, of a +telegram. Trent watched him with an indifferent eye as he met and passed the +two others. Then he turned to Marlowe. “A propos of nothing in +particular,” he said, “were you at Oxford?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said the young man. “Why do you ask?” +</p> + +<p> +“I just wondered if I was right in my guess. It’s one of the things +you can very often tell about a man, isn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose so,” Marlowe said. “Well, each of us is marked in +one way or another, perhaps. I should have said you were an artist, if I +hadn’t known it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why? Does my hair want cutting?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no! It’s only that you look at things and people as I’ve +seen artists do, with an eye that moves steadily from detail to +detail—rather looking them over than looking at them.” +</p> + +<p> +The boy came up panting. “Telegram for you, sir,” he said to Trent. +“Just come, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +Trent tore open the envelope with an apology, and his eyes lighted up so +visibly as he read the slip that Marlowe’s tired face softened in a +smile. +</p> + +<p> +“It must be good news,” he murmured half to himself. +</p> + +<p> +Trent turned on him a glance in which nothing could be read. “Not exactly +news,” he said. “It only tells me that another little guess of mine +was a good one.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap08"></a>Chapter VIII.<br />The Inquest</h2> + +<p> +The coroner, who fully realized that for that one day of his life as a +provincial solicitor he was living in the gaze of the world, had resolved to be +worthy of the fleeting eminence. He was a large man of jovial temper, with a +strong interest in the dramatic aspects of his work, and the news of +Manderson’s mysterious death within his jurisdiction had made him the +happiest coroner in England. A respectable capacity for marshalling facts was +fortified in him by a copiousness of impressive language that made juries as +clay in his hands, and sometimes disguised a doubtful interpretation of the +rules of evidence. +</p> + +<p> +The court was held in a long, unfurnished room lately built on to the hotel, +and intended to serve as a ballroom or concert-hall. A regiment of reporters +was entrenched in the front seats, and those who were to be called on to give +evidence occupied chairs to one side of the table behind which the coroner sat, +while the jury, in double row, with plastered hair and a spurious ease of +manner, flanked him on the other side. An undistinguished public filled the +rest of the space, and listened, in an awed silence, to the opening +solemnities. The newspaper men, well used to these, muttered among themselves. +Those of them who knew Trent by sight assured the rest that he was not in the +court. +</p> + +<p> +The identity of the dead man was proved by his wife, the first witness called, +from whom the coroner, after some enquiry into the health and circumstances of +the deceased, proceeded to draw an account of the last occasion on which she +had seen her husband alive. Mrs. Manderson was taken through her evidence by +the coroner with the sympathy which every man felt for that dark figure of +grief. She lifted her thick veil before beginning to speak, and the extreme +paleness and unbroken composure of the lady produced a singular impression. +This was not an impression of hardness. Interesting femininity was the first +thing to be felt in her presence. She was not even enigmatic. It was only clear +that the force of a powerful character was at work to master the emotions of +her situation. Once or twice as she spoke she touched her eyes with her +handkerchief, but her voice was low and clear to the end. +</p> + +<p> +Her husband, she said, had come up to his bedroom about his usual hour for +retiring on Sunday night. His room was really a dressing-room attached to her +own bedroom, communicating with it by a door which was usually kept open during +the night. Both dressing-room and bedroom were entered by other doors giving on +the passage. Her husband had always had a preference for the greatest +simplicity in his bedroom arrangements, and liked to sleep in a small room. She +had not been awake when he came up, but had been half-aroused, as usually +happened, when the light was switched on in her husband’s room. She had +spoken to him. She had no clear recollection of what she had said, as she had +been very drowsy at the time; but she had remembered that he had been out for a +moonlight run in the car, and she believed she had asked whether he had had a +good run, and what time it was. She had asked what the time was because she +felt as if she had only been a very short time asleep, and she had expected her +husband to be out very late. In answer to her question he had told her it was +half-past eleven, and had gone on to say that he had changed his mind about +going for a run. +</p> + +<p> +“Did he say why?” the coroner asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” replied the lady, “he did explain why. I remember very +well what he said, because—” she stopped with a little appearance +of confusion. +</p> + +<p> +“Because—” the coroner insisted gently. +</p> + +<p> +“Because my husband was not as a rule communicative about his business +affairs,” answered the witness, raising her chin with a faint touch of +defiance. “He did not—did not think they would interest me, and as +a rule referred to them as little as possible. That was why I was rather +surprised when he told me that he had sent Mr. Marlowe to Southampton to bring +back some important information from a man who was leaving for Paris by the +next day’s boat. He said that Mr. Marlowe could do it quite easily if he +had no accident. He said that he had started in the car, and then walked back +home a mile or so, and felt all the better for it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did he say any more?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing, as well as I remember,” the witness said. “I was +very sleepy, and I dropped off again in a few moments. I just remember my +husband turning his light out, and that is all. I never saw him again +alive.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you heard nothing in the night?” +</p> + +<p> +“No: I never woke until my maid brought my tea in the morning at seven +o’clock. She closed the door leading to my husband’s room, as she +always did, and I supposed him to be still there. He always needed a great deal +of sleep. He sometimes slept until quite late in the morning. I had breakfast +in my sitting-room. It was about ten when I heard that my husband’s body +had been found.” The witness dropped her head and silently waited for her +dismissal. +</p> + +<p> +But it was not to be yet. +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Manderson.” The coroner’s voice was sympathetic, but it +had a hint of firmness in it now. “The question I am going to put to you +must, in these sad circumstances, be a painful one; but it is my duty to ask +it. Is it the fact that your relations with your late husband had not been, for +some time past, relations of mutual affection and confidence? Is it the fact +that there was an estrangement between you?” +</p> + +<p> +The lady drew herself up again and faced her questioner, the colour rising in +her cheeks. “If that question is necessary,” she said with cold +distinctness, “I will answer it so that there shall be no +misunderstanding. During the last few months of my husband’s life his +attitude towards me had given me great anxiety and sorrow. He had changed +towards me; he had become very reserved, and seemed mistrustful. I saw much +less of him than before; he seemed to prefer to be alone. I can give no +explanation at all of the change. I tried to work against it; I did all I could +with justice to my own dignity, as I thought. Something was between us, I did +not know what, and he never told me. My own obstinate pride prevented me from +asking what it was in so many words; I only made a point of being to him +exactly as I had always been, so far as he would allow me. I suppose I shall +never know now what it was.” The witness, whose voice had trembled in +spite of her self-control over the last few sentences, drew down her veil when +she had said this, and stood erect and quiet. +</p> + +<p> +One of the jury asked a question, not without obvious hesitation. “Then +was there never anything of the nature of what they call Words between you and +your husband, ma’am?” +</p> + +<p> +“Never.” The word was colourlessly spoken; but every one felt that +a crass misunderstanding of the possibilities of conduct in the case of a +person like Mrs. Manderson had been visited with some severity. +</p> + +<p> +Did she know, the coroner asked, of any other matter which might have been +preying upon her husband’s mind recently? +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Manderson knew of none whatever. The coroner intimated that her ordeal was +at an end, and the veiled lady made her way to the door. The general attention, +which followed her for a few moments, was now eagerly directed upon Martin, +whom the coroner had proceeded to call. +</p> + +<p> +It was at this moment that Trent appeared at the doorway and edged his way into +the great room. But he did not look at Martin. He was observing the +well-balanced figure that came quickly toward him along an opening path in the +crowd, and his eye was gloomy. He started, as he stood aside from the door with +a slight bow, to hear Mrs. Manderson address him by name in a low voice. He +followed her a pace or two into the hall. +</p> + +<p> +“I wanted to ask you,” she said in a voice now weak and oddly +broken, “if you would give me your arm a part of the way to the house. I +could not see my uncle near the door, and I suddenly felt rather faint.... I +shall be better in the air.... No, no; I cannot stay here—please, Mr. +Trent!” she said, as he began to make an obvious suggestion. “I +must go to the house.” Her hand tightened momentarily on his arm as if, +for all her weakness, she could drag him from the place; then again she leaned +heavily upon it, and with that support, and with bent head, she walked slowly +from the hotel and along the oak-shaded path toward White Gables. +</p> + +<p> +Trent went in silence, his thoughts whirling, dancing insanely to a chorus of +“Fool! fool!” All that he alone knew, all that he guessed and +suspected of this affair, rushed through his brain in a rout; but the touch of +her unnerved hand upon his arm never for an instant left his consciousness, +filling him with an exaltation that enraged and bewildered him. He was still +cursing himself furiously behind the mask of conventional solicitude that he +turned to the lady when he had attended her to the house and seen her sink upon +a couch in the morning-room. Raising her veil, she thanked him gravely and +frankly, with a look of sincere gratitude in her eyes. She was much better now, +she said, and a cup of tea would work a miracle upon her. She hoped she had not +taken him away from anything important. She was ashamed of herself; she thought +she could go through with it, but she had not expected those last questions. +“I am glad you did not hear me,” she said when he explained. +“But of course you will read it all in the reports. It shook me so to +have to speak of that,” she added simply; “and to keep from making +an exhibition of myself took it out of me. And all those staring men by the +door! Thank you again for helping me when I asked you.... I thought I +might,” she ended queerly, with a little tired smile; and Trent took +himself away, his hand still quivering from the cool touch of her fingers. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +The testimony of the servants and of the finder of the body brought nothing new +to the reporters’ net. That of the police was as colourless and cryptic +as is usual at the inquest stage of affairs of the kind. Greatly to the +satisfaction of Mr. Bunner, his evidence afforded the sensation of the day, and +threw far into the background the interesting revelation of domestic difficulty +made by the dead man’s wife. He told the court in substance what he had +already told Trent. The flying pencils did not miss a word of the young +American’s story, and it appeared with scarcely the omission of a +sentence in every journal of importance in Great Britain and the United States. +</p> + +<p> +Public opinion next day took no note of the faint suggestion of the possibility +of suicide which the coroner, in his final address to the jury, had thought it +right to make in connection with the lady’s evidence. The weight of +evidence, as the official had indeed pointed out, was against such a theory. He +had referred with emphasis to the fact that no weapon had been found near the +body. +</p> + +<p> +“This question, of course, is all-important, gentlemen,” he had +said to the jury. “It is, in fact, the main issue before you. You have +seen the body for yourselves. You have just heard the medical evidence; but I +think it would be well for me to read you my notes of it in so far as they bear +on this point, in order to refresh your memories. Dr Stock told you—I am +going to omit all technical medical language and repeat to you merely the plain +English of his testimony—that in his opinion death had taken place six or +eight hours previous to the finding of the body. He said that the cause of +death was a bullet wound, the bullet having entered the left eye, which was +destroyed, and made its way to the base of the brain, which was quite +shattered. The external appearance of the wound, he said, did not support the +hypothesis of its being self-inflicted, inasmuch as there were no signs of the +firearm having been pressed against the eye, or even put very close to it; at +the same time it was not physically impossible that the weapon should have been +discharged by the deceased with his own hand, at some small distance from the +eye. Dr Stock also told us that it was impossible to say with certainty, from +the state of the body, whether any struggle had taken place at the time of +death; that when seen by him, at which time he understood that it had not been +moved since it was found, the body was lying in a collapsed position such as +might very well result from the shot alone; but that the scratches and bruises +upon the wrists and the lower part of the arms had been very recently +inflicted, and were, in his opinion, marks of violence. +</p> + +<p> +“In connection with this same point, the remarkable evidence given by Mr +Bunner cannot be regarded, I think, as without significance. It may have come +as a surprise to some of you to hear that risks of the character described by +this witness are, in his own country, commonly run by persons in the position +of the deceased. On the other hand, it may have been within the knowledge of +some of you that in the industrial world of America the discontent of labour +often proceeds to lengths of which we in England happily know nothing. I have +interrogated the witness somewhat fully upon this. At the same time, gentlemen, +I am by no means suggesting that Mr. Bunner’s personal conjecture as to +the cause of death can fitly be adopted by you. That is emphatically not the +case. What his evidence does is to raise two questions for your consideration. +First, can it be said that the deceased was to any extent in the position of a +threatened man—of a man more exposed to the danger of murderous attack +than an ordinary person? Second, does the recent alteration in his demeanour, +as described by this witness, justify the belief that his last days were +overshadowed by a great anxiety? These points may legitimately be considered by +you in arriving at a conclusion upon the rest of the evidence.” +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon the coroner, having indicated thus clearly his opinion that Mr Bunner +had hit the right nail on the head, desired the jury to consider their verdict. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap09"></a>Chapter IX.<br />A Hot Scent</h2> + +<p> +“Come in!” called Trent. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Cupples entered his sitting-room at the hotel. It was the early evening of +the day on which the coroner’s jury, without leaving the box, had +pronounced the expected denunciation of a person or persons unknown. Trent, +with a hasty glance upward, continued his intent study of what lay in a +photographic dish of enamelled metal, which he moved slowly about in the light +of the window. He looked very pale, and his movements were nervous. +</p> + +<p> +“Sit on the sofa,” he advised. “The chairs are a job lot +bought at the sale after the suppression of the Holy Inquisition in Spain. This +is a pretty good negative,” he went on, holding it up to the light with +his head at the angle of discriminating judgement. “Washed enough now, I +think. Let us leave it to dry, and get rid of all this mess.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Cupples, as the other busily cleared the table of a confusion of basins, +dishes, racks, boxes, and bottles, picked up first one and then another of the +objects and studied them with innocent curiosity. +</p> + +<p> +“That is called hypo-eliminator,” said Trent, as Mr. Cupples +uncorked and smelt at one of the bottles. “Very useful when you’re +in a hurry with a negative. I shouldn’t drink it, though, all the same. +It eliminates sodium hypophosphite, but I shouldn’t wonder if it would +eliminate human beings too.” He found a place for the last of the litter +on the crowded mantel-shelf, and came to sit before Mr. Cupples on the table. +“The great thing about a hotel sitting-room is that its beauty does not +distract the mind from work. It is no place for the mayfly pleasures of a mind +at ease. Have you ever been in this room before, Cupples? I have, hundreds of +times. It has pursued me all over England for years. I should feel lost without +it if, in some fantastic, far-off hotel, they were to give me some other +sitting-room. Look at this table-cover; there is the ink I spilt on it when I +had this room in Halifax. I burnt that hole in the carpet when I had it in +Ipswich. But I see they have mended the glass over the picture of ‘Silent +Sympathy’, which I threw a boot at in Banbury. I do all my best work +here. This afternoon, for instance, since the inquest, I have finished several +excellent negatives. There is a very good dark room downstairs.” +</p> + +<p> +“The inquest—that reminds me,” said Mr. Cupples, who knew +that this sort of talk in Trent meant the excitement of action, and was +wondering what he could be about. “I came in to thank you, my dear +fellow, for looking after Mabel this morning. I had no idea she was going to +feel ill after leaving the box; she seemed quite unmoved, and, really, she is a +woman of such extraordinary self-command, I thought I could leave her to her +own devices and hear out the evidence, which I thought it important I should +do. It was a very fortunate thing she found a friend to assist her, and she is +most grateful. She is quite herself again now.” +</p> + +<p> +Trent, with his hands in his pockets and a slight frown on his brow, made no +reply to this. “I tell you what,” he said after a short pause, +“I was just getting to the really interesting part of the job when you +came in. Come; would you like to see a little bit of high-class police work? +It’s the very same kind of work that old Murch ought to be doing at this +moment. Perhaps he is; but I hope to glory he isn’t.” He sprang off +the table and disappeared into his bedroom. Presently he came out with a large +drawing-board on which a number of heterogeneous objects was ranged. +</p> + +<p> +“First I must introduce you to these little things,” he said, +setting them out on the table. “Here is a big ivory paper-knife; here are +two leaves cut out of a diary—my own diary; here is a bottle containing +dentifrice; here is a little case of polished walnut. Some of these things have +to be put back where they belong in somebody’s bedroom at White Gables +before night. That’s the sort of man I am—nothing stops me. I +borrowed them this very morning when every one was down at the inquest, and I +dare say some people would think it rather an odd proceeding if they knew. Now +there remains one object on the board. Can you tell me, without touching it, +what it is?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly I can,” said Mr. Cupples, peering at it with great +interest. “It is an ordinary glass bowl. It looks like a finger-bowl. I +see nothing odd about it,” he added after some moments of close scrutiny. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t see much myself,” replied Trent, “and that is +exactly where the fun comes in. Now take this little fat bottle, Cupples, and +pull out the cork. Do you recognize that powder inside it? You have swallowed +pounds of it in your time, I expect. They give it to babies. Grey powder is its +ordinary name—mercury and chalk. It is great stuff. Now, while I hold the +basin sideways over this sheet of paper, I want you to pour a little powder out +of the bottle over this part of the bowl—just here.... Perfect! Sir +Edward Henry himself could not have handled the powder better. You have done +this before, Cupples, I can see. You are an old hand.” +</p> + +<p> +“I really am not,” said Mr. Cupples seriously, as Trent returned +the fallen powder to the bottle. “I assure you it is all a complete +mystery to me. What did I do then?” +</p> + +<p> +“I brush the powdered part of the bowl lightly with this camel-hair +brush. Now look at it again. You saw nothing odd about it before. Do you see +anything now?” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Cupples peered again. “How curious!” he said. “Yes, there +are two large grey finger-marks on the bowl. They were not there before.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am Hawkshaw the detective,” observed Trent. “Would it +interest you to hear a short lecture on the subject of glass finger-bowls? When +you take one up with your hand you leave traces upon it, usually practically +invisible, which may remain for days or months. You leave the marks of your +fingers. The human hand, even when quite clean, is never quite dry, and +sometimes—in moments of great anxiety, for instance, Cupples—it is +very moist. It leaves a mark on any cold smooth surface it may touch. That bowl +was moved by somebody with a rather moist hand quite lately.” He +sprinkled the powder again. “Here on the other side, you see, is the +thumb-mark—very good impressions all of them.” He spoke without +raising his voice, but Mr. Cupples could perceive that he was ablaze with +excitement as he stared at the faint grey marks. “This one should be the +index finger. I need not tell a man of your knowledge of the world that the +pattern of it is a single-spiral whorl, with deltas symmetrically disposed. +This, the print of the second finger, is a simple loop, with a staple core and +fifteen counts. I know there are fifteen, because I have just the same two +prints on this negative, which I have examined in detail. Look!”—he +held one of the negatives up to the light of the declining sun and demonstrated +with a pencil point. “You can see they’re the same. You see the +bifurcation of that ridge. There it is in the other. You see that little scar +near the centre. There it is in the other. There are a score of +ridge-characteristics on which an expert would swear in the witness-box that +the marks on that bowl and the marks I have photographed on this negative were +made by the same hand.” +</p> + +<p> +“And where did you photograph them? What does it all mean?” asked +Mr Cupples, wide-eyed. +</p> + +<p> +“I found them on the inside of the left-hand leaf of the front window in +Mrs. Manderson’s bedroom. As I could not bring the window with me, I +photographed them, sticking a bit of black paper on the other side of the glass +for the purpose. The bowl comes from Manderson’s room. It is the bowl in +which his false teeth were placed at night. I could bring that away, so I +did.” +</p> + +<p> +“But those cannot be Mabel’s finger-marks.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should think not!” said Trent with decision. “They are +twice the size of any print Mrs. Manderson could make.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then they must be her husband’s.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps they are. Now shall we see if we can match them once more? I +believe we can.” Whistling faintly, and very white in the face, Trent +opened another small squat bottle containing a dense black powder. +“Lamp-black,” he explained. “Hold a bit of paper in your hand +for a second or two, and this little chap will show you the pattern of your +fingers.” He carefully took up with a pair of tweezers one of the leaves +cut from his diary, and held it out for the other to examine. No marks appeared +on the leaf. He tilted some of the powder out upon one surface of the paper, +then, turning it over, upon the other; then shook the leaf gently to rid it of +the loose powder. He held it out to Mr. Cupples in silence. On one side of the +paper appeared unmistakably, clearly printed in black, the same two +finger-prints that he had already seen on the bowl and on the photographic +plate. He took up the bowl and compared them. Trent turned the paper over, and +on the other side was a bold black replica of the thumb-mark that was printed +in grey on the glass in his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Same man, you see,” Trent said with a short laugh. “I felt +that it must be so, and now I know.” He walked to the window and looked +out. “Now I know,” he repeated in a low voice, as if to himself. +His tone was bitter. Mr. Cupples, understanding nothing, stared at his +motionless back for a few moments. +</p> + +<p> +“I am still completely in the dark,” he ventured presently. +“I have often heard of this fingerprint business, and wondered how the +police went to work about it. It is of extraordinary interest to me, but upon +my life I cannot see how in this case Manderson’s fingerprints are +going—” +</p> + +<p> +“I am very sorry, Cupples,” Trent broke in upon his meditative +speech with a swift return to the table. “When I began this investigation +I meant to take you with me every step of the way. You mustn’t think I +have any doubts about your discretion if I say now that I must hold my tongue +about the whole thing, at least for a time. I will tell you this: I have come +upon a fact that looks too much like having very painful consequences if it is +discovered by any one else.” He looked at the other with a hard and +darkened face, and struck the table with his hand. “It is terrible for me +here and now. Up to this moment I was hoping against hope that I was wrong +about the fact. I may still be wrong in the surmise that I base upon that fact. +There is only one way of finding out that is open to me, and I must nerve +myself to take it.” He smiled suddenly at Mr. Cupples’s face of +consternation. “All right—I’m not going to be tragic any +more, and I’ll tell you all about it when I can. Look here, I’m not +half through my game with the powder-bottles yet.” +</p> + +<p> +He drew one of the defamed chairs to the table and sat down to test the broad +ivory blade of the paper knife. Mr. Cupples, swallowing his amazement, bent +forward in an attitude of deep interest and handed Trent the bottle of +lamp-black. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap10"></a>Chapter X.<br />The Wife of Dives</h2> + +<p> +Mrs. Manderson stood at the window of her sitting-room at White Gables gazing +out upon a wavering landscape of fine rain and mist. The weather had broken as +it seldom does in that part in June. White wreathings drifted up the fields +from the sullen sea; the sky was an unbroken grey deadness shedding pin-point +moisture that was now and then blown against the panes with a crepitation of +despair. The lady looked out on the dim and chilling prospect with a woeful +face. It was a bad day for a woman bereaved, alone, and without a purpose in +life. +</p> + +<p> +There was a knock, and she called “Come in,” drawing herself up +with an unconscious gesture that always came when she realized that the +weariness of the world had been gaining upon her spirit. Mr. Trent had called, +the maid said; he apologized for coming at such an early hour, but hoped that +Mrs. Manderson would see him on a matter of urgent importance. Mrs Manderson +would see Mr. Trent. She walked to a mirror, looked into the olive face she saw +reflected there, shook her head at herself with the flicker of a grimace, and +turned to the door as Trent was shown in. +</p> + +<p> +His appearance, she noted, was changed. He had the jaded look of the sleepless, +and a new and reserved expression, in which her quick sensibilities felt +something not propitious, took the place of his half smile of fixed +good-humour. +</p> + +<p> +“May I come to the point at once?” he said, when she had given him +her hand. “There is a train I ought to catch at Bishopsbridge at twelve +o’clock, but I cannot go until I have settled this thing, which concerns +you only, Mrs. Manderson. I have been working half the night and thinking the +rest; and I know now what I ought to do.” +</p> + +<p> +“You look wretchedly tired,” she said kindly. “Won’t +you sit down? This is a very restful chair. Of course it is about this terrible +business and your work as correspondent. Please ask me anything you think I can +properly tell you, Mr. Trent. I know that you won’t make it worse for me +than you can help in doing your duty here. If you say you must see me about +something, I know it must be because, as you say, you ought to do it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Manderson,” said Trent, slowly measuring his words, “I +won’t make it worse for you than I can help. But I am bound to make it +bad for you—only between ourselves, I hope. As to whether you can +properly tell me what I shall ask you, you will decide that; but I tell you +this on my word of honour: I shall ask you only as much as will decide me +whether to publish or to withhold certain grave things that I have found out +about your husband’s death, things not suspected by any one else, nor, I +think, likely to be so. What I have discovered—what I believe that I have +practically proved—will be a great shock to you in any case. But it may +be worse for you than that; and if you give me reason to think it would be so, +then I shall suppress this manuscript,” he laid a long envelope on the +small table beside him, “and nothing of what it has to tell shall ever be +printed. It consists, I may tell you, of a short private note to my editor, +followed by a long dispatch for publication in the <i>Record</i>. Now you may +refuse to say anything to me. If you do refuse, my duty to my employers, as I +see it, is to take this up to London with me today and leave it with my editor +to be dealt with at his discretion. My view is, you understand, that I am not +entitled to suppress it on the strength of a mere possibility that presents +itself to my imagination. But if I gather from you—and I can gather it +from no other person—that there is substance in that imaginary +possibility I speak of, then I have only one thing to do as a gentleman and as +one who”—he hesitated for a phrase—“wishes you well. I +shall not publish that dispatch of mine. In some directions I decline to assist +the police. Have you followed me so far?” he asked with a touch of +anxiety in his careful coldness; for her face, but for its pallor, gave no sign +as she regarded him, her hands clasped before her, and her shoulders drawn back +in a pose of rigid calm. She looked precisely as she had looked at the inquest. +</p> + +<p> +“I understand quite well,” said Mrs. Manderson in a low voice. She +drew a deep breath, and went on: “I don’t know what dreadful thing +you have found out, or what the possibility that has occurred to you can be, +but it was good, it was honourable of you to come to me about it. Now will you +please tell me?” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot do that,” Trent replied. “The secret is my +newspaper’s if it is not yours. If I find it is yours, you shall have my +manuscript to read and destroy. Believe me,” he broke out with something +of his old warmth, “I detest such mystery-making from the bottom of my +soul; but it is not I who have made this mystery. This is the most painful hour +of my life, and you make it worse by not treating me like a hound. The first +thing I ask you to tell me,” he reverted with an effort to his colourless +tone, “is this: is it true, as you stated at the inquest, that you had no +idea at all of the reason why your late husband had changed his attitude toward +you, and become mistrustful and reserved, during the last few months of his +life?” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Manderson’s dark brows lifted and her eyes flamed; she quickly rose +from her chair. Trent got up at the same moment, and took his envelope from the +table; his manner said that he perceived the interview to be at an end. But she +held up a hand, and there was colour in her cheeks and quick breathing in her +voice as she said: “Do you know what you ask, Mr Trent? You ask me if I +perjured myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do,” he answered unmoved; and he added after a pause, “you +knew already that I had not come here to preserve the polite fictions, Mrs. +Manderson. The theory that no reputable person, being on oath, could withhold a +part of the truth under any circumstances is a polite fiction.” He still +stood as awaiting dismissal, but she was silent. She walked to the window, and +he stood miserably watching the slight movement of her shoulders until it +subsided. Then with face averted, looking out on the dismal weather, she spoke +at last clearly. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Trent,” she said, “you inspire confidence in people, and +I feel that things which I don’t want known or talked about are safe with +you. And I know you must have a very serious reason for doing what you are +doing, though I don’t know what it is. I suppose it would be assisting +justice in some way if I told you the truth about what you asked just now. To +understand that truth you ought to know about what went before—I mean +about my marriage. After all, a good many people could tell you as well as I +can that it was not... a very successful union. I was only twenty. I admired +his force and courage and certainty; he was the only strong man I had ever +known. But it did not take me long to find out that he cared for his business +more than for me, and I think I found out even sooner that I had been deceiving +myself and blinding myself, promising myself impossible things and wilfully +misunderstanding my own feelings, because I was dazzled by the idea of having +more money to spend than an English girl ever dreams of. I have been despising +myself for that for five years. My husband’s feeling for me... well, I +cannot speak of that... what I want to say is that along with it there had +always been a belief of his that I was the sort of woman to take a great place +in society, and that I should throw myself into it with enjoyment, and become a +sort of personage and do him great credit—that was his idea; and the idea +remained with him after other delusions had gone. I was a part of his ambition. +That was his really bitter disappointment, that I failed him as a social +success. I think he was too shrewd not to have known in his heart that such a +man as he was, twenty years older than I, with great business responsibilities +that filled every hour of his life, and caring for nothing else—he must +have felt that there was a risk of great unhappiness in marrying the sort of +girl I was, brought up to music and books and unpractical ideas, always +enjoying myself in my own way. But he had really reckoned on me as a wife who +would do the honours of his position in the world; and I found I +couldn’t.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Manderson had talked herself into a more emotional mood than she had yet +shown to Trent. Her words flowed freely, and her voice had begun to ring and +give play to a natural expressiveness that must hitherto have been dulled, he +thought, by the shock and self-restraint of the past few days. Now she turned +swiftly from the window and faced him as she went on, her beautiful face +flushed and animated, her eyes gleaming, her hands moving in slight emphatic +gestures, as she surrendered herself to the impulse of giving speech to things +long pent up. +</p> + +<p> +“The people,” she said. “Oh, those people! Can you imagine +what it must be for any one who has lived in a world where there was always +creative work in the background, work with some dignity about it, men and women +with professions or arts to follow, with ideals and things to believe in and +quarrel about, some of them wealthy, some of them quite poor; can you think +what it means to step out of that into another world where you <i>have</i> to +be very rich, shamefully rich, to exist at all—where money is the only +thing that counts and the first thing in everybody’s thoughts—where +the men who make the millions are so jaded by the work, that sport is the only +thing they can occupy themselves with when they have any leisure, and the men +who don’t have to work are even duller than the men who do, and vicious +as well; and the women live for display and silly amusements and silly +immoralities; do you know how awful that life is? Of course I know there are +clever people, and people of taste in that set, but they’re swamped and +spoiled, and it’s the same thing in the end; empty, empty! Oh! I suppose +I’m exaggerating, and I did make friends and have some happy times; but +that’s how I feel after it all. The seasons in New York and +London—how I hated them! And our house-parties and cruises in the yacht +and the rest—the same people, the same emptiness. +</p> + +<p> +“And you see, don’t you, that my husband couldn’t have an +idea of all this. <i>His</i> life was never empty. He did not live it in +society, and when he was in society he had always his business plans and +difficulties to occupy his mind. He hadn’t a suspicion of what I felt, +and I never let him know; I couldn’t, it wouldn’t have been fair. I +felt I must do <i>something</i> to justify myself as his wife, sharing his +position and fortune; and the only thing I could do was to try, and try, to +live up to his idea about my social qualities... I did try. I acted my best. +And it became harder year by year... I never was what they call a popular +hostess, how could I be? I was a failure; but I went on trying... I used to +steal holidays now and then. I used to feel as if I was not doing my part of a +bargain—it sounds horrid to put it like that, I know, but it <i>was</i> +so—when I took one of my old school-friends, who couldn’t afford to +travel, away to Italy for a month or two, and we went about cheaply all by +ourselves, and were quite happy; or when I went and made a long stay in London +with some quiet people who had known me all my life, and we all lived just as +in the old days, when we had to think twice about seats at the theatre, and +told each other about cheap dressmakers. Those and a few other expeditions of +the same sort were my best times after I was married, and they helped me to go +through with it the rest of the time. But I felt my husband would have hated to +know how much I enjoyed every hour of those returns to the old life. +</p> + +<p> +“And in the end, in spite of everything I could do, he came to know.... +He could see through anything, I think, once his attention was turned to it. He +had always been able to see that I was not fulfilling his idea of me as a +figure in the social world, and I suppose he thought it was my misfortune +rather than my fault. But the moment he began to see, in spite of my +pretending, that I wasn’t playing my part with any spirit, he knew the +whole story; he divined how I loathed and was weary of the luxury and the +brilliancy and the masses of money just because of the people who lived among +them—who were made so by them, I suppose.... It happened last year. I +don’t know just how or when. It may have been suggested to him by some +woman—for <i>they</i> all understood, of course. He said nothing to me, +and I think he tried not to change in his manner to me at first; but such +things hurt—and it was working in both of us. I knew that he knew. After +a time we were just being polite and considerate to each other. Before he found +me out we had been on a footing of—how can I express it to you?—of +intelligent companionship, I might say. We talked without restraint of many +things of the kind we could agree or disagree about without its going very +deep... if you understand. And then that came to an end. I felt that the only +possible basis of our living in each other’s company was going under my +feet. And at last it was gone. +</p> + +<p> +“It had been like that,” she ended simply, “for months before +he died.” She sank into the corner of a sofa by the window, as though +relaxing her body after an effort. For a few moments both were silent. Trent +was hastily sorting out a tangle of impressions. He was amazed at the frankness +of Mrs. Manderson’s story. He was amazed at the vigorous expressiveness +in her telling of it. In this vivid being, carried away by an impulse to speak, +talking with her whole personality, he had seen the real woman in a temper of +activity, as he had already seen the real woman by chance in a temper of +reverie and unguarded emotion. In both she was very unlike the pale, +self-disciplined creature of majesty that she had been to the world. With that +amazement of his went something like terror of her dark beauty, which +excitement kindled into an appearance scarcely mortal in his eyes. +Incongruously there rushed into his mind, occupied as it was with the affair of +the moment, a little knot of ideas... she was unique not because of her beauty +but because of its being united with intensity of nature; in England all the +very beautiful women were placid, all the fiery women seemed to have burnt up +the best of their beauty; that was why no beautiful woman had ever cast this +sort of spell on him before; when it was a question of wit in women he had +preferred the brighter flame to the duller, without much regarding the lamp. +“All this is very disputable,” said his reason; and instinct +answered, “Yes, except that I am under a spell”; and a deeper +instinct cried out, “Away with it!” He forced his mind back to her +story, and found growing swiftly in him an irrepressible conviction. It was all +very fine; but it would not do. +</p> + +<p> +“I feel as if I had led you into saying more than you meant to say, or +than I wanted to learn,” he said slowly. “But there is one brutal +question which is the whole point of my enquiry.” He braced his frame +like one preparing for a plunge into cold waters. “Mrs. Manderson, will +you assure me that your husband’s change toward you had nothing to do +with John Marlowe?” +</p> + +<p> +And what he had dreaded came. “Oh!” she cried with a sound of +anguish, her face thrown up and open hands stretched out as if for pity; and +then the hands covered the burning face, and she flung herself aside among the +cushions at her elbow, so that he saw nothing but her heavy crown of black +hair, and her body moving with sobs that stabbed his heart, and a foot turned +inward gracelessly in an abandonment of misery. Like a tall tower suddenly +breaking apart she had fallen in ruins, helplessly weeping. +</p> + +<p> +Trent stood up, his face white and calm. With a senseless particularity he +placed his envelope exactly in the centre of the little polished table. He +walked to the door, closed it noiselessly as he went out, and in a few minutes +was tramping through the rain out of sight of White Gables, going nowhere, +seeing nothing, his soul shaken in the fierce effort to kill and trample the +raving impulse that had seized him in the presence of her shame, that clamoured +to him to drag himself before her feet, to pray for pardon, to pour out +words—he knew not what words, but he knew that they had been straining at +his lips—to wreck his self-respect for ever, and hopelessly defeat even +the crazy purpose that had almost possessed him, by drowning her wretchedness +in disgust, by babbling with the tongue of infatuation to a woman with a +husband not yet buried, to a woman who loved another man. +</p> + +<p> +Such was the magic of her tears, quickening in a moment the thing which, as his +heart had known, he must not let come to life. For Philip Trent was a young +man, younger in nature even than his years, and a way of life that kept his +edge keen and his spirit volcanic had prepared him very ill for the meeting +that comes once in the early manhood of most of us, usually—as in his +case, he told himself harshly—to no purpose but the testing of virtue and +the power of the will. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap11"></a>Chapter XI.<br />Hitherto Unpublished</h2> + +<p> +My Dear Molloy:—This is in case I don’t find you at your office. I +have found out who killed Manderson, as this dispatch will show. This was my +problem; yours is to decide what use to make of it. It definitely charges an +unsuspected person with having a hand in the crime, and practically accuses him +of being the murderer, so I don’t suppose you will publish it before his +arrest, and I believe it is illegal to do so afterwards until he has been tried +and found guilty. You may decide to publish it then; and you may find it +possible to make some use or other before then of the facts I have given. That +is your affair. Meanwhile, will you communicate with Scotland Yard, and let +them see what I have written? I have done with the Manderson mystery, and I +wish to God I had never touched it. Here follows my dispatch. P.T. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +Marlstone, <i>June</i> 16<i>th</i>. +</p> + +<p> +I begin this, my third and probably my final dispatch to the <i>Record</i> upon +the Manderson murder, with conflicting feelings. I have a strong sense of +relief, because in my two previous dispatches I was obliged, in the interests +of justice, to withhold facts ascertained by me which would, if published then, +have put a certain person upon his guard and possibly have led to his escape; +for he is a man of no common boldness and resource. These facts I shall now set +forth. But I have, I confess, no liking for the story of treachery and +perverted cleverness which I have to tell. It leaves an evil taste in the +mouth, a savour of something revolting in the deeper puzzle of motive +underlying the puzzle of the crime itself, which I believe I have solved. +</p> + +<p> +It will be remembered that in my first dispatch I described the situation as I +found it on reaching this place early on Tuesday morning. I told how the body +was found, and in what state; dwelt upon the complete mystery surrounding the +crime, and mentioned one or two local theories about it; gave some account of +the dead man’s domestic surroundings; and furnished a somewhat detailed +description of his movements on the evening before his death. I gave, too, a +little fact which may or may not have seemed irrelevant: that a quantity of +whisky much larger than Manderson habitually drank at night had disappeared +from his private decanter since the last time he was seen alive. On the +following day, the day of the inquest, I wired little more than an abstract of +the proceedings in the coroner’s court, of which a verbatim report was +made at my request by other representatives of the <i>Record</i>. That day is +not yet over as I write these lines; and I have now completed an investigation +which has led me directly to the man who must be called upon to clear himself +of the guilt of the death of Manderson. +</p> + +<p> +Apart from the central mystery of Manderson’s having arisen long before +his usual hour to go out and meet his death, there were two minor points of +oddity about this affair which, I suppose, must have occurred to thousands of +those who have read the accounts in the newspapers: points apparent from the +very beginning. The first of these was that, whereas the body was found at a +spot not thirty yards from the house, all the people of the house declared that +they had heard no cry or other noise in the night. Manderson had not been +gagged; the marks on his wrists pointed to a struggle with his assailant; and +there had been at least one pistol-shot. (I say at least one, because it is the +fact that in murders with firearms, especially if there has been a struggle, +the criminal commonly misses his victim at least once.) This odd fact seemed +all the more odd to me when I learned that Martin the butler was a bad sleeper, +very keen of hearing, and that his bedroom, with the window open, faced almost +directly toward the shed by which the body was found. +</p> + +<p> +The second odd little fact that was apparent from the outset was +Manderson’s leaving his dental plate by the bedside. It appeared that he +had risen and dressed himself fully, down to his necktie and watch and chain, +and had gone out of doors without remembering to put in this plate, which he +had carried in his mouth every day for years, and which contained all the +visible teeth of the upper jaw. It had evidently not been a case of frantic +hurry; and even if it had been, he would have been more likely to forget almost +anything than this denture. Any one who wears such a removable plate will agree +that the putting it in on rising is a matter of second nature. Speaking as well +as eating, to say nothing of appearances, depend upon it. +</p> + +<p> +Neither of these queer details, however, seemed to lead to anything at the +moment. They only awakened in me a suspicion of something lurking in the +shadows, something that lent more mystery to the already mysterious question +how and why and through whom Manderson met his end. +</p> + +<p> +With this much of preamble I come at once to the discovery which, in the first +few hours of my investigation, set me upon the path which so much ingenuity had +been directed to concealing. +</p> + +<p> +I have already described Manderson’s bedroom, the rigorous simplicity of +its furnishing, contrasted so strangely with the multitude of clothes and +shoes, and the manner of its communication with Mrs. Manderson’s room. On +the upper of the two long shelves on which the shoes were ranged I found, where +I had been told I should find them, the pair of patent leather shoes which +Manderson had worn on the evening before his death. I had glanced over the row, +not with any idea of their giving me a clue, but merely because it happens that +I am a judge of shoes, and all these shoes were of the very best workmanship. +But my attention was at once caught by a little peculiarity in this particular +pair. They were the lightest kind of lace-up dress shoes, very thin in the +sole, without toe-caps, and beautifully made, like all the rest. These shoes +were old and well worn; but being carefully polished, and fitted, as all the +shoes were, upon their trees, they looked neat enough. What caught my eye was a +slight splitting of the leather in that part of the upper known as the +vamp—a splitting at the point where the two laced parts of the shoe rise +from the upper. It is at this point that the strain comes when a tight shoe of +this sort is forced upon the foot, and it is usually guarded with a strong +stitching across the bottom of the opening. In both the shoes I was examining +this stitching had parted, and the leather below had given way. The splitting +was a tiny affair in each case, not an eighth of an inch long, and the torn +edges having come together again on the removal of the strain, there was +nothing that a person who was not something of a connoisseur of shoe-leather +would have noticed. Even less noticeable, and indeed not to be seen at all +unless one were looking for it, was a slight straining of the stitches uniting +the upper to the sole. At the toe and on the outer side of each shoe this +stitching had been dragged until it was visible on a close inspection of the +join. +</p> + +<p> +These indications, of course, could mean only one thing—the shoes had +been worn by some one for whom they were too small. +</p> + +<p> +Now it was clear at a glance that Manderson was always thoroughly well shod, +and careful, perhaps a little vain, of his small and narrow feet. Not one of +the other shoes in the collection, as I soon ascertained, bore similar marks; +they had not belonged to a man who squeezed himself into tight shoe-leather. +Someone who was not Manderson had worn these shoes, and worn them recently; the +edges of the tears were quite fresh. +</p> + +<p> +The possibility of some one having worn them since Manderson’s death was +not worth considering; the body had only been found about twenty-six hours when +I was examining the shoes; besides, why should any one wear them? The +possibility of some one having borrowed Manderson’s shoes and spoiled +them for him while he was alive seemed about as negligible. With others to +choose from he would not have worn these. Besides, the only men in the place +were the butler and the two secretaries. But I do not say that I gave those +possibilities even as much consideration as they deserved, for my thoughts were +running away with me, and I have always found it good policy, in cases of this +sort, to let them have their heads. Ever since I had got out of the train at +Marlstone early that morning I had been steeped in details of the Manderson +affair; the thing had not once been out of my head. Suddenly the moment had +come when the daemon wakes and begins to range. +</p> + +<p> +Let me put it less fancifully. After all, it is a detail of psychology familiar +enough to all whose business or inclination brings them in contact with +difficult affairs of any kind. Swiftly and spontaneously, when chance or effort +puts one in possession of the key-fact in any system of baffling circumstances, +one’s ideas seem to rush to group themselves anew in relation to that +fact, so that they are suddenly rearranged almost before one has consciously +grasped the significance of the key-fact itself. In the present instance, my +brain had scarcely formulated within itself the thought, “Somebody who +was not Manderson has been wearing these shoes,” when there flew into my +mind a flock of ideas, all of the same character and all bearing upon this new +notion. It was unheard-of for Manderson to drink much whisky at night. It was +very unlike him to be untidily dressed, as the body was when found—the +cuffs dragged up inside the sleeves, the shoes unevenly laced; very unlike him +not to wash when he rose, and to put on last night’s evening shirt and +collar and underclothing; very unlike him to have his watch in the waistcoat +pocket that was not lined with leather for its reception. (In my first dispatch +I mentioned all these points, but neither I nor any one else saw anything +significant in them when examining the body.) It was very strange, in the +existing domestic situation, that Manderson should be communicative to his wife +about his doings, especially at the time of his going to bed, when he seldom +spoke to her at all. It was extraordinary that Manderson should leave his +bedroom without his false teeth. +</p> + +<p> +All these thoughts, as I say, came flocking into my mind together, drawn from +various parts of my memory of the morning’s enquiries and observations. +They had all presented themselves, in far less time than it takes to read them +as set down here, as I was turning over the shoes, confirming my own certainty +on the main point. And yet when I confronted the definite idea that had sprung +up suddenly and unsupported before me—“<i>It was not Manderson who +was in the house that night</i>”—it seemed a stark absurdity at the +first formulating. It was certainly Manderson who had dined at the house and +gone out with Marlowe in the car. People had seen him at close quarters. But +was it he who returned at ten? That question too seemed absurd enough. But I +could not set it aside. It seemed to me as if a faint light was beginning to +creep over the whole expanse of my mind, as it does over land at dawn, and that +presently the sun would be rising. I set myself to think over, one by one, the +points that had just occurred to me, so as to make out, if possible, why any +man masquerading as Manderson should have done these things that Manderson +would not have done. +</p> + +<p> +I had not to cast about very long for the motive a man might have in forcing +his feet into Manderson’s narrow shoes. The examination of footmarks is +very well understood by the police. But not only was the man concerned to leave +no footmarks of his own: he was concerned to leave Manderson’s, if any; +his whole plan, if my guess was right, must have been directed to producing the +belief that Manderson was in the place that night. Moreover, his plan did not +turn upon leaving footmarks. He meant to leave the shoes themselves, and he did +so. The maidservant had found them outside the bedroom door, as Manderson +always left his shoes, and had polished them, replacing them on the +shoe-shelves later in the morning, after the body had been found. +</p> + +<p> +When I came to consider in this new light the leaving of the false teeth, an +explanation of what had seemed the maddest part of the affair broke upon me at +once. A dental plate is not inseparable from its owner. If my guess was right, +the unknown had brought the denture to the house with him, and left it in the +bedroom, with the same object as he had in leaving the shoes: to make it +impossible that any one should doubt that Manderson had been in the house and +had gone to bed there. This, of course, led me to the inference that +<i>Manderson was dead before the false Manderson came to the house</i>; and +other things confirmed this. +</p> + +<p> +For instance, the clothing, to which I now turned in my review of the position. +If my guess was right, the unknown in Manderson’s shoes had certainly had +possession of Manderson’s trousers, waistcoat, and shooting jacket. They +were there before my eyes in the bedroom; and Martin had seen the +jacket—which nobody could have mistaken—upon the man who sat at the +telephone in the library. It was now quite plain (if my guess was right) that +this unmistakable garment was a cardinal feature of the unknown’s plan. +He knew that Martin would take him for Manderson at the first glance. +</p> + +<p> +And there my thinking was interrupted by the realization of a thing that had +escaped me before. So strong had been the influence of the unquestioned +assumption that it was Manderson who was present that night, that neither I +nor, as far as I know, any one else had noted the point. <i>Martin had not seen +the man’s face, nor had Mrs. Manderson.</i> +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Manderson (judging by her evidence at the inquest, of which, as I have +said, I had a full report made by the <i>Record</i> stenographers in court) had +not seen the man at all. She hardly could have done, as I shall show presently. +She had merely spoken with him as she lay half asleep, resuming a conversation +which she had had with her living husband about an hour before. Martin, I +perceived, could only have seen the man’s back, as he sat crouching over +the telephone; no doubt a characteristic pose was imitated there. And the man +had worn his hat, Manderson’s broad-brimmed hat! There is too much +character in the back of a head and neck. The unknown, in fact, supposing him +to have been of about Manderson’s build, had had no need for any +disguise, apart from the jacket and the hat and his powers of mimicry. +</p> + +<p> +I paused there to contemplate the coolness and ingenuity of the man. The thing, +I now began to see, was so safe and easy, provided that his mimicry was good +enough, and that his nerve held. Those two points assured, only some wholly +unlikely accident could unmask him. +</p> + +<p> +To come back to my puzzling out of the matter as I sat in the dead man’s +bedroom with the tell-tale shoes before me. The reason for the entrance by the +window instead of by the front door will already have occurred to any one +reading this. Entering by the door, the man would almost certainly have been +heard by the sharp-eared Martin in his pantry just across the hall; he might +have met him face to face. +</p> + +<p> +Then there was the problem of the whisky. I had not attached much importance to +it; whisky will sometimes vanish in very queer ways in a household of eight or +nine persons; but it had seemed strange that it should go in that way on that +evening. Martin had been plainly quite dumbfounded by the fact. It seemed to me +now that many a man—fresh, as this man in all likelihood was, from a +bloody business, from the unclothing of a corpse, and with a desperate part +still to play—would turn to that decanter as to a friend. No doubt he had +a drink before sending for Martin; after making that trick with ease and +success, he probably drank more. +</p> + +<p> +But he had known when to stop. The worst part of the enterprise was before him: +the business—clearly of such vital importance to him, for whatever +reason—of shutting himself in Manderson’s room and preparing a body +of convincing evidence of its having been occupied by Manderson; and this with +the risk—very slight, as no doubt he understood, but how +unnerving!—of the woman on the other side of the half-open door awaking +and somehow discovering him. True, if he kept out of her limited field of +vision from the bed, she could only see him by getting up and going to the +door. I found that to a person lying in her bed, which stood with its head to +the wall a little beyond the door, nothing was visible through the doorway but +one of the cupboards by Manderson’s bed-head. Moreover, since this man +knew the ways of the household, he would think it most likely that Mrs. +Manderson was asleep. Another point with him, I guessed, might have been the +estrangement between the husband and wife, which they had tried to cloak by +keeping up, among other things, their usual practice of sleeping in connected +rooms, but which was well known to all who had anything to do with them. He +would hope from this that if Mrs. Manderson heard him, she would take no notice +of the supposed presence of her husband. +</p> + +<p> +So, pursuing my hypothesis, I followed the unknown up to the bedroom, and saw +him setting about his work. And it was with a catch in my own breath that I +thought of the hideous shock with which he must have heard the sound of all +others he was dreading most: the drowsy voice from the adjoining room. +</p> + +<p> +What Mrs. Manderson actually said, she was unable to recollect at the inquest. +She thinks she asked her supposed husband whether he had had a good run in the +car. And now what does the unknown do? Here, I think, we come to a supremely +significant point. Not only does he—standing rigid there, as I picture +him, before the dressing-table, listening to the sound of his own leaping +heart—not only does he answer the lady in the voice of Manderson; he +volunteers an explanatory statement. He tells her that he has, on a sudden +inspiration, sent Marlowe in the car to Southampton; that he has sent him to +bring back some important information from a man leaving for Paris by the +steamboat that morning. Why these details from a man who had long been +uncommunicative to his wife, and that upon a point scarcely likely to interest +her? Why these details <i>about Marlowe?</i> +</p> + +<p> +Having taken my story so far, I now put forward the following definite +propositions: that between a time somewhere about ten, when the car started, +and a time somewhere about eleven, Manderson was shot—probably at a +considerable distance from the house, as no shot was heard; that the body was +brought back, left by the shed, and stripped of its outer clothing; that at +some time round about eleven o’clock a man who was not Manderson, wearing +Manderson’s shoes, hat, and jacket, entered the library by the garden +window; that he had with him Manderson’s black trousers, waistcoat, and +motor-coat, the denture taken from Manderson’s mouth, and the weapon with +which he had been murdered; that he concealed these, rang the bell for the +butler, and sat down at the telephone with his hat on and his back to the door; +that he was occupied with the telephone all the time Martin was in the room; +that on going up to the bedroom floor he quietly entered Marlowe’s room +and placed the revolver with which the crime had been +committed—Marlowe’s revolver—in the case on the mantelpiece +from which it had been taken; and that he then went to Manderson’s room, +placed Manderson’s shoes outside the door, threw Manderson’s +garments on a chair, placed the denture in the bowl by the bedside, and +selected a suit of clothes, a pair of shoes, and a tie from those in the +bedroom. +</p> + +<p> +Here I will pause in my statement of this man’s proceedings to go into a +question for which the way is now sufficiently prepared: +</p> + +<p> +<i>Who was the false Manderson?</i> +</p> + +<p> +Reviewing what was known to me, or might almost with certainty be surmised, +about that person, I set down the following five conclusions: +</p> + +<p> +(1.) He had been in close relations with the dead man. In his acting before +Martin and his speaking to Mrs. Manderson he had made no mistake. +</p> + +<p> +(2.) He was of a build not unlike Manderson’s, especially as to height +and breadth of shoulder, which mainly determine the character of the back of a +seated figure when the head is concealed and the body loosely clothed. But his +feet were larger, though not greatly larger, than Manderson’s. +</p> + +<p> +(3.) He had considerable aptitude for mimicry and acting—probably some +experience too. +</p> + +<p> +(4.) He had a minute acquaintance with the ways of the Manderson household. +</p> + +<p> +(5.) He was under a vital necessity of creating the belief that Manderson was +alive and in that house until some time after midnight on the Sunday night. +</p> + +<p> +So much I took as either certain or next door to it. It was as far as I could +see. And it was far enough. +</p> + +<p> +I proceed to give, in an order corresponding with the numbered paragraphs +above, such relevant facts as I was able to obtain about Mr. John Marlowe, from +himself and other sources: +</p> + +<p> +(1.) He had been Mr. Manderson’s private secretary, upon a footing of +great intimacy, for nearly four years. +</p> + +<p> +(2.) The two men were nearly of the same height, about five feet eleven inches; +both were powerfully built and heavy in the shoulder. Marlowe, who was the +younger by some twenty years, was rather slighter about the body, though +Manderson was a man in good physical condition. Marlowe’s shoes (of which +I examined several pairs) were roughly about one shoemaker’s size longer +and broader than Manderson’s. +</p> + +<p> +(3.) In the afternoon of the first day of my investigation, after arriving at +the results already detailed, I sent a telegram to a personal friend, a Fellow +of a college at Oxford, whom I knew to be interested in theatrical matters, in +these terms: +</p> + +<p> +<i>Please wire John Marlowe’s record in connection with acting at Oxford +some time past decade very urgent and confidential.</i> +</p> + +<p> +My friend replied in the following telegram, which reached me next morning (the +morning of the inquest): +</p> + +<p> +<i>Marlowe was member O.U.D.S for three years and president 19— played +Bardolph Cleon and Mercutio excelled in character acting and imitations in +great demand at smokers was hero of some historic hoaxes.</i> +</p> + +<p> +I had been led to send the telegram which brought this very helpful answer by +seeing on the mantel-shelf in Marlowe’s bedroom a photograph of himself +and two others in the costume of Falstaff’s three followers, with an +inscription from <i>The Merry Wives</i>, and by noting that it bore the imprint +of an Oxford firm of photographers. +</p> + +<p> +(4.) During his connection with Manderson, Marlowe had lived as one of the +family. No other person, apart from the servants, had his opportunities for +knowing the domestic life of the Mandersons in detail. +</p> + +<p> +(5.) I ascertained beyond doubt that Marlowe arrived at a hotel in Southampton +on the Monday morning at 6.30, and there proceeded to carry out the commission +which, according to his story, and according to the statement made to Mrs. +Manderson in the bedroom by the false Manderson, had been entrusted to him by +his employer. He had then returned in the car to Marlstone, where he had shown +great amazement and horror at the news of the murder. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +These, I say, are the relevant facts about Marlowe. We must now examine fact +number 5 (as set out above) in connection with conclusion number 5 about the +false Manderson. +</p> + +<p> +I would first draw attention to one important fact. <i>The only person who +professed to have heard Manderson mention Southampton at all before he started +in the car was Marlowe</i>. His story—confirmed to some extent by what +the butler overheard—was that the journey was all arranged in a private +talk before they set out, and he could not say, when I put the question to him, +why Manderson should have concealed his intentions by giving out that he was +going with Marlowe for a moonlight drive. This point, however, attracted no +attention. Marlowe had an absolutely air-tight alibi in his presence at +Southampton by 6.30; nobody thought of him in connection with a murder which +must have been committed after 12.30—the hour at which Martin the butler +had gone to bed. But it was the Manderson who came back from the drive who went +out of his way to mention Southampton openly to two persons. <i>He even went so +far as to ring up a hotel at Southampton and ask questions which bore out +Marlowe’s story of his errand.</i> This was the call he was busy with +when Martin was in the library. +</p> + +<p> +Now let us consider the alibi. If Manderson was in the house that night, and if +he did not leave it until some time after 12.30, Marlowe could not by any +possibility have had a direct hand in the murder. It is a question of the +distance between Marlstone and Southampton. If he had left Marlstone in the car +at the hour when he is supposed to have done so—between 10 and +10.30—with a message from Manderson, the run would be quite an easy one +to do in the time. But it would be physically impossible for the car—a 15 +h.p. four-cylinder Northumberland, an average medium-power car—to get to +Southampton by half-past six unless it left Marlstone by midnight at latest. +Motorists who will examine the road-map and make the calculations required, as +I did in Manderson’s library that day, will agree that on the facts as +they appeared there was absolutely no case against Marlowe. +</p> + +<p> +But even if they were not as they appeared; if Manderson was dead by eleven +o’clock, and if at about that time Marlowe impersonated him at White +Gables; if Marlowe retired to Manderson’s bedroom—how can all this +be reconciled with his appearance next morning at Southampton? <i>He had to get +out of the house, unseen and unheard, and away in the car by midnight.</i> And +Martin, the sharp-eared Martin, was sitting up until 12.30 in his pantry, with +the door open, listening for the telephone bell. Practically he was standing +sentry over the foot of the staircase, the only staircase leading down from the +bedroom floor. +</p> + +<p> +With this difficulty we arrive at the last and crucial phase of my +investigation. Having the foregoing points clearly in mind, I spent the rest of +the day before the inquest in talking to various persons and in going over my +story, testing it link by link. I could only find the one weakness which seemed +to be involved in Martin’s sitting up until 12.30; and since his having +been instructed to do so was certainly a part of the plan, meant to clinch the +alibi for Marlowe, I knew there must be an explanation somewhere. If I could +not find that explanation, my theory was valueless. I must be able to show that +at the time Martin went up to bed the man who had shut himself in +Manderson’s bedroom might have been many miles away on the road to +Southampton. +</p> + +<p> +I had, however, a pretty good idea already—as perhaps the reader of these +lines has by this time, if I have made myself clear—of how the escape of +the false Manderson before midnight had been contrived. But I did not want what +I was now about to do to be known. If I had chanced to be discovered at work, +there would have been no concealing the direction of my suspicions. I resolved +not to test them on this point until the next day, during the opening +proceedings at the inquest. This was to be held, I knew, at the hotel, and I +reckoned upon having White Gables to myself so far as the principal inmates +were concerned. +</p> + +<p> +So in fact it happened. By the time the proceedings at the hotel had begun I +was hard at work at White Gables. I had a camera with me. I made search, on +principles well known to and commonly practised by the police, and often enough +by myself, for certain indications. Without describing my search, I may say at +once that I found and was able to photograph two fresh fingerprints, very large +and distinct, on the polished front of the right-hand top drawer of the chest +of drawers in Manderson’s bedroom; five more (among a number of smaller +and less recent impressions made by other hands) on the glasses of the French +window in Mrs. Manderson’s room, a window which always stood open at +night with a curtain before it; and three more upon the glass bowl in which +Manderson’s dental plate had been found lying. +</p> + +<p> +I took the bowl with me from White Gables. I took also a few articles which I +selected from Marlowe’s bedroom, as bearing the most distinct of the +innumerable fingerprints which are always to be found upon toilet articles in +daily use. I already had in my possession, made upon leaves cut from my pocket +diary, some excellent fingerprints of Marlowe’s which he had made in my +presence without knowing it. I had shown him the leaves, asking if he +recognized them; and the few seconds during which he had held them in his +fingers had sufficed to leave impressions which I was afterwards able to bring +out. +</p> + +<p> +By six o’clock in the evening, two hours after the jury had brought in +their verdict against a person or persons unknown, I had completed my work, and +was in a position to state that two of the five large prints made on the +window-glasses, and the three on the bowl, were made by the left hand of +Marlowe; that the remaining three on the window and the two on the drawer were +made by his right hand. +</p> + +<p> +By eight o’clock I had made at the establishment of Mr. H. T. Copper, +photographer, of Bishopsbridge, and with his assistance, a dozen enlarged +prints of the finger-marks of Marlowe, clearly showing the identity of those +which he unknowingly made in my presence and those left upon articles in his +bedroom, with those found by me as I have described, and thus establishing the +facts that Marlowe was recently in Manderson’s bedroom, where he had in +the ordinary way no business, and in Mrs Manderson’s room, where he had +still less. I hope it may be possible to reproduce these prints for publication +with this dispatch. +</p> + +<p> +At nine o’clock I was back in my room at the hotel and sitting down to +begin this manuscript. I had my story complete. I bring it to a close by +advancing these further propositions: that on the night of the murder the +impersonator of Manderson, being in Manderson’s bedroom, told Mrs +Manderson, as he had already told Martin, that Marlowe was at that moment on +his way to Southampton; that having made his dispositions in the room, he +switched off the light, and lay in the bed in his clothes; that he waited until +he was assured that Mrs. Manderson was asleep; that he then arose and +stealthily crossed Mrs. Manderson’s bedroom in his stocking feet, having +under his arm the bundle of clothing and shoes for the body; that he stepped +behind the curtain, pushing the doors of the window a little further open with +his hands, strode over the iron railing of the balcony, and let himself down +until only a drop of a few feet separated him from the soft turf of the lawn. +</p> + +<p> +All this might very well have been accomplished within half an hour of his +entering Manderson’s bedroom, which, according to Martin, he did at about +half-past eleven. +</p> + +<p> +What followed your readers and the authorities may conjecture for themselves. +The corpse was found next morning clothed—rather untidily. Marlowe in the +car appeared at Southampton by half-past six. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +I bring this manuscript to an end in my sitting-room at the hotel at Marlstone. +It is four o’clock in the morning. I leave for London by the noon train +from Bishopsbridge, and immediately after arriving I shall place these pages in +your hands. I ask you to communicate the substance of them to the Criminal +Investigation Department. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +P<small>HILIP</small> T<small>RENT</small>. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap12"></a>Chapter XII.<br />Evil Days</h2> + +<p> +“I am returning the cheque you sent for what I did on the Manderson +case,” Trent wrote to Sir James Molloy from Munich, whither he had gone +immediately after handing in at the <i>Record</i> office a brief dispatch +bringing his work on the case to an unexciting close. “What I sent you +wasn’t worth one-tenth of the amount; but I should have no scruple about +pocketing it if I hadn’t taken a fancy—never mind why—not to +touch any money at all for this business. I should like you, if there is no +objection, to pay for the stuff at your ordinary space-rate, and hand the money +to some charity which does not devote itself to bullying people, if you know of +any such. I have come to this place to see some old friends and arrange my +ideas, and the idea that comes out uppermost is that for a little while I want +some employment with activity in it. I find I can’t paint at all: I +couldn’t paint a fence. Will you try me as your Own Correspondent +somewhere? If you can find me a good adventure I will send you good accounts. +After that I could settle down and work.” +</p> + +<p> +Sir James sent him instructions by telegram to proceed at once to Kurland and +Livonia, where Citizen Browning was abroad again, and town and countryside +blazed in revolt. It was a roving commission, and for two months Trent followed +his luck. It served him not less well than usual. He was the only correspondent +who saw General Dragilew killed in the street at Volmar by a girl of eighteen. +He saw burnings, lynchings, fusillades, hangings; each day his soul sickened +afresh at the imbecilities born of misrule. Many nights he lay down in danger. +Many days he went fasting. But there was never an evening or a morning when he +did not see the face of the woman whom he hopelessly loved. +</p> + +<p> +He discovered in himself an unhappy pride at the lasting force of this +infatuation. It interested him as a phenomenon; it amazed and enlightened him. +Such a thing had not visited him before. It confirmed so much that he had found +dubious in the recorded experience of men. +</p> + +<p> +It was not that, at thirty-two, he could pretend to ignorance of this world of +emotion. About his knowledge let it be enough to say that what he had learned +had come unpursued and unpurchased, and was without intolerable memories; +broken to the realities of sex, he was still troubled by its inscrutable +history. He went through life full of a strange respect for certain feminine +weakness and a very simple terror of certain feminine strength. He had held to +a rather lukewarm faith that something remained in him to be called forth, and +that the voice that should call would be heard in its own time, if ever, and +not through any seeking. +</p> + +<p> +But he had not thought of the possibility that, if this proved true some day, +the truth might come in a sinister shape. The two things that had taken him +utterly by surprise in the matter of his feeling towards Mabel Manderson were +the insane suddenness of its uprising in full strength and its extravagant +hopelessness. Before it came, he had been much disposed to laugh at the +permanence of unrequited passion as a generous boyish delusion. He knew now +that he had been wrong, and he was living bitterly in the knowledge. +</p> + +<p> +Before the eye of his fancy the woman always came just as she was when he had +first had sight of her, with the gesture which he had surprised as he walked +past unseen on the edge of the cliff; that great gesture of passionate joy in +her new liberty which had told him more plainly than speech that her widowhood +was a release from torment, and had confirmed with terrible force the +suspicion, active in his mind before, that it was her passport to happiness +with a man whom she loved. He could not with certainty name to himself the +moment when he had first suspected that it might be so. The seed of the thought +must have been sown, he believed, at his first meeting with Marlowe; his mind +would have noted automatically that such evident strength and grace, with the +sort of looks and manners that the tall young man possessed, might go far with +any woman of unfixed affections. And the connection of this with what Mr. +Cupples had told him of the Mandersons’ married life must have formed +itself in the unconscious depths of his mind. Certainly it had presented itself +as an already established thing when he began, after satisfying himself of the +identity of the murderer, to cast about for the motive of the crime. Motive, +motive! How desperately he had sought for another, turning his back upon that +grim thought, that Marlowe—obsessed by passion like himself, and privy +perhaps to maddening truths about the wife’s unhappiness—had taken +a leaf, the guiltiest, from the book of Bothwell. But in all his investigations +at the time, in all his broodings on the matter afterwards, he had been able to +discover nothing that could prompt Marlowe to such a deed—nothing but +that temptation, the whole strength of which he could not know, but which if it +had existed must have pressed urgently upon a bold spirit in which scruple had +been somehow paralysed. If he could trust his senses at all, the young man was +neither insane nor by nature evil. But that could not clear him. Murder for a +woman’s sake, he thought, was not a rare crime, Heaven knew! If the +modern feebleness of impulse in the comfortable classes, and their respect for +the modern apparatus of detection, had made it rare among them, it was yet far +from impossible. It only needed a man of equal daring and intelligence, his +soul drugged with the vapours of an intoxicating intrigue, to plan and perform +such a deed. +</p> + +<p> +A thousand times, with a heart full of anguish, he had sought to reason away +the dread that Mabel Manderson had known too much of what had been intended +against her husband’s life. That she knew all the truth after the thing +was done he could not doubt; her unforgettable collapse in his presence when +the question about Marlowe was suddenly and bluntly put, had swept away his +last hope that there was no love between the pair, and had seemed to him, +moreover, to speak of dread of discovery. In any case, she knew the truth after +reading what he had left with her; and it was certain that no public suspicion +had been cast upon Marlowe since. She had destroyed his manuscript, then, and +taken him at his word to keep the secret that threatened her lover’s +life. +</p> + +<p> +But it was the monstrous thought that she might have known murder was brewing, +and guiltily kept silence, that haunted Trent’s mind. She might have +suspected, have guessed something; was it conceivable that she was aware of the +whole plot, that she connived? He could never forget that his first suspicion +of Marlowe’s motive in the crime had been roused by the fact that his +escape was made through the lady’s room. At that time, when he had not +yet seen her, he had been ready enough to entertain the idea of her equal guilt +and her co-operation. He had figured to himself some passionate +<i>hystérique</i>, merciless as a cat in her hate and her love, a zealous +abettor, perhaps even the ruling spirit in the crime. +</p> + +<p> +Then he had seen her, had spoken with her, had helped her in her weakness; and +such suspicions, since their first meeting, had seemed the vilest of infamy. He +had seen her eyes and her mouth; he had breathed the woman’s atmosphere. +Trent was one of those who fancy they can scent true wickedness in the air. In +her presence he had felt an inward certainty of her ultimate goodness of heart; +and it was nothing against this that she had abandoned herself a moment, that +day on the cliff, to the sentiment of relief at the ending of her bondage, of +her years of starved sympathy and unquickened motherhood. That she had turned +to Marlowe in her destitution he believed; that she had any knowledge of his +deadly purpose he did not believe. +</p> + +<p> +And yet, morning and evening the sickening doubts returned, and he recalled +again that it was almost in her presence that Marlowe had made his preparations +in the bedroom of the murdered man, that it was by the window of her own +chamber that he had escaped from the house. Had he forgotten his cunning and +taken the risk of telling her then? Or had he, as Trent thought more likely, +still played his part with her then, and stolen off while she slept? He did not +think she had known of the masquerade when she gave evidence at the inquest; it +read like honest evidence. Or—the question would never be silenced, +though he scorned it—had she lain expecting the footsteps in the room and +the whisper that should tell her that it was done? Among the foul possibilities +of human nature, was it possible that black ruthlessness and black deceit as +well were hidden behind that good and straight and gentle seeming? +</p> + +<p> +These thoughts would scarcely leave him when he was alone. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Trent served Sir James, well earning his pay for six months, and then returned +to Paris where he went to work again with a better heart. His powers had +returned to him, and he began to live more happily than he had expected among a +tribe of strangely assorted friends, French, English, and American, artists, +poets, journalists, policemen, hotel-keepers, soldiers, lawyers, business men, +and others. His old faculty of sympathetic interest in his fellows won for him, +just as in his student days, privileges seldom extended to the Briton. He +enjoyed again the rare experience of being taken into the bosom of a +Frenchman’s family. He was admitted to the momentous confidence of <i>les +jeunes</i>, and found them as sure that they had surprised the secrets of art +and life as the departed <i>jeunes</i> of ten years before had been. +</p> + +<p> +The bosom of the Frenchman’s family was the same as those he had known in +the past, even to the patterns of the wallpaper and movables. But the +<i>jeunes</i>, he perceived with regret, were totally different from their +forerunners. They were much more shallow and puerile, much less really clever. +The secrets they wrested from the Universe were not such important and +interesting secrets as had been wrested by the old <i>jeunes</i>. This he +believed and deplored until one day he found himself seated at a restaurant +next to a too well-fed man whom, in spite of the ravages of comfortable living, +he recognized as one of the <i>jeunes</i> of his own period. This one had been +wont to describe himself and three or four others as the Hermits of the New +Parnassus. He and his school had talked outside cafes and elsewhere more than +solitaries do as a rule; but, then, rules were what they had vowed themselves +to destroy. They proclaimed that verse, in particular, was free. The Hermit of +the New Parnassus was now in the Ministry of the Interior, and already +decorated: he expressed to Trent the opinion that what France needed most was a +hand of iron. He was able to quote the exact price paid for certain betrayals +of the country, of which Trent had not previously heard. +</p> + +<p> +Thus he was brought to make the old discovery that it was he who had changed, +like his friend of the Administration, and that <i>les jeunes</i> were still +the same. Yet he found it hard to say what precisely he had lost that so +greatly mattered; unless indeed it were so simple a thing as his high spirits. +</p> + +<p> +One morning in June, as he descended the slope of the Rue des Martyrs, he saw +approaching a figure that he remembered. He glanced quickly round, for the +thought of meeting Mr. Bunner again was unacceptable. For some time he had +recognized that his wound was healing under the spell of creative work; he +thought less often of the woman he loved, and with less pain. He would not have +the memory of those three days reopened. +</p> + +<p> +But the straight and narrow thoroughfare offered no refuge, and the American +saw him almost at once. +</p> + +<p> +His unforced geniality made Trent ashamed, for he had liked the man. They sat +long over a meal, and Mr. Bunner talked. Trent listened to him, now that he was +in for it, with genuine pleasure, now and then contributing a question or +remark. Besides liking his companion, he enjoyed his conversation, with its +unending verbal surprises, for its own sake. +</p> + +<p> +Bunner was, it appeared, resident in Paris as the chief Continental agent of +the Manderson firm, and fully satisfied with his position and prospects. He +discoursed on these for some twenty minutes. This subject at length exhausted, +he went on to tell Trent, who confessed that he had been away from England for +a year, that Marlowe had shortly after the death of Manderson entered his +father’s business, which was now again in a flourishing state, and had +already come to be practically in control of it. They had kept up their +intimacy, and were even now planning a holiday for the summer. Mr. Bunner spoke +with generous admiration of his friend’s talent for affairs. “Jack +Marlowe has a natural big head,” he declared, “and if he had more +experience, I wouldn’t want to have him up against me. He would put a +crimp in me every time.” +</p> + +<p> +As the American’s talk flowed on, Trent listened with a slowly growing +perplexity. It became more and more plain that something was very wrong in his +theory of the situation; there was no mention of its central figure. Presently +Mr. Bunner mentioned that Marlowe was engaged to be married to an Irish girl, +whose charms he celebrated with native enthusiasm. +</p> + +<p> +Trent clasped his hands savagely together beneath the table. What could have +happened? His ideas were sliding and shifting. At last he forced himself to put +a direct question. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Bunner was not very fully informed. He knew that Mrs. Manderson had left +England immediately after the settlement of her husband’s affairs, and +had lived for some time in Italy. She had returned not long ago to London, +where she had decided not to live in the house in Mayfair, and had bought a +smaller one in the Hampstead neighbourhood; also, he understood, one somewhere +in the country. She was said to go but little into society. “And all the +good hard dollars just waiting for some one to spraddle them around,” +said Mr. Bunner, with a note of pathos in his voice. “Why, she has money +to burn—money to feed to the birds—and nothing doing. The old man +left her more than half his wad. And think of the figure she might make in the +world. She is beautiful, and she is the best woman I ever met, too. But she +couldn’t ever seem to get the habit of spending money the way it ought to +be spent.” +</p> + +<p> +His words now became a soliloquy: Trent’s thoughts were occupying all his +attention. He pleaded business soon, and the two men parted with cordiality. +</p> + +<p> +Half an hour later Trent was in his studio, swiftly and mechanically +“cleaning up”. He wanted to know what had happened; somehow he must +find out. He could never approach herself, he knew; he would never bring back +to her the shame of that last encounter with him; it was scarcely likely that +he would even set eyes on her. But he must get to know!... Cupples was in +London, Marlowe was there.... And, anyhow, he was sick of Paris. +</p> + +<p> +Such thoughts came and went; and below them all strained the fibres of an +unseen cord that dragged mercilessly at his heart, and that he cursed bitterly +in the moments when he could not deny to himself that it was there. The folly, +the useless, pitiable folly of it! +</p> + +<p> +In twenty-four hours his feeble roots in Paris had been torn out. He was +looking over a leaden sea at the shining fortress-wall of the Dover cliffs. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +But though he had instinctively picked out the lines of a set purpose from +among the welter of promptings in his mind, he found it delayed at the very +outset. +</p> + +<p> +He had decided that he must first see Mr. Cupples, who would be in a position +to tell him much more than the American knew. But Mr. Cupples was away on his +travels, not expected to return for a month; and Trent had no reasonable excuse +for hastening his return. Marlowe he would not confront until he had tried at +least to reconnoitre the position. He constrained himself not to commit the +crowning folly of seeking out Mrs. Manderson’s house in Hampstead; he +could not enter it, and the thought of the possibility of being seen by her +lurking in its neighbourhood brought the blood to his face. +</p> + +<p> +He stayed at an hotel, took a studio, and while he awaited Mr. Cupples’s +return attempted vainly to lose himself in work. +</p> + +<p> +At the end of a week he had an idea that he acted upon with eager precipitancy. +She had let fall some word at their last meeting, of a taste for music. Trent +went that evening, and thenceforward regularly, to the opera. He might see her; +and if, in spite of his caution, she caught sight of him, they could be blind +to each other’s presence—anybody might happen to go to the opera. +</p> + +<p> +So he went alone each evening, passing as quickly as he might through the +people in the vestibule; and each evening he came away knowing that she had not +been in the house. It was a habit that yielded him a sort of satisfaction along +with the guilty excitement of his search; for he too loved music, and nothing +gave him so much peace while its magic endured. +</p> + +<p> +One night as he entered, hurrying through the brilliant crowd, he felt a touch +on his arm. Flooded with an incredible certainty at the touch, he turned. +</p> + +<p> +It was she: so much more radiant in the absence of grief and anxiety, in the +fact that she was smiling, and in the allurement of evening dress, that he +could not speak. She, too, breathed a little quickly, and there was a light of +daring in her eyes and cheeks as she greeted him. +</p> + +<p> +Her words were few. “I wouldn’t miss a note of +<i>Tristan</i>,” she said, “nor must you. Come and see me in the +interval.” She gave him the number of the box. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap13"></a>Chapter XIII.<br />Eruption</h2> + +<p> +The following two months were a period in Trent’s life that he has never +since remembered without shuddering. He met Mrs. Manderson half a dozen times, +and each time her cool friendliness, a nicely calculated mean between mere +acquaintance and the first stage of intimacy, baffled and maddened him. At the +opera he had found her, to his further amazement, with a certain Mrs. Wallace, +a frisky matron whom he had known from childhood. Mrs. Manderson, it appeared, +on her return from Italy, had somehow wandered into circles to which he +belonged by nurture and disposition. It came, she said, of her having pitched +her tent in their hunting-grounds; several of his friends were near neighbours. +He had a dim but horrid recollection of having been on that occasion unlike +himself, ill at ease, burning in the face, talking with idiot loquacity of his +adventures in the Baltic provinces, and finding from time to time that he was +addressing himself exclusively to Mrs. Wallace. The other lady, when he joined +them, had completely lost the slight appearance of agitation with which she had +stopped him in the vestibule. She had spoken pleasantly to him of her travels, +of her settlement in London, and of people whom they both knew. +</p> + +<p> +During the last half of the opera, which he had stayed in the box to hear, he +had been conscious of nothing, as he sat behind them, but the angle of her +cheek and the mass of her hair, the lines of her shoulder and arm, her hand +upon the cushion. The black hair had seemed at last a forest, immeasurable, +pathless and enchanted, luring him to a fatal adventure.... At the end he had +been pale and subdued, parting with them rather formally. +</p> + +<p> +The next time he saw her—it was at a country house where both were +guests—and the subsequent times, he had had himself in hand. He had +matched her manner and had acquitted himself, he thought, decently, +considering— +</p> + +<p> +Considering that he lived in an agony of bewilderment and remorse and longing. +He could make nothing, absolutely nothing, of her attitude. That she had read +his manuscript and understood the suspicion indicated in his last question to +her at White Gables was beyond the possibility of doubt. Then how could she +treat him thus and frankly, as she treated all the world of men who had done no +injury? +</p> + +<p> +For it had become clear to his intuitive sense, for all the absence of any +shade of differentiation in her outward manner, that an injury had been done, +and that she had felt it. Several times, on the rare and brief occasions when +they had talked apart, he had warning from the same sense that she was +approaching this subject; and each time he had turned the conversation with the +ingenuity born of fear. Two resolutions he made. The first was that when he had +completed a commissioned work which tied him to London he would go away and +stay away. The strain was too great. He no longer burned to know the truth; he +wanted nothing to confirm his fixed internal conviction by faith, that he had +blundered, that he had misread the situation, misinterpreted her tears, written +himself down a slanderous fool. He speculated no more on Marlowe’s motive +in the killing of Manderson. Mr. Cupples returned to London, and Trent asked +him nothing. He knew now that he had been right in those words—Trent +remembered them for the emphasis with which they were spoken—“So +long as she considered herself bound to him... no power on earth could have +persuaded her.” He met Mrs. Manderson at dinner at her uncle’s +large and tomb-like house in Bloomsbury, and there he conversed most of the +evening with a professor of archaeology from Berlin. +</p> + +<p> +His other resolution was that he would not be with her alone. +</p> + +<p> +But when, a few days after, she wrote asking him to come and see her on the +following afternoon, he made no attempt to excuse himself. This was a formal +challenge. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +While she celebrated the rites of tea, and for some little time thereafter, she +joined with such natural ease in his slightly fevered conversation on matters +of the day that he began to hope she had changed what he could not doubt had +been her resolve, to corner him and speak to him gravely. She was to all +appearance careless now, smiling so that he recalled, not for the first time +since that night at the opera, what was written long ago of a Princess of +Brunswick: “Her mouth has ten thousand charms that touch the soul.” +She made a tour of the beautiful room where she had received him, singling out +this treasure or that from the spoils of a hundred bric-à-brac shops, laughing +over her quests, discoveries, and bargainings. And when he asked if she would +delight him again with a favourite piece of his which he had heard her play at +another house, she consented at once. +</p> + +<p> +She played with a perfection of execution and feeling that moved him now as it +had moved him before. “You are a musician born,” he said quietly +when she had finished, and the last tremor of the music had passed away. +“I knew that before I first heard you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have played a great deal ever since I can remember. It has been a +great comfort to me,” she said simply, and half-turned to him smiling. +“When did you first detect music in me? Oh, of course: I was at the +opera. But that wouldn’t prove much, would it?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” he said abstractedly, his sense still busy with the music +that had just ended. “I think I knew it the first time I saw you.” +Then understanding of his own words came to him, and turned him rigid. For the +first time the past had been invoked. +</p> + +<p> +There was a short silence. Mrs. Manderson looked at Trent, then hastily looked +away. Colour began to rise in her cheeks, and she pursed her lips as if for +whistling. Then with a defiant gesture of the shoulders which he remembered she +rose suddenly from the piano and placed herself in a chair opposite to him. +</p> + +<p> +“That speech of yours will do as well as anything,” she began +slowly, looking at the point of her shoe, “to bring us to what I wanted +to say. I asked you here today on purpose, Mr. Trent, because I couldn’t +bear it any longer. Ever since the day you left me at White Gables I have been +saying to myself that it didn’t matter what you thought of me in that +affair; that you were certainly not the kind of man to speak to others of what +you believed about me, after what you had told me of your reasons for +suppressing your manuscript. I asked myself how it could matter. But all the +time, of course, I knew it did matter. It mattered horribly. Because what you +thought was not true.” She raised her eyes and met his gaze calmly. +Trent, with a completely expressionless face, returned her look. +</p> + +<p> +“Since I began to know you,” he said, “I have ceased to think +it.” “Thank you,” said Mrs. Manderson; and blushed suddenly +and deeply. Then, playing with a glove, she added, “But I want you to +know what <i>was</i> true. +</p> + +<p> +“I did not know if I should ever see you again,” she went on in a +lower voice, “but I felt that if I did I must speak to you about this. I +thought it would not be hard to do so, because you seemed to me an +understanding person; and besides, a woman who has been married isn’t +expected to have the same sort of difficulty as a young girl in speaking about +such things when it is necessary. And then we did meet again, and I discovered +that it was very difficult indeed. You made it difficult.” +</p> + +<p> +“How?” he asked quietly. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” said the lady. “But yes—I do +know. It was just because you treated me exactly as if you had never thought or +imagined anything of that sort about me. I had always supposed that if I saw +you again you would turn on me that hard, horrible sort of look you had when +you asked me that last question—do you remember?—at White Gables. +Instead of that you were just like any other acquaintance. You were +just”—she hesitated and spread out her hands—“nice. You +know. After that first time at the opera when I spoke to you I went home +positively wondering if you had really recognized me. I mean, I thought you +might have recognized my face without remembering who it was.” +</p> + +<p> +A short laugh broke from Trent in spite of himself, but he said nothing. +</p> + +<p> +She smiled deprecatingly. “Well, I couldn’t remember if you had +spoken my name; and I thought it might be so. But the next time, at the +Iretons’, you did speak it, so I knew; and a dozen times during those few +days I almost brought myself to tell you, but never quite. I began to feel that +you wouldn’t let me, that you would slip away from the subject if I +approached it. Wasn’t I right? Tell me, please.” He nodded. +“But why?” He remained silent. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” she said, “I will finish what I had to say, and then +you will tell me, I hope, why you had to make it so hard. When I began to +understand that you wouldn’t let me talk of the matter to you, it made me +more determined than ever. I suppose you didn’t realize that I would +insist on speaking even if you were quite discouraging. I dare say I +couldn’t have done it if I had been guilty, as you thought. You walked +into my parlour today, never thinking I should dare. Well, now you see.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Manderson had lost all her air of hesitancy. She had, as she was wont to +say, talked herself enthusiastic, and in the ardour of her purpose to +annihilate the misunderstanding that had troubled her so long she felt herself +mistress of the situation. +</p> + +<p> +“I am going to tell you the story of the mistake you made,” she +continued, as Trent, his hands clasped between his knees, still looked at her +enigmatically. “You will have to believe it, Mr. Trent; it is utterly +true to life, with its confusions and hidden things and cross-purposes and +perfectly natural mistakes that nobody thinks twice about taking for facts. +Please understand that I don’t blame you in the least, and never did, for +jumping to the conclusion you did. You knew that I was estranged from my +husband, and you knew what that so often means. You knew before I told you, I +expect, that he had taken up an injured attitude towards me; and I was silly +enough to try and explain it away. I gave you the explanation of it that I had +given myself at first, before I realized the wretched truth; I told you he was +disappointed in me because I couldn’t take a brilliant lead in society. +Well, that was true; he was so. But I could see you weren’t convinced. +You had guessed what it took me much longer to see, because I knew how +irrational it was. Yes; my husband was jealous of John Marlowe; you divined +that. +</p> + +<p> +“Then I behaved like a fool when you let me see you had divined it; it +was such a blow, you understand, when I had supposed all the humiliation and +strain was at an end, and that his delusion had died with him. You practically +asked me if my husband’s secretary was not my lover, Mr. Trent—I +<i>have</i> to say it, because I want you to understand why I broke down and +made a scene. You took that for a confession; you thought I was guilty of that, +and I think you even thought I might be a party to the crime, that I had +consented.... That did hurt me; but perhaps you couldn’t have thought +anything else—I don’t know.” +</p> + +<p> +Trent, who had not hitherto taken his eyes from her face, hung his head at the +words. He did not raise it again as she continued. “But really it was +simple shock and distress that made me give way, and the memory of all the +misery that mad suspicion had meant to me. And when I pulled myself together +again you had gone.” +</p> + +<p> +She rose and went to an escritoire beside the window, unlocked a drawer, and +drew out a long, sealed envelope. +</p> + +<p> +“This is the manuscript you left with me,” she said. “I have +read it through again and again. I have always wondered, as everybody does, at +your cleverness in things of this kind.” A faintly mischievous smile +flashed upon her face, and was gone. “I thought it was splendid, Mr. +Trent—I almost forgot that the story was my own, I was so interested. And +I want to say now, while I have this in my hand, how much I thank you for your +generous, chivalrous act in sacrificing this triumph of yours rather than put a +woman’s reputation in peril. If all had been as you supposed, the facts +must have come out when the police took up the case you put in their hands. +Believe me, I understood just what you had done, and I never ceased to be +grateful even when I felt most crushed by your suspicion.” +</p> + +<p> +As she spoke her thanks her voice shook a little, and her eyes were bright. +Trent perceived nothing of this. His head was still bent. He did not seem to +hear. She put the envelope into his hand as it lay open, palm upwards, on his +knee. There was a touch of gentleness about the act which made him look up. +</p> + +<p> +“Can you—” he began slowly. +</p> + +<p> +She raised her hand as she stood before him. “No, Mr. Trent; let me +finish before you say anything. It is such an unspeakable relief to me to have +broken the ice at last, and I want to end the story while I am still feeling +the triumph of beginning it.” She sank down into the sofa from which she +had first risen. “I am telling you a thing that nobody else knows. +Everybody knew, I suppose, that something had come between us, though I did +everything in my power to hide it. But I don’t think any one in the world +ever guessed what my husband’s notion was. People who know me don’t +think that sort of thing about me, I believe. And his fancy was so ridiculously +opposed to the facts. I will tell you what the situation was. Mr. Marlowe and I +had been friendly enough since he came to us. For all his cleverness—my +husband said he had a keener brain than any man he knew—I looked upon him +as practically a boy. You know I am a little older than he is, and he had a +sort of amiable lack of ambition that made me feel it the more. One day my +husband asked me what I thought was the best thing about Marlowe, and not +thinking much about it I said, ‘His manners.’ He surprised me very +much by looking black at that, and after a silence he said, ‘Yes, Marlowe +is a gentleman; that’s so’, not looking at me. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing was ever said about that again until about a year ago, when I +found that Mr. Marlowe had done what I always expected he would do—fallen +desperately in love with an American girl. But to my disgust he had picked out +the most worthless girl, I do believe, of all those whom we used to meet. She +was the daughter of wealthy parents, and she did as she liked with them; very +beautiful, well educated, very good at games—what they call a +woman-athlete—and caring for nothing on earth but her own amusement. She +was one of the most unprincipled flirts I ever knew, and quite the cleverest. +Every one knew it, and Mr. Marlowe must have heard it; but she made a complete +fool of him, brain and all. I don’t know how she managed it, but I can +imagine. She liked him, of course; but it was quite plain to me that she was +playing with him. The whole affair was so idiotic, I got perfectly furious. One +day I asked him to row me in a boat on the lake—all this happened at our +house by Lake George. We had never been alone together for any length of time +before. In the boat I talked to him. I was very kind about it, I think, and he +took it admirably, but he didn’t believe me a bit. He had the impudence +to tell me that I misunderstood Alice’s nature. When I hinted at his +prospects—I knew he had scarcely anything of his own—he said that +if she loved him he could make himself a position in the world. I dare say that +was true, with his abilities and his friends—he is rather well connected, +you know, as well as popular. But his enlightenment came very soon after that. +</p> + +<p> +“My husband helped me out of the boat when we got back. He joked with Mr +Marlowe about something, I remember; for through all that followed he never +once changed in his manner to him, and that was one reason why I took so long +to realize what he thought about him and myself. But to me he was reserved and +silent that evening—not angry. He was always perfectly cold and +expressionless to me after he took this idea into his head. After dinner he +only spoke to me once. Mr. Marlowe was telling him about some horse he had +bought for the farm in Kentucky, and my husband looked at me and said, +‘Marlowe may be a gentleman, but he seldom quits loser in a +horse-trade.’ I was surprised at that, but at that time—and even on +the next occasion when he found us together—I didn’t understand +what was in his mind. That next time was the morning when Mr Marlowe received a +sweet little note from the girl asking for his congratulations on her +engagement. It was in our New York house. He looked so wretched at breakfast +that I thought he was ill, and afterwards I went to the room where he worked, +and asked what was the matter. He didn’t say anything, but just handed me +the note, and turned away to the window. I was very glad that was all over, but +terribly sorry for him too, of course. I don’t remember what I said, but +I remember putting my hand on his arm as he stood there staring out on the +garden and just then my husband appeared at the open door with some papers. He +just glanced at us, and then turned and walked quietly back to his study. I +thought that he might have heard what I was saying to comfort Mr. Marlowe, and +that it was rather nice of him to slip away. Mr. Marlowe neither saw nor heard +him. My husband left the house that morning for the West while I was out. Even +then I did not understand. He used often to go off suddenly like that, if some +business project called him. +</p> + +<p> +“It was not until he returned a week later that I grasped the situation. +He was looking white and strange, and as soon as he saw me he asked me where +Mr. Marlowe was. Somehow the tone of his question told me everything in a +flash. +</p> + +<p> +“I almost gasped; I was wild with indignation. You know, Mr. Trent, I +don’t think I should have minded at all if any one had thought me capable +of openly breaking with my husband and leaving him for somebody else. I dare +say I might have done that. But that coarse suspicion... a man whom he +trusted... and the notion of concealment. It made me see scarlet. Every shred +of pride in me was strung up till I quivered, and I swore to myself on the spot +that I would never show by any word or sign that I was conscious of his having +such a thought about me. I would behave exactly as I always had behaved, I +determined—and that I did, up to the very last. Though I knew that a wall +had been made between us now that could never be broken down—even if he +asked my pardon and obtained it—I never once showed that I noticed any +change. +</p> + +<p> +“And so it went on. I never could go through such a time again. My +husband showed silent and cold politeness to me always when we were +alone—and that was only when it was unavoidable. He never once alluded to +what was in his mind; but I felt it, and he knew that I felt it. Both of us +were stubborn in our different attitudes. To Mr. Marlowe he was more friendly, +if anything, than before—Heaven only knows why. I fancied he was planning +some sort of revenge; but that was only a fancy. Certainly Mr. Marlowe never +knew what was suspected of him. He and I remained good friends, though we never +spoke of anything intimate after that disappointment of his; but I made a point +of seeing no less of him than I had always done. Then we came to England and to +White Gables, and after that followed—my husband’s dreadful +end.” +</p> + +<p> +She threw out her right hand in a gesture of finality. “You know about +the rest—so much more than any other man,” she added, and glanced +up at him with a quaint expression. +</p> + +<p> +Trent wondered at that look, but the wonder was only a passing shadow on his +thought. Inwardly his whole being was possessed by thankfulness. All the +vivacity had returned to his face. Long before the lady had ended her story he +had recognized the certainty of its truth, as from the first days of their +renewed acquaintance he had doubted the story that his imagination had built up +at White Gables, upon foundations that seemed so good to him. +</p> + +<p> +He said, “I don’t know how to begin the apologies I have to make. +There are no words to tell you how ashamed and disgraced I feel when I realize +what a crude, cock-sure blundering at a conclusion my suspicion was. Yes, I +suspected—you! I had almost forgotten that I was ever such a fool. +Almost—not quite. Sometimes when I have been alone I have remembered that +folly, and poured contempt on it. I have tried to imagine what the facts were. +I have tried to excuse myself.” +</p> + +<p> +She interrupted him quickly. “What nonsense! Do be sensible, Mr. Trent. +You had only seen me on two occasions in your life before you came to me with +your solution of the mystery.” Again the quaint expression came and was +gone. “If you talk of folly, it really is folly for a man like you to +pretend to a woman like me that I had innocence written all over me in large +letters—so large that you couldn’t believe very strong evidence +against me after seeing me twice.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean by ‘a man like me’?” he demanded with +a sort of fierceness. “Do you take me for a person without any normal +instincts? I don’t say you impress people as a simple, transparent sort +of character—what Mr. Calvin Bunner calls a case of open-work; I +don’t say a stranger might not think you capable of wickedness, if there +was good evidence for it: but I say that a man who, after seeing you and being +in your atmosphere, could associate you with the particular kind of abomination +I imagined, is a fool—the kind of fool who is afraid to trust his +senses.... As for my making it hard for you to approach the subject, as you +say, it is true. It was simply moral cowardice. I understood that you wished to +clear the matter up; and I was revolted at the notion of my injurious blunder +being discussed. I tried to show you by my actions that it was as if it had +never been. I hoped you would pardon me without any words. I can’t +forgive myself, and I never shall. And yet if you could know—” He +stopped short, and then added quietly, “Well, will you accept all that as +an apology? The very scrubbiest sackcloth made, and the grittiest ashes on the +heap.... I didn’t mean to get worked up,” he ended lamely. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Manderson laughed, and her laugh carried him away with it. He knew well by +this time that sudden rush of cascading notes of mirth, the perfect expression +of enjoyment; he had many times tried to amuse her merely for his delight in +the sound of it. +</p> + +<p> +“But I love to see you worked up,” she said. “The bump with +which you always come down as soon as you realize that you are up in the air at +all is quite delightful. Oh, we’re actually both laughing. What a +triumphant end to our explanations, after all my dread of the time when I +should have it out with you. And now it’s all over, and you know; and +we’ll never speak of it any more.” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope not,” Trent said in sincere relief. “If you’re +resolved to be so kind as this about it, I am not high-principled enough to +insist on your blasting me with your lightnings. And now, Mrs. Manderson, I had +better go. Changing the subject after this would be like playing +puss-in-the-corner after an earthquake.” He rose to his feet. +</p> + +<p> +“You are right,” she said. “But no! Wait. There is another +thing—part of the same subject; and we ought to pick up all the pieces +now while we are about it. Please sit down.” She took the envelope +containing Trent’s manuscript dispatch from the table where he had laid +it. “I want to speak about this.” +</p> + +<p> +His brows bent, and he looked at her questioningly. “So do I, if you +do,” he said slowly. “I want very much to know one thing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Since my reason for suppressing that information was all a fantasy, why +did you never make any use of it? When I began to realize that I had been wrong +about you, I explained your silence to myself by saying that you could not +bring yourself to do a thing that would put a rope round a man’s neck, +whatever he might have done. I can quite understand that feeling. Was that what +it was? Another possibility I thought of was that you knew of something that +was by way of justifying or excusing Marlowe’s act. Or I thought you +might have a simple horror, quite apart from humanitarian scruples, of +appearing publicly in connection with a murder trial. Many important witnesses +in such cases have to be practically forced into giving their evidence. They +feel there is defilement even in the shadow of the scaffold.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Manderson tapped her lips with the envelope without quite concealing a +smile. “You didn’t think of another possibility, I suppose, Mr. +Trent,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“No.” He looked puzzled. +</p> + +<p> +“I mean the possibility of your having been wrong about Mr. Marlowe as +well as about me. No, no; you needn’t tell me that the chain of evidence +is complete. I know it is. But evidence of what? Of Mr. Marlowe having +impersonated my husband that night, and having escaped by way of my window, and +built up an alibi. I have read your dispatch again and again, Mr. Trent, and I +don’t see that those things can be doubted.” +</p> + +<p> +Trent gazed at her with narrowed eyes. He said nothing to fill the brief pause +that followed. Mrs. Manderson smoothed her skirt with a preoccupied air, as one +collecting her ideas. +</p> + +<p> +“I did not make any use of the facts found out by you,” she slowly +said at last, “because it seemed to me very likely that they would be +fatal to Mr. Marlowe.” +</p> + +<p> +“I agree with you,” Trent remarked in a colourless tone. +</p> + +<p> +“And,” pursued the lady, looking up at him with a mild +reasonableness in her eyes, “as I knew that he was innocent I was not +going to expose him to that risk.” +</p> + +<p> +There was another little pause. Trent rubbed his chin, with an affectation of +turning over the idea. Inwardly he was telling himself, somewhat feebly, that +this was very right and proper; that it was quite feminine, and that he liked +her to be feminine. It was permitted to her—more than permitted—to +set her loyal belief in the character of a friend above the clearest +demonstrations of the intellect. Nevertheless, it chafed him. He would have had +her declaration of faith a little less positive in form. It was too irrational +to say she “knew”. In fact (he put it to himself bluntly), it was +quite unlike her. If to be unreasonable when reason led to the unpleasant was a +specially feminine trait, and if Mrs. Manderson had it, she was accustomed to +wrap it up better than any woman he had known. +</p> + +<p> +“You suggest,” he said at length, “that Marlowe constructed +an alibi for himself, by means which only a desperate man would have attempted, +to clear himself of a crime he did not commit. Did he tell you he was +innocent?” +</p> + +<p> +She uttered a little laugh of impatience. “So you think he has been +talking me round. No, that is not so. I am merely sure he did not do it. Ah! I +see you think that absurd. But see how unreasonable you are, Mr Trent! Just now +you were explaining to me quite sincerely that it was foolishness in you to +have a certain suspicion of me after seeing me and being in my atmosphere, as +you said.” Trent started in his chair. She glanced at him, and went on: +“Now, I and my atmosphere are much obliged to you, but we must stand up +for the rights of other atmospheres. I know a great deal more about Mr. +Marlowe’s atmosphere than you know about mine even now. I saw him +constantly for several years. I don’t pretend to know all about him; but +I do know that he is incapable of a crime of bloodshed. The idea of his +planning a murder is as unthinkable to me as the idea of your picking a poor +woman’s pocket, Mr. Trent. I can imagine you killing a man, you know... +if the man deserved it and had an equal chance of killing you. I could kill a +person myself in some circumstances. But Mr. Marlowe was incapable of doing it, +I don’t care what the provocation might be. He had a temper that nothing +could shake, and he looked upon human nature with a sort of cold magnanimity +that would find excuses for absolutely anything. It wasn’t a pose; you +could see it was a part of him. He never put it forward, but it was there +always. It was quite irritating at times.... Now and then in America, I +remember, I have heard people talking about lynching, for instance, when he was +there. He would sit quite silent and expressionless, appearing not to listen; +but you could feel disgust coming from him in waves. He really loathed and +hated physical violence. He was a very strange man in some ways, Mr. Trent. He +gave one a feeling that he might do unexpected things—do you know that +feeling one has about some people? What part he really played in the events of +that night I have never been able to guess. But nobody who knew anything about +him could possibly believe in his deliberately taking a man’s +life.” Again the movement of her head expressed finality, and she leaned +back in the sofa, calmly regarding him. +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” said Trent, who had followed this with earnest attention, +“we are forced back on two other possibilities, which I had not thought +worth much consideration until this moment. Accepting what you say, he might +still conceivably have killed in self-defence; or he might have done so by +accident.” +</p> + +<p> +The lady nodded. “Of course I thought of those two explanations when I +read your manuscript.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I suppose you felt, as I did myself, that in either of those cases +the natural thing, and obviously the safest thing, for him to do was to make a +public statement of the truth, instead of setting up a series of deceptions +which would certainly stamp him as guilty in the eyes of the law, if anything +went wrong with them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she said wearily, “I thought over all that until my +head ached. And I thought somebody else might have done it, and that he was +somehow screening the guilty person. But that seemed wild. I could see no light +in the mystery, and after a while I simply let it alone. All I was clear about +was that Mr. Marlowe was not a murderer, and that if I told what you had found +out, the judge and jury would probably think he was. I promised myself that I +would speak to you about it if we should meet again; and now I’ve kept my +promise.” +</p> + +<p> +Trent, his chin resting on his hand, was staring at the carpet. The excitement +of the hunt for the truth was steadily rising in him. He had not in his own +mind accepted Mrs. Manderson’s account of Marlowe’s character as +unquestionable. But she had spoken forcibly; he could by no means set it aside, +and his theory was much shaken. +</p> + +<p> +“There is only one thing for it,” he said, looking up. “I +must see Marlowe. It worries me too much to have the thing left like this. I +will get at the truth. Can you tell me,” he broke off, “how he +behaved after the day I left White Gables?” +</p> + +<p> +“I never saw him after that,” said Mrs. Manderson simply. +“For some days after you went away I was ill, and didn’t go out of +my room. When I got down he had left and was in London, settling things with +the lawyers. He did not come down to the funeral. Immediately after that I went +abroad. After some weeks a letter from him reached me, saying he had concluded +his business and given the solicitors all the assistance in his power. He +thanked me very nicely for what he called all my kindness, and said goodbye. +There was nothing in it about his plans for the future, and I thought it +particularly strange that he said not a word about my husband’s death. I +didn’t answer. Knowing what I knew, I couldn’t. In those days I +shuddered whenever I thought of that masquerade in the night. I never wanted to +see or hear of him again.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you don’t know what has become of him?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, but I dare say Uncle Burton—Mr. Cupples, you know—could +tell you. Some time ago he told me that he had met Mr. Marlowe in London, and +had some talk with him. I changed the conversation.” She paused and +smiled with a trace of mischief. “I rather wonder what you supposed had +happened to Mr. Marlowe after you withdrew from the scene of the drama that you +had put together so much to your satisfaction.” +</p> + +<p> +Trent flushed. “Do you really want to know?” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“I ask you,” she retorted quietly. +</p> + +<p> +“You ask me to humiliate myself again, Mrs. Manderson. Very well. I will +tell you what I thought I should most likely find when I returned to London +after my travels: that you had married Marlowe to live abroad.” +</p> + +<p> +She heard him with unmoved composure. “We certainly couldn’t have +lived very comfortably in England on his money and mine,” she observed +thoughtfully. “He had practically nothing then.” +</p> + +<p> +He stared at her—“gaped”, she told him some time afterwards. +At the moment she laughed with a little embarrassment. +</p> + +<p> +“Dear me, Mr. Trent! Have I said anything dreadful? You surely must +know.... I thought everybody understood by now.... I’m sure I’ve +had to explain it often enough... if I marry again I lose everything that my +husband left me.” +</p> + +<p> +The effect of this speech upon Trent was curious. For an instant his face was +flooded with the emotion of surprise. As this passed away he gradually drew +himself together, as he sat, into a tense attitude. He looked, she thought as +she saw his knuckles grow white on the arms of the chair, like a man prepared +for pain under the hand of the surgeon. But all he said, in a voice lower than +his usual tone, was, “I had no idea of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is so,” she said calmly, trifling with a ring on her finger. +“Really, Mr. Trent, it is not such a very unusual thing. I think I am +glad of it. For one thing, it has secured me—at least since it became +generally known—from a good many attentions of a kind that a woman in my +position has to put up with as a rule.” +</p> + +<p> +“No doubt,” he said gravely. “And... the other kind?” +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him questioningly. “Ah!” she laughed. “The +other kind trouble me even less. I have not yet met a man silly enough to want +to marry a widow with a selfish disposition, and luxurious habits and tastes, +and nothing but the little my father left me.” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head, and something in the gesture shattered the last remnants of +Trent’s self-possession. +</p> + +<p> +“Haven’t you, by Heaven!” he exclaimed, rising with a violent +movement and advancing a step towards her. “Then I am going to show you +that human passion is not always stifled by the smell of money. I am going to +end the business—my business. I am going to tell you what I dare say +scores of better men have wanted to tell you, but couldn’t summon up what +I have summoned up—the infernal cheek to do it. They were afraid of +making fools of themselves. I am not. You have accustomed me to the feeling +this afternoon.” He laughed aloud in his rush of words, and spread out +his hands. “Look at me! It is the sight of the century! It is one who +says he loves you, and would ask you to give up very great wealth to stand at +his side.” +</p> + +<p> +She was hiding her face in her hands. He heard her say brokenly, +“Please... don’t speak in that way.” +</p> + +<p> +He answered: “It will make a great difference to me if you will allow me +to say all I have to say before I leave you. Perhaps it is in bad taste, but I +will risk that; I want to relieve my soul; it needs open confession. This is +the truth. You have troubled me ever since the first time I saw you—and +you did not know it—as you sat under the edge of the cliff at Marlstone, +and held out your arms to the sea. It was only your beauty that filled my mind +then. As I passed by you it seemed as if all the life in the place were crying +out a song about you in the wind and the sunshine. And the song stayed in my +ears; but even your beauty would be no more than an empty memory to me by now +if that had been all. It was when I led you from the hotel there to your house, +with your hand on my arm, that—what was it that happened? I only knew +that your stronger magic had struck home, and that I never should forget that +day, whatever the love of my life should be. Till that day I had admired as I +should admire the loveliness of a still lake; but that day I felt the spell of +the divinity of the lake. And next morning the waters were troubled, and she +rose—the morning when I came to you with my questions, tired out with +doubts that were as bitter as pain, and when I saw you without your pale, sweet +mask of composure—when I saw you moved and glowing, with your eyes and +your hands alive, and when you made me understand that for such a creature as +you there had been emptiness and the mere waste of yourself for so long. +Madness rose in me then, and my spirit was clamouring to say what I say at last +now: that life would never seem a full thing again because you could not love +me, that I was taken for ever in the nets of your black hair and by the +incantation of your voice—” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, stop!” she cried, suddenly throwing back her head, her face +flaming and her hands clutching the cushions beside her. She spoke fast and +disjointedly, her breath coming quick. “You shall not talk me into +forgetting common sense. What does all this mean? Oh, I do not recognize you at +all—you seem another man. We are not children; have you forgotten that? +You speak like a boy in love for the first time. It is foolish, unreal—I +know that if you do not. I will not hear it. What has happened to you?” +She was half sobbing. “How can these sentimentalities come from a man +like you? Where is your self-restraint?” +</p> + +<p> +“Gone!” exclaimed Trent, with an abrupt laugh. “It has got +right away. I am going after it in a minute.” He looked gravely down into +her eyes. “I don’t care so much now. I never could declare myself +to you under the cloud of your great fortune. It was too heavy. There’s +nothing creditable in that feeling, as I look at it; as a matter of simple fact +it was a form of cowardice—fear of what you would think, and very likely +say—fear of the world’s comment too, I suppose. But the cloud being +rolled away, I have spoken, and I don’t care so much. I can face things +with a quiet mind now that I have told you the truth in its own terms. You may +call it sentimentality or any other nickname you like. It is quite true that it +was not intended for a scientific statement. Since it annoys you, let it be +extinguished. But please believe that it was serious to me if it was comedy to +you. I have said that I love you, and honour you, and would hold you dearest of +all the world. Now give me leave to go.” +</p> + +<p> +But she held out her hands to him. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap14"></a>Chapter XIV.<br />Writing a Letter</h2> + +<p> +“If you insist,” Trent said, “I suppose you will have your +way. But I had much rather write it when I am not with you. However, if I must, +bring me a tablet whiter than a star, or hand of hymning angel; I mean a sheet +of note-paper not stamped with your address. Don’t underestimate the +sacrifice I am making. I never felt less like correspondence in my life.” +</p> + +<p> +She rewarded him. +</p> + +<p> +“What shall I say?” he enquired, his pen hovering over the paper. +“Shall I compare him to a summer’s day? What <i>shall</i> I +say?” +</p> + +<p> +“Say what you want to say,” she suggested helpfully. +</p> + +<p> +He shook his head. “What I want to say—what I have been wanting for +the past twenty-four hours to say to every man, woman, and child I met—is +‘Mabel and I are betrothed, and all is gas and gaiters.’ But that +wouldn’t be a very good opening for a letter of strictly formal, not to +say sinister, character. I have got as far as ‘Dear Mr. Marlowe.’ +What comes next?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am sending you a manuscript,” she prompted, “which I +thought you might like to see.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you realize,” he said, “that in that sentence there are +only two words of more than one syllable? This letter is meant to impress, not +to put him at his ease. We must have long words.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t see why,” she answered. “I know it is usual, +but why is it? I have had a great many letters from lawyers and business +people, and they always begin, ‘with reference to our +communication’, or some such mouthful, and go on like that all the way +through. Yet when I see them they don’t talk like that. It seems +ridiculous to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is not at all ridiculous to them.” Trent laid aside the pen +with an appearance of relief and rose to his feet. “Let me explain. A +people like our own, not very fond of using its mind, gets on in the ordinary +way with a very small and simple vocabulary. Long words are abnormal, and like +everything else that is abnormal, they are either very funny or tremendously +solemn. Take the phrase ‘intelligent anticipation’, for instance. +If such a phrase had been used in any other country in Europe, it would not +have attracted the slightest attention. With us it has become a proverb; we all +grin when we hear it in a speech or read it in a leading article; it is +considered to be one of the best things ever said. Why? Just because it +consists of two long words. The idea expressed is as commonplace as cold +mutton. Then there’s ‘terminological inexactitude’. How we +all roared, and are still roaring, at that! And the whole of the joke is that +the words are long. It’s just the same when we want to be very serious; +we mark it by turning to long words. When a solicitor can begin a sentence +with, ‘pursuant to the instructions communicated to our +representative,’ or some such gibberish, he feels that he is earning his +six-and-eightpence. Don’t laugh! It is perfectly true. Now Continentals +haven’t got that feeling. They are always bothering about ideas, and the +result is that every shopkeeper or peasant has a vocabulary in daily use that +is simply Greek to the vast majority of Britons. I remember some time ago I was +dining with a friend of mine who is a Paris cabman. We had dinner at a dirty +little restaurant opposite the central post office, a place where all the +clients were cabmen or porters. Conversation was general, and it struck me that +a London cabman would have felt a little out of his depth. Words like +‘functionary’ and ‘unforgettable’ and +‘exterminate’ and ‘independence’ hurtled across the +table every instant. And these were just ordinary, vulgar, jolly, red-faced +cabmen. Mind you,” he went on hurriedly, as the lady crossed the room and +took up his pen, “I merely mention this to illustrate my point. I’m +not saying that cab-men ought to be intellectuals. I don’t think so; I +agree with Keats—happy is England, sweet her artless cabmen, enough their +simple loveliness for me. But when you come to the people who make up the +collective industrial brain-power of the country.... Why, do you +know—” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no, no, no!” cried Mrs. Manderson. “I don’t know +anything at the moment, except that your talking must be stopped somehow, if we +are to get any further with that letter to Mr. Marlowe. You shall not get out +of it. Come!” She put the pen into his hand. +</p> + +<p> +Trent looked at it with distaste. “I warn you not to discourage my +talking,” he said dejectedly. “Believe me, men who don’t talk +are even worse to live with than men who do. O have a care of natures that are +mute. I confess I’m shirking writing this thing. It is almost an +indecency. It’s mixing two moods to write the sort of letter I mean to +write, and at the same time to be sitting in the same room with you.” +</p> + +<p> +She led him to his abandoned chair before the escritoire and pushed him gently +into it. “Well, but please try. I want to see what you write, and I want +it to go to him at once. You see, I would be contented enough to leave things +as they are; but you say you must get at the truth, and if you must, I want it +to be as soon as possible. Do it now—you know you can if you +will—and I’ll send it off the moment it’s ready. Don’t +you ever feel that—the longing to get the worrying letter into the post +and off your hands, so that you can’t recall it if you would, and +it’s no use fussing any more about it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I will do as you wish,” he said, and turned to the paper, which he +dated as from his hotel. Mrs. Manderson looked down at his bent head with a +gentle light in her eyes, and made as if to place a smoothing hand upon his +rather untidy crop of hair. But she did not touch it. Going in silence to the +piano, she began to play very softly. It was ten minutes before Trent spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“If he chooses to reply that he will say nothing?” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Manderson looked over her shoulder. “Of course he dare not take that +line. He will speak to prevent you from denouncing him.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I’m not going to do that anyhow. You wouldn’t allow +it—you said so; besides, I won’t if you would. The thing’s +too doubtful now.” +</p> + +<p> +“But,” she laughed, “poor Mr. Marlowe doesn’t know you +won’t, does he?” +</p> + +<p> +Trent sighed. “What extraordinary things codes of honour are!” he +remarked abstractedly. “I know that there are things I should do, and +never think twice about, which would make you feel disgraced if you did +them—such as giving any one who grossly insulted me a black eye, or +swearing violently when I barked my shin in a dark room. And now you are calmly +recommending me to bluff Marlowe by means of a tacit threat which I don’t +mean; a thing which hell’s most abandoned fiend did never, in the +drunkenness of guilt—well, anyhow, I won’t do it.” He resumed +his writing, and the lady, with an indulgent smile, returned to playing very +softly. +</p> + +<p> +In a few minutes more, Trent said: “At last I am his faithfully. Do you +want to see it?” She ran across the twilight room, and turned on a +reading lamp beside the escritoire. Then, leaning on his shoulder, she read +what follows: +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +D<small>EAR</small> M<small>R</small>. M<small>ARLOWE</small>,—<i>You +will perhaps remember that we met, under unhappy circumstances, in June of last +year at Marlstone.</i><br /> + <i>On that occasion it was my duty, as representing a newspaper, to make an +independent investigation of the circumstances of the death of the late Sigsbee +Manderson. I did so, and I arrived at certain conclusions. You may learn from +the enclosed manuscript, which was originally written as a dispatch for my +newspaper, what those conclusions were. For reasons which it is not necessary +to state I decided at the last moment not to make them public, or to +communicate them to you, and they are known to only two persons beside +myself.</i> +</p> + +<p> +At this point Mrs. Manderson raised her eyes quickly from the letter. Her dark +brows were drawn together. “Two persons?” she said with a note of +enquiry. +</p> + +<p> +“Your uncle is the other. I sought him out last night and told him the +whole story. Have you anything against it? I always felt uneasy at keeping it +from him as I did, because I had led him to expect I should tell him all I +discovered, and my silence looked like mystery-making. Now it is to be cleared +up finally, and there is no question of shielding you, I wanted him to know +everything. He is a very shrewd adviser, too, in a way of his own; and I should +like to have him with me when I see Marlowe. I have a feeling that two heads +will be better than one on my side of the interview.” +</p> + +<p> +She sighed. “Yes, of course, uncle ought to know the truth. I hope there +is nobody else at all.” She pressed his hand. “I so much want all +that horror buried—buried deep. I am very happy now, dear, but I shall be +happier still when you have satisfied that curious mind of yours and found out +everything, and stamped down the earth upon it all.” She continued her +reading. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<i>Quite recently, however [the letter went on], facts have come to my +knowledge which have led me to change my decision. I do not mean that I shall +publish what I discovered, but that I have determined to approach you and ask +you for a private statement. If you have anything to say which would place the +matter in another light, I can imagine no reason why you should withhold +it.</i><br /> + <i>I expect, then, to hear from you when and where I may call upon you; +unless you prefer the interview to take place at my hotel. In either case I +desire that Mr. Cupples whom you will remember, and who has read the enclosed +document, should be present also.—Faithfully yours,</i> +</p> + +<p class="right"> +<i>Philip Trent.</i> +</p> + +<p> +“What a very stiff letter!” she said. “Now I am sure you +couldn’t have made it any stiffer in your own rooms.” +</p> + +<p> +Trent slipped the letter and enclosure into a long envelope. “Yes,” +he said, “I think it will make him sit up suddenly. Now this thing +mustn’t run any risk of going wrong. It would be best to send a special +messenger with orders to deliver it into his own hands. If he’s away it +oughtn’t to be left.” +</p> + +<p> +She nodded. “I can arrange that. Wait here for a little.” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +When Mrs. Manderson returned, he was hunting through the music cabinet. She +sank on the carpet beside him in a wave of dark brown skirts. “Tell me +something, Philip,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“If it is among the few things that I know.” +</p> + +<p> +“When you saw uncle last night, did you tell him about—about +us?” +</p> + +<p> +“I did not,” he answered. “I remembered you had said nothing +about telling any one. It is for you—isn’t it?—to decide +whether we take the world into our confidence at once or later on.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then will you tell him?” She looked down at her clasped hands. +“I wish you to tell him. Perhaps if you think you will guess why.... +There! that is settled.” She lifted her eyes again to his, and for a time +there was silence between them. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +He leaned back at length in the deep chair. “What a world!” he +said. “Mabel, will you play something on the piano that expresses mere +joy, the genuine article, nothing feverish or like thorns under a pot, but joy +that has decided in favour of the universe? It’s a mood that can’t +last altogether, so we had better get all we can out of it.” +</p> + +<p> +She went to the instrument and struck a few chords while she thought. Then she +began to work with all her soul at the theme in the last movement of the Ninth +Symphony which is like the sound of the opening of the gates of Paradise. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap15"></a>Chapter XV.<br />Double Cunning</h2> + +<p> +An old oaken desk with a deep body stood by the window in a room that +overlooked St. James’s Park from a height. The room was large, furnished +and decorated by some one who had brought taste to the work; but the hand of +the bachelor lay heavy upon it. John Marlowe unlocked the desk and drew a long, +stout envelope from the back of the well. +</p> + +<p> +“I understand,” he said to Mr. Cupples, “that you have read +this.” +</p> + +<p> +“I read it for the first time two days ago,” replied Mr. Cupples, +who, seated on a sofa, was peering about the room with a benignant face. +“We have discussed it fully.” +</p> + +<p> +Marlowe turned to Trent. “There is your manuscript,” he said, +laying the envelope on the table. “I have gone over it three times. I do +not believe there is another man who could have got at as much of the truth as +you have set down there.” +</p> + +<p> +Trent ignored the compliment. He sat by the table gazing stonily at the fire, +his long legs twisted beneath his chair. “You mean, of course, he said, +drawing the envelope towards him, “that there is more of the truth to be +disclosed now. We are ready to hear you as soon as you like. I expect it will +be a long story, and the longer the better, so far as I am concerned; I want to +understand thoroughly. What we should both like, I think, is some preliminary +account of Manderson and your relations with him. It seemed to me from the +first that the character of the dead man must be somehow an element in the +business.” +</p> + +<p> +“You were right, Marlowe answered grimly. He crossed the room and seated +himself on a corner of the tall cushion-topped fender. “I will begin as +you suggest.” +</p> + +<p> +“I ought to tell you beforehand,” said Trent, looking him in the +eyes, “that although I am here to listen to you, I have not as yet any +reason to doubt the conclusions I have stated here.” He tapped the +envelope. “It is a defence that you will be putting forward—you +understand that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Perfectly.” Marlowe was cool and in complete possession of +himself, a man different indeed from the worn-out, nervous being Trent +remembered at Marlstone a year and a half ago. His tall, lithe figure was held +with the perfection of muscular tone. His brow was candid, his blue eyes were +clear, though they still had, as he paused collecting his ideas, the look that +had troubled Trent at their first meeting. Only the lines of his mouth showed +that he knew himself in a position of difficulty, and meant to face it. +</p> + +<p> +“Sigsbee Manderson was not a man of normal mind,” Marlowe began in +his quiet voice. “Most of the very rich men I met with in America had +become so by virtue of abnormal greed, or abnormal industry, or abnormal +personal force, or abnormal luck. None of them had remarkable intellects. +Manderson delighted too in heaping up wealth; he worked incessantly at it; he +was a man of dominant will; he had quite his share of luck; but what made him +singular was his brainpower. In his own country they would perhaps tell you +that it was his ruthlessness in pursuit of his aims that was his most striking +characteristic; but there are hundreds of them who would have carried out his +plans with just as little consideration for others if they could have formed +the plans. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not saying Americans aren’t clever; they are ten times +cleverer than we are, as a nation; but I never met another who showed such a +degree of sagacity and foresight, such gifts of memory and mental tenacity, +such sheer force of intelligence, as there was behind everything Manderson did +in his money-making career. They called him the ‘Napoleon of Wall +Street’ often enough in the papers; but few people knew so well as I did +how much truth there was in the phrase. He seemed never to forget a fact that +might be of use to him, in the first place; and he did systematically with the +business facts that concerned him what Napoleon did, as I have read, with +military facts. He studied them in special digests which were prepared for him +at short intervals, and which he always had at hand, so that he could take up +his report on coal or wheat or railways, or whatever it might be, in any +unoccupied moment. Then he could make a bolder and cleverer plan than any man +of them all. People got to know that Manderson would never do the obvious +thing, but they got no further; the thing he did do was almost always a +surprise, and much of his success flowed from that. The Street got rattled, as +they used to put it, when it was known that the old man was out with his gun, +and often his opponents seemed to surrender as easily as Colonel +Crockett’s coon in the story. The scheme I am going to describe to you +would have occupied most men long enough. Manderson could have plotted the +thing, down to the last detail, while he shaved himself. +</p> + +<p> +“I used to think that his strain of Indian blood, remote as it was, might +have something to do with the cunning and ruthlessness of the man. Strangely +enough, its existence was unknown to any one but himself and me. It was when he +asked me to apply my taste for genealogical work to his own obscure family +history that I made the discovery that he had in him a share of the blood of +the Iroquois chief Montour and his French wife, a terrible woman who ruled the +savage politics of the tribes of the Wilderness two hundred years ago. The +Mandersons were active in the fur trade on the Pennsylvanian border in those +days, and more than one of them married Indian women. Other Indian blood than +Montour’s may have descended to Manderson, for all I can say, through +previous and subsequent unions; some of the wives’ antecedents were quite +untraceable, and there were so many generations of pioneering before the whole +country was brought under civilization. My researches left me with the idea +that there is a very great deal of the aboriginal blood present in the +genealogical make-up of the people of America, and that it is very widely +spread. The newer families have constantly intermarried with the older, and so +many of them had a strain of the native in them—and were often rather +proud of it, too, in those days. But Manderson had the idea about the +disgracefulness of mixed blood, which grew much stronger, I fancy, with the +rise of the negro question after the war. He was thunderstruck at what I told +him, and was anxious to conceal it from every soul. Of course I never gave it +away while he lived, and I don’t think he supposed I would; but I have +thought since that his mind took a turn against me from that time onward. It +happened about a year before his death.” +</p> + +<p> +“Had Manderson,” asked Mr. Cupples, so unexpectedly that the others +started, “any definable religious attitude?” +</p> + +<p> +Marlowe considered a moment. “None that ever I heard of,” he said. +“Worship and prayer were quite unknown to him, so far as I could see, and +I never heard him mention religion. I should doubt if he had any real sense of +God at all, or if he was capable of knowing God through the emotions. But I +understood that as a child he had had a religious upbringing with a strong +moral side to it. His private life was, in the usual limited sense, blameless. +He was almost ascetic in his habits, except as to smoking. I lived with him +four years without ever knowing him to tell a direct verbal falsehood, +constantly as he used to practise deceit in other forms. Can you understand the +soul of a man who never hesitated to take steps that would have the effect of +hoodwinking people, who would use every trick of the markets to mislead, and +who was at the same time scrupulous never to utter a direct lie on the most +insignificant matter? Manderson was like that, and he was not the only one. I +suppose you might compare the state of mind to that of a soldier who is +personally a truthful man, but who will stick at nothing to deceive the enemy. +The rules of the game allow it; and the same may be said of business as many +business men regard it. Only with them it is always wartime.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is a sad world,” observed Mr. Cupples. +</p> + +<p> +“As you say,” Marlowe agreed. “Now I was saying that one +could always take Manderson’s word if he gave it in a definite form. The +first time I ever heard him utter a downright lie was on the night he died; and +hearing it, I believe, saved me from being hanged as his murderer.” +</p> + +<p> +Marlowe stared at the light above his head and Trent moved impatiently in his +chair. “Before we come to that,” he said, “will you tell us +exactly on what footing you were with Manderson during the years you were with +him?” +</p> + +<p> +“We were on very good terms from beginning to end,” answered +Marlowe. “Nothing like friendship—he was not a man for making +friends—but the best of terms as between a trusted employee and his +chief. I went to him as private secretary just after getting my degree at +Oxford. I was to have gone into my father’s business, where I am now, but +my father suggested that I should see the world for a year or two. So I took +this secretaryship, which seemed to promise a good deal of varied experience, +and I had let the year or two run on to four years before the end came. The +offer came to me through the last thing in the world I should have put forward +as a qualification for a salaried post, and that was chess.” +</p> + +<p> +At the word Trent struck his hands together with a muttered exclamation. The +others looked at him in surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“Chess!” repeated Trent. “Do you know,” he said, rising +and approaching Marlowe, “what was the first thing I noted about you at +our first meeting? It was your eye, Mr. Marlowe. I couldn’t place it +then, but I know now where I had seen your eyes before. They were in the head +of no less a man than the great Nikolay Korchagin, with whom I once sat in the +same railway carriage for two days. I thought I should never forget the chess +eye after that, but I could not put a name to it when I saw it in you. I beg +your pardon,” he ended suddenly, resuming his marmoreal attitude in his +chair. +</p> + +<p> +“I have played the game from my childhood, and with good players,” +said Marlowe simply. “It is an hereditary gift, if you can call it a +gift. At the University I was nearly as good as anybody there, and I gave most +of my brains to that and the O.U.D.S. and playing about generally. At Oxford, +as I dare say you know, inducements to amuse oneself at the expense of +one’s education are endless, and encouraged by the authorities. Well, one +day toward the end of my last term, Dr. Munro of Queen’s, whom I had +never defeated, sent for me. He told me that I played a fairish game of chess. +I said it was very good of him to say so. Then he said, ‘They tell me you +hunt, too.’ I said, ‘Now and then.’ He asked, ‘Is there +anything else you can do?’ ‘No,’ I said, not much liking the +tone of the conversation—the old man generally succeeded in putting +people’s backs up. He grunted fiercely, and then told me that enquiries +were being made on behalf of a wealthy American man of business who wanted an +English secretary. Manderson was the name, he said. He seemed never to have +heard it before, which was quite possible, as he never opened a newspaper and +had not slept a night outside the college for thirty years. If I could rub up +my spelling—as the old gentleman put it—I might have a good chance +for the post, as chess and riding and an Oxford education were the only +indispensable points. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I became Manderson’s secretary. For a long time I liked the +position greatly. When one is attached to an active American plutocrat in the +prime of life one need not have many dull moments. Besides, it made me +independent. My father had some serious business reverses about that time, and +I was glad to be able to do without an allowance from him. At the end of the +first year Manderson doubled my salary. ‘It’s big money,’ he +said, ‘but I guess I don’t lose.’ You see, by that time I was +doing a great deal more than accompany him on horseback in the morning and play +chess in the evening, which was mainly what he had required. I was attending to +his houses, his farm in Ohio, his shooting in Maine, his horses, his cars, and +his yacht. I had become a walking railway-guide and an expert cigar-buyer. I +was always learning something. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, now you understand what my position was in regard to Manderson +during the last two or three years of my connection with him. It was a happy +life for me on the whole. I was busy, my work was varied and interesting; I had +time to amuse myself too, and money to spend. At one time I made a fool of +myself about a girl, and that was not a happy time; but it taught me to +understand the great goodness of Mrs. Manderson.” Marlowe inclined his +head to Mr. Cupples as he said this. “She may choose to tell you about +it. As for her husband, he had never varied in his attitude towards me, in +spite of the change that came over him in the last months of his life, as you +know. He treated me well and generously in his unsympathetic way, and I never +had a feeling that he was less than satisfied with his bargain—that was +the sort of footing we lived upon. And it was that continuance of his attitude +right up to the end that made the revelation so shocking when I was suddenly +shown, on the night on which he met his end, the depth of crazy hatred of +myself that was in Manderson’s soul.” +</p> + +<p> +The eyes of Trent and Mr. Cupples met for an instant. +</p> + +<p> +“You never suspected that he hated you before that time?” asked +Trent; and Mr. Cupples asked at the same moment, “To what did you +attribute it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I never guessed until that night,” answered Marlowe, “that +he had the smallest ill-feeling toward me. How long it had existed I do not +know. I cannot imagine why it was there. I was forced to think, when I +considered the thing in those awful days after his death, that it was a case of +a madman’s delusion, that he believed me to be plotting against him, as +they so often do. Some such insane conviction must have been at the root of it. +But who can sound the abysses of a lunatic’s fancy? Can you imagine the +state of mind in which a man dooms himself to death with the object of +delivering some one he hates to the hangman?” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Cupples moved sharply in his chair. “You say Manderson was +responsible for his own death?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +Trent glanced at him with an eye of impatience, and resumed his intent watch +upon the face of Marlowe. In the relief of speech it was now less pale and +drawn. +</p> + +<p> +“I do say so,” Marlowe answered concisely, and looked his +questioner in the face. Mr. Cupples nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Before we proceed to the elucidation of your statement,” observed +the old gentleman, in a tone of one discussing a point of abstract science, +“it may be remarked that the state of mind which you attribute to +Manderson—” +</p> + +<p> +“Suppose we have the story first,” Trent interrupted, gently laying +a hand on Mr. Cupples’s arm. “You were telling us,” he went +on, turning to Marlowe, “how things stood between you and Manderson. Now +will you tell us the facts of what happened that night?” +</p> + +<p> +Marlowe flushed at the barely perceptible emphasis which Trent laid upon the +word “facts”. He drew himself up. +</p> + +<p> +“Bunner and myself dined with Mr. and Mrs. Manderson that Sunday +evening,” he began, speaking carefully. “It was just like other +dinners at which the four of us had been together. Manderson was taciturn and +gloomy, as we had latterly been accustomed to see him. We others kept a +conversation going. We rose from the table, I suppose, about nine. Mrs. +Manderson went to the drawing-room, and Bunner went up to the hotel to see an +acquaintance. Manderson asked me to come into the orchard behind the house, +saying he wished to have a talk. We paced up and down the pathway there, out of +earshot from the house, and Manderson, as he smoked his cigar, spoke to me in +his cool, deliberate way. He had never seemed more sane, or more well-disposed +to me. He said he wanted me to do him an important service. There was a big +thing on. It was a secret affair. Bunner knew nothing of it, and the less I +knew the better. He wanted me to do exactly as he directed, and not bother my +head about reasons. +</p> + +<p> +“This, I may say, was quite characteristic of Manderson’s method of +going to work. If at times he required a man to be a mere tool in his hand, he +would tell him so. He had used me in the same kind of way a dozen times. I +assured him he could rely on me, and said I was ready. ‘Right now?’ +he asked. I said of course I was. +</p> + +<p> +“He nodded, and said—I tell you his words as well as I can +recollect them—attend to this. ‘There is a man in England now who +is in this thing with me. He was to have left tomorrow for Paris by the noon +boat from Southampton to Havre. His name is George Harris—at least +that’s the name he is going by. Do you remember that name?’ +‘Yes,’ I said, ‘when I went up to London a week ago you asked +me to book a cabin in that name on the boat that goes tomorrow. I gave you the +ticket.’ ‘Here it is,’ he said, producing it from his pocket. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Now,’ Manderson said to me, poking his cigar-butt at me +with each sentence in a way he used to have, ‘George Harris cannot leave +England tomorrow. I find I shall want him where he is. And I want Bunner where +he is. But somebody has got to go by that boat and take certain papers to +Paris. Or else my plan is going to fall to pieces. Will you go?’ I said, +‘Certainly. I am here to obey orders.’ +</p> + +<p> +“He bit his cigar, and said, ‘That’s all right; but these are +not just ordinary orders. Not the kind of thing one can ask of a man in the +ordinary way of his duty to an employer. The point is this. The deal I am busy +with is one in which neither myself nor any one known to be connected with me +must appear as yet. That is vital. But these people I am up against know your +face as well as they know mine. If my secretary is known in certain quarters to +have crossed to Paris at this time and to have interviewed certain +people—and that would be known as soon as it happened—then the game +is up.’ He threw away his cigar-end and looked at me questioningly. +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t like it much, but I liked failing Manderson at a pinch +still less. I spoke lightly. I said I supposed I should have to conceal my +identity, and I would do my best. I told him I used to be pretty good at +make-up. +</p> + +<p> +“He nodded in approval. He said, ‘That’s good. I judged you +would not let me down.’ Then he gave me my instructions. ‘You take +the car right now,’ he said, ‘and start for +Southampton—there’s no train that will fit in. You’ll be +driving all night. Barring accidents, you ought to get there by six in the +morning. But whenever you arrive, drive straight to the Bedford Hotel and ask +for George Harris. If he’s there, tell him you are to go over instead of +him, and ask him to telephone me here. It is very important he should know that +at the earliest moment possible. But if he isn’t there, that means he has +got the instructions I wired today, and hasn’t gone to Southampton. In +that case you don’t want to trouble about him any more, but just wait for +the boat. You can leave the car at a garage under a fancy name—mine must +not be given. See about changing your appearance—I don’t care how, +so you do it well. Travel by the boat as George Harris. Let on to be anything +you like, but be careful, and don’t talk much to anybody. When you +arrive, take a room at the Hotel St Petersbourg. You will receive a note or +message there, addressed to George Harris, telling you where to take the wallet +I shall give you. The wallet is locked, and you want to take good care of it. +Have you got that all clear?’ +</p> + +<p> +“I repeated the instructions. I asked if I should return from Paris after +handing over the wallet. ‘As soon as you like,’ he said. ‘And +mind this—whatever happens, don’t communicate with me at any stage +of the journey. If you don’t get the message in Paris at once, just wait +until you do—days, if necessary. But not a line of any sort to me. +Understand? Now get ready as quick as you can. I’ll go with you in the +car a little way. Hurry.’ +</p> + +<p> +“That is, as far as I can remember, the exact substance of what Manderson +said to me that night. I went to my room, changed into day clothes, and hastily +threw a few necessaries into a kit-bag. My mind was in a whirl, not so much at +the nature of the business as at the suddenness of it. I think I remember +telling you the last time we met”—he turned to +Trent—“that Manderson shared the national fondness for doings +things in a story-book style. Other things being equal, he delighted in a bit +of mystification and melodrama, and I told myself that this was Manderson all +over. I hurried downstairs with my bag and rejoined him in the library. He +handed me a stout leather letter-case, about eight inches by six, fastened with +a strap with a lock on it. I could just squeeze it into my side-pocket. Then I +went to get the car from the garage behind the house. +</p> + +<p> +“As I was bringing it round to the front a disconcerting thought struck +me. I remembered that I had only a few shillings in my pocket. +</p> + +<p> +“For some time past I had been keeping myself very short of cash, and for +this reason—which I tell you because it is a vital point, as you shall +see in a minute. I was living temporarily on borrowed money. I had always been +careless about money while I was with Manderson, and being a gregarious animal +I had made many friends, some of them belonging to a New York set that had +little to do but get rid of the large incomes given them by their parents. +Still, I was very well paid, and I was too busy even to attempt to go very far +with them in that amusing occupation. I was still well on the right side of the +ledger until I began, merely out of curiosity, to play at speculation. +It’s a very old story—particularly in Wall Street. I thought it was +easy; I was lucky at first; I would always be prudent—and so on. Then +came the day when I went out of my depth. In one week I was separated from my +toll, as Bunner expressed it when I told him; and I owed money too. I had had +my lesson. Now in this pass I went to Manderson and told him what I had done +and how I stood. He heard me with a very grim smile, and then, with the nearest +approach to sympathy I had ever found in him, he advanced me a sum on account +of my salary that would clear me. ‘Don’t play the markets any +more,’ was all he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Now on that Sunday night Manderson knew that I was practically without +any money in the world. He knew that Bunner knew it too. He may have known that +I had even borrowed a little more from Bunner for pocket-money until my next +cheque was due, which, owing to my anticipation of my salary, would not have +been a large one. Bear this knowledge of Manderson’s in mind. +</p> + +<p> +“As soon as I had brought the car round I went into the library and +stated the difficulty to Manderson. +</p> + +<p> +“What followed gave me, slight as it was, my first impression of +something odd being afoot. As soon as I mentioned the word +‘expenses’ his hand went mechanically to his left hip-pocket, where +he always kept a little case containing notes to the value of about a hundred +pounds in our money. This was such a rooted habit in him that I was astonished +to see him check the movement suddenly. Then, to my greater amazement, he swore +under his breath. I had never heard him do this before; but Bunner had told me +that of late he had often shown irritation in this way when they were alone. +‘Has he mislaid his note-case?’ was the question that flashed +through my mind. But it seemed to me that it could not affect his plan at all, +and I will tell you why. The week before, when I had gone up to London to carry +out various commissions, including the booking of a berth for Mr. George +Harris, I had drawn a thousand pounds for Manderson from his bankers, and all, +at his request, in notes of small amounts. I did not know what this unusually +large sum in cash was for, but I did know that the packets of notes were in his +locked desk in the library, or had been earlier in the day, when I had seen him +fingering them as he sat at the desk. +</p> + +<p> +“But instead of turning to the desk, Manderson stood looking at me. There +was fury in his face, and it was a strange sight to see him gradually master it +until his eyes grew cold again. ‘Wait in the car,’ he said slowly. +‘I will get some money.’ We both went out, and as I was getting +into my overcoat in the hall I saw him enter the drawing-room, which, you +remember, was on the other side of the entrance hall. +</p> + +<p> +“I stepped out on to the lawn before the house and smoked a cigarette, +pacing up and down. I was asking myself again and again where that thousand +pounds was; whether it was in the drawing-room, and if so, why. Presently, as I +passed one of the drawing-room windows, I noticed Mrs Manderson’s shadow +on the thin silk curtain. She was standing at her escritoire. The window was +open, and as I passed I heard her say, ‘I have not quite thirty pounds +here. Will that be enough?’ I did not hear the answer, but next moment +Manderson’s shadow was mingled with hers, and I heard the chink of money. +Then, as he stood by the window, and as I was moving away, these words of his +came to my ears—and these at least I can repeat exactly, for astonishment +stamped them on my memory—‘I’m going out now. Marlowe has +persuaded me to go for a moonlight run in the car. He is very urgent about it. +He says it will help me to sleep, and I guess he is right.’ +</p> + +<p> +I have told you that in the course of four years I had never once heard +Manderson utter a direct lie about anything, great or small. I believed that I +understood the man’s queer, skin-deep morality, and I could have sworn +that if he was firmly pressed with a question that could not be evaded he would +either refuse to answer or tell the truth. But what had I just heard? No answer +to any question. A voluntary statement, precise in terms, that was utterly +false. The unimaginable had happened. It was almost as if some one I knew well, +in a moment of closest sympathy, had suddenly struck me in the face. The blood +rushed to my head, and I stood still on the grass. I stood there until I heard +his step at the front door, and then I pulled myself together and stepped +quickly to the car. He handed me a banker’s paper bag with gold and notes +in it. ‘There’s more than you’ll want there,’ he said, +and I pocketed it mechanically. +</p> + +<p> +“For a minute or so I stood discussing with Manderson—it was by one +of those <i>tours de force</i> of which one’s mind is capable under great +excitement—points about the route of the long drive before me. I had made +the run several times by day, and I believe I spoke quite calmly and naturally +about it. But while I spoke my mind was seething in a flood of suddenly born +suspicion and fear. I did not know what I feared. I simply felt fear, +somehow—I did not know how—connected with Manderson. My soul once +opened to it, fear rushed in like an assaulting army. I felt—I +knew—that something was altogether wrong and sinister, and I felt myself +to be the object of it. Yet Manderson was surely no enemy of mine. Then my +thoughts reached out wildly for an answer to the question why he had told that +lie. And all the time the blood hammered in my ears, ‘Where is that +money?’ Reason struggled hard to set up the suggestion that the two +things were not necessarily connected. The instinct of a man in danger would +not listen to it. As we started, and the car took the curve into the road, it +was merely the unconscious part of me that steered and controlled it, and that +made occasional empty remarks as we slid along in the moonlight. Within me was +a confusion and vague alarm that was far worse than any definite terror I ever +felt. +</p> + +<p> +“About a mile from the house, you remember, one passed on one’s +left a gate, on the other side of which was the golf-course. There Manderson +said he would get down, and I stopped the car. ‘You’ve got it all +clear?’ he asked. With a sort of wrench I forced myself to remember and +repeat the directions given me. ‘That’s OK,’ he said. +‘Goodbye, then. Stay with that wallet.’ Those were the last words I +heard him speak, as the car moved gently away from him.” +</p> + +<p> +Marlowe rose from his chair and pressed his hands to his eyes. He was flushed +with the excitement of his own narrative, and there was in his look a horror of +recollection that held both the listeners silent. He shook himself with a +movement like a dog’s, and then, his hands behind him, stood erect before +the fire as he continued his tale. +</p> + +<p> +“I expect you both know what the back-reflector of a motor car is.” +</p> + +<p> +Trent nodded quickly, his face alive with anticipation; but Mr. Cupples, who +cherished a mild but obstinate prejudice against motor cars, readily confessed +to ignorance. +</p> + +<p> +“It is a small round or more often rectangular mirror,” Marlowe +explained, “rigged out from the right side of the screen in front of the +driver, and adjusted in such a way that he can see, without turning round, if +anything is coming up behind to pass him. It is quite an ordinary appliance, +and there was one on this car. As the car moved on, and Manderson ceased +speaking behind me, I saw in that mirror a thing that I wish I could +forget.” +</p> + +<p> +Marlowe was silent for a moment, staring at the wall before him. +</p> + +<p> +“Manderson’s face,” he said in a low tone. “He was +standing in the road, looking after me, only a few yards behind, and the +moonlight was full on his face. The mirror happened to catch it for an instant. +</p> + +<p> +“Physical habit is a wonderful thing. I did not shift hand or foot on the +controlling mechanism of the car. Indeed, I dare say it steadied me against the +shock to have myself braced to the business of driving. You have read in books, +no doubt, of hell looking out of a man’s eyes, but perhaps you +don’t know what a good metaphor that is. If I had not known Manderson was +there, I should not have recognized the face. It was that of a madman, +distorted, hideous in the imbecility of hate, the teeth bared in a simian grin +of ferocity and triumph; the eyes.... In the little mirror I had this glimpse +of the face alone. I saw nothing of whatever gesture there may have been as +that writhing white mask glared after me. And I saw it only for a flash. The +car went on, gathering speed, and as it went, my brain, suddenly purged of the +vapours of doubt and perplexity, was as busy as the throbbing engine before my +feet. I knew. +</p> + +<p> +“You say something in that manuscript of yours, Mr. Trent, about the +swift automatic way in which one’s ideas arrange themselves about some +new illuminating thought. It is quite true. The awful intensity of ill-will +that had flamed after me from those straining eyeballs poured over my mind like +a searchlight. I was thinking quite clearly now, and almost coldly, for I knew +what—at least I knew whom—I had to fear, and instinct warned me +that it was not a time to give room to the emotions that were fighting to +possess me. The man hated me insanely. That incredible fact I suddenly knew. +But the face had told me, it would have told anybody, more than that. It was a +face of hatred gratified, it proclaimed some damnable triumph. It had gloated +over me driving away to my fate. This too was plain to me. And to what fate? +</p> + +<p> +“I stopped the car. It had gone about two hundred and fifty yards, and a +sharp bend of the road hid the spot where I had set Manderson down. I lay back +in the seat and thought it out. Something was to happen to me. In Paris? +Probably—why else should I be sent there, with money and a ticket? But +why Paris? That puzzled me, for I had no melodramatic ideas about Paris. I put +the point aside for a moment. I turned to the other things that had roused my +attention that evening. The lie about my ‘persuading him to go for a +moonlight run’. What was the intention of that? Manderson, I said to +myself, will be returning without me while I am on my way to Southampton. What +will he tell them about me? How account for his returning alone, and without +the car? As I asked myself that sinister question there rushed into my mind the +last of my difficulties: ‘Where are the thousand pounds?’ And in +the same instant came the answer: ‘The thousand pounds are in my +pocket.’ +</p> + +<p> +“I got up and stepped from the car. My knees trembled and I felt very +sick. I saw the plot now, as I thought. The whole of the story about the papers +and the necessity of their being taken to Paris was a blind. With +Manderson’s money about me, of which he would declare I had robbed him, I +was, to all appearance, attempting to escape from England, with every +precaution that guilt could suggest. He would communicate with the police at +once, and would know how to put them on my track. I should be arrested in +Paris, if I got so far, living under a false name, after having left the car +under a false name, disguised myself, and travelled in a cabin which I had +booked in advance, also under a false name. It would be plainly the crime of a +man without money, and for some reason desperately in want of it. As for my +account of the affair, it would be too preposterous. +</p> + +<p> +“As this ghastly array of incriminating circumstances rose up before me, +I dragged the stout letter-case from my pocket. In the intensity of the moment, +I never entertained the faintest doubt that I was right, and that the money was +there. It would easily hold the packets of notes. But as I felt it and weighed +it in my hands it seemed to me there must be more than this. It was too bulky. +What more was to be laid to my charge? After all, a thousand pounds was not +much to tempt a man like myself to run the risk of penal servitude. In this new +agitation, scarcely knowing what I did, I caught the surrounding strap in my +fingers just above the fastening and tore the staple out of the lock. Those +locks, you know, are pretty flimsy as a rule.” +</p> + +<p> +Here Marlowe paused and walked to the oaken desk before the window. Opening a +drawer full of miscellaneous objects, he took out a box of odd keys, and +selected a small one distinguished by a piece of pink tape. +</p> + +<p> +He handed it to Trent. “I keep that by me as a sort of morbid memento. It +is the key to the lock I smashed. I might have saved myself the trouble, if I +had known that this key was at that moment in the left-hand side-pocket of my +overcoat. Manderson must have slipped it in, either while the coat was hanging +in the hall or while he sat at my side in the car. I might not have found the +tiny thing there for weeks: as a matter of fact I did find it two days after +Manderson was dead, but a police search would have found it in five minutes. +And then I—I with the case and its contents in my pocket, my false name +and my sham spectacles and the rest of it—I should have had no +explanation to offer but the highly convincing one that I didn’t know the +key was there.” +</p> + +<p> +Trent dangled the key by its tape idly. Then: “How do you know this is +the key of that case?” he asked quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“I tried it. As soon as I found it I went up and fitted it to the lock. I +knew where I had left the thing. So do you, I think, Mr. Trent. Don’t +you?” There was a faint shade of mockery in Marlowe’s voice. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Touché</i>,” Trent said, with a dry smile. “I found a +large empty letter-case with a burst lock lying with other odds and ends on the +dressing-table in Manderson’s room. Your statement is that you put it +there. I could make nothing of it.” He closed his lips. +</p> + +<p> +“There was no reason for hiding it,” said Marlowe. “But to +get back to my story. I burst the lock of the strap. I opened the case before +one of the lamps of the car. The first thing I found in it I ought to have +expected, of course, but I hadn’t.” He paused and glanced at Trent. +</p> + +<p> +“It was—” began Trent mechanically, and then stopped himself. +“Try not to bring me in any more, if you don’t mind,” he +said, meeting the other’s eye. “I have complimented you already in +that document on your cleverness. You need not prove it by making the judge +help you out with your evidence.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” agreed Marlowe. “I couldn’t resist just +that much. If <i>you</i> had been in my place you would have known before I did +that Manderson’s little pocket-case was there. As soon as I saw it, of +course, I remembered his not having had it about him when I asked for money, +and his surprising anger. He had made a false step. He had already fastened his +note-case up with the rest of what was to figure as my plunder, and placed it +in my hands. I opened it. It contained a few notes as usual, I didn’t +count them. +</p> + +<p> +“Tucked into the flaps of the big case in packets were the other notes, +just as I had brought them from London. And with them were two small +wash-leather bags, the look of which I knew well. My heart jumped sickeningly +again, for this, too, was utterly unexpected. In those bags Manderson kept the +diamonds in which he had been investing for some time past. I didn’t open +them; I could feel the tiny stones shifting under the pressure of my fingers. +How many thousands of pounds’ worth there were there I have no idea. We +had regarded Manderson’s diamond-buying as merely a speculative fad. I +believe now that it was the earliest movement in the scheme for my ruin. For +any one like myself to be represented as having robbed him, there ought to be a +strong inducement shown. That had been provided with a vengeance. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, I thought, I have the whole thing plain, and I must act. I saw +instantly what I must do. I had left Manderson about a mile from the house. It +would take him twenty minutes, fifteen if he walked fast, to get back to the +house, where he would, of course, immediately tell his story of robbery, and +probably telephone at once to the police in Bishopsbridge. I had left him only +five or six minutes ago; for all that I have just told you was as quick +thinking as I ever did. It would be easy to overtake him in the car before he +neared the house. There would be an awkward interview. I set my teeth as I +thought of it, and all my fears vanished as I began to savour the gratification +of telling him my opinion of him. There are probably few people who ever +positively looked forward to an awkward interview with Manderson; but I was mad +with rage. My honour and my liberty had been plotted against with detestable +treachery. I did not consider what would follow the interview. That would +arrange itself. +</p> + +<p> +“I had started and turned the car, I was already going fast toward White +Gables, when I heard the sound of a shot in front of me, to the right. +</p> + +<p> +“Instantly I stopped the car. My first wild thought was that Manderson +was shooting at me. Then I realized that the noise had not been close at hand. +I could see nobody on the road, though the moonlight flooded it. I had left +Manderson at a spot just round the corner that was now about a hundred yards +ahead of me. After half a minute or so, I started again, and turned the corner +at a slow pace. Then I stopped again with a jar, and for a moment I sat +perfectly still. +</p> + +<p> +“Manderson lay dead a few steps from me on the turf within the gate, +clearly visible to me in the moonlight.” +</p> + +<p> +Marlowe made another pause, and Trent, with a puckered brow, enquired, +“On the golf-course?” +</p> + +<p> +“Obviously,” remarked Mr. Cupples. “The eighth green is just +there.” He had grown more and more interested as Marlowe went on, and was +now playing feverishly with his thin beard. +</p> + +<p> +“On the green, quite close to the flag,” said Marlowe. “He +lay on his back, his arms were stretched abroad, his jacket and heavy overcoat +were open; the light shone hideously on his white face and his shirt-front; it +glistened on his bared teeth and one of the eyes. The other... you saw it. The +man was certainly dead. As I sat there stunned, unable for the moment to think +at all, I could even see a thin dark line of blood running down from the +shattered socket to the ear. Close by lay his soft black hat, and at his feet a +pistol. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose it was only a few seconds that I sat helplessly staring at the +body. Then I rose and moved to it with dragging feet; for now the truth had +come to me at last, and I realized the fullness of my appalling danger. It was +not only my liberty or my honour that the maniac had undermined. It was death +that he had planned for me; death with the degradation of the scaffold. To +strike me down with certainty, he had not hesitated to end his life; a life +which was, no doubt, already threatened by a melancholic impulse to +self-destruction; and the last agony of the suicide had been turned, perhaps, +to a devilish joy by the thought that he dragged down my life with his. For as +far as I could see at the moment my situation was utterly hopeless. If it had +been desperate on the assumption that Manderson meant to denounce me as a +thief, what was it now that his corpse denounced me as a murderer? +</p> + +<p> +“I picked up the revolver and saw, almost without emotion, that it was my +own. Manderson had taken it from my room, I suppose, while I was getting out +the car. At the same moment I remembered that it was by Manderson’s +suggestion that I had had it engraved with my initials, to distinguish it from +a precisely similar weapon which he had of his own. +</p> + +<p> +“I bent over the body and satisfied myself that there was no life left in +it. I must tell you here that I did not notice, then or afterwards, the +scratches and marks on the wrists, which were taken as evidence of a struggle +with an assailant. But I have no doubt that Manderson deliberately injured +himself in this way before firing the shot; it was a part of his plan. +</p> + +<p> +“Though I never perceived that detail, however, it was evident enough as +I looked at the body that Manderson had not forgotten, in his last act on +earth, to tie me tighter by putting out of court the question of suicide. He +had clearly been at pains to hold the pistol at arm’s length, and there +was not a trace of smoke or of burning on the face. The wound was absolutely +clean, and was already ceasing to bleed outwardly. I rose and paced the green, +reckoning up the points in the crushing case against me. +</p> + +<p> +“I was the last to be seen with Manderson. I had persuaded him—so +he had lied to his wife and, as I afterwards knew, to the butler—to go +with me for the drive from which he never returned. My pistol had killed him. +It was true that by discovering his plot I had saved myself from heaping up +further incriminating facts—flight, concealment, the possession of the +treasure. But what need of them, after all? As I stood, what hope was there? +What could I do?” +</p> + +<p> +Marlowe came to the table and leaned forward with his hands upon it. “I +want,” he said very earnestly, “to try to make you understand what +was in my mind when I decided to do what I did. I hope you won’t be +bored, because I must do it. You may both have thought I acted like a fool. But +after all the police never suspected me. I walked that green for a quarter of +an hour, I suppose, thinking the thing out like a game of chess. I had to think +ahead and think coolly; for my safety depended on upsetting the plans of one of +the longest-headed men who ever lived. And remember that, for all I knew, there +were details of the scheme still hidden from me, waiting to crush me. +</p> + +<p> +“Two plain courses presented themselves at once. Either of them, I +thought, would certainly prove fatal. I could, in the first place, do the +completely straightforward thing: take back the dead man, tell my story, hand +over the notes and diamonds, and trust to the saving power of truth and +innocence. I could have laughed as I thought of it. I saw myself bringing home +the corpse and giving an account of myself, boggling with sheer shame over the +absurdity of my wholly unsupported tale, as I brought a charge of mad hatred +and fiendish treachery against a man who had never, as far as I knew, had a +word to say against me. At every turn the cunning of Manderson had forestalled +me. His careful concealment of such a hatred was a characteristic feature of +the stratagem; only a man of his iron self-restraint could have done it. You +can see for yourselves how every fact in my statement would appear, in the +shadow of Manderson’s death, a clumsy lie. I tried to imagine myself +telling such a story to the counsel for my defence. I could see the face with +which he would listen to it; I could read in the lines of it his thought, that +to put forward such an impudent farrago would mean merely the disappearance of +any chance there might be of a commutation of the capital sentence. +</p> + +<p> +“True, I had not fled. I had brought back the body; I had handed over the +property. But how did that help me? It would only suggest that I had yielded to +a sudden funk after killing my man, and had no nerve left to clutch at the +fruits of the crime; it would suggest, perhaps, that I had not set out to kill +but only to threaten, and that when I found that I had done murder the heart +went out of me. Turn it which way I would, I could see no hope of escape by +this plan of action. +</p> + +<p> +“The second of the obvious things that I might do was to take the hint +offered by the situation, and to fly at once. That too must prove fatal. There +was the body. I had no time to hide it in such a way that it would not be found +at the first systematic search. But whatever I should do with the body, +Manderson’s not returning to the house would cause uneasiness in two or +three hours at most. Martin would suspect an accident to the car, and would +telephone to the police. At daybreak the roads would be scoured and enquiries +telegraphed in every direction. The police would act on the possibility of +there being foul play. They would spread their nets with energy in such a big +business as the disappearance of Manderson. Ports and railway termini would be +watched. Within twenty-four hours the body would be found, and the whole +country would be on the alert for me—all Europe, scarcely less; I did not +believe there was a spot in Christendom where the man accused of +Manderson’s murder could pass unchallenged, with every newspaper crying +the fact of his death into the ears of all the world. Every stranger would be +suspect; every man, woman, and child would be a detective. The car, wherever I +should abandon it, would put people on my track. If I had to choose between two +utterly hopeless courses, I decided, I would take that of telling the +preposterous truth. +</p> + +<p> +“But now I cast about desperately for some tale that would seem more +plausible than the truth. Could I save my neck by a lie? One after another came +into my mind; I need not trouble to remember them now. Each had its own +futilities and perils; but every one split upon the fact—or what would be +taken for fact—that I had induced Manderson to go out with me, and the +fact that he had never returned alive. Notion after notion I swiftly rejected +as I paced there by the dead man, and doom seemed to settle down upon me more +heavily as the moments passed. Then a strange thought came to me. +</p> + +<p> +“Several times I had repeated to myself half-consciously, as a sort of +refrain, the words in which I had heard Manderson tell his wife that I had +induced him to go out. ‘Marlowe has persuaded me to go for a moonlight +run in the car. He is very urgent about it.’ All at once it struck me +that, without meaning to do so, I was saying this in Manderson’s voice. +</p> + +<p> +“As you found out for yourself, Mr. Trent, I have a natural gift of +mimicry. I had imitated Manderson’s voice many times so successfully as +to deceive even Bunner, who had been much more in his company than his own +wife. It was, you remember”—Marlowe turned to Mr. +Cupples—“a strong, metallic voice, of great carrying power, so +unusual as to make it a very fascinating voice to imitate, and at the same time +very easy. I said the words carefully to myself again, like this—” +he uttered them, and Mr. Cupples opened his eyes in amazement—“and +then I struck my hand upon the low wall beside me. ‘Manderson never +returned alive?’ I said aloud. ‘But Manderson <i>shall</i> return +alive!’” +</p> + +<p> +“In thirty seconds the bare outline of the plan was complete in my mind. +I did not wait to think over details. Every instant was precious now. I lifted +the body and laid it on the floor of the car, covered with a rug. I took the +hat and the revolver. Not one trace remained on the green, I believe, of that +night’s work. As I drove back to White Gables my design took shape before +me with a rapidity and ease that filled me with a wild excitement. I should +escape yet! It was all so easy if I kept my pluck. Putting aside the unusual +and unlikely, I should not fail. I wanted to shout, to scream! +</p> + +<p> +“Nearing the house I slackened speed, and carefully reconnoitred the +road. Nothing was moving. I turned the car into the open field on the other +side of the road, about twenty paces short of the little door at the extreme +corner of the grounds. I brought it to rest behind a stack. When, with +Manderson’s hat on my head and the pistol in my pocket, I had staggered +with the body across the moonlit road and through that door, I left much of my +apprehension behind me. With swift action and an unbroken nerve I thought I +ought to succeed.” +</p> + +<p> +With a long sigh Marlowe threw himself into one of the deep chairs at the +fireside and passed his handkerchief over his damp forehead. Each of his +hearers, too, drew a deep breath, but not audibly. +</p> + +<p> +“Everything else you know,” he said. He took a cigarette from a box +beside him and lighted it. Trent watched the very slight quiver of the hand +that held the match, and privately noted that his own was at the moment not so +steady. +</p> + +<p> +“The shoes that betrayed me to you,” pursued Marlowe after a short +silence, “were painful all the time I wore them, but I never dreamed that +they had given anywhere. I knew that no footstep of mine must appear by any +accident in the soft ground about the hut where I laid the body, or between the +hut and the house, so I took the shoes off and crammed my feet into them as +soon as I was inside the little door. I left my own shoes, with my own jacket +and overcoat, near the body, ready to be resumed later. I made a clear footmark +on the soft gravel outside the French window, and several on the drugget round +the carpet. The stripping off of the outer clothing of the body, and the +dressing of it afterwards in the brown suit and shoes, and putting the things +into the pockets, was a horrible business; and getting the teeth out of the +mouth was worse. The head—but you don’t want to hear about it. I +didn’t feel it much at the time. I was wriggling my own head out of a +noose, you see. I wish I had thought of pulling down the cuffs, and had tied +the shoes more neatly. And putting the watch in the wrong pocket was a bad +mistake. It had all to be done so hurriedly. +</p> + +<p> +“You were wrong, by the way, about the whisky. After one stiffish drink I +had no more; but I filled up a flask that was in the cupboard, and pocketed it. +I had a night of peculiar anxiety and effort in front of me and I didn’t +know how I should stand it. I had to take some once or twice during the drive. +Speaking of that, you give rather a generous allowance of time in your document +for doing that run by night. You say that to get to Southampton by half-past +six in that car, under the conditions, a man must, even if he drove like a +demon, have left Marlstone by twelve at latest. I had not got the body dressed +in the other suit, with tie and watch-chain and so forth, until nearly ten +minutes past; and then I had to get to the car and start it going. But then I +don’t suppose any other man would have taken the risks I did in that car +at night, without a headlight. It turns me cold to think of it now. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s nothing much to say about what I did in the house. I spent +the time after Martin had left me in carefully thinking over the remaining +steps in my plan, while I unloaded and thoroughly cleaned the revolver using my +handkerchief and a penholder from the desk. I also placed the packets of notes, +the note-case, and the diamonds in the roll-top desk, which I opened and +relocked with Manderson’s key. When I went upstairs it was a trying +moment, for though I was safe from the eyes of Martin, as he sat in his pantry, +there was a faint possibility of somebody being about on the bedroom floor. I +had sometimes found the French maid wandering about there when the other +servants were in bed. Bunner, I knew, was a deep sleeper. Mrs. Manderson, I had +gathered from things I had heard her say, was usually asleep by eleven; I had +thought it possible that her gift of sleep had helped her to retain all her +beauty and vitality in spite of a marriage which we all knew was an unhappy +one. Still it was uneasy work mounting the stairs, and holding myself ready to +retreat to the library again at the least sound from above. But nothing +happened. +</p> + +<p> +“The first thing I did on reaching the corridor was to enter my room and +put the revolver and cartridges back in the case. Then I turned off the light +and went quietly into Manderson’s room. +</p> + +<p> +“What I had to do there you know. I had to take off the shoes and put +them outside the door, leave Manderson’s jacket, waistcoat, trousers, and +black tie, after taking everything out of the pockets, select a suit and tie +and shoes for the body, and place the dental plate in the bowl, which I moved +from the washing-stand to the bedside, leaving those ruinous finger-marks as I +did so. The marks on the drawer must have been made when I shut it after taking +out the tie. Then I had to lie down in the bed and tumble it. You know all +about it—all except my state of mind, which you couldn’t imagine +and I couldn’t describe. +</p> + +<p> +“The worst came when I had hardly begun my operations: the moment when +Mrs Manderson spoke from the room where I supposed her asleep. I was prepared +for it happening; it was a possibility; but I nearly lost my nerve all the +same. However.... +</p> + +<p> +“By the way, I may tell you this: in the extremely unlikely contingency +of Mrs. Manderson remaining awake, and so putting out of the question my escape +by way of her window, I had planned simply to remain where I was a few hours, +and then, not speaking to her, to leave the house quickly and quietly by the +ordinary way. Martin would have been in bed by that time. I might have been +heard to leave, but not seen. I should have done just as I had planned with the +body, and then made the best time I could in the car to Southampton. The +difference would have been that I couldn’t have furnished an +unquestionable alibi by turning up at the hotel at 6.30. I should have made the +best of it by driving straight to the docks, and making my ostentatious +enquiries there. I could in any case have got there long before the boat left +at noon. I couldn’t see that anybody could suspect me of the supposed +murder in any case; but if any one had, and if I hadn’t arrived until ten +o’clock, say, I shouldn’t have been able to answer, ‘It is +impossible for me to have got to Southampton so soon after shooting him.’ +I should simply have had to say I was delayed by a breakdown after leaving +Manderson at half-past ten, and challenged any one to produce any fact +connecting me with the crime. They couldn’t have done it. The pistol, +left openly in my room, might have been used by anybody, even if it could be +proved that that particular pistol was used. Nobody could reasonably connect me +with the shooting so long as it was believed that it was Manderson who had +returned to the house. The suspicion could not, I was confident, enter any +one’s mind. All the same, I wanted to introduce the element of absolute +physical impossibility; I knew I should feel ten times as safe with that. So +when I knew from the sound of her breathing that Mrs. Manderson was asleep +again, I walked quickly across her room in my stocking feet, and was on the +grass with my bundle in ten seconds. I don’t think I made the least +noise. The curtain before the window was of soft, thick stuff and didn’t +rustle, and when I pushed the glass doors further open there was not a +sound.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me,” said Trent, as the other stopped to light a new +cigarette, “why you took the risk of going through Mrs. Manderson’s +room to escape from the house. I could see when I looked into the thing on the +spot why it had to be on that side of the house; there was a danger of being +seen by Martin, or by some servant at a bedroom window, if you got out by a +window on one of the other sides. But there were three unoccupied rooms on that +side; two spare bedrooms and Mrs. Manderson’s sitting-room. I should have +thought it would have been safer, after you had done what was necessary to your +plan in Manderson’s room, to leave it quietly and escape through one of +those three rooms.... The fact that you went through her window, you +know,” he added coldly, “would have suggested, if it became known, +various suspicions in regard to the lady herself. I think you understand +me.” +</p> + +<p> +Marlowe turned upon him with a glowing face. “And I think you will +understand me, Mr. Trent,” he said in a voice that shook a little, +“when I say that if such a possibility had occurred to me then, I would +have taken any risk rather than make my escape by that way.... Oh well!” +he went on more coolly, “I suppose that to any one who didn’t know +her, the idea of her being privy to her husband’s murder might not seem +so indescribably fatuous. Forgive the expression.” He looked attentively +at the burning end of his cigarette, studiously unconscious of the red flag +that flew in Trent’s eyes for an instant at his words and the tone of +them. +</p> + +<p> +That emotion, however, was conquered at once. “Your remark is perfectly +just,” Trent said with answering coolness. “I can quite believe, +too, that at the time you didn’t think of the possibility I mentioned. +But surely, apart from that, it would have been safer to do as I said; go by +the window of an unoccupied room.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think so?” said Marlowe. “All I can say is, I +hadn’t the nerve to do it. I tell you, when I entered Manderson’s +room I shut the door of it on more than half my terrors. I had the problem +confined before me in a closed space, with only one danger in it, and that a +known danger: the danger of Mrs. Manderson. The thing was almost done; I had +only to wait until she was certainly asleep after her few moments of waking up, +for which, as I told you, I was prepared as a possibility. Barring accidents, +the way was clear. But now suppose that I, carrying Manderson’s clothes +and shoes, had opened that door again and gone in my shirt-sleeves and socks to +enter one of the empty rooms. The moonlight was flooding the corridor through +the end window. Even if my face was concealed, nobody could mistake my standing +figure for Manderson’s. Martin might be going about the house in his +silent way. Bunner might come out of his bedroom. One of the servants who were +supposed to be in bed might come round the corner from the other +passage—I had found Célestine prowling about quite as late as it was +then. None of these things was very likely; but they were all too likely for +me. They were uncertainties. Shut off from the household in Manderson’s +room I knew exactly what I had to face. As I lay in my clothes in +Manderson’s bed and listened for the almost inaudible breathing through +the open door, I felt far more ease of mind, terrible as my anxiety was, than I +had felt since I saw the dead body on the turf. I even congratulated myself +that I had had the chance, through Mrs Manderson’s speaking to me, of +tightening one of the screws in my scheme by repeating the statement about my +having been sent to Southampton.” +</p> + +<p> +Marlowe looked at Trent, who nodded as who should say that his point was met. +</p> + +<p> +“As for Southampton,” pursued Marlowe, “you know what I did +when I got there, I have no doubt. I had decided to take Manderson’s +story about the mysterious Harris and act it out on my own lines. It was a +carefully prepared lie, better than anything I could improvise. I even went so +far as to get through a trunk call to the hotel at Southampton from the library +before starting, and ask if Harris was there. As I expected, he +wasn’t.” +</p> + +<p> +“Was that why you telephoned?” Trent enquired quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“The reason for telephoning was to get myself into an attitude in which +Martin couldn’t see my face or anything but the jacket and hat, yet which +was a natural and familiar attitude. But while I was about it, it was obviously +better to make a genuine call. If I had simply pretended to be telephoning, the +people at the exchange could have told at once that there hadn’t been a +call from White Gables that night.” +</p> + +<p> +“One of the first things I did was to make that enquiry,” said +Trent. “That telephone call, and the wire you sent from Southampton to +the dead man to say Harris hadn’t turned up, and you were +returning—I particularly appreciated both those.” +</p> + +<p> +A constrained smile lighted Marlowe’s face for a moment. “I +don’t know that there’s anything more to tell. I returned to +Marlstone, and faced your friend the detective with such nerve as I had left. +The worst was when I heard you had been put on the case—no, that +wasn’t the worst. The worst was when I saw you walk out of the shrubbery +the next day, coming away from the shed where I had laid the body. For one +ghastly moment I thought you were going to give me in charge on the spot. Now +I’ve told you everything, you don’t look so terrible.” +</p> + +<p> +He closed his eyes, and there was a short silence. Then Trent got suddenly to +his feet. +</p> + +<p> +“Cross-examination?” enquired Marlowe, looking at him gravely. +</p> + +<p> +“Not at all,” said Trent, stretching his long limbs. “Only +stiffness of the legs. I don’t want to ask any questions. I believe what +you have told us. I don’t believe it simply because I always liked your +face, or because it saves awkwardness, which are the most usual reasons for +believing a person, but because my vanity will have it that no man could lie to +me steadily for an hour without my perceiving it. Your story is an +extraordinary one; but Manderson was an extraordinary man, and so are you. You +acted like a lunatic in doing what you did; but I quite agree with you that if +you had acted like a sane man you wouldn’t have had the hundredth part of +a dog’s chance with a judge and jury. One thing is beyond dispute on any +reading of the affair: you are a man of courage.” +</p> + +<p> +The colour rushed into Marlowe’s face, and he hesitated for words. Before +he could speak Mr. Cupples arose with a dry cough. +</p> + +<p> +“For my part,” he said, “I never supposed you guilty for a +moment.” Marlowe turned to him in grateful amazement, Trent with an +incredulous stare. “But,” pursued Mr. Cupples, holding up his hand, +“there is one question which I should like to put.” +</p> + +<p> +Marlowe bowed, saying nothing. +</p> + +<p> +“Suppose,” said Mr. Cupples, “that some one else had been +suspected of the crime and put upon trial. What would you have done?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think my duty was clear. I should have gone with my story to the +lawyers for the defence, and put myself in their hands.” +</p> + +<p> +Trent laughed aloud. Now that the thing was over, his spirits were rapidly +becoming ungovernable. “I can see their faces!” he said. “As +a matter of fact, though, nobody else was ever in danger. There wasn’t a +shred of evidence against any one. I looked up Murch at the Yard this morning, +and he told me he had come round to Bunner’s view, that it was a case of +revenge on the part of some American black-hand gang. So there’s the end +of the Manderson case. Holy, suffering Moses! <i>What</i> an ass a man can make +of himself when he thinks he’s being preternaturally clever!” He +seized the bulky envelope from the table and stuffed it into the heart of the +fire. “There’s for you, old friend! For want of you the +world’s course will not fail. But look here! It’s getting +late—nearly seven, and Cupples and I have an appointment at half-past. We +must go. Mr. Marlowe, goodbye.” He looked into the other’s eyes. +“I am a man who has worked hard to put a rope round your neck. +Considering the circumstances, I don’t know whether you will blame me. +Will you shake hands?” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap16"></a>Chapter XVI.<br />The Last Straw</h2> + +<p> +“What was that you said about our having an appointment at half-past +seven?” asked Mr. Cupples as the two came out of the great gateway of the +pile of flats. “Have we such an appointment?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly we have,” replied Trent. “You are dining with me. +Only one thing can properly celebrate this occasion, and that is a dinner for +which I pay. No, no! I asked you first. I have got right down to the bottom of +a case that must be unique—a case that has troubled even my mind for over +a year—and if that isn’t a good reason for standing a dinner, I +don’t know what is. Cupples, we will not go to my club. This is to be a +festival, and to be seen in a London club in a state of pleasurable emotion is +more than enough to shatter any man’s career. Besides that, the dinner +there is always the same, or, at least, they always make it taste the same, I +know not how. The eternal dinner at my club hath bored millions of members like +me, and shall bore; but tonight let the feast be spread in vain, so far as we +are concerned. We will not go where the satraps throng the hall. We will go to +Sheppard’s.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who is Sheppard?” asked Mr. Cupples mildly, as they proceeded up +Victoria Street. His companion went with an unnatural lightness, and a +policeman, observing his face, smiled indulgently at a look of happiness which +he could only attribute to alcohol. +</p> + +<p> +“Who is Sheppard?” echoed Trent with bitter emphasis. “That +question, if you will pardon me for saying so, Cupples, is thoroughly +characteristic of the spirit of aimless enquiry prevailing in this restless +day. I suggest our dining at Sheppard’s, and instantly you fold your arms +and demand, in a frenzy of intellectual pride, to know who Sheppard is before +you will cross the threshold of Sheppard’s. I am not going to pander to +the vices of the modern mind. Sheppard’s is a place where one can dine. I +do not know Sheppard. It never occurred to me that Sheppard existed. Probably +he is a myth of totemistic origin. All I know is that you can get a bit of +saddle of mutton at Sheppard’s that has made many an American visitor +curse the day that Christopher Columbus was born.... Taxi!” +</p> + +<p> +A cab rolled smoothly to the kerb, and the driver received his instructions +with a majestic nod. +</p> + +<p> +“Another reason I have for suggesting Sheppard’s,” continued +Trent, feverishly lighting a cigarette, “is that I am going to be married +to the most wonderful woman in the world. I trust the connection of ideas is +clear.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are going to marry Mabel!” cried Mr. Cupples. “My dear +friend, what good news this is! Shake hands, Trent; this is glorious! I +congratulate you both from the bottom of my heart. And may I say—I +don’t want to interrupt your flow of high spirits, which is very natural +indeed, and I remember being just the same in similar circumstances long +ago—but may I say how earnestly I have hoped for this? Mabel has seen so +much unhappiness, yet she is surely a woman formed in the great purpose of +humanity to be the best influence in the life of a good man. But I did not know +her mind as regarded yourself. <i>Your</i> mind I have known for some +time,” Mr. Cupples went on, with a twinkle in his eye that would have +done credit to the worldliest of creatures. “I saw it at once when you +were both dining at my house, and you sat listening to Professor Peppmuller and +looking at her. Some of us older fellows have our wits about us still, my dear +boy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mabel says she knew it before that,” replied Trent, with a +slightly crestfallen air. “And I thought I was acting the part of a +person who was not mad about her to the life. Well, I never was any good at +dissembling. I shouldn’t wonder if even old Peppmuller noticed something +through his double convex lenses. But however crazy I may have been as an +undeclared suitor,” he went on with a return to vivacity, “I am +going to be much worse now. As for your congratulations, thank you a thousand +times, because I know you mean them. You are the sort of uncomfortable brute +who would pull a face three feet long if you thought we were making a mistake. +By the way, I can’t help being an ass tonight; I’m obliged to go on +blithering. You must try to bear it. Perhaps it would be easier if I sang you a +song—one of your old favourites. What was that song you used always to be +singing? Like this, wasn’t it?” He accompanied the following stave +with a dexterous clog-step on the floor of the cab: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“There was an old nigger, and he had a wooden leg.<br /> +He had no tobacco, no tobacco could he beg.<br /> +Another old nigger was as cunning as a fox,<br /> +And he always had tobacco in his old tobacco-box. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Now for the chorus! +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Yes, he always had tobacco in his old tobacco-box. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +But you’re not singing. I thought you would be making the welkin +ring.” +</p> + +<p> +“I never sang that song in my life,” protested Mr. Cupples. +“I never heard it before.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you sure?” enquired Trent doubtfully. “Well, I suppose I +must take your word for it. It is a beautiful song, anyhow: not the whole +warbling grove in concert heard can beat it. Somehow it seems to express my +feelings at the present moment as nothing else could; it rises unbidden to the +lips. Out of the fullness of the heart the mouth speaketh, as the Bishop of +Bath and Wells said when listening to a speech of Mr. Balfour’s.” +</p> + +<p> +“When was that?” asked Mr. Cupples. +</p> + +<p> +“On the occasion,” replied Trent, “of the introduction of the +Compulsory Notification of Diseases of Poultry Bill, which ill-fated measure +you of course remember. Hullo!” he broke off, as the cab rushed down a +side street and swung round a corner into a broad and populous thoroughfare, +“we’re there already”. The cab drew up. +</p> + +<p> +“Here we are,” said Trent, as he paid the man, and led Mr. Cupples +into a long, panelled room set with many tables and filled with a hum of talk. +“This is the house of fulfilment of craving, this is the bower with the +roses around it. I see there are three bookmakers eating pork at my favourite +table. We will have that one in the opposite corner.” +</p> + +<p> +He conferred earnestly with a waiter, while Mr. Cupples, in a pleasant +meditation, warmed himself before the great fire. “The wine here,” +Trent resumed, as they seated themselves, “is almost certainly made out +of grapes. What shall we drink?” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Cupples came out of his reverie. “I think,” he said, “I +will have milk and soda water.” +</p> + +<p> +“Speak lower!” urged Trent. “The head-waiter has a weak +heart, and might hear you. Milk and soda water! Cupples, you may think you have +a strong constitution, and I don’t say you have not, but I warn you that +this habit of mixing drinks has been the death of many a robuster man than you. +Be wise in time. Fill high the bowl with Samian wine, leave soda to the Turkish +hordes. Here comes our food.” He gave another order to the waiter, who +ranged the dishes before them and darted away. Trent was, it seemed, a +respected customer. “I have sent,” he said, “for wine that I +know, and I hope you will try it. If you have taken a vow, then in the name of +all the teetotal saints drink water, which stands at your elbow, but +don’t seek a cheap notoriety by demanding milk and soda.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have never taken any pledge,” said Mr. Cupples, examining his +mutton with a favourable eye. “I simply don’t care about wine. I +bought a bottle once and drank it to see what it was like, and it made me ill. +But very likely it was bad wine. I will taste some of yours, as it is your +dinner, and I do assure you, my dear Trent, I should like to do something +unusual to show how strongly I feel on the present occasion. I have not been so +delighted for many years. To think,” he reflected aloud as the waiter +filled his glass, “of the Manderson mystery disposed of, the innocent +exculpated, and your own and Mabel’s happiness crowned—all coming +upon me together! I drink to you, my dear friend.” And Mr. Cupples took a +very small sip of the wine. +</p> + +<p> +“You have a great nature,” said Trent, much moved. “Your +outward semblance doth belie your soul’s immensity. I should have +expected as soon to see an elephant conducting at the opera as you drinking my +health. Dear Cupples! May his beak retain ever that delicate +rose-stain!—No, curse it all!” he broke out, surprising a shade of +discomfort that flitted over his companion’s face as he tasted the wine +again. “I have no business to meddle with your tastes. I apologize. You +shall have what you want, even if it causes the head-waiter to perish in his +pride.” +</p> + +<p> +When Mr. Cupples had been supplied with his monastic drink, and the waiter had +retired, Trent looked across the table with significance. “In this babble +of many conversations,” he said, “we can speak as freely as if we +were on a bare hillside. The waiter is whispering soft nothings into the ear of +the young woman at the pay-desk. We are alone. What do you think of that +interview of this afternoon?” He began to dine with an appetite. +</p> + +<p> +Without pausing in the task of cutting his mutton into very small pieces Mr. +Cupples replied: “The most curious feature of it, in my judgement, was +the irony of the situation. We both held the clue to that mad hatred of +Manderson’s which Marlowe found so mysterious. We knew of his jealous +obsession; which knowledge we withheld, as was very proper, if only in +consideration of Mabel’s feelings. Marlowe will never know of what he was +suspected by that person. Strange! Nearly all of us, I venture to think, move +unconsciously among a network of opinions, often quite erroneous, which other +people entertain about us. I remember, for instance, discovering quite by +accident some years ago that a number of people of my acquaintance believed me +to have been secretly received into the Church of Rome. This absurd fiction was +based upon the fact, which in the eyes of many appeared conclusive, that I had +expressed myself in talk as favouring the plan of a weekly abstinence from +meat. Manderson’s belief in regard to his secretary probably rested upon +a much slighter ground. It was Mr Bunner, I think you said, who told you of his +rooted and apparently hereditary temper of suspicious jealousy.... With regard +to Marlowe’s story, it appeared to me entirely straightforward, and not, +in its essential features, especially remarkable, once we have admitted, as we +surely must, that in the case of Manderson we have to deal with a more or less +disordered mind.” +</p> + +<p> +Trent laughed loudly. “I confess,” he said, “that the affair +struck me as a little unusual. +</p> + +<p> +“Only in the development of the details,” argued Mr. Cupples. +“What is there abnormal in the essential facts? A madman conceives a +crazy suspicion; he hatches a cunning plot against his fancied injurer; it +involves his own destruction. Put thus, what is there that any man with the +least knowledge of the ways of lunatics would call remarkable? Turn now to +Marlowe’s proceedings. He finds himself in a perilous position from +which, though he is innocent, telling the truth will not save him. Is that an +unheard-of situation? He escapes by means of a bold and ingenious piece of +deception. That seems to me a thing that might happen every day, and probably +does so.” He attacked his now unrecognizable mutton. +</p> + +<p> +“I should like to know,” said Trent, after an alimentary pause in +the conversation, “whether there is anything that ever happened on the +face of the earth that you could not represent as quite ordinary and +commonplace by such a line of argument as that.” +</p> + +<p> +A gentle smile illuminated Mr. Cupples’s face. “You must not +suspect me of empty paradox,” he said. “My meaning will become +clearer, perhaps, if I mention some things which do appear to me essentially +remarkable. Let me see .... Well, I would call the life history of the +liver-fluke, which we owe to the researches of Poulton, an essentially +remarkable thing.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am unable to argue the point,” replied Trent. “Fair +science may have smiled upon the liver-fluke’s humble birth, but I never +even heard it mentioned.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is not, perhaps, an appetizing subject,” said Mr. Cupples +thoughtfully, “and I will not pursue it. All I mean is, my dear Trent, +that there are really remarkable things going on all round us if we will only +see them; and we do our perceptions no credit in regarding as remarkable only +those affairs which are surrounded with an accumulation of sensational +detail.” +</p> + +<p> +Trent applauded heartily with his knife-handle on the table, as Mr. Cupples +ceased and refreshed himself with milk and soda water. “I have not heard +you go on like this for years,” he said. “I believe you must be +almost as much above yourself as I am. It is a bad case of the unrest which men +miscall delight. But much as I enjoy it, I am not going to sit still and hear +the Manderson affair dismissed as commonplace. You may say what you like, but +the idea of impersonating Manderson in those circumstances was an +extraordinarily ingenious idea.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ingenious—certainly!” replied Mr. Cupples. +“Extraordinarily so—no! In those circumstances (your own words) it +was really not strange that it should occur to a clever man. It lay almost on +the surface of the situation. Marlowe was famous for his imitation of +Manderson’s voice; he had a talent for acting; he had a +chess-player’s mind; he knew the ways of the establishment intimately. I +grant you that the idea was brilliantly carried out; but everything favoured +it. As for the essential idea, I do not place it, as regards ingenuity, in the +same class with, for example, the idea of utilizing the force of recoil in a +discharged firearm to actuate the mechanism of ejecting and reloading. I do, +however, admit, as I did at the outset, that in respect of details the case had +unusual features. It developed a high degree of complexity.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did it really strike you in that way?” enquired Trent with +desperate sarcasm. +</p> + +<p> +“The affair became complicated,” went on Mr. Cupples unmoved, +“because after Marlowe’s suspicions were awakened, a second subtle +mind came in to interfere with the plans of the first. That sort of duel often +happens in business and politics, but less frequently, I imagine, in the world +of crime.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should say never,” Trent replied; “and the reason is, that +even the cleverest criminals seldom run to strategic subtlety. When they do, +they don’t get caught, since clever policemen have if possible less +strategic subtlety than the ordinary clever criminal. But that rather deep +quality seems very rarely to go with the criminal make-up. Look at Crippen. He +was a very clever criminal as they go. He solved the central problem of every +clandestine murder, the disposal of the body, with extreme neatness. But how +far did he see through the game? The criminal and the policeman are often swift +and bold tacticians, but neither of them is good for more than a quite simple +plan. After all, it’s a rare faculty in any walk of life.” +</p> + +<p> +“One disturbing reflection was left on my mind,” said Mr. Cupples, +who seemed to have had enough of abstractions for the moment, “by what we +learned today. If Marlowe had suspected nothing and walked into the trap, he +would almost certainly have been hanged. Now how often may not a plan to throw +the guilt of murder on an innocent person have been practised successfully? +There are, I imagine, numbers of cases in which the accused, being found guilty +on circumstantial evidence, have died protesting their innocence. I shall never +approve again of a death-sentence imposed in a case decided upon such +evidence.” +</p> + +<p> +“I never have done so, for my part,” said Trent. “To hang in +such cases seems to me flying in the face of the perfectly obvious and sound +principle expressed in the saying that ‘you never can tell’. I +agree with the American jurist who lays it down that we should not hang a +yellow dog for stealing jam on circumstantial evidence, not even if he has jam +all over his nose. As for attempts being made by malevolent persons to fix +crimes upon innocent men, of course it is constantly happening. It’s a +marked feature, for instance, of all systems of rule by coercion, whether in +Ireland or Russia or India or Korea; if the police cannot get hold of a man +they think dangerous by fair means, they do it by foul. But there’s one +case in the State Trials that is peculiarly to the point, because not only was +it a case of fastening a murder on innocent people, but the plotter did in +effect what Manderson did; he gave up his own life in order to secure the death +of his victims. Probably you have heard of the Campden Case.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Cupples confessed his ignorance and took another potato. +</p> + +<p> +“John Masefield has written a very remarkable play about it,” said +Trent, “and if it ever comes on again in London, you should go and see +it, if you like having the fan-tods. I have often seen women weeping in an +undemonstrative manner at some slab of oleo-margarine sentiment in the theatre. +By George! what everlasting smelling-bottle hysterics they ought to have if +they saw that play decently acted! Well, the facts were that John Perry accused +his mother and brother of murdering a man, and swore he had helped them to do +it. He told a story full of elaborate detail, and had an answer to everything, +except the curious fact that the body couldn’t be found; but the judge, +who was probably drunk at the time—this was in Restoration +days—made nothing of that. The mother and brother denied the accusation. +All three prisoners were found guilty and hanged, purely on John’s +evidence. Two years after, the man whom they were hanged for murdering came +back to Campden. He had been kidnapped by pirates and taken to sea. His +disappearance had given John his idea. The point about John is, that his +including himself in the accusation, which amounted to suicide, was the thing +in his evidence which convinced everybody of its truth. It was so obvious that +no man would do himself to death to get somebody else hanged. Now that is +exactly the answer which the prosecution would have made if Marlowe had told +the truth. Not one juryman in a million would have believed in the Manderson +plot.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Cupples mused upon this a few moments. “I have not your acquaintance +with that branch of history,” he said at length; “in fact, I have +none at all. But certain recollections of my own childhood return to me in +connection with this affair. We know from the things Mabel told you what may be +termed the spiritual truth underlying this matter; the insane depth of jealous +hatred which Manderson concealed. We can understand that he was capable of such +a scheme. But as a rule it is in the task of penetrating to the spiritual truth +that the administration of justice breaks down. Sometimes that truth is +deliberately concealed, as in Manderson’s case. Sometimes, I think, it is +concealed because simple people are actually unable to express it, and nobody +else divines it. When I was a lad in Edinburgh the whole country went mad about +the Sandyford Place murder.” +</p> + +<p> +Trent nodded. “Mrs. M’Lachlan’s case. She was innocent right +enough.” +</p> + +<p> +“My parents thought so,” said Mr. Cupples. “I thought so +myself when I became old enough to read and understand that excessively sordid +story. But the mystery of the affair was so dark, and the task of getting at +the truth behind the lies told by everybody concerned proved so hopeless, that +others were just as fully convinced of the innocence of old James Fleming. All +Scotland took sides on the question. It was the subject of debates in +Parliament. The press divided into two camps, and raged with a fury I have +never seen equalled. Yet it is obvious, is it not? for I see you have read of +the case—that if the spiritual truth about that old man could have been +known there would have been very little room for doubt in the matter. If what +some surmised about his disposition was true, he was quite capable of murdering +Jessie M’Pherson and then casting the blame on the poor feeble-minded +creature who came so near to suffering the last penalty of the law.” +</p> + +<p> +“Even a commonplace old dotard like Fleming can be an unfathomable +mystery to all the rest of the human race,” said Trent, “and most +of all in a court of justice. The law certainly does not shine when it comes to +a case requiring much delicacy of perception. It goes wrong easily enough over +the Flemings of this world. As for the people with temperaments who get mixed +up in legal proceedings, they must feel as if they were in a forest of apes, +whether they win or lose. Well, I dare say it’s good for their sort to +have their noses rubbed in reality now and again. But what would twelve +red-faced realities in a jury-box have done to Marlowe? His story would, as he +says, have been a great deal worse than no defence at all. It’s not as if +there were a single piece of evidence in support of his tale. Can’t you +imagine how the prosecution would tear it to rags? Can’t you see the +judge simply taking it in his stride when it came to the summing up? And the +jury—you’ve served on juries, I expect—in their room, +snorting with indignation over the feebleness of the lie, telling each other it +was the clearest case they ever heard of, and that they’d have thought +better of him if he hadn’t lost his nerve at the crisis, and had cleared +off with the swag as he intended. Imagine yourself on that jury, not knowing +Marlowe, and trembling with indignation at the record unrolled before +you—cupidity, murder, robbery, sudden cowardice, shameless, impenitent, +desperate lying! Why, you and I believed him to be guilty until—” +</p> + +<p> +“I beg your pardon! I beg your pardon!” interjected Mr. Cupples, +laying down his knife and fork. “I was most careful, when we talked it +all over the other night, to say nothing indicating such a belief. <i>I</i> was +always certain that he was innocent.” +</p> + +<p> +“You said something of the sort at Marlowe’s just now. I wondered +what on earth you could mean. Certain that he was innocent! How can you be +certain? You are generally more careful about terms than that, Cupples.” +</p> + +<p> +“I said ‘certain’,” Mr. Cupples repeated firmly. +</p> + +<p> +Trent shrugged his shoulders. “If you really were, after reading my +manuscript and discussing the whole thing as we did,” he rejoined, +“then I can only say that you must have totally renounced all trust in +the operations of the human reason; an attitude which, while it is bad +Christianity and also infernal nonsense, is oddly enough bad Positivism too, +unless I misunderstand that system. Why, man—” +</p> + +<p> +“Let me say a word,” Mr. Cupples interposed again, folding his +hands above his plate. “I assure you I am far from abandoning reason. I +am certain he is innocent, and I always was certain of it, because of something +that I know, and knew from the very beginning. You asked me just now to imagine +myself on the jury at Marlowe’s trial. That would be an unprofitable +exercise of the mental powers, because I know that I should be present in +another capacity. I should be in the witness-box, giving evidence for the +defence. You said just now, ‘If there were a single piece of evidence in +support of his tale.’ There is, and it is my evidence. And,” he +added quietly, “it is conclusive.” He took up his knife and fork +and went contentedly on with his dinner. +</p> + +<p> +The pallor of sudden excitement had turned Trent to marble while Mr Cupples led +laboriously up to this statement. At the last word the blood rushed to his face +again, and he struck the table with an unnatural laugh. “It can’t +be!” he exploded. “It’s something you fancied, something you +dreamed after one of those debauches of soda and milk. You can’t really +mean that all the time I was working on the case down there you knew Marlowe +was innocent.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Cupples, busy with his last mouthful, nodded brightly. He made an end of +eating, wiped his sparse moustache, and then leaned forward over the table. +“It’s very simple,” he said. “I shot Manderson +myself.” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +“I am afraid I startled you,” Trent heard the voice of Mr. Cupples +say. He forced himself out of his stupefaction like a diver striking upward for +the surface, and with a rigid movement raised his glass. But half of the wine +splashed upon the cloth, and he put it carefully down again untasted. He drew a +deep breath, which was exhaled in a laugh wholly without merriment. “Go +on,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“It was not murder,” began Mr. Cupples, slowly measuring off inches +with a fork on the edge of the table. “I will tell you the whole story. +On that Sunday night I was taking my before-bedtime constitutional, having set +out from the hotel about a quarter past ten. I went along the field path that +runs behind White Gables, cutting off the great curve of the road, and came out +on the road nearly opposite that gate that is just by the eighth hole on the +golf-course. Then I turned in there, meaning to walk along the turf to the edge +of the cliff, and go back that way. I had only gone a few steps when I heard +the car coming, and then I heard it stop near the gate. I saw Manderson at +once. Do you remember my telling you I had seen him once alive after our +quarrel in front of the hotel? Well, this was the time. You asked me if I had, +and I did not care to tell a falsehood.” +</p> + +<p> +A slight groan came from Trent. He drank a little wine, and said stonily, +“Go on, please.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was, as you know,” pursued Mr. Cupples, “a moonlight +night, but I was in shadow under the trees by the stone wall, and anyhow they +could not suppose there was any one near them. I heard all that passed just as +Marlowe has narrated it to us, and I saw the car go off towards Bishopsbridge. +I did not see Manderson’s face as it went, because his back was to me, +but he shook the back of his left hand at the car with extraordinary violence, +greatly to my amazement. Then I waited for him to go back to White Gables, as I +did not want to meet him again. But he did not go. He opened the gate through +which I had just passed, and he stood there on the turf of the green, quite +still. His head was bent, his arms hung at his sides, and he looked +somehow—rigid. For a few moments he remained in this tense attitude, +then all of a sudden his right arm moved swiftly, and his hand was at the +pocket of his overcoat. I saw his face raised in the moonlight, the teeth +bared, and the eyes glittering, and all at once I knew that the man was not +sane. Almost as quickly as that flashed across my mind, something else flashed +in the moonlight. He held the pistol before him, pointing at his breast. +</p> + +<p> +“Now I may say here I shall always be doubtful whether Manderson really +meant to kill himself then. Marlowe naturally thinks so, knowing nothing of my +intervention. But I think it quite likely he only meant to wound himself, and +to charge Marlowe with attempted murder and robbery. +</p> + +<p> +“At that moment, however, I assumed it was suicide. Before I knew what I +was doing I had leapt out of the shadows and seized his arm. He shook me off +with a furious snarling noise, giving me a terrific blow in the chest, and +presenting the revolver at my head. But I seized his wrists before he could +fire, and clung with all my strength—you remember how bruised and +scratched they were. I knew I was fighting for my own life now, for murder was +in his eyes. We struggled like two beasts, without an articulate word, I +holding his pistol-hand down and keeping a grip on the other. I never dreamed +that I had the strength for such an encounter. Then, with a perfectly +instinctive movement—I never knew I meant to do it—I flung away his +free hand and clutched like lightning at the weapon, tearing it from his +fingers. By a miracle it did not go off. I darted back a few steps, he sprang +at my throat like a wild cat, and I fired blindly in his face. He would have +been about a yard away, I suppose. His knees gave way instantly, and he fell in +a heap on the turf. +</p> + +<p> +“I flung the pistol down and bent over him. The heart’s action +ceased under my hand. I knelt there staring, struck motionless; and I +don’t know how long it was before I heard the noise of the car returning. +</p> + +<p> +“Trent, all the time that Marlowe paced that green, with the moonlight on +his white and working face, I was within a few yards of him, crouching in the +shadow of the furze by the ninth tee. I dared not show myself. I was thinking. +My public quarrel with Manderson the same morning was, I suspected, the talk of +the hotel. I assure you that every horrible possibility of the situation for me +had rushed across my mind the moment I saw Manderson fall. I became cunning. I +knew what I must do. I must get back to the hotel as fast as I could, get in +somehow unperceived, and play a part to save myself. I must never tell a word +to any one. Of course I was assuming that Marlowe would tell every one how he +had found the body. I knew he would suppose it was suicide; I thought every one +would suppose so. +</p> + +<p> +“When Marlowe began at last to lift the body, I stole away down the wall +and got out into the road by the clubhouse, where he could not see me. I felt +perfectly cool and collected. I crossed the road, climbed the fence, and ran +across the meadow to pick up the field path I had come by that runs to the +hotel behind White Gables. I got back to the hotel very much out of +breath.” +</p> + +<p> +“Out of breath,” repeated Trent mechanically, still staring at his +companion as if hypnotized. +</p> + +<p> +“I had had a sharp run,” Mr. Cupples reminded him. “Well, +approaching the hotel from the back I could see into the writing-room through +the open window. There was nobody in there, so I climbed over the sill, walked +to the bell and rang it, and then sat down to write a letter I had meant to +write the next day. I saw by the clock that it was a little past eleven. When +the waiter answered the bell I asked for a glass of milk and a postage stamp. +Soon afterwards I went up to bed. But I could not sleep.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Cupples, having nothing more to say, ceased speaking. He looked in mild +surprise at Trent, who now sat silent, supporting his bent head in his hands. +</p> + +<p> +“He could not sleep,” murmured Trent at last in a hollow tone. +“A frequent result of over-exertion during the day. Nothing to be alarmed +about.” He was silent again, then looked up with a pale face. +“Cupples, I am cured. I will never touch a crime-mystery again. The +Manderson affair shall be Philip Trent’s last case. His high-blown pride +at length breaks under him.” Trent’s smile suddenly returned. +“I could have borne everything but that last revelation of the impotence +of human reason. Cupples, I have absolutely nothing left to say, except this: +you have beaten me. I drink your health in a spirit of self-abasement. And +<i>you</i> shall pay for the dinner.” +</p> + +<p class="center"> +THE END. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block;margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TRENT’S LAST CASE ***</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0;'>This file should be named 2568-h.htm or 2568-h.zip</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0;'>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in https://www.gutenberg.org/2/5/6/2568/</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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(Edmund Clerihew) Bentley + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Trent's Last Case + The Woman in Black + +Author: E.C. (Edmund Clerihew) Bentley + +Release Date: 2001 +Posting Date: November 14, 2009 [EBook #2568] +Last updated: September 18, 2015 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TRENT'S LAST CASE *** + + + + +Produced by Stuart E. Thiel + + + + + +TRENT'S LAST CASE + +THE WOMAN IN BLACK + + +By E.C. (Edmund Clerihew) Bentley + + + + +CHAPTER I: Bad News + +Between what matters and what seems to matter, how should the world we +know judge wisely? + +When the scheming, indomitable brain of Sigsbee Manderson was scattered +by a shot from an unknown hand, that world lost nothing worth a single +tear; it gained something memorable in a harsh reminder of the vanity +of such wealth as this dead man had piled up--without making one loyal +friend to mourn him, without doing an act that could help his memory to +the least honour. But when the news of his end came, it seemed to those +living in the great vortices of business as if the earth too shuddered +under a blow. + +In all the lurid commercial history of his country there had been no +figure that had so imposed itself upon the mind of the trading world. He +had a niche apart in its temples. Financial giants, strong to direct and +augment the forces of capital, and taking an approved toll in millions +for their labour, had existed before; but in the case of Manderson there +had been this singularity, that a pale halo of piratical romance, a +thing especially dear to the hearts of his countrymen, had remained +incongruously about his head through the years when he stood in every +eye as the unquestioned guardian of stability, the stamper-out of +manipulated crises, the foe of the raiding chieftains that infest the +borders of Wall Street. + +The fortune left by his grandfather, who had been one of those +chieftains on the smaller scale of his day, had descended to him +with accretion through his father, who during a long life had quietly +continued to lend money and never had margined a stock. Manderson, who +had at no time known what it was to be without large sums to his hand, +should have been altogether of that newer American plutocracy which is +steadied by the tradition and habit of great wealth. But it was not so. +While his nurture and education had taught him European ideas of a rich +man's proper external circumstance; while they had rooted in him an +instinct for quiet magnificence, the larger costliness which does not +shriek of itself with a thousand tongues; there had been handed on to +him nevertheless much of the Forty-Niner and financial buccaneer, his +forbear. During that first period of his business career which had been +called his early bad manner, he had been little more than a gambler of +genius, his hand against every man's--an infant prodigy--who brought to +the enthralling pursuit of speculation a brain better endowed than +any opposed to it. At St Helena it was laid down that war is une belle +occupation; and so the young Manderson had found the multitudinous and +complicated dog-fight of the Stock Exchange of New York. + +Then came his change. At his father's death, when Manderson was thirty +years old, some new revelation of the power and the glory of the god +he served seemed to have come upon him. With the sudden, elastic +adaptability of his nation he turned to steady labour in his father's +banking business, closing his ears to the sound of the battles of the +Street. In a few years he came to control all the activity of the great +firm whose unimpeached conservatism, safety, and financial weight lifted +it like a cliff above the angry sea of the markets. All mistrust founded +on the performances of his youth had vanished. He was quite plainly a +different man. How the change came about none could with authority say, +but there was a story of certain last words spoken by his father, whom +alone he had respected and perhaps loved. + +He began to tower above the financial situation. Soon his name was +current in the bourses of the world. One who spoke the name of Manderson +called up a vision of all that was broad-based and firm in the vast +wealth of the United States. He planned great combinations of capital, +drew together and centralized industries of continental scope, financed +with unerring judgement the large designs of state or of private +enterprise. Many a time when he 'took hold' to smash a strike, or to +federate the ownership of some great field of labour, he sent ruin upon +a multitude of tiny homes; and if miners or steelworkers or cattlemen +defied him and invoked disorder, he could be more lawless and ruthless +than they. But this was done in the pursuit of legitimate business ends. +Tens of thousands of the poor might curse his name, but the financier +and the speculator execrated him no more. He stretched a hand to protect +or to manipulate the power of wealth in every corner of the country. +Forcible, cold, and unerring, in all he did he ministered to the +national lust for magnitude; and a grateful country surnamed him the +Colossus. + +But there was an aspect of Manderson in this later period that lay long +unknown and unsuspected save by a few, his secretaries and lieutenants +and certain of the associates of his bygone hurling time. This little +circle knew that Manderson, the pillar of sound business and stability +in the markets, had his hours of nostalgia for the lively times when +the Street had trembled at his name. It was, said one of them, as if +Blackbeard had settled down as a decent merchant in Bristol on the +spoils of the Main. Now and then the pirate would glare suddenly +out, the knife in his teeth and the sulphur matches sputtering in his +hatband. During such spasms of reversion to type a score of tempestuous +raids upon the market had been planned on paper in the inner room of the +offices of Manderson, Colefax and Company. But they were never carried +out. Blackbeard would quell the mutiny of his old self within him and go +soberly down to his counting-house--humming a stave or two of 'Spanish +Ladies', perhaps, under his breath. Manderson would allow himself the +harmless satisfaction, as soon as the time for action had gone by, of +pointing out to some Rupert of the markets a coup worth a million to +the depredator might have been made. 'Seems to me,' he would say almost +wistfully, 'the Street is getting to be a mighty dull place since I +quit.' By slow degrees this amiable weakness of the Colossus became +known to the business world, which exulted greatly in the knowledge. + +*** + +At the news of his death panic went through the markets like a +hurricane; for it came at a luckless time. Prices tottered and crashed +like towers in an earthquake. For two days Wall Street was a clamorous +inferno of pale despair. All over the United States, wherever +speculation had its devotees, went a waft of ruin, a plague of suicide. +In Europe also not a few took with their own hands lives that had become +pitiably linked to the destiny of a financier whom most of them had +never seen. In Paris a well-known banker walked quietly out of the +Bourse and fell dead upon the broad steps among the raving crowd of +Jews, a phial crushed in his hand. In Frankfort one leapt from the +Cathedral top, leaving a redder stain where he struck the red tower. Men +stabbed and shot and strangled themselves, drank death or breathed it +as the air, because in a lonely corner of England the life had departed +from one cold heart vowed to the service of greed. + +The blow could not have fallen at a more disastrous moment. It came when +Wall Street was in a condition of suppressed 'scare'--suppressed, because +for a week past the great interests known to act with or to be actually +controlled by the Colossus had been desperately combating the effects of +the sudden arrest of Lucas Hahn, and the exposure of his plundering of +the Hahn banks. This bombshell, in its turn, had fallen at a time when +the market had been 'boosted' beyond its real strength. In the language +of the place, a slump was due. Reports from the corn-lands had not been +good, and there had been two or three railway statements which had been +expected to be much better than they were. But at whatever point in the +vast area of speculation the shudder of the threatened break had been +felt, 'the Manderson crowd' had stepped in and held the market up. +All through the week the speculator's mind, as shallow as it is +quick-witted, as sentimental as greedy, had seen in this the hand of +the giant stretched out in protection from afar. Manderson, said the +newspapers in chorus, was in hourly communication with his lieutenants +in the Street. One journal was able to give in round figures the sum +spent on cabling between New York and Marlstone in the past twenty-four +hours; it told how a small staff of expert operators had been sent down +by the Post Office authorities to Marlstone to deal with the flood of +messages. Another revealed that Manderson, on the first news of the +Hahn crash, had arranged to abandon his holiday and return home by the +Lusitania; but that he soon had the situation so well in hand that he +had determined to remain where he was. + +All this was falsehood, more or less consciously elaborated by the +'finance editors', consciously initiated and encouraged by the shrewd +business men of the Manderson group, who knew that nothing could better +help their plans than this illusion of hero-worship--knew also that +no word had come from Manderson in answer to their messages, and that +Howard B. Jeffrey, of Steel and Iron fame, was the true organizer of +victory. So they fought down apprehension through four feverish days, +and minds grew calmer. On Saturday, though the ground beneath the +feet of Mr. Jeffrey yet rumbled now and then with Etna-mutterings of +disquiet, he deemed his task almost done. The market was firm, and +slowly advancing. Wall Street turned to its sleep of Sunday, worn out +but thankfully at peace. + +In the first trading hour of Monday a hideous rumour flew round the +sixty acres of the financial district. It came into being as the +lightning comes--a blink that seems to begin nowhere; though it is to be +suspected that it was first whispered over the telephone--together with +an urgent selling order by some employee in the cable service. A sharp +spasm convulsed the convalescent share-list. In five minutes the dull +noise of the kerbstone market in Broad Street had leapt to a high note +of frantic interrogation. From within the hive of the Exchange itself +could be heard a droning hubbub of fear, and men rushed hatless in and +out. Was it true? asked every man; and every man replied, with trembling +lips, that it was a lie put out by some unscrupulous 'short' interest +seeking to cover itself. In another quarter of an hour news came of a +sudden and ruinous collapse of 'Yankees' in London at the close of +the Stock Exchange day. It was enough. New York had still four hours' +trading in front of her. The strategy of pointing to Manderson as the +saviour and warden of the markets had recoiled upon its authors with +annihilating force, and Jeffrey, his ear at his private telephone, +listened to the tale of disaster with a set jaw. The new Napoleon had +lost his Marengo. He saw the whole financial landscape sliding and +falling into chaos before him. In half an hour the news of the finding +of Manderson's body, with the inevitable rumour that it was suicide, was +printing in a dozen newspaper offices; but before a copy reached Wall +Street the tornado of the panic was in full fury, and Howard B. Jeffrey +and his collaborators were whirled away like leaves before its breath. + +*** + +All this sprang out of nothing. + +Nothing in the texture of the general life had changed. The corn had not +ceased to ripen in the sun. The rivers bore their barges and gave power +to a myriad engines. The flocks fattened on the pastures, the herds were +unnumbered. Men laboured everywhere in the various servitudes to which +they were born, and chafed not more than usual in their bonds. Bellona +tossed and murmured as ever, yet still slept her uneasy sleep. To all +mankind save a million or two of half-crazed gamblers, blind to all +reality, the death of Manderson meant nothing; the life and work of the +world went on. Weeks before he died strong hands had been in control +of every wire in the huge network of commerce and industry that he +had supervised. Before his corpse was buried his countrymen had made a +strange discovery--that the existence of the potent engine of monopoly +that went by the name of Sigsbee Manderson had not been a condition of +even material prosperity. The panic blew itself out in two days, the +pieces were picked up, the bankrupts withdrew out of sight; the market +'recovered a normal tone'. + +While the brief delirium was yet subsiding there broke out a domestic +scandal in England that suddenly fixed the attention of two continents. +Next morning the Chicago Limited was wrecked, and the same day a notable +politician was shot down in cold blood by his wife's brother in the +streets of New Orleans. Within a week of its rising, 'the Manderson +story', to the trained sense of editors throughout the Union, was +'cold'. The tide of American visitors pouring through Europe made eddies +round the memorial or statue of many a man who had died in poverty; and +never thought of their most famous plutocrat. Like the poet who died +in Rome, so young and poor, a hundred years ago, he was buried far away +from his own land; but for all the men and women of Manderson's people +who flock round the tomb of Keats in the cemetery under the Monte +Testaccio, there is not one, nor ever will be, to stand in reverence by +the rich man's grave beside the little church of Marlstone. + + + + +CHAPTER II: Knocking the Town Endways + +In the only comfortably furnished room in the offices of the Record, the +telephone on Sir James Molloy's table buzzed. Sir James made a motion +with his pen, and Mr. Silver, his secretary, left his work and came over +to the instrument. + +'Who is that?' he said. 'Who?... I can't hear you.... Oh, it's Mr. +Bunner, is it?... Yes, but... I know, but he's fearfully busy this +afternoon. Can't you... Oh, really? Well, in that case--just hold on, +will you?' + +He placed the receiver before Sir James. 'It's Calvin Bunner, Sigsbee +Manderson's right-hand man,' he said concisely. 'He insists on speaking +to you personally. Says it is the gravest piece of news. He is talking +from the house down by Bishopsbridge, so it will be necessary to speak +clearly.' + +Sir James looked at the telephone, not affectionately, and took up the +receiver. 'Well?' he said in his strong voice, and listened. 'Yes,' he +said. The next moment Mr. Silver, eagerly watching him, saw a look of +amazement and horror. 'Good God!' murmured Sir James. Clutching the +instrument, he slowly rose to his feet, still bending ear intently. At +intervals he repeated 'Yes.' Presently, as he listened, he glanced +at the clock, and spoke quickly to Mr. Silver over the top of the +transmitter. 'Go and hunt up Figgis and young Williams. Hurry.' Mr. +Silver darted from the room. + +The great journalist was a tall, strong, clever Irishman of fifty, swart +and black-moustached, a man of untiring business energy, well known in +the world, which he understood very thoroughly, and played upon with the +half-cynical competence of his race. Yet was he without a touch of the +charlatan: he made no mysteries, and no pretences of knowledge, and +he saw instantly through these in others. In his handsome, well-bred, +well-dressed appearance there was something a little sinister when anger +or intense occupation put its imprint about his eyes and brow; but when +his generous nature was under no restraint he was the most cordial +of men. He was managing director of the company which owned that most +powerful morning paper, the Record, and also that most indispensable +evening paper, the Sun, which had its offices on the other side of the +street. He was, moreover, editor-in-chief of the Record, to which he had +in the course of years attached the most variously capable personnel in +the country. It was a maxim of his that where you could not get gifts, +you must do the best you could with solid merit; and he employed a great +deal of both. He was respected by his staff as few are respected in a +profession not favourable to the growth of the sentiment of reverence. + +'You're sure that's all?' asked Sir James, after a few minutes of +earnest listening and questioning. 'And how long has this been known?... +Yes, of course, the police are; but the servants? Surely it's all over +the place down there by now.... Well, we'll have a try.... Look here, +Bunner, I'm infinitely obliged to you about this. I owe you a good turn. +You know I mean what I say. Come and see me the first day you get to +town.... All right, that's understood. Now I must act on your news. +Goodbye.' + +Sir James hung up the receiver, and seized a railway timetable from the +rack before him. After a rapid consultation of this oracle, he flung it +down with a forcible word as Mr. Silver hurried into the room, followed +by a hard-featured man with spectacles, and a youth with an alert eye. + +'I want you to jot down some facts, Figgis,' said Sir James, banishing +all signs of agitation and speaking with a rapid calmness. 'When you +have them, put them into shape just as quick as you can for a special +edition of the Sun.' The hard-featured man nodded and glanced at the +clock, which pointed to a few minutes past three; he pulled out a +notebook and drew a chair up to the big writing-table. 'Silver,' Sir +James went on, 'go and tell Jones to wire our local correspondent very +urgently, to drop everything and get down to Marlstone at once. He is +not to say why in the telegram. There must not be an unnecessary +word about this news until the Sun is on the streets with it--you all +understand. Williams, cut across the way and tell Mr. Anthony to hold +himself ready for a two-column opening that will knock the town endways. +Just tell him that he must take all measures and precautions for a +scoop. Say that Figgis will be over in five minutes with the facts, and +that he had better let him write up the story in his private room. As +you go, ask Miss Morgan to see me here at once, and tell the telephone +people to see if they can get Mr. Trent on the wire for me. After +seeing Mr. Anthony, return here and stand by.' The alert-eyed young man +vanished like a spirit. + +Sir James turned instantly to Mr. Figgis, whose pencil was poised over +the paper. 'Sigsbee Manderson has been murdered,' he began quickly +and clearly, pacing the floor with his hands behind him. Mr. Figgis +scratched down a line of shorthand with as much emotion as if he had +been told that the day was fine--the pose of his craft. 'He and his wife +and two secretaries have been for the past fortnight at the house called +White Gables, at Marlstone, near Bishopsbridge. He bought it four years +ago. He and Mrs. Manderson have since spent a part of each summer there. +Last night he went to bed about half-past eleven, just as usual. No one +knows when he got up and left the house. He was not missed until this +morning. About ten o'clock his body was found by a gardener. It was +lying by a shed in the grounds. He was shot in the head, through the +left eye. Death must have been instantaneous. The body was not robbed, +but there were marks on the wrists which pointed to a struggle having +taken place. Dr Stock, of Marlstone, was at once sent for, and will +conduct the post-mortem examination. The police from Bishopsbridge, who +were soon on the spot, are reticent, but it is believed that they are +quite without a clue to the identity of the murderer. There you are, +Figgis. Mr. Anthony is expecting you. Now I must telephone him and +arrange things.' + +Mr. Figgis looked up. 'One of the ablest detectives at Scotland +Yard,' he suggested, 'has been put in charge of the case. It's a safe +statement.' + +'If you like,' said Sir James. + +'And Mrs. Manderson? Was she there?' + +'Yes. What about her?' + +'Prostrated by the shock,' hinted the reporter, 'and sees nobody. Human +interest.' + +'I wouldn't put that in, Mr. Figgis,' said a quiet voice. It belonged +to Miss Morgan, a pale, graceful woman, who had silently made her +appearance while the dictation was going on. 'I have seen Mrs. +Manderson,' she proceeded, turning to Sir James. 'She looks quite +healthy and intelligent. Has her husband been murdered? I don't think +the shock would prostrate her. She is more likely to be doing all she +can to help the police.' + +'Something in your own style, then, Miss Morgan,' he said with a +momentary smile. Her imperturbable efficiency was an office proverb. +'Cut it out, Figgis. Off you go! Now, madam, I expect you know what I +want.' + +'Our Manderson biography happens to be well up to date,' replied Miss +Morgan, drooping her dark eyelashes as she considered the position. 'I +was looking over it only a few months ago. It is practically ready for +tomorrow's paper. I should think the Sun had better use the sketch +of his life they had about two years ago, when he went to Berlin and +settled the potash difficulty. I remember it was a very good sketch, and +they won't be able to carry much more than that. As for our paper, +of course we have a great quantity of cuttings, mostly rubbish. The +sub-editors shall have them as soon as they come in. Then we have two +very good portraits that are our own property; the best is a drawing Mr. +Trent made when they were both on the same ship somewhere. It is better +than any of the photographs; but you say the public prefers a bad +photograph to a good drawing. I will send them down to you at once, and +you can choose. As far as I can see, the Record is well ahead of the +situation, except that you will not be able to get a special man down +there in time to be of any use for tomorrow's paper.' + +Sir James sighed deeply. 'What are we good for, anyhow?' he enquired +dejectedly of Mr. Silver, who had returned to his desk. 'She even knows +Bradshaw by heart.' + +Miss Morgan adjusted her cuffs with an air of patience. 'Is there +anything else?' she asked, as the telephone bell rang. + +'Yes, one thing,' replied Sir James, as he took up the receiver. 'I +want you to make a bad mistake some time, Miss Morgan--an everlasting +bloomer--just to put us in countenance.' She permitted herself the +fraction of what would have been a charming smile as she went out. + +'Anthony?' asked Sir James, and was at once deep in consultation with +the editor on the other side of the road. He seldom entered the Sun +building in person; the atmosphere of an evening paper, he would say, +was all very well if you liked that kind of thing. Mr. Anthony, the +Murat of Fleet Street, who delighted in riding the whirlwind and +fighting a tumultuous battle against time, would say the same of a +morning paper. + +It was some five minutes later that a uniformed boy came in to say that +Mr. Trent was on the wire. Sir James abruptly closed his talk with Mr. +Anthony. + +'They can put him through at once,' he said to the boy. + +'Hullo!' he cried into the telephone after a few moments. + +A voice in the instrument replied, 'Hullo be blowed! What do you want?' + +'This is Molloy,' said Sir James. + +'I know it is,' the voice said. 'This is Trent. He is in the middle of +painting a picture, and he has been interrupted at a critical moment. +Well, I hope it's something important, that's all!' + +'Trent,' said Sir James impressively, 'it is important. I want you to do +some work for us.' + +'Some play, you mean,' replied the voice. 'Believe me, I don't want a +holiday. The working fit is very strong. I am doing some really decent +things. Why can't you leave a man alone?' 'Something very serious has +happened.' 'What?' + +'Sigsbee Manderson has been murdered--shot through the brain--and +they don't know who has done it. They found the body this morning. It +happened at his place near Bishopsbridge.' Sir James proceeded to tell +his hearer, briefly and clearly, the facts that he had communicated to +Mr. Figgis. 'What do you think of it?' he ended. A considering grunt was +the only answer. 'Come now,' urged Sir James. + +'Tempter!' + +'You will go down?' + +There was a brief pause. + +'Are you there?' said Sir James. + +'Look here, Molloy,' the voice broke out querulously, 'the thing may +be a case for me, or it may not. We can't possibly tell. It may be a +mystery; it may be as simple as bread and cheese. The body not being +robbed looks interesting, but he may have been outed by some wretched +tramp whom he found sleeping in the grounds and tried to kick out. It's +the sort of thing he would do. Such a murderer might easily have sense +enough to know that to leave the money and valuables was the safest +thing. I tell you frankly, I wouldn't have a hand in hanging a poor +devil who had let daylight into a man like Sig Manderson as a measure of +social protest.' + +Sir James smiled at the telephone--a smile of success. 'Come, my boy, +you're getting feeble. Admit you want to go and have a look at the case. +You know you do. If it's anything you don't want to handle, you're free +to drop it. By the by, where are you?' + +'I am blown along a wandering wind,' replied the voice irresolutely, +'and hollow, hollow, hollow all delight.' + +'Can you get here within an hour?' persisted Sir James. + +'I suppose I can,' the voice grumbled. 'How much time have I?' + +'Good man! Well, there's time enough--that's just the worst of it. I've +got to depend on our local correspondent for tonight. The only good +train of the day went half an hour ago. The next is a slow one, leaving +Paddington at midnight. You could have the Buster, if you like'--Sir +James referred to a very fast motor car of his--'but you wouldn't get +down in time to do anything tonight.' + +'And I'd miss my sleep. No, thanks. The train for me. I am quite fond of +railway travelling, you know; I have a gift for it. I am the stoker and +the stoked. I am the song the porter sings.' + +'What's that you say?' + +'It doesn't matter,' said the voice sadly. 'I say,' it continued, 'will +your people look out a hotel near the scene of action, and telegraph for +a room?' + +'At once,' said Sir James. 'Come here as soon as you can.' + +He replaced the receiver. As he turned to his papers again a shrill +outcry burst forth in the street below. He walked to the open window. A +band of excited boys was rushing down the steps of the Sun building and +up the narrow thoroughfare toward Fleet Street. Each carried a bundle of +newspapers and a large broadsheet with the simple legend: + + MURDER OF SIGSBEE MANDERSON + +Sir James smiled and rattled the money in his pockets cheerfully. 'It +makes a good bill,' he observed to Mr. Silver, who stood at his elbow. + +Such was Manderson's epitaph. + + + + +CHAPTER III: Breakfast + +At about eight o'clock in the morning of the following day Mr. Nathaniel +Burton Cupples stood on the veranda of the hotel at Marlstone. He was +thinking about breakfast. In his case the colloquialism must be taken +literally: he really was thinking about breakfast, as he thought about +every conscious act of his life when time allowed deliberation. +He reflected that on the preceding day the excitement and activity +following upon the discovery of the dead man had disorganized his +appetite, and led to his taking considerably less nourishment than +usual. This morning he was very hungry, having already been up and about +for an hour; and he decided to allow himself a third piece of toast and +an additional egg; the rest as usual. The remaining deficit must be made +up at luncheon, but that could be gone into later. + +So much being determined, Mr. Cupples applied himself to the enjoyment +of the view for a few minutes before ordering his meal. With a +connoisseur's eye he explored the beauty of the rugged coast, where a +great pierced rock rose from a glassy sea, and the ordered loveliness of +the vast tilted levels of pasture and tillage and woodland that sloped +gently up from the cliffs toward the distant moor. Mr. Cupples delighted +in landscape. + +He was a man of middle height and spare figure, nearly sixty years old, +by constitution rather delicate in health, but wiry and active for his +age. A sparse and straggling beard and moustache did not conceal a thin +but kindly mouth; his eyes were keen and pleasant; his sharp nose and +narrow jaw gave him very much of a clerical air, and this impression +was helped by his commonplace dark clothes and soft black hat. The +whole effect of him, indeed, was priestly. He was a man of unusually +conscientious, industrious, and orderly mind, with little imagination. +His father's household had been used to recruit its domestic +establishment by means of advertisements in which it was truthfully +described as a serious family. From that fortress of gloom he had +escaped with two saintly gifts somehow unspoiled: an inexhaustible +kindness of heart, and a capacity for innocent gaiety which owed nothing +to humour. In an earlier day and with a clerical training he might have +risen to the scarlet hat. He was, in fact, a highly regarded member +of the London Positivist Society, a retired banker, a widower without +children. His austere but not unhappy life was spent largely among books +and in museums; his profound and patiently accumulated knowledge of a +number of curiously disconnected subjects which had stirred his interest +at different times had given him a place in the quiet, half-lit world +of professors and curators and devotees of research; at their amiable, +unconvivial dinner parties he was most himself. His favourite author was +Montaigne. + +Just as Mr. Cupples was finishing his meal at a little table on the +veranda, a big motor car turned into the drive before the hotel. 'Who +is this?' he enquired of the waiter. 'Id is der manager,' said the young +man listlessly. 'He have been to meed a gendleman by der train.' + +The car drew up and the porter hurried from the entrance. Mr. Cupples +uttered an exclamation of pleasure as a long, loosely built man, much +younger than himself, stepped from the car and mounted the veranda, +flinging his hat on a chair. His high-boned, quixotic face wore a +pleasant smile; his rough tweed clothes, his hair and short moustache +were tolerably untidy. + +'Cupples, by all that's miraculous!' cried the man, pouncing upon Mr. +Cupples before he could rise, and seizing his outstretched hand in +a hard grip. 'My luck is serving me today,' the newcomer went on +spasmodically. 'This is the second slice within an hour. How are you, +my best of friends? And why are you here? Why sit'st thou by that ruined +breakfast? Dost thou its former pride recall, or ponder how it passed +away? I am glad to see you!' + +'I was half expecting you, Trent,' Mr. Cupples replied, his face +wreathed in smiles. 'You are looking splendid, my dear fellow. I will +tell you all about it. But you cannot have had your own breakfast yet. +Will you have it at my table here?' + +'Rather!' said the man. 'An enormous great breakfast, too--with refined +conversation and tears of recognition never dry. Will you get young +Siegfried to lay a place for me while I go and wash? I shan't be three +minutes.' He disappeared into the hotel, and Mr. Cupples, after a +moment's thought, went to the telephone in the porter's office. + +He returned to find his friend already seated, pouring out tea, and +showing an unaffected interest in the choice of food. 'I expect this to +be a hard day for me,' he said, with the curious jerky utterance which +seemed to be his habit. 'I shan't eat again till the evening, very +likely. You guess why I'm here, don't you?' + +'Undoubtedly,' said Mr. Cupples. 'You have come down to write about the +murder.' + +'That is rather a colourless way of stating it,' the man called Trent +replied, as he dissected a sole. 'I should prefer to put it that I have +come down in the character of avenger of blood, to hunt down the guilty, +and vindicate the honour of society. That is my line of business. +Families waited on at their private residences. I say, Cupples, I have +made a good beginning already. Wait a bit, and I'll tell you.' There was +a silence, during which the newcomer ate swiftly and abstractedly, while +Mr. Cupples looked on happily. + +'Your manager here,' said the tall man at last, 'is a fellow of +remarkable judgement. He is an admirer of mine. He knows more about my +best cases than I do myself. The Record wired last night to say I was +coming, and when I got out of the train at seven o'clock this morning, +there he was waiting for me with a motor car the size of a haystack. He +is beside himself with joy at having me here. It is fame.' He drank a +cup of tea and continued: 'Almost his first words were to ask me if +I would like to see the body of the murdered man--if so, he thought he +could manage it for me. He is as keen as a razor. The body lies in Dr +Stock's surgery, you know, down in the village, exactly as it was when +found. It's to be post-mortem'd this morning, by the way, so I was only +just in time. Well, he ran me down here to the doctor's, giving me full +particulars about the case all the way. I was pretty well au fait by +the time we arrived. I suppose the manager of a place like this has some +sort of a pull with the doctor. Anyhow, he made no difficulties, nor did +the constable on duty, though he was careful to insist on my not giving +him away in the paper.' + +'I saw the body before it was removed,' remarked Mr. Cupples. 'I should +not have said there was anything remarkable about it, except that the +shot in the eye had scarcely disfigured the face at all, and caused +scarcely any effusion of blood, apparently. The wrists were scratched +and bruised. I expect that, with your trained faculties, you were able +to remark other details of a suggestive nature.' + +'Other details, certainly; but I don't know that they suggest anything. +They are merely odd. Take the wrists, for instance. How was it you +could see bruises and scratches on them? I dare say you saw something of +Manderson down here before the murder.' + +'Certainly,' Mr. Cupples said. + +'Well, did you ever see his wrists?' + +Mr. Cupples reflected. 'No. Now you raise the point, I am reminded that +when I interviewed Manderson here he was wearing stiff cuffs, coming +well down over his hands.' + +'He always did,' said Trent. 'My friend the manager says so. I pointed +out to him the fact you didn't observe, that there were no cuffs +visible, and that they had, indeed, been dragged up inside the +coat-sleeves, as yours would be if you hurried into a coat without +pulling your cuffs down. That was why you saw his wrists.' + +'Well, I call that suggestive,' observed Mr. Cupples mildly. 'You might +infer, perhaps, that when he got up he hurried over his dressing.' + +'Yes, but did he? The manager said just what you say. "He was always a +bit of a swell in his dress," he told me, and he drew the inference +that when Manderson got up in that mysterious way, before the house was +stirring, and went out into the grounds, he was in a great hurry. "Look +at his shoes," he said to me: "Mr. Manderson was always specially +neat about his footwear. But those shoe-laces were tied in a hurry." +I agreed. "And he left his false teeth in his room," said the manager. +"Doesn't that prove he was flustered and hurried?" I allowed that it +looked like it. But I said, "Look here: if he was so very much pressed, +why did he part his hair so carefully? That parting is a work of +art. Why did he put on so much? for he had on a complete outfit of +underclothing, studs in his shirt, sock-suspenders, a watch and chain, +money and keys and things in his pockets. That's what I said to the +manager. He couldn't find an explanation. Can you?" + +Mr. Cupples considered. 'Those facts might suggest that he was hurried +only at the end of his dressing. Coat and shoes would come last.' + +'But not false teeth. You ask anybody who wears them. And besides, I'm +told he hadn't washed at all on getting up, which in a neat man looks +like his being in a violent hurry from the beginning. And here's another +thing. One of his waistcoat pockets was lined with wash-leather for the +reception of his gold watch. But he had put his watch into the pocket on +the other side. Anybody who has settled habits can see how odd that is. +The fact is, there are signs of great agitation and haste, and there are +signs of exactly the opposite. For the present I am not guessing. I must +reconnoitre the ground first, if I can manage to get the right side of +the people of the house.' Trent applied himself again to his breakfast. + +Mr. Cupples smiled at him benevolently. 'That is precisely the point,' +he said, 'on which I can be of some assistance to you.' Trent glanced +up in surprise. 'I told you I half expected you. I will explain the +situation. Mrs. Manderson, who is my niece--' + +'What!' Trent laid down his knife and fork with a clash. 'Cupples, you +are jesting with me.' + +'I am perfectly serious, Trent, really,' returned Mr. Cupples earnestly. +'Her father, John Peter Domecq, was my wife's brother. I never mentioned +my niece or her marriage to you before, I suppose. To tell the truth, it +has always been a painful subject to me, and I have avoided discussing +it with anybody. To return to what I was about to say: last night, +when I was over at the house--by the way, you can see it from here. You +passed it in the car.' He indicated a red roof among poplars some three +hundred yards away, the only building in sight that stood separate from +the tiny village in the gap below them. + +'Certainly I did,' said Trent. 'The manager told me all about it, among +other things, as he drove me in from Bishopsbridge.' + +'Other people here have heard of you and your performances,' Mr. Cupples +went on. 'As I was saying, when I was over there last night, Mr. Bunner, +who is one of Manderson's two secretaries, expressed a hope that the +Record would send you down to deal with the case, as the police seemed +quite at a loss. He mentioned one or two of your past successes, and +Mabel--my niece--was interested when I told her afterwards. She is +bearing up wonderfully well, Trent; she has remarkable fortitude of +character. She said she remembered reading your articles about the +Abinger case. She has a great horror of the newspaper side of this +sad business, and she had entreated me to do anything I could to +keep journalists away from the place--I'm sure you can understand her +feeling, Trent; it isn't really any reflection on that profession. But +she said you appeared to have great powers as a detective, and she would +not stand in the way of anything that might clear up the crime. Then +I told her you were a personal friend of mine, and gave you a good +character for tact and consideration of others' feelings; and it ended +in her saying that, if you should come, she would like you to be helped +in every way.' + +Trent leaned across the table and shook Mr. Cupples by the hand in +silence. Mr. Cupples, much delighted with the way things were turning +out, resumed: + +'I spoke to my niece on the telephone only just now, and she is glad you +are here. She asks me to say that you may make any enquiries you like, +and she puts the house and grounds at your disposal. She had rather not +see you herself; she is keeping to her own sitting-room. She has already +been interviewed by a detective officer who is there, and she feels +unequal to any more. She adds that she does not believe she could say +anything that would be of the smallest use. The two secretaries and +Martin, the butler (who is a most intelligent man), could tell you all +you want to know, she thinks.' + +Trent finished his breakfast with a thoughtful brow. He filled a pipe +slowly, and seated himself on the rail of the veranda. 'Cupples,' he +said quietly, 'is there anything about this business that you know and +would rather not tell me?' + +Mr. Cupples gave a slight start, and turned an astonished gaze on the +questioner. 'What do you mean?' he said. + +'I mean about the Mandersons. Look here! Shall I tell you a thing +that strikes me about this affair at the very beginning? Here's a man +suddenly and violently killed, and nobody's heart seems to be broken +about it, to say the least. The manager of this hotel spoke to me about +him as coolly as if he'd never set eyes on him, though I understand +they've been neighbours every summer for some years. Then you talk about +the thing in the coldest of blood. And Mrs. Manderson--well, you won't +mind my saying that I have heard of women being more cut up about their +husbands being murdered than she seems to be. Is there something in +this, Cupples, or is it my fancy? Was there something queer about +Manderson? I travelled on the same boat with him once, but never spoke +to him. I only know his public character, which was repulsive enough. +You see, this may have a bearing on the case; that's the only reason why +I ask.' + +Mr. Cupples took time for thought. He fingered his sparse beard and +looked out over the sea. At last he turned to Trent. 'I see no reason,' +he said, 'why I shouldn't tell you as between ourselves, my dear fellow. +I need not say that this must not be referred to, however distantly. The +truth is that nobody really liked Manderson; and I think those who were +nearest to him liked him least.' + +'Why?' the other interjected. + +'Most people found a difficulty in explaining why. In trying to account +to myself for my own sensations, I could only put it that one felt in +the man a complete absence of the sympathetic faculty. There was nothing +outwardly repellent about him. He was not ill-mannered, or vicious, or +dull--indeed, he could be remarkably interesting. But I received the +impression that there could be no human creature whom he would not +sacrifice in the pursuit of his schemes, in his task of imposing himself +and his will upon the world. Perhaps that was fanciful, but I think not +altogether so. However, the point is that Mabel, I am sorry to say, was +very unhappy. I am nearly twice your age, my dear boy, though you always +so kindly try to make me feel as if we were contemporaries--I am getting +to be an old man, and a great many people have been good enough to +confide their matrimonial troubles to me; but I never knew another case +like my niece's and her husband's. I have known her since she was a +baby, Trent, and I know--you understand, I think, that I do not employ +that word lightly--I know that she is as amiable and honourable a woman, +to say nothing of her other good gifts, as any man could wish. But +Manderson, for some time past, had made her miserable.' + +'What did he do?' asked Trent, as Mr. Cupples paused. + +'When I put that question to Mabel, her words were that he seemed to +nurse a perpetual grievance. He maintained a distance between them, and +he would say nothing. I don't know how it began or what was behind it; +and all she would tell me on that point was that he had no cause in the +world for his attitude. I think she knew what was in his mind, whatever +it was; but she is full of pride. This seems to have gone on for months. +At last, a week ago, she wrote to me. I am the only near relative she +has. Her mother died when she was a child; and after John Peter died +I was something like a father to her until she married--that was five +years ago. She asked me to come and help her, and I came at once. That +is why I am here now.' + +Mr. Cupples paused and drank some tea. Trent smoked and stared out at +the hot June landscape. + +'I would not go to White Gables,' Mr. Cupples resumed. 'You know my +views, I think, upon the economic constitution of society, and the +proper relationship of the capitalist to the employee, and you know, +no doubt, what use that person made of his vast industrial power upon +several very notorious occasions. I refer especially to the trouble in +the Pennsylvania coal-fields, three years ago. I regarded him, apart +from an all personal dislike, in the light of a criminal and a disgrace +to society. I came to this hotel, and I saw my niece here. She told +me what I have more briefly told you. She said that the worry and the +humiliation of it, and the strain of trying to keep up appearances +before the world, were telling upon her, and she asked for my advice. I +said I thought she should face him and demand an explanation of his way +of treating her. But she would not do that. She had always taken +the line of affecting not to notice the change in his demeanour, +and nothing, I knew, would persuade her to admit to him that she was +injured, once pride had led her into that course. Life is quite full, my +dear Trent,' said Mr. Cupples with a sigh, 'of these obstinate silences +and cultivated misunderstandings.' + +'Did she love him?' Trent enquired abruptly. Mr. Cupples did not reply +at once. 'Had she any love left for him?' Trent amended. + +Mr. Cupples played with his teaspoon. 'I am bound to say,' he answered +slowly, 'that I think not. But you must not misunderstand the woman, +Trent. No power on earth would have persuaded her to admit that to any +one--even to herself, perhaps--so long as she considered herself bound +to him. And I gather that, apart from this mysterious sulking of late, +he had always been considerate and generous.' + +'You were saying that she refused to have it out with him.' + +'She did,' replied Mr. Cupples. 'And I knew by experience that it was +quite useless to attempt to move a Domecq where the sense of dignity +was involved. So I thought it over carefully, and next day I watched my +opportunity and met Manderson as he passed by this hotel. I asked him +to favour me with a few minutes' conversation, and he stepped inside +the gate down there. We had held no communication of any kind since my +niece's marriage, but he remembered me, of course. I put the matter to +him at once and quite definitely. I told him what Mabel had confided +to me. I said that I would neither approve nor condemn her action +in bringing me into the business, but that she was suffering, and I +considered it my right to ask how he could justify himself in placing +her in such a position.' + +'And how did he take that?' said Trent, smiling secretly at the +landscape. The picture of this mildest of men calling the formidable +Manderson to account pleased him. + +'Not very well,' Mr. Cupples replied sadly. 'In fact, far from well. I +can tell you almost exactly what he said--it wasn't much. He said, +"See here, Cupples, you don't want to butt in. My wife can look after +herself. I've found that out, along with other things." He was perfectly +quiet--you know he was said never to lose control of himself--though +there was a light in his eyes that would have frightened a man who was +in the wrong, I dare say. But I had been thoroughly roused by his last +remark, and the tone of it, which I cannot reproduce. You see,' said Mr. +Cupples simply, 'I love my niece. She is the only child that there has +been in our--in my house. Moreover, my wife brought her up as a girl, +and any reflection on Mabel I could not help feeling, in the heat of the +moment, as an indirect reflection upon one who is gone.' + +'You turned upon him,' suggested Trent in a low tone. 'You asked him to +explain his words.' + +'That is precisely what I did,' said Mr. Cupples. 'For a moment he +only stared at me, and I could see a vein on his forehead swelling--an +unpleasant sight. Then he said quite quietly, "This thing has gone far +enough, I guess," and turned to go.' + +'Did he mean your interview?' Trent asked thoughtfully. + +'From the words alone you would think so,' Mr. Cupples answered. 'But +the way in which he uttered them gave me a strange and very apprehensive +feeling. I received the impression that the man had formed some sinister +resolve. But I regret to say I had lost the power of dispassionate +thought. I fell into a great rage'--Mr. Cupples's tone was mildly +apologetic--'and said a number of foolish things. I reminded him that +the law allowed a measure of freedom to wives who received intolerable +treatment. I made some utterly irrelevant references to his public +record, and expressed the view that such men as he were unfit to live. +I said these things, and others as ill-considered, under the eyes, and +very possibly within earshot, of half a dozen persons sitting on this +veranda. I noticed them, in spite of my agitation, looking at me as I +walked up to the hotel again after relieving my mind for it undoubtedly +did relieve it,' sighed Mr. Cupples, lying back in his chair. + +'And Manderson? Did he say no more?' + +'Not a word. He listened to me with his eyes on my face, as quiet as +before. When I stopped he smiled very slightly, and at once turned +away and strolled through the gate, making for White Gables.' + +'And this happened--?' + +'On the Sunday morning.' + +'Then I suppose you never saw him alive again?' + +'No,' said Mr. Cupples. 'Or rather yes--once. It was later in the day, +on the golf-course. But I did not speak to him. And next morning he was +found dead.' + +The two regarded each other in silence for a few moments. A party of +guests who had been bathing came up the steps and seated themselves, +with much chattering, at a table near them. The waiter approached. Mr. +Cupples rose, and, taking Trent's arm, led him to a long tennis-lawn at +the side of the hotel. + +'I have a reason for telling you all this,' began Mr. Cupples as they +paced slowly up and down. + +'Trust you for that,' rejoined Trent, carefully filling his pipe again. +He lit it, smoked a little, and then said, 'I'll try and guess what your +reason is, if you like.' + +Mr. Cupples's face of solemnity relaxed into a slight smile. He said +nothing. + +'You thought it possible,' said Trent meditatively--'may I say you +thought it practically certain?--that I should find out for myself that +there had been something deeper than a mere conjugal tiff between the +Mandersons. You thought that my unwholesome imagination would begin at +once to play with the idea of Mrs. Manderson having something to do with +the crime. Rather than that I should lose myself in barren speculations +about this, you decided to tell me exactly how matters stood, and +incidentally to impress upon me, who know how excellent your judgement +is, your opinion of your niece. Is that about right?' + +'It is perfectly right. Listen to me, my dear fellow,' said Mr. Cupples +earnestly, laying his hand on the other's arm. 'I am going to be very +frank. I am extremely glad that Manderson is dead. I believe him to have +done nothing but harm in the world as an economic factor. I know that he +was making a desert of the life of one who was like my own child to me. +But I am under an intolerable dread of Mabel being involved in suspicion +with regard to the murder. It is horrible to me to think of her delicacy +and goodness being in contact, if only for a time, with the brutalities +of the law. She is not fitted for it. It would mark her deeply. Many +young women of twenty-six in these days could face such an ordeal, I +suppose. I have observed a sort of imitative hardness about the products +of the higher education of women today which would carry them through +anything, perhaps. + +'I am not prepared to say it is a bad thing in the conditions of feminine +life prevailing at present. Mabel, however, is not like that. She is as +unlike that as she is unlike the simpering misses that used to surround +me as a child. She has plenty of brains; she is full of character; her +mind and her tastes are cultivated; but it is all mixed up'--Mr. Cupples +waved his hands in a vague gesture--'with ideals of refinement and +reservation and womanly mystery. I fear she is not a child of the age. +You never knew my wife, Trent. Mabel is my wife's child.' + +The younger man bowed his head. They paced the length of the lawn before +he asked gently, 'Why did she marry him?' + +'I don't know,' said Mr. Cupples briefly. + +'Admired him, I suppose,' suggested Trent. + +Mr. Cupples shrugged his shoulders. 'I have been told that a woman will +usually be more or less attracted by the most successful man in her +circle. Of course we cannot realize how a wilful, dominating personality +like his would influence a girl whose affections were not bestowed +elsewhere; especially if he laid himself out to win her. It is probably +an overwhelming thing to be courted by a man whose name is known all +over the world. She had heard of him, of course, as a financial great +power, and she had no idea--she had lived mostly among people of +artistic or literary propensities--how much soulless inhumanity that +might involve. For all I know, she has no adequate idea of it to this +day. When I first heard of the affair the mischief was done, and I knew +better than to interpose my unsought opinions. She was of age, and there +was absolutely nothing against him from the conventional point of view. +Then I dare say his immense wealth would cast a spell over almost any +woman. Mabel had some hundreds a year of her own; just enough, +perhaps, to let her realize what millions really meant. But all this is +conjecture. She certainly had not wanted to marry some scores of young +fellows who to my knowledge had asked her; and though I don't believe, +and never did believe, that she really loved this man of forty-five, she +certainly did want to marry him. But if you ask me why, I can only say I +don't know.' + +Trent nodded, and after a few more paces looked at his watch. 'You've +interested me so much,' he said, 'that I had quite forgotten my main +business. I mustn't waste my morning. I am going down the road to White +Gables at once, and I dare say I shall be poking about there until +midday. If you can meet me then, Cupples, I should like to talk over +anything I find out with you, unless something detains me.' + +'I am going for a walk this morning,' Mr. Cupples replied. 'I meant to +have luncheon at a little inn near the golf-course, The Three Tuns. You +had better join me there. It's further along the road, about a quarter +of a mile beyond White Gables. You can just see the roof between those +two trees. The food they give one there is very plain, but good.' + +'So long as they have a cask of beer,' said Trent, 'they are all right. +We will have bread and cheese, and oh, may Heaven our simple lives +prevent from luxury's contagion, weak and vile! Till then, goodbye.' He +strode off to recover his hat from the veranda, waved it to Mr. Cupples, +and was gone. + +The old gentleman, seating himself in a deck-chair on the lawn, clasped +his hands behind his head and gazed up into the speckless blue sky. 'He +is a dear fellow,' he murmured. 'The best of fellows. And a terribly +acute fellow. Dear me! How curious it all is!' + + + + +CHAPTER IV: Handcuffs in the Air + +A painter and the son of a painter, Philip Trent had while yet in his +twenties achieved some reputation within the world of English art. +Moreover, his pictures sold. An original, forcible talent and a habit +of leisurely but continuous working, broken by fits of strong creative +enthusiasm, were at the bottom of it. His father's name had helped; +a patrimony large enough to relieve him of the perilous imputation of +being a struggling man had certainly not hindered. But his best aid to +success had been an unconscious power of getting himself liked. Good +spirits and a lively, humorous fancy will always be popular. Trent +joined to these a genuine interest in others that gained him something +deeper than popularity. His judgement of persons was penetrating, but +its process was internal; no one felt on good behaviour with a man +who seemed always to be enjoying himself. Whether he was in a mood for +floods of nonsense or applying himself vigorously to a task, his face +seldom lost its expression of contained vivacity. Apart from a sound +knowledge of his art and its history, his culture was large and loose, +dominated by a love of poetry. At thirty-two he had not yet passed the +age of laughter and adventure. + +His rise to a celebrity a hundred times greater than his proper work +had won for him came of a momentary impulse. One day he had taken up a +newspaper to find it chiefly concerned with a crime of a sort curiously +rare in our country--a murder done in a railway train. The circumstances +were puzzling; two persons were under arrest upon suspicion. Trent, to +whom an interest in such affairs was a new sensation, heard the thing +discussed among his friends, and set himself in a purposeless mood to +read up the accounts given in several journals. He became intrigued; his +imagination began to work, in a manner strange to him, upon facts; an +excitement took hold of him such as he had only known before in his +bursts of art-inspiration or of personal adventure. At the end of the +day he wrote and dispatched a long letter to the editor of the Record, +which he chose only because it had contained the fullest and most +intelligent version of the facts. + +In this letter he did very much what Poe had done in the case of the +murder of Mary Rogers. With nothing but the newspapers to guide him, +he drew attention to the significance of certain apparently negligible +facts, and ranged the evidence in such a manner as to throw grave +suspicion upon a man who had presented himself as a witness. Sir James +Molloy had printed this letter in leaded type. The same evening he +was able to announce in the Sun the arrest and full confession of the +incriminated man. + +Sir James, who knew all the worlds of London, had lost no time in making +Trent's acquaintance. The two men got on well, for Trent possessed +some secret of native tact which had the effect of almost abolishing +differences of age between himself and others. The great rotary presses +in the basement of the Record building had filled him with a new +enthusiasm. He had painted there, and Sir James had bought at sight, +what he called a machinery-scape in the manner of Heinrich Kley. + +Then a few months later came the affair known as the Ilkley mystery. Sir +James had invited Trent to an emollient dinner, and thereafter offered +him what seemed to the young man a fantastically large sum for his +temporary services as special representative of the Record at Ilkley. + +'You could do it,' the editor had urged. 'You can write good stuff, +and you know how to talk to people, and I can teach you all the +technicalities of a reporter's job in half an hour. And you have a head +for a mystery; you have imagination and cool judgement along with it. +Think how it would feel if you pulled it off!' + +Trent had admitted that it would be rather a lark. He had smoked, +frowned, and at last convinced himself that the only thing that held him +back was fear of an unfamiliar task. To react against fear had become a +fixed moral habit with him, and he had accepted Sir James's offer. + +He had pulled it off. For the second time he had given the authorities +a start and a beating, and his name was on all tongues. He withdrew and +painted pictures. He felt no leaning towards journalism, and Sir James, +who knew a good deal about art, honourably refrained--as other editors +did not--from tempting him with a good salary. But in the course of a +few years he had applied to him perhaps thirty times for his services in +the unravelling of similar problems at home and abroad. Sometimes +Trent, busy with work that held him, had refused; sometimes he had +been forestalled in the discovery of the truth. But the result of his +irregular connection with the Record had been to make his name one of +the best known in England. It was characteristic of him that his name +was almost the only detail of his personality known to the public. He +had imposed absolute silence about himself upon the Molloy papers; and +the others were not going to advertise one of Sir James's men. + +*** + +The Manderson case, he told himself as he walked rapidly up the sloping +road to White Gables, might turn out to be terribly simple. Cupples +was a wise old boy, but it was probably impossible for him to have an +impartial opinion about his niece. But it was true that the manager +of the hotel, who had spoken of her beauty in terms that aroused his +attention, had spoken even more emphatically of her goodness. Not an +artist in words, the manager had yet conveyed a very definite idea to +Trent's mind. 'There isn't a child about here that don't brighten up +at the sound of her voice,' he had said, 'nor yet a grown-up, for the +matter of that. Everybody used to look forward to her coming over in +the summer. I don't mean that she's one of those women that are all kind +heart and nothing else. There's backbone with it, if you know what I +mean--pluck--any amount of go. There's nobody in Marlstone that isn't +sorry for the lady in her trouble--not but what some of us may think +she's lucky at the last of it.' Trent wanted very much to meet Mrs. +Manderson. + +He could see now, beyond a spacious lawn and shrubbery, the front of the +two-storied house of dull-red brick, with the pair of great gables from +which it had its name. He had had but a glimpse of it from the car that +morning. A modern house, he saw; perhaps ten years old. The place was +beautifully kept, with that air of opulent peace that clothes even the +smallest houses of the well-to-do in an English countryside. Before +it, beyond the road, the rich meadow-land ran down to the edge of the +cliffs; behind it a woody landscape stretched away across a broad +vale to the moors. That such a place could be the scene of a crime of +violence seemed fantastic; it lay so quiet and well ordered, so eloquent +of disciplined service and gentle living. Yet there beyond the house, +and near the hedge that rose between the garden and the hot, white road, +stood the gardener's toolshed, by which the body had been found, lying +tumbled against the wooden wall, Trent walked past the gate of the drive +and along the road until he was opposite this shed. Some forty yards +further along the road turned sharply away from the house, to run +between thick plantations; and just before the turn the grounds of the +house ended, with a small white gate at the angle of the boundary hedge. +He approached the gate, which was plainly for the use of gardeners and +the service of the establishment. It swung easily on its hinges, and he +passed slowly up a path that led towards the back of the house, between +the outer hedge and a tall wall of rhododendrons. Through a gap in this +wall a track led him to the little neatly built erection of wood, which +stood among trees that faced a corner of the front. The body had lain on +the side away from the house; a servant, he thought, looking out of +the nearer windows in the earlier hours of the day before, might have +glanced unseeing at the hut, as she wondered what it could be like to be +as rich as the master. + +He examined the place carefully and ransacked the hut within, but he +could note no more than the trodden appearance of the uncut grass where +the body had lain. Crouching low, with keen eyes and feeling fingers, +he searched the ground minutely over a wide area; but the search was +fruitless. + +It was interrupted by the sound--the first he had heard from the +house--of the closing of the front door. Trent unbent his long legs and +stepped to the edge of the drive. A man was walking quickly away from +the house in the direction of the great gate. + +At the noise of a footstep on the gravel, the man wheeled with nervous +swiftness and looked earnestly at Trent. The sudden sight of his face +was almost terrible, so white and worn it was. Yet it was a young man's +face. There was not a wrinkle about the haggard blue eyes, for all their +tale of strain and desperate fatigue. As the two approached each other, +Trent noted with admiration the man's breadth of shoulder and lithe, +strong figure. In his carriage, inelastic as weariness had made it; in +his handsome, regular features; in his short, smooth, yellow hair; and +in his voice as he addressed Trent, the influence of a special sort of +training was confessed. 'Oxford was your playground, I think, my young +friend,' said Trent to himself. + +'If you are Mr. Trent,' said the young man pleasantly, 'you are +expected. Mr. Cupples telephoned from the hotel. My name is Marlowe.' + +'You were secretary to Mr. Manderson, I believe,' said Trent. He was +much inclined to like young Mr. Marlowe. Though he seemed so near a +physical breakdown, he gave out none the less that air of clean living +and inward health that is the peculiar glory of his social type at his +years. But there was something in the tired eyes that was a challenge +to Trent's penetration; an habitual expression, as he took it to be, of +meditating and weighing things not present to their sight. It was a look +too intelligent, too steady and purposeful, to be called dreamy. Trent +thought he had seen such a look before somewhere. He went on to say: +'It is a terrible business for all of you. I fear it has upset you +completely, Mr. Marlowe.' + +'A little limp, that's all,' replied the young man wearily. 'I was +driving the car all Sunday night and most of yesterday, and I didn't +sleep last night after hearing the news--who would? But I have an +appointment now, Mr. Trent, down at the doctor's--arranging about the +inquest. I expect it'll be tomorrow. If you will go up to the house and +ask for Mr. Bunner, you'll find him expecting you; he will tell you all +about things and show you round. He's the other secretary; an American, +and the best of fellows; he'll look after you. There's a detective here, +by the way--Inspector Murch, from Scotland Yard. He came yesterday.' + +'Murch!' Trent exclaimed. 'But he and I are old friends. How under the +sun did he get here so soon?' + +'I have no idea,' Mr. Marlowe answered. 'But he was here last evening, +before I got back from Southampton, interviewing everybody, and +he's been about here since eight this morning. He's in the library +now--that's where the open French window is that you see at the end +of the house there. Perhaps you would like to step down there and talk +about things.' + +'I think I will,' said Trent. Marlowe nodded and went on his way. The +thick turf of the lawn round which the drive took its circular sweep +made Trent's footsteps as noiseless as a cat's. In a few moments he was +looking in through the open leaves of the window at the southward end +of the house, considering with a smile a very broad back and a bent head +covered with short grizzled hair. The man within was stooping over a +number of papers laid out on the table. + +''Twas ever thus,' said Trent in a melancholy tone, at the first sound +of which the man within turned round with startling swiftness. 'From +childhood's hour I've seen my fondest hopes decay. I did think I was +ahead of Scotland Yard this time, and now here is the hugest officer in +the entire Metropolitan force already occupying the position.' + +The detective smiled grimly and came to the window. 'I was expecting +you, Mr. Trent,' he said. 'This is the sort of case that you like.' + +'Since my tastes were being considered,' Trent replied, stepping into +the room, 'I wish they had followed up the idea by keeping my hated +rival out of the business. You have got a long start, too--I know all +about it.' His eyes began to wander round the room. 'How did you manage +it? You are a quick mover, I know; the dun deer's hide on fleeter foot +was never tied; but I don't see how you got here in time to be at work +yesterday evening. Has Scotland Yard secretly started an aviation corps? +Or is it in league with the infernal powers? In either case the Home +Secretary should be called upon to make a statement.' + +'It's simpler than that,' said Mr. Murch with professional stolidity. 'I +happened to be on leave with the missus at Havley, which is only twelve +miles or so along the coast. As soon as our people there heard of the +murder they told me. I wired to the Chief, and was put in charge of the +case at once. I bicycled over yesterday evening, and have been at it +since then.' + +'Arising out of that reply,' said Trent inattentively, 'how is Mrs. +Inspector Murch?' + +'Never better, thank you,' answered the inspector, 'and frequently +speaks of you and the games you used to have with our kids. But you'll +excuse me saying, Mr. Trent, that you needn't trouble to talk your +nonsense to me while you're using your eyes. I know your ways by now. +I understand you've fallen on your feet as usual, and have the lady's +permission to go over the place and make enquiries.' + +'Such is the fact,' said Trent. 'I am going to cut you out again, +inspector. I owe you one for beating me over the Abinger case, you old +fox. But if you really mean that you're not inclined for the social +amenities just now, let us leave compliments and talk business.' He +stepped to the table, glanced through the papers arranged there in +order, and then turned to the open roll-top desk. He looked into the +drawers swiftly. 'I see this has been cleared out. Well now, inspector, +I suppose we play the game as before.' + +Trent had found himself on a number of occasions in the past thrown into +the company of Inspector Murch, who stood high in the councils of the +Criminal Investigation Department. He was a quiet, tactful, and +very shrewd officer, a man of great courage, with a vivid history in +connection with the more dangerous class of criminals. His humanity was +as broad as his frame, which was large even for a policeman. Trent +and he, through some obscure working of sympathy, had appreciated +one another from the beginning, and had formed one of those curious +friendships with which it was the younger man's delight to adorn his +experience. The inspector would talk more freely to him than to any +one, under the rose, and they would discuss details and possibilities of +every case, to their mutual enlightenment. There were necessarily +rules and limits. It was understood between them that Trent made no +journalistic use of any point that could only have come to him from an +official source. Each of them, moreover, for the honour and prestige of +the institution he represented, openly reserved the right to withhold +from the other any discovery or inspiration that might come to him +which he considered vital to the solution of the difficulty. Trent had +insisted on carefully formulating these principles of what he called +detective sportsmanship. Mr. Murch, who loved a contest, and who only +stood to gain by his association with the keen intelligence of the +other, entered very heartily into 'the game'. In these strivings for the +credit of the press and of the police, victory sometimes attended the +experience and method of the officer, sometimes the quicker brain and +livelier imagination of Trent, his gift of instinctively recognizing the +significant through all disguises. + +The inspector then replied to Trent's last words with cordial agreement. +Leaning on either side of the French window, with the deep peace and +hazy splendor of the summer landscape before them, they reviewed the +case. + +*** + +Trent had taken out a thin notebook, and as they talked he began to +make, with light, secure touches, a rough sketch plan of the room. It +was a thing he did habitually on such occasions, and often quite idly, +but now and then the habit had served him to good purpose. + +This was a large, light apartment at the corner of the house, with +generous window-space in two walls. A broad table stood in the middle. +As one entered by the window the roll-top desk stood just to the left of +it against the wall. The inner door was in the wall to the left, at the +farther end of the room; and was faced by a broad window divided into +openings of the casement type. A beautifully carved old corner-cupboard +rose high against the wall beyond the door, and another cupboard filled +a recess beside the fireplace. Some coloured prints of Harunobu, with +which Trent promised himself a better acquaintance, hung on what +little wall-space was unoccupied by books. These had a very uninspiring +appearance of having been bought by the yard and never taken from +their shelves. Bound with a sober luxury, the great English novelists, +essayists, historians, and poets stood ranged like an army struck dead +in its ranks. There were a few chairs made, like the cupboard and table, +of old carved oak; a modern armchair and a swivel office-chair before +the desk. The room looked costly but very bare. Almost the only portable +objects were a great porcelain bowl of a wonderful blue on the table, a +clock and some cigar boxes on the mantelshelf, and a movable telephone +standard on the top of the desk. + +'Seen the body?' enquired the inspector. + +Trent nodded. 'And the place where it lay,' he said. + +'First impressions of this case rather puzzle me,' said the inspector. +'From what I heard at Halvey I guessed it might be common robbery and +murder by some tramp, though such a thing is very far from common in +these parts. But as soon as I began my enquiries I came on some curious +points, which by this time I dare say you've noted for yourself. The +man is shot in his own grounds, quite near the house, to begin with. Yet +there's not the slightest trace of any attempt at burglary. And the body +wasn't robbed. In fact, it would be as plain a case of suicide as you +could wish to see, if it wasn't for certain facts. Here's another thing: +for a month or so past, they tell me, Manderson had been in a queer +state of mind. I expect you know already that he and his wife had some +trouble between them. The servants had noticed a change in his manner +to her for a long time, and for the past week he had scarcely spoken to +her. They say he was a changed man, moody and silent--whether on +account of that or something else. The lady's maid says he looked as if +something was going to arrive. It's always easy to remember that people +looked like that, after something has happened to them. Still, that's +what they say. There you are again, then: suicide! Now, why wasn't it +suicide, Mr. Trent?' + +'The facts so far as I know them are really all against it,' Trent +replied, sitting on the threshold of the window and clasping his knees. +'First, of course, no weapon is to be found. I've searched, and you've +searched, and there's no trace of any firearm anywhere within a stone's +throw of where the body lay. Second, the marks on the wrists, fresh +scratches and bruises, which we can only assume to have been done in +a struggle with somebody. Third, who ever heard of anybody shooting +himself in the eye? Then I heard from the manager of the hotel here +another fact, which strikes me as the most curious detail in this +affair. Manderson had dressed himself fully before going out there, but +he forgot his false teeth. Now how could a suicide who dressed himself +to make a decent appearance as a corpse forget his teeth?' + +'That last argument hadn't struck me,' admitted Mr. Murch. 'There's +something in it. But on the strength of the other points, which had +occurred to me, I am not considering suicide. I have been looking about +for ideas in this house, this morning. I expect you were thinking of +doing the same.' + +'That is so. It is a case for ideas, it seems to me. Come, Murch, let +us make an effort; let us bend our spirits to a temper of general +suspicion. Let us suspect everybody in the house, to begin with. Listen: +I will tell you whom I suspect. I suspect Mrs. Manderson, of course. I +also suspect both the secretaries--I hear there are two, and I hardly +know which of them I regard as more thoroughly open to suspicion. I +suspect the butler and the lady's maid. I suspect the other domestics, +and especially do I suspect the boot-boy. By the way, what domestics are +there? I have more than enough suspicion to go round, whatever the size +of the establishment; but as a matter of curiosity I should like to +know.' + +'All very well to laugh,' replied the inspector, 'but at the first stage +of affairs it's the only safe principle, and you know that as well as I +do, Mr. Trent. However, I've seen enough of the people here, last night +and today, to put a few of them out of my mind for the present at least. +You will form your own conclusions. As for the establishment, there's +the butler and lady's maid, cook, and three other maids, one a young +girl. One chauffeur, who's away with a broken wrist. No boy.' + +'What about the gardener? You say nothing about that shadowy and +sinister figure, the gardener. You are keeping him in the background, +Murch. Play the game. Out with him--or I report you to the Rules +Committee.' + +'The garden is attended to by a man in the village, who comes twice a +week. I've talked to him. He was here last on Friday.' + +'Then I suspect him all the more,' said Trent. 'And now as to the house +itself. What I propose to do, to begin with, is to sniff about a little +in this room, where I am told Manderson spent a great deal of his time, +and in his bedroom; especially the bedroom. But since we're in this +room, let's start here. You seem to be at the same stage of the inquiry. +Perhaps you've done the bedrooms already?' + +The inspector nodded. 'I've been over Manderson's and his wife's. +Nothing to be got there, I think. His room is very simple and bare, +no signs of any sort--that I could see. Seems to have insisted on the +simple life, does Manderson. Never employed a valet. The room's almost +like a cell, except for the clothes and shoes. You'll find it all +exactly as I found it; and they tell me that's exactly as Manderson left +it, at we don't know what o'clock yesterday morning. Opens into Mrs. +Manderson's bedroom--not much of the cell about that, I can tell you. +I should say the lady was as fond of pretty things as most. But she +cleared out of it on the morning of the discovery--told the maid she +could never sleep in a room opening into her murdered husband's room. +Very natural feeling in a woman, Mr. Trent. She's camping out, so to +say, in one of the spare bedrooms now.' + +'Come, my friend,' Trent was saying to himself, as he made a few notes +in his little book. 'Have you got your eye on Mrs. Manderson? Or haven't +you? I know that colourless tone of the inspectorial voice. I wish I had +seen her. Either you've got something against her and you don't want me +to get hold of it; or else you've made up your mind she's innocent, but +have no objection to my wasting my time over her. Well, it's all in the +game; which begins to look extremely interesting as we go on.' To Mr. +Murch he said aloud: 'Well, I'll draw the bedroom later on. What about +this?' + +'They call it the library,' said the inspector. 'Manderson used to do +his writing and that in here; passed most of the time he spent indoors +here. Since he and his wife ceased to hit it off together, he had taken +to spending his evenings alone, and when at this house he always +spent 'em in here. He was last seen alive, as far as the servants are +concerned, in this room.' + +Trent rose and glanced again through the papers set out on the table. +'Business letters and documents, mostly,' said Mr. Murch. 'Reports, +prospectuses, and that. A few letters on private matters, nothing in +them that I can see. The American secretary--Bunner his name is, and +a queerer card I never saw turned--he's been through this desk with +me this morning. He had got it into his head that Manderson had been +receiving threatening letters, and that the murder was the outcome of +that. But there's no trace of any such thing; and we looked at every +blessed paper. The only unusual things we found were some packets of +banknotes to a considerable amount, and a couple of little bags of unset +diamonds. I asked Mr. Bunner to put them in a safer place. It appears +that Manderson had begun buying diamonds lately as a speculation--it was +a new game to him, the secretary said, and it seemed to amuse him.' + +'What about these secretaries?' Trent enquired. 'I met one called +Marlowe just now outside; a nice-looking chap with singular eyes, +unquestionably English. The other, it seems, is an American. What did +Manderson want with an English secretary?' + +'Mr. Marlowe explained to me how that was. The American was his +right-hand business man, one of his office staff, who never left him. +Mr. Marlowe had nothing to do with Manderson's business as a financier, +knew nothing of it. His job was to look after Manderson's horses and +motors and yacht and sporting arrangements and that--make himself +generally useful, as you might say. He had the spending of a lot of +money, I should think. The other was confined entirely to the office +affairs, and I dare say he had his hands full. As for his being English, +it was just a fad of Manderson's to have an English secretary. He'd had +several before Mr. Marlowe.' + +'He showed his taste,' observed Trent. 'It might be more than +interesting, don't you think, to be minister to the pleasures of a +modern plutocrat with a large P. Only they say that Manderson's +were exclusively of an innocent kind. Certainly Marlowe gives me the +impression that he would be weak in the part of Petronius. But to return +to the matter in hand.' He looked at his notes. 'You said just +now that he was last seen alive here, "so far as the servants were +concerned". That meant--?' + +'He had a conversation with his wife on going to bed. But for that, the +manservant, Martin by name, last saw him in this room. I had his story +last night, and very glad he was to tell it. An affair like this is meat +and drink to the servants of the house.' + +Trent considered for some moments, gazing through the open window over +the sun-flooded slopes. 'Would it bore you to hear what he has to say +again?' he asked at length. For reply, Mr. Murch rang the bell. A spare, +clean-shaven, middle-aged man, having the servant's manner in its most +distinguished form, answered it. + +'This is Mr. Trent, who is authorized by Mrs. Manderson to go over the +house and make enquiries,' explained the detective. 'He would like to +hear your story.' Martin bowed distantly. He recognized Trent for a +gentleman. Time would show whether he was what Martin called a gentleman +in every sense of the word. + +'I observed you approaching the house, sir,' said Martin with impassive +courtesy. He spoke with a slow and measured utterance. 'My instructions +are to assist you in every possible way. Should you wish me to recall +the circumstances of Sunday night?' + +'Please,' said Trent with ponderous gravity. Martin's style was making +clamorous appeal to his sense of comedy. He banished with an effort all +vivacity of expression from his face. + +'I last saw Mr. Manderson--' + +'No, not that yet,' Trent checked him quietly. 'Tell me all you saw +of him that evening--after dinner, say. Try to recollect every little +detail.' + +'After dinner, sir?--yes. I remember that after dinner Mr. Manderson and +Mr. Marlowe walked up and down the path through the orchard, talking. If +you ask me for details, it struck me they were talking about something +important, because I heard Mr. Manderson say something when they came +in through the back entrance. He said, as near as I can remember, "If +Harris is there, every minute is of importance. You want to start right +away. And not a word to a soul." Mr. Marlowe answered, "Very well. I +will just change out of these clothes and then I am ready"--or words +to that effect. I heard this plainly as they passed the window of my +pantry. Then Mr. Marlowe went up to his bedroom, and Mr. Manderson +entered the library and rang for me. He handed me some letters for the +postman in the morning and directed me to sit up, as Mr. Marlowe had +persuaded him to go for a drive in the car by moonlight.' + +'That was curious,' remarked Trent. + +'I thought so, sir. But I recollected what I had heard about "not a +word to a soul", and I concluded that this about a moonlight drive was +intended to mislead.' + +'What time was this?' + +'It would be about ten, sir, I should say. After speaking to me, Mr. +Manderson waited until Mr. Marlowe had come down and brought round the +car. He then went into the drawing-room, where Mrs. Manderson was.' + +'Did that strike you as curious?' + +Martin looked down his nose. 'If you ask me the question, sir,' he said +with reserve, 'I had not known him enter that room since we came here +this year. He preferred to sit in the library in the evenings. That +evening he only remained with Mrs. Manderson for a few minutes. Then he +and Mr. Marlowe started immediately.' + +'You saw them start?' + +'Yes, sir. They took the direction of Bishopsbridge.' + +'And you saw Mr. Manderson again later?' + +'After an hour or thereabouts, sir, in the library. That would have been +about a quarter past eleven, I should say; I had noticed eleven striking +from the church. I may say I am peculiarly quick of hearing, sir.' + +'Mr. Manderson had rung the bell for you, I suppose. Yes? And what +passed when you answered it?' + +'Mr. Manderson had put out the decanter of whisky and a syphon and +glass, sir, from the cupboard where he kept them--' + +Trent held up his hand. 'While we are on that point, Martin, I want to +ask you plainly, did Mr. Manderson drink very much? You understand this +is not impertinent curiosity on my part. I want you to tell me, because +it may possibly help in the clearing up of this case.' + +'Perfectly, sir,' replied Martin gravely. 'I have no hesitation in +telling you what I have already told the inspector. Mr. Manderson was, +considering his position in life, a remarkably abstemious man. In my +four years of service with him I never knew anything of an alcoholic +nature pass his lips, except a glass or two of wine at dinner, very +rarely a little at luncheon, and from time to time a whisky and soda +before going to bed. He never seemed to form a habit of it. Often I used +to find his glass in the morning with only a little soda water in it; +sometimes he would have been having whisky with it, but never much. +He never was particular about his drinks; ordinary soda was what +he preferred, though I had ventured to suggest some of the natural +minerals, having personally acquired a taste for them in my previous +service. He used to keep them in the cupboard here, because he had a +great dislike of being waited on more than was necessary. It was an +understood thing that I never came near him after dinner unless sent +for. And when he sent for anything, he liked it brought quick, and to be +left alone again at once. He hated to be asked if he required anything +more. Amazingly simple in his tastes, sir, Mr. Manderson was.' + +'Very well; and he rang for you that night about a quarter past eleven. +Now can you remember exactly what he said?' + +'I think I can tell you with some approach to accuracy, sir. It was not +much. First he asked me if Mr. Bunner had gone to bed, and I replied +that he had been gone up some time. He then said that he wanted some +one to sit up until 12.30, in case an important message should come by +telephone, and that Mr. Marlowe having gone to Southampton for him in +the motor, he wished me to do this, and that I was to take down the +message if it came, and not disturb him. He also ordered a fresh syphon +of soda water. I believe that was all, sir.' + +'You noticed nothing unusual about him, I suppose?' + +'No, sir, nothing unusual. When I answered the ring, he was seated +at the desk listening at the telephone, waiting for a number, as I +supposed. He gave his orders and went on listening at the same time. +'When I returned with the syphon he was engaged in conversation over the +wire.' + +'Do you remember anything of what he was saying?' + +'Very little, sir; it was something about somebody being at some +hotel--of no interest to me. I was only in the room just time enough to +place the syphon on the table and withdraw. As I closed the door he was +saying, "You're sure he isn't in the hotel?" or words to that effect.' + +'And that was the last you saw and heard of him alive?' + +'No, sir. A little later, at half-past eleven, when I had settled down +in my pantry with the door ajar, and a book to pass the time, I heard +Mr. Manderson go upstairs to bed. I immediately went to close the +library window, and slipped the lock of the front door. I did not hear +anything more.' + +Trent considered. 'I suppose you didn't doze at all,' he said +tentatively, 'while you were sitting up waiting for the telephone +message?' + +'Oh no, sir. I am always very wakeful about that time. I'm a bad +sleeper, especially in the neighbourhood of the sea, and I generally +read in bed until somewhere about midnight.' + + + +'And did any message come?' + +'No, sir.' + +'No. And I suppose you sleep with your window open, these warm nights?' + +'It is never closed at night, sir.' + +Trent added a last note; then he looked thoughtfully through those he +had taken. He rose and paced up and down the room for some moments with +a downcast eye. At length he paused opposite Martin. + +'It all seems perfectly ordinary and simple,' he said. 'I just want to +get a few details clear. You went to shut the windows in the library +before going to bed. Which windows?' + +'The French window, sir. It had been open all day. The windows opposite +the door were seldom opened.' + +'And what about the curtains? I am wondering whether any one outside the +house could have seen into the room.' + +'Easily, sir, I should say, if he had got into the grounds on that side. +The curtains were never drawn in the hot weather. Mr. Manderson would +often sit right in the doorway at nights, smoking and looking out into +the darkness. But nobody could have seen him who had any business to be +there.' + +'I see. And now tell me this. Your hearing is very acute, you say, and +you heard Mr. Manderson enter the house when he came in after dinner +from the garden. Did you hear him re-enter it after returning from the +motor drive?' + +Martin paused. 'Now you mention it, sir, I remember that I did not. His +ringing the bell in this room was the first I knew of his being back. I +should have heard him come in, if he had come in by the front. I should +have heard the door go. But he must have come in by the window.' The man +reflected for a moment, then added, 'As a general rule, Mr. Manderson +would come in by the front, hang up his hat and coat in the hall, and +pass down the hall into the study. It seems likely to me that he was in +a great hurry to use the telephone, and so went straight across the lawn +to the window. He was like that, sir, when there was anything important +to be done. He had his hat on, now I remember, and had thrown his +greatcoat over the end of the table. He gave his order very sharp, +too, as he always did when busy. A very precipitate man indeed was Mr. +Manderson; a hustler, as they say.' + +'Ah! he appeared to be busy. But didn't you say just now that you +noticed nothing unusual about him?' + +A melancholy smile flitted momentarily over Martin's face. 'That +observation shows that you did not know Mr. Manderson, sir, if you will +pardon my saying so. His being like that was nothing unusual; quite the +contrary. It took me long enough to get used to it. Either he would be +sitting quite still and smoking a cigar, thinking or reading, or else he +would be writing, dictating, and sending off wires all at the same time, +till it almost made one dizzy to see it, sometimes for an hour or more +at a stretch. As for being in a hurry over a telephone message, I may +say it wasn't in him to be anything else.' + +Trent turned to the inspector, who met his eye with a look of answering +intelligence. Not sorry to show his understanding of the line of inquiry +opened by Trent, Mr. Murch for the first time put a question. + +'Then you left him telephoning by the open window, with the lights on, +and the drinks on the table; is that it?' 'That is so, Mr. Murch.' The +delicacy of the change in Martin's manner when called upon to answer the +detective momentarily distracted Trent's appreciative mind. But the big +man's next question brought it back to the problem at once. + +'About those drinks. You say Mr. Manderson often took no whisky before +going to bed. Did he have any that night?' + +'I could not say. The room was put to rights in the morning by one of +the maids, and the glass washed, I presume, as usual. I know that the +decanter was nearly full that evening. I had refilled it a few days +before, and I glanced at it when I brought the fresh syphon, just out of +habit, to make sure there was a decent-looking amount.' + +The inspector went to the tall corner-cupboard and opened it. He took +out a decanter of cut glass and set it on the table before Martin. 'Was +it fuller than that?' he asked quietly. 'That's how I found it this +morning.' The decanter was more than half empty. + +For the first time Martin's self-possession wavered. He took up the +decanter quickly, tilted it before his eyes, and then stared amazedly +at the others. He said slowly: 'There's not much short of half a bottle +gone out of this since I last set eyes on it--and that was that Sunday +night.' + +'Nobody in the house, I suppose?' suggested Trent discreetly. 'Out of +the question!' replied Martin briefly; then he added, 'I beg pardon, +sir, but this is a most extraordinary thing to me. Such a thing +never happened in all my experience of Mr. Manderson. As for the +women-servants, they never touch anything, I can answer for it; and +as for me, when I want a drink I can help myself without going to the +decanters.' He took up the decanter again and aimlessly renewed his +observation of the contents, while the inspector eyed him with a look of +serene satisfaction, as a master contemplates his handiwork. + +Trent turned to a fresh page of his notebook, and tapped it thoughtfully +with his pencil. Then he looked up and said, 'I suppose Mr. Manderson +had dressed for dinner that night?' + +'Certainly, sir. He had on a suit with a dress-jacket, what he used to +refer to as a Tuxedo, which he usually wore when dining at home.' + +'And he was dressed like that when you saw him last?' + +'All but the jacket, sir. When he spent the evening in the library, as +usually happened, he would change it for an old shooting-jacket after +dinner, a light-coloured tweed, a little too loud in pattern for English +tastes, perhaps. He had it on when I saw him last. It used to hang in +this cupboard here'--Martin opened the door of it as he spoke--'along +with Mr. Manderson's fishing-rods and such things, so that he could slip +it on after dinner without going upstairs.' + +'Leaving the dinner-jacket in the cupboard?' + +'Yes, sir. The housemaid used to take it upstairs in the morning.' + +'In the morning,' Trent repeated slowly. 'And now that we are speaking +of the morning, will you tell me exactly what you know about that? I +understand that Mr. Manderson was not missed until the body was found +about ten o'clock.' + +'That is so, sir. Mr. Manderson would never be called, or have anything +brought to him in the morning. He occupied a separate bedroom. Usually +he would get up about eight and go round to the bathroom, and he would +come down some time before nine. But often he would sleep till nine or +ten o'clock. Mrs. Manderson was always called at seven. The maid would +take in tea to her. Yesterday morning Mrs. Manderson took breakfast +about eight in her sitting-room as usual, and every one supposed that +Mr. Manderson was still in bed and asleep, when Evans came rushing up to +the house with the shocking intelligence.' + +'I see,' said Trent. 'And now another thing. You say you slipped the +lock of the front door before going to bed. Was that all the locking-up +you did?' + +'To the front door, sir, yes; I slipped the lock. No more is considered +necessary in these parts. But I had locked both the doors at the back, +and seen to the fastenings of all the windows on the ground floor. In +the morning everything was as I had left it.' + +'As you had left it. Now here is another point--the last, I think. Were +the clothes in which the body was found the clothes that Mr. Manderson +would naturally have worn that day?' + +Martin rubbed his chin. 'You remind me how surprised I was when I first +set eyes on the body, sir. At first I couldn't make out what was unusual +about the clothes, and then I saw what it was. The collar was a shape of +collar Mr. Manderson never wore except with evening dress. Then I +found that he had put on all the same things that he had worn the night +before--large fronted shirt and all--except just the coat and waistcoat +and trousers, and the brown shoes, and blue tie. As for the suit, it was +one of half a dozen he might have worn. But for him to have simply put +on all the rest just because they were there, instead of getting out +the kind of shirt and things he always wore by day; well, sir, it was +unprecedented. It shows, like some other things, what a hurry he must +have been in when getting up.' + +'Of course,' said Trent. 'Well, I think that's all I wanted to know. You +have put everything with admirable clearness, Martin. If we want to ask +any more questions later on, I suppose you will be somewhere about.' + +'I shall be at your disposal, sir.' Martin bowed, and went out quietly. + +Trent flung himself into the armchair and exhaled a long breath. 'Martin +is a great creature,' he said. 'He is far, far better than a play. There +is none like him, none, nor will be when our summers have deceased. +Straight, too; not an atom of harm in dear old Martin. Do you know, +Murch, you are wrong in suspecting that man.' + +'I never said a word about suspecting him.' The inspector was taken +aback. 'You know, Mr. Trent, he would never have told his story like +that if he thought I suspected him.' + +'I dare say he doesn't think so. He is a wonderful creature, a great +artist; but, in spite of that, he is not at all a sensitive type. It has +never occurred to his mind that you, Murch, could suspect him, Martin, +the complete, the accomplished. But I know it. You must understand, +inspector, that I have made a special study of the psychology of +officers of the law. It is a grossly neglected branch of knowledge. They +are far more interesting than criminals, and not nearly so easy. All the +time I was questioning him I saw handcuffs in your eye. Your lips were +mutely framing the syllables of those tremendous words: "It is my duty +to tell you that anything you now say will be taken down and used in +evidence against you." Your manner would have deceived most men, but it +could not deceive me.' + +Mr. Murch laughed heartily. Trent's nonsense never made any sort of +impression on his mind, but he took it as a mark of esteem, which indeed +it was; so it never failed to please him. 'Well, Mr. Trent,' he said, +'you're perfectly right. There's no point in denying it, I have got my +eye on him. Not that there's anything definite; but you know as well as +I do how often servants are mixed up in affairs of this kind, and this +man is such a very quiet customer. You remember the case of Lord William +Russell's valet, who went in as usual, in the morning, to draw up the +blinds in his master's bedroom, as quiet and starchy as you please, a +few hours after he had murdered him in his bed. I've talked to all the +women of the house, and I don't believe there's a morsel of harm in one +of them. But Martin's not so easy set aside. I don't like his manner; I +believe he's hiding something. If so, I shall find it out.' + +'Cease!' said Trent. 'Drain not to its dregs the urn of bitter prophecy. +Let us get back to facts. Have you, as a matter of evidence, anything at +all to bring against Martin's story as he has told it to us?' + +'Nothing whatever at present. As for his suggestion that Manderson came +in by way of the window after leaving Marlowe and the car, that's right +enough, I should say. I questioned the servant who swept the room next +morning, and she tells me there were gravelly marks near the window, on +this plain drugget that goes round the carpet. And there's a footprint +in this soft new gravel just outside.' The inspector took a folding rule +from his pocket and with it pointed out the traces. 'One of the patent +shoes Manderson was wearing that night exactly fits that print; you'll +find them,' he added, 'on the top shelf in the bedroom, near the window +end, the only patents in the row. The girl who polished them in the +morning picked them out for me.' + +Trent bent down and studied the faint marks keenly. 'Good!' he said. +'You have covered a lot of ground, Murch, I must say. That was excellent +about the whisky; you made your point finely. I felt inclined to shout +"Encore!" It's a thing that I shall have to think over.' + +'I thought you might have fitted it in already,' said Mr. Murch. 'Come, +Mr. Trent, we're only at the beginning of our enquiries, but what do you +say to this for a preliminary theory? There's a plan of burglary, say +a couple of men in it and Martin squared. They know where the plate is, +and all about the handy little bits of stuff in the drawing-room and +elsewhere. They watch the house; see Manderson off to bed; Martin comes +to shut the window, and leaves it ajar, accidentally on purpose. They +wait till Martin goes to bed at twelve-thirty; then they just walk into +the library, and begin to sample the whisky first thing. Now suppose +Manderson isn't asleep, and suppose they make a noise opening the +window, or however it might be. He hears it; thinks of burglars; gets up +very quietly to see if anything's wrong; creeps down on them, perhaps, +just as they're getting ready for work. They cut and run; he chases them +down to the shed, and collars one; there's a fight; one of them loses +his temper and his head, and makes a swinging job of it. Now, Mr. Trent, +pick that to pieces.' + +'Very well,' said Trent; 'just to oblige you, Murch, especially as I +know you don't believe a word of it. First: no traces of any kind +left by your burglar or burglars, and the window found fastened in the +morning, according to Martin. Not much force in that, I allow. Next: +nobody in the house hears anything of this stampede through the library, +nor hears any shout from Manderson either inside the house or outside. +Next: Manderson goes down without a word to anybody, though Bunner +and Martin are both at hand. Next: did you ever hear, in your long +experience, of a householder getting up in the night to pounce on +burglars, who dressed himself fully, with underclothing, shirt; collar +and tie, trousers, waistcoat and coat, socks and hard leather shoes; and +who gave the finishing touches to a somewhat dandified toilet by doing +his hair, and putting on his watch and chain? Personally, I call that +over-dressing the part. The only decorative detail he seems to have +forgotten is his teeth.' + +The inspector leaned forward thinking, his large hands clasped before +him. 'No,' he said at last. 'Of course there's no help in that theory. +I rather expect we have some way to go before we find out why a man gets +up before the servants are awake, dresses himself awry, and is murdered +within sight of his house early enough to be 'cold and stiff by ten in +the morning.' + +Trent shook his head. 'We can't build anything on that last +consideration. I've gone into the subject with people who know. I +shouldn't wonder,' he added, 'if the traditional notions about loss of +temperature and rigour after death had occasionally brought an innocent +man to the gallows, or near it. Dr. Stock has them all, I feel sure; +most general practitioners of the older generation have. That Dr. Stock +will make an ass of himself at the inquest, is almost as certain as that +tomorrow's sun will rise. I've seen him. He will say the body must have +been dead about so long, because of the degree of coldness and rigor +mortis. I can see him nosing it all out in some textbook that was out +of date when he was a student. Listen, Murch, and I will tell you +some facts which will be a great hindrance to you in your professional +career. There are many things that may hasten or retard the cooling of +the body. This one was lying in the long dewy grass on the shady side of +the shed. As for rigidity, if Manderson died in a struggle, or +labouring under sudden emotion, his corpse might stiffen practically +instantaneously; there are dozens of cases noted, particularly in cases +of injury to the skull, like this one. On the other hand, the stiffening +might not have begun until eight or ten hours after death. You can't +hang anybody on rigor mortis nowadays, inspector, much as you may resent +the limitation. No, what we can say is this. If he had been shot after +the hour at which the world begins to get up and go about its business, +it would have been heard, and very likely seen too. In fact, we must +reason, to begin with, at any rate, on the assumption that he wasn't +shot at a time when people might be awake; it isn't done in these parts. +Put that time at 6.30 a.m. Manderson went up to bed at 11 p.m., and +Martin sat up till 12.30. Assuming that he went to sleep at once on +turning in, that leaves us something like six hours for the crime to +be committed in; and that is a long time. But whenever it took place, +I wish you would suggest a reason why Manderson, who was a fairly late +riser, was up and dressed at or before 6.30; and why neither Martin, +who sleeps lightly, nor Bunner, nor his wife heard him moving about, +or letting himself out of the house. He must have been careful. He must +have crept about like a cat. Do you feel as I do, Murch, about all this; +that it is very, very strange and baffling?' + +'That's how it looks,' agreed the inspector. + +'And now,' said Trent, rising to his feet, 'I'll leave you to your +meditations, and take a look at the bedrooms. Perhaps the explanation of +all this will suddenly burst upon you while I am poking about up there. +But,' concluded Trent in a voice of sudden exasperation, turning round +in the doorway, 'if you can tell me at any time, how under the sun a man +who put on all those clothes could forget to put in his teeth, you may +kick me from here to the nearest lunatic asylum, and hand me over as an +incipient dement.' + + + + +CHAPTER V: Poking About + +There are moments in life, as one might think, when that which is within +us, busy about its secret affair, lets escape into consciousness some +hint of a fortunate thing ordained. Who does not know what it is to feel +at times a wave of unaccountable persuasion that it is about to go well +with him?--not the feverish confidence of men in danger of a blow from +fate, not the persistent illusion of the optimist, but an unsought +conviction, springing up like a bird from the heather, that success is +at hand in some great or fine thing. The general suddenly knows at dawn +that the day will bring him victory; the man on the green suddenly +knows that he will put down the long putt. As Trent mounted the +stairway outside the library door he seemed to rise into certainty +of achievement. A host of guesses and inferences swarmed apparently +unsorted through his mind; a few secret observations that he had made, +and which he felt must have significance, still stood unrelated to +any plausible theory of the crime; yet as he went up he seemed to know +indubitably that light was going to appear. + +The bedrooms lay on either side of a broad carpeted passage, lighted by +a tall end window. It went the length of the house until it ran at right +angles into a narrower passage, out of which the servants' rooms opened. +Martin's room was the exception: it opened out of a small landing +half-way to the upper floor. As Trent passed it he glanced within. A +little square room, clean and commonplace. In going up the rest of the +stairway he stepped with elaborate precaution against noise, hugging +the wall closely and placing each foot with care; but a series of very +audible creaks marked his passage. + +He knew that Manderson's room was the first on the right hand when the +bedroom floor was reached, and he went to it at once. He tried the latch +and the lock, which worked normally, and examined the wards of the key. +Then he turned to the room. + +It was a small apartment, strangely bare. The plutocrat's toilet +appointments were of the simplest. All remained just as it had been +on the morning of the ghastly discovery in the grounds. The sheets and +blankets of the unmade bed lay tumbled over a narrow wooden bedstead, +and the sun shone brightly through the window upon them. It gleamed, +too, upon the gold parts of the delicate work of dentistry that lay in +water in a shallow bowl of glass placed on a small, plain table by the +bedside. On this also stood a wrought-iron candlestick. Some clothing +lay untidily over one of the two rush-bottomed chairs. Various +objects on the top of a chest of drawers, which had been used as a +dressing-table, lay in such disorder as a hurried man might make. Trent +looked them over with a questing eye. He noted also that the occupant of +the room had neither washed nor shaved. With his finger he turned over +the dental plate in the bowl, and frowned again at its incomprehensible +presence. + +The emptiness and disarray of the little room, flooded by the sunbeams, +were producing in Trent a sense of gruesomeness. His fancy called up +a picture of a haggard man dressing himself in careful silence by the +first light of dawn, glancing constantly at the inner door behind which +his wife slept, his eyes full of some terror. + +Trent shivered, and to fix his mind again on actualities, opened two +tall cupboards in the wall on either side of the bed. They contained +clothing, a large choice of which had evidently been one of the very few +conditions of comfort for the man who had slept there. + +In the matter of shoes, also, Manderson had allowed himself the +advantage of wealth. An extraordinary number of these, treed and +carefully kept, was ranged on two long low shelves against the wall. No +boots were among them. Trent, himself an amateur of good shoe-leather, +now turned to these, and glanced over the collection with an +appreciative eye. It was to be seen that Manderson had been inclined to +pride himself on a rather small and well-formed foot. The shoes were of +a distinctive shape, narrow and round-toed, beautifully made; all were +evidently from the same last. + +Suddenly his eyes narrowed themselves over a pair of patent-leather +shoes on the upper shelf. + +These were the shoes of which the inspector had already described the +position to him; the shoes worn by Manderson the night before his death. +They were a well-worn pair, he saw at once; he saw, too, that they had +been very recently polished. Something about the uppers of these shoes +had seized his attention. He bent lower and frowned over them, comparing +what he saw with the appearance of the neighbouring shoes. Then he took +them up and examined the line of junction of the uppers with the soles. + +As he did this, Trent began unconsciously to whistle faintly, and with +great precision, an air which Inspector Murch, if he had been present, +would have recognized. + +Most men who have the habit of self-control have also some involuntary +trick which tells those who know them that they are suppressing +excitement. The inspector had noted that when Trent had picked up a +strong scent he whistled faintly a certain melodious passage; though +the inspector could not have told you that it was in fact the opening +movement of Mendelssohn's Lied ohne Worter in A Major. + +He turned the shoes over, made some measurements with a marked tape, and +looked minutely at the bottoms. On each, in the angle between the heel +and the instep, he detected a faint trace of red gravel. + +Trent placed the shoes on the floor, and walked with his hands behind +him to the window, out of which, still faintly whistling, he gazed with +eyes that saw nothing. Once his lips opened to emit mechanically the +Englishman's expletive of sudden enlightenment. At length he turned to +the shelves again, and swiftly but carefully examined every one of the +shoes there. + +This done, he took up the garments from the chair, looked them over +closely and replaced them. He turned to the wardrobe cupboards again, +and hunted through them carefully. The litter on the dressing-table now +engaged his attention for the second time. Then he sat down on the +empty chair, took his head in his hands, and remained in that attitude, +staring at the carpet, for some minutes. He rose at last and opened the +inner door leading to Mrs. Manderson's room. + +It was evident at a glance that the big room had been hurriedly put down +from its place as the lady's bower. All the array of objects that belong +to a woman's dressing-table had been removed; on bed and chairs and +smaller tables there were no garments or hats, bags or boxes; no trace +remained of the obstinate conspiracy of gloves and veils, handkerchiefs +and ribbons, to break the captivity of the drawer. The room was like +an unoccupied guest-chamber. Yet in every detail of furniture and +decoration it spoke of an unconventional but exacting taste. Trent, +as his expert eye noted the various perfection of colour and form amid +which the ill-mated lady dreamed her dreams and thought her loneliest +thoughts, knew that she had at least the resources of an artistic +nature. His interest in this unknown personality grew stronger; and his +brows came down heavily as he thought of the burdens laid upon it, and +of the deed of which the history was now shaping itself with more and +more of substance before his busy mind. + +He went first to the tall French window in the middle of the wall that +faced the door, and opening it, stepped out upon a small balcony with +an iron railing. He looked down on a broad stretch of lawn that began +immediately beneath him, separated from the house-wall only by a narrow +flower-bed, and stretched away, with an abrupt dip at the farther +end, toward the orchard. The other window opened with a sash above the +garden-entrance of the library. In the farther inside corner of the room +was a second door giving upon the passage; the door by which the maid +was wont to come in, and her mistress to go out, in the morning. + +Trent, seated on the bed, quickly sketched in his notebook a plan of +the room and its neighbour. The bed stood in the angle between the +communicating-door and the sash-window, its head against the wall +dividing the room from Manderson's. Trent stared at the pillows; then he +lay down with deliberation on the bed and looked through the open door +into the adjoining room. + +This observation taken, he rose again and proceeded to note on his plan +that on either side of the bed was a small table with a cover. Upon that +furthest from the door was a graceful electric-lamp standard of copper +connected by a free wire with the wall. Trent looked at it thoughtfully, +then at the switches connected with the other lights in the room. They +were, as usual, on the wall just within the door, and some way out of +his reach as he sat on the bed. He rose, and satisfied himself that the +lights were all in order. Then he turned on his heel, walked quickly +into Manderson's room, and rang the bell. + +'I want your help again, Martin,' he said, as the butler presented +himself, upright and impassive, in the doorway. 'I want you to prevail +upon Mrs. Manderson's maid to grant me an interview.' + +'Certainly, sir,' said Martin. + +'What sort of a woman is she? Has she her wits about her?' + +'She's French, sir,' replied Martin succinctly; adding after a pause: +'She has not been with us long, sir, but I have formed the impression +that the young woman knows as much of the world as is good for +her--since you ask me.' + +'You think butter might possibly melt in her mouth, do you?' said Trent. +'Well, I am not afraid. I want to put some questions to her.' + +'I will send her up immediately, sir.' The butler withdrew, and Trent +wandered round the little room with his hands at his back. Sooner than +he had expected, a small neat figure in black appeared quietly before +him. + +The lady's maid, with her large brown eyes, had taken favourable notice +of Trent from a window when he had crossed the lawn, and had been hoping +desperately that the resolver of mysteries (whose reputation was as +great below-stairs as elsewhere) would send for her. For one thing, +she felt the need to make a scene; her nerves were overwrought. But her +scenes were at a discount with the other domestics, and as for Mr. Murch, +he had chilled her into self-control with his official manner. Trent, +her glimpse of him had told her, had not the air of a policeman, and at +a distance he had appeared sympathique. + +As she entered the room, however, instinct decided for her that any +approach to coquetry would be a mistake, if she sought to make a good +impression at the beginning. It was with an air of amiable candour, +then, that she said, 'Monsieur desire to speak with me.' She added +helpfully, 'I am called Clestine.' + +'Naturally,' said Trent with businesslike calm. 'Now what I want you +to tell me, Clestine, is this. When you took tea to your mistress +yesterday morning at seven o'clock, was the door between the two +bedrooms--this door here--open?' + +Clestine became intensely animated in an instant. 'Oh yes!' she +said, using her favourite English idiom. 'The door was open as always, +monsieur, and I shut it as always. But it is necessary to explain. +Listen! When I enter the room of madame from the other door in +there--ah! but if monsieur will give himself the pain to enter the other +room, all explains itself.' She tripped across to the door, and urged +Trent before her into the larger bedroom with a hand on his arm. 'See! I +enter the room with the tea like this. I approach the bed. Before I come +quite near the bed, here is the door to my right hand--open always--so! +But monsieur can perceive that I see nothing in the room of Monsieur +Manderson. The door opens to the bed, not to me who approach from down +there. I shut it without seeing in. It is the order. Yesterday it was +as ordinary. I see nothing of the next room. Madame sleep like an +angel--she see nothing. I shut the door. I place the plateau--I open the +curtains--I prepare the toilette--I retire--voil!' Clestine paused for +breath and spread her hands abroad. + +Trent, who had followed her movements and gesticulations with deepening +gravity, nodded his head. 'I see exactly how it was now,' he said. +'Thank you, Clestine. So Mr. Manderson was supposed to be still in +his room while your mistress was getting up, and dressing, and having +breakfast in her boudoir?' + +'Oui, monsieur.' + +'Nobody missed him, in fact,' remarked Trent. 'Well, Clestine, I am +very much obliged to you.' He reopened the door to the outer bedroom. + +'It is nothing, monsieur,' said Clestine, as she crossed the small +room. 'I hope that monsieur will catch the assassin of Monsieur +Manderson. But I not regret him too much,' she added with sudden and +amazing violence, turning round with her hand on the knob of the outer +door. She set her teeth with an audible sound, and the colour rose in +her small dark face. English departed from her. 'Je ne le regrette pas +du tout, du tout!' she cried with a flood of words. 'Madame--ah! je me +jetterais au leu pour madame--une femme si charmante, si adorable! Mais +un homme comme monsieur--maussade, boudeur, impassible! Ah, non!--de +ma vie! J'en avais par-dessus la tte, de monsieur! Ah! vrai! Est-ce +insupportable, tout de mme, qu'il existe des types comme a? Je vous +jure que--' + +'Finissez ce chahut, Clestine!' Trent broke in sharply. Clestine's +tirade had brought back the memory of his student days with a rush. +'En voil une scne! C'est rasant, vous savez. Faut rentret a, +mademoiselle. Du reste, c'est bien imprudent, croyez-moi. Hang it! Have +some common sense! If the inspector downstairs heard you saying that +kind of thing, you would get into trouble. And don't wave your fists +about so much; you might hit something. You seem,' he went on more +pleasantly, as Clestine grew calmer under his authoritative eye, 'to be +even more glad than other people that Mr. Manderson is out of the way. I +could almost suspect, Clestine, that Mr. Manderson did not take as much +notice of you as you thought necessary and right.' + +'A peine s'il m'avait regard!' Clestine answered simply. + +'a, c'est un comble!' observed Trent. 'You are a nice young woman for a +small tea-party, I don't think. A star upon your birthday burned, +whose fierce, serene, red, pulseless planet never yearned in heaven, +Clestine. Mademoiselle, I am busy. Bon jour. You certainly are a +beauty!' + +Clestine took this as a scarcely expected compliment. The surprise +restored her balance. With a sudden flash of her eyes and teeth at +Trent over her shoulder, the lady's maid opened the door and swiftly +disappeared. + +Trent, left alone in the little bedroom, relieved his mind with two +forcible descriptive terms in Clestine's language, and turned to his +problem. He took the pair of shoes which he had already examined, and +placed them on one of the two chairs in the room, then seated himself +on the other opposite to this. With his hands in his pockets he sat +with eyes fixed upon those two dumb witnesses. Now and then he whistled, +almost inaudibly, a few bars. It was very still in the room. A subdued +twittering came from the trees through the open window. From time to +time a breeze rustled in the leaves of the thick creeper about the sill. +But the man in the room, his face grown hard and sombre now with his +thoughts, never moved. + +So he sat for the space of half an hour. Then he rose quickly to his +feet. He replaced the shoes on their shelf with care, and stepped out +upon the landing. + +Two bedroom doors faced him on the other side of the passage. He opened +that which was immediately opposite, and entered a bedroom by no means +austerely tidy. Some sticks and fishing-rods stood confusedly in one +corner, a pile of books in another. The housemaid's hand had failed to +give a look of order to the jumble of heterogeneous objects left on the +dressing-table and on the mantelshelf--pipes, penknives, pencils, keys, +golf-balls, old letters, photographs, small boxes, tins, and bottles. +Two fine etchings and some water-colour sketches hung on the walls; +leaning against the end of the wardrobe, unhung, were a few framed +engravings. A row of shoes and boots was ranged beneath the window. +Trent crossed the room and studied them intently; then he measured some +of them with his tape, whistling very softly. This done, he sat on the +side of the bed, and his eyes roamed gloomily about the room. + +The photographs on the mantelshelf attracted him presently. He rose and +examined one representing Marlowe and Manderson on horseback. Two others +were views of famous peaks in the Alps. There was a faded print of three +youths--one of them unmistakably his acquaintance of the haggard blue +eyes--clothed in tatterdemalion soldier's gear of the sixteenth century. +Another was a portrait of a majestic old lady, slightly resembling +Marlowe. Trent, mechanically taking a cigarette from an open box on the +mantel-shelf, lit it and stared at the photographs. Next he turned his +attention to a flat leathern case that lay by the cigarette-box. + +It opened easily. A small and light revolver, of beautiful workmanship, +was disclosed, with a score or so of loose cartridges. On the stock were +engraved the initials 'J. M.' + +A step was heard on the stairs, and as Trent opened the breech and +peered into the barrel of the weapon, Inspector Murch appeared at the +open door of the room. 'I was wondering--' he began; then stopped as +he saw what the other was about. His intelligent eyes opened slightly. +'Whose is the revolver, Mr. Trent?' he asked in a conversational tone. + +'Evidently it belongs to the occupant of the room, Mr. Marlowe,' replied +Trent with similar lightness, pointing to the initials. 'I found this +lying about on the mantelpiece. It seems a handy little pistol to me, +and it has been very carefully cleaned, I should say, since the last +time it was used. But I know little about firearms.' + +'Well, I know a good deal,' rejoined the inspector quietly, taking the +revolver from Trent's outstretched hand. 'It's a bit of a speciality +with me, is firearms, as I think you know, Mr. Trent. But it don't +require an expert to tell one thing.' He replaced the revolver in its +case on the mantel-shelf, took out one of the cartridges, and laid it +on the spacious palm of one hand; then, taking a small object from +his waistcoat pocket, he laid it beside the cartridge. It was a little +leaden bullet, slightly battered about the nose, and having upon it some +bright new scratches. + +'Is that the one?' Trent murmured as he bent over the inspector's hand. + +'That's him,' replied Mr. Murch. 'Lodged in the bone at the back of the +skull. Dr Stock got it out within the last hour, and handed it to the +local officer, who has just sent it on to me. These bright scratches you +see were made by the doctor's instruments. These other marks were made +by the rifling of the barrel--a barrel like this one.' He tapped the +revolver. 'Same make, same calibre. There is no other that marks the +bullet just like this.' + +With the pistol in its case between them, Trent and the inspector looked +into each other's eyes for some moments. Trent was the first to speak. +'This mystery is all wrong,' he observed. 'It is insanity. The symptoms +of mania are very marked. Let us see how we stand. We were not in any +doubt, I believe, about Manderson having dispatched Marlowe in the car +to Southampton, or about Marlowe having gone, returning late last night, +many hours after the murder was committed.' + +'There is no doubt whatever about all that,' said Mr. Murch, with a +slight emphasis on the verb. + +'And now,' pursued Trent, 'we are invited by this polished and +insinuating firearm to believe the following line of propositions: that +Marlowe never went to Southampton; that he returned to the house in the +night; that he somehow, without waking Mrs. Manderson or anybody else, +got Manderson to get up, dress himself, and go out into the grounds; +that he then and there shot the said Manderson with his incriminating +pistol; that he carefully cleaned the said pistol, returned to the house +and, again without disturbing any one, replaced it in its case in a +favourable position to be found by the officers of the law; that he then +withdrew and spent the rest of the day in hiding--with a large motor +car; and that he turned up, feigning ignorance of the whole affair, +at--what time was it?' + +'A little after 9 p.m.' The inspector still stared moodily at Trent. 'As +you say, Mr. Trent, that is the first theory suggested by this find, and +it seems wild enough--at least it would do if it didn't fall to pieces +at the very start. When the murder was done Marlowe must have been fifty +to a hundred miles away. He did go to Southampton.' + +'How do you know?' + +'I questioned him last night, and took down his story. He arrived in +Southampton about 6.30 on the Monday morning.' + +'Come off' exclaimed Trent bitterly. 'What do I care about his story? +What do you care about his story? I want to know how you know he went to +Southampton.' + +Mr. Murch chuckled. 'I thought I should take a rise out of you, Mr +Trent,' he said. 'Well, there's no harm in telling you. After I arrived +yesterday evening, as soon as I had got the outlines of the story from +Mrs. Manderson and the servants, the first thing I did was to go to the +telegraph office and wire to our people in Southampton. Manderson had +told his wife when he went to bed that he had changed his mind, and sent +Marlowe to Southampton to get some important information from some one +who was crossing by the next day's boat. It seemed right enough, but, +you see, Marlowe was the only one of the household who wasn't under +my hand, so to speak. He didn't return in the car until later in the +evening; so before thinking the matter out any further, I wired to +Southampton making certain enquiries. Early this morning I got this +reply.' He handed a series of telegraph slips to Trent, who read: + +PERSON ANSWERING DESCRIPTION IN MOTOR ANSWERING DESCRIPTION ARRIVED +BEDFORD HOTEL HERE 6.30 THIS MORNING GAVE NAME MARLOWE LEFT CAR HOTEL +GARAGE TOLD ATTENDANT CAR BELONGED MANDERSON HAD BATH AND BREAKFAST WENT +OUT HEARD OF LATER AT DOCKS ENQUIRING FOR PASSENGER NAME HARRIS ON HAVRE +BOAT ENQUIRED REPEATEDLY UNTIL BOAT LEFT AT NOON NEXT HEARD OF AT HOTEL +WHERE HE LUNCHED ABOUT 1.15 LEFT SOON AFTERWARDS IN CAR COMPANY'S AGENTS +INFORM BERTH WAS BOOKED NAME HARRIS LAST WEEK BUT HARRIS DID NOT TRAVEL +BY BOAT BURKE INSPECTOR. + +'Simple and satisfactory,' observed Mr. Murch as Trent, after twice +reading the message, returned it to him. 'His own story corroborated in +every particular. He told me he hung about the dock for half an hour or +so on the chance of Harris turning up late, then strolled back, lunched, +and decided to return at once. He sent a wire to Manderson--"Harris not +turned up missed boat returning Marlowe," which was duly delivered here +in the afternoon, and placed among the dead man's letters. He motored +back at a good rate, and arrived dog-tired. When he heard of Manderson's +death from Martin, he nearly fainted. What with that and the being +without sleep for so long, he was rather a wreck when I came to +interview him last night; but he was perfectly coherent.' + +Trent picked up the revolver and twirled the cylinder idly for a few +moments. 'It was unlucky for Manderson that Marlowe left his pistol and +cartridges about so carelessly,' he remarked at length, as he put it +back in the case. 'It was throwing temptation in somebody's way, don't +you think?' + +Mr. Murch shook his head. 'There isn't really much to lay hold of about +the revolver, when you come to think. That particular make of revolver +is common enough in England. It was introduced from the States. Half +the people who buy a revolver today for self-defence or mischief provide +themselves with that make, of that calibre. It is very reliable, and +easily carried in the hip-pocket. There must be thousands of them in +the possession of crooks and honest men. For instance,' continued the +inspector with an air of unconcern, 'Manderson himself had one, the +double of this. I found it in one of the top drawers of the desk +downstairs, and it's in my overcoat pocket now.' + +'Aha! so you were going to keep that little detail to yourself.' + +'I was,' said the inspector; 'but as you've found one revolver, you may +as well know about the other. As I say, neither of them may do us any +good. The people in the house--' + +Both men started, and the inspector checked his speech abruptly, as the +half-closed door of the bedroom was slowly pushed open, and a man stood +in the doorway. His eyes turned from the pistol in its open case to the +faces of Trent and the inspector. They, who had not heard a sound to +herald this entrance, simultaneously looked at his long, narrow feet. He +wore rubber-soled tennis shoes. + +'You must be Mr. Bunner,' said Trent. + + + + +CHAPTER VI: Mr. Bunner on the Case + +'Calvin C. Bunner, at your service,' amended the newcomer, with a touch +of punctilio, as he removed an unlighted cigar from his mouth. He was +used to finding Englishmen slow and ceremonious with strangers, and +Trent's quick remark plainly disconcerted him a little. 'You are Mr +Trent, I expect,' he went on. 'Mrs. Manderson was telling me a while ago. +Captain, good-morning.' Mr. Murch acknowledged the outlandish greeting +with a nod. 'I was coming up to my room, and I heard a strange voice in +here, so I thought I would take a look in.' Mr. Bunner laughed easily. +'You thought I might have been eavesdropping, perhaps,' he said. 'No, +sir; I heard a word or two about a pistol--this one, I guess--and that's +all.' + +Mr. Bunner was a thin, rather short young man with a shaven, pale, bony, +almost girlish face, and large, dark, intelligent eyes. His waving dark +hair was parted in the middle. His lips, usually occupied with a cigar, +in its absence were always half open with a curious expression as of +permanent eagerness. By smoking or chewing a cigar this expression was +banished, and Mr. Bunner then looked the consummately cool and sagacious +Yankee that he was. + +Born in Connecticut, he had gone into a broker's office on leaving +college, and had attracted the notice of Manderson, whose business with +his firm he had often handled. The Colossus had watched him for some +time, and at length offered him the post of private secretary. Mr. Bunner +was a pattern business man, trustworthy, long-headed, methodical, and +accurate. Manderson could have found many men with those virtues; but he +engaged Mr. Bunner because he was also swift and secret, and had besides +a singular natural instinct in regard to the movements of the stock +market. + +Trent and the American measured one another coolly with their eyes. Both +appeared satisfied with what they saw. 'I was having it explained to +me,' said Trent pleasantly, 'that my discovery of a pistol that might +have shot Manderson does not amount to very much. I am told it is a +favourite weapon among your people, and has become quite popular over +here.' + +Mr. Bunner stretched out a bony hand and took the pistol from its case. +'Yes, sir,' he said, handling it with an air of familiarity; 'the +captain is right. This is what we call out home a Little Arthur, and I +dare say there are duplicates of it in a hundred thousand hip-pockets +this minute. I consider it too light in the hand myself,' Mr. Bunner went +on, mechanically feeling under the tail of his jacket, and producing an +ugly looking weapon. 'Feel of that, now, Mr. Trent--it's loaded, by the +way. Now this Little Arthur--Marlowe bought it just before we came over +this year to please the old man. Manderson said it was ridiculous for a +man to be without a pistol in the twentieth century. So he went out and +bought what they offered him, I guess--never consulted me. Not but +what it's a good gun,' Mr. Bunner conceded, squinting along the sights. +'Marlowe was poor with it at first, but I've coached him some in the +last month or so, and he's practised until he is pretty good. But he +never could get the habit of carrying it around. Why, it's as natural to +me as wearing my pants. I have carried one for some years now, because +there was always likely to be somebody laying for Manderson. And now,' +Mr. Bunner concluded sadly, 'they got him when I wasn't around. Well, +gentlemen, you must excuse me. I am going into Bishopsbridge. There is +a lot to do these days, and I have to send off a bunch of cables big +enough to choke a cow.' + +'I must be off too,' said Trent. 'I have an appointment at the "Three +Tuns" inn.' + +Let me give you a lift in the automobile,' said Mr. Bunner cordially. 'I +go right by that joint. Say, cap., are you coming my way too? No? Then +come along, Mr. Trent, and help me get out the car. The chauffeur is out +of action, and we have to do 'most everything ourselves except clean the +dirt off her.' + +Still tirelessly talking in his measured drawl, Mr. Bunner led Trent +downstairs and through the house to the garage at the back. It stood at +a little distance from the house, and made a cool retreat from the blaze +of the midday sun. + +Mr. Bunner seemed to be in no hurry to get out the car. He offered Trent +a cigar, which was accepted, and for the first time lit his own. Then +he seated himself on the footboard of the car, his thin hands clasped +between his knees, and looked keenly at the other. + +'See here, Mr. Trent,' he said, after a few moments. 'There are some +things I can tell you that may be useful to you. I know your record. You +are a smart man, and I like dealing with smart men. I don't know if I +have that detective sized up right, but he strikes me as a mutt. I would +answer any questions he had the gumption to ask me--I have done so, +in fact--but I don't feel encouraged to give him any notions of mine +without his asking. See?' + +Trent nodded. 'That is a feeling many people have in the presence of our +police,' he said. 'It's the official manner, I suppose. But let me tell +you, Murch is anything but what you think. He is one of the shrewdest +officers in Europe. He is not very quick with his mind, but he is very +sure. And his experience is immense. My forte is imagination, but I +assure you in police work experience outweighs it by a great deal.' + +'Outweigh nothing!' replied Mr. Bunner crisply. 'This is no ordinary +case, Mr. Trent. I will tell you one reason why. I believe the old man +knew there was something coming to him. Another thing: I believe it was +something he thought he couldn't dodge.' + +Trent pulled a crate opposite to Mr. Bunner's place on the footboard +and seated himself. 'This sounds like business,' he said. 'Tell me your +ideas.' + +'I say what I do because of the change in the old man's manner this last +few weeks. I dare say you have heard, Mr. Trent, that he was a man who +always kept himself well in hand. That was so. I have always considered +him the coolest and hardest head in business. That man's calm was just +deadly--I never saw anything to beat it. And I knew Manderson as nobody +else did. I was with him in the work he really lived for. I guess I knew +him a heap better than his wife did, poor woman. I knew him better than +Marlowe could--he never saw Manderson in his office when there was a big +thing on. I knew him better than any of his friends.' + +'Had he any friends?' interjected Trent. + +Mr. Bunner glanced at him sharply. 'Somebody has been putting you next, I +see that,' he remarked. 'No: properly speaking, I should say not. He +had many acquaintances among the big men, people he saw, most every day; +they would even go yachting or hunting together. But I don't believe +there ever was a man that Manderson opened a corner of his heart to. But +what I was going to say was this. Some months ago the old man began to +get like I never knew him before--gloomy and sullen, just as if he was +everlastingly brooding over something bad, something that he couldn't +fix. This went on without any break; it was the same down town as it +was up home, he acted just as if there was something lying heavy on his +mind. But it wasn't until a few weeks back that his self-restraint began +to go; and let me tell you this, Mr. Trent'--the American laid his bony +claw on the other's knee--'I'm the only man that knows it. With every +one else he would be just morose and dull; but when he was alone with +me in his office, or anywhere where we would be working together, if the +least little thing went wrong, by George! he would fly off the handle to +beat the Dutch. In this library here I have seen him open a letter with +something that didn't just suit him in it, and he would rip around and +carry on like an Indian, saying he wished he had the man that wrote +it here, he wouldn't do a thing to him, and so on, till it was just +pitiful. I never saw such a change. And here's another thing. For a week +before he died Manderson neglected his work, for the first time in my +experience. He wouldn't answer a letter or a cable, though things looked +like going all to pieces over there. I supposed that this anxiety of +his, whatever it was, had got on to his nerves till they were worn out. +Once I advised him to see a doctor, and he told me to go to hell. But +nobody saw this side of him but me. If he was having one of these rages +in the library here, for example, and Mrs. Manderson would come into the +room, he would be all calm and cold again in an instant.' + +'And you put this down to some secret anxiety, a fear that somebody had +designs on his life?' asked Trent. + +The American nodded. + +'I suppose,' Trent resumed, 'you had considered the idea of there being +something wrong with his mind--a break-down from overstrain, say. That +is the first thought that your account suggests to me. Besides, it is +what is always happening to your big business men in America, isn't it? +That is the impression one gets from the newspapers.' + +'Don't let them slip you any of that bunk,' said Mr. Bunner earnestly. +'It's only the ones who have got rich too quick, and can't make good, +who go crazy. Think of all our really big men--the men anywhere near +Manderson's size: did you ever hear of any one of them losing his +senses? They don't do it--believe me. I know they say every man has +his loco point,' Mr. Bunner added reflectively, 'but that doesn't mean +genuine, sure-enough craziness; it just means some personal eccentricity +in a man ... like hating cats ... or my own weakness of not being able to +touch any kind of fish-food.' + +'Well, what was Manderson's?' + +'He was full of them--the old man. There was his objection to all the +unnecessary fuss and luxury that wealthy people don't kick at much, as +a general rule. He didn't have any use for expensive trifles and +ornaments. He wouldn't have anybody do little things for him; he +hated to have servants tag around after him unless he wanted them. And +although Manderson was as careful about his clothes as any man I ever +knew, and his shoes--well, sir, the amount of money he spent on shoes +was sinful--in spite of that, I tell you, he never had a valet. He never +liked to have anybody touch him. All his life nobody ever shaved him.' + +'I've heard something of that,' Trent remarked. 'Why was it, do you +think?' + +'Well,' Mr. Bunner answered slowly, 'it was the Manderson habit of mind, +I guess; a sort of temper of general suspicion and jealousy. + +'They say his father and grandfather were just the same.... Like a dog +with a bone, you know, acting as if all the rest of creation was laying +for a chance to steal it. He didn't really think the barber would start +in to saw his head off; he just felt there was a possibility that he +might, and he was taking no risks. Then again in business he was always +convinced that somebody else was after his bone--which was true enough a +good deal of the time; but not all the time. The consequence of that was +that the old man was the most cautious and secret worker in the world +of finance; and that had a lot to do with his success, too.... But that +doesn't amount to being a lunatic, Mr. Trent; not by a long way. You ask +me if Manderson was losing his mind before he died. I say I believe +he was just worn out with worrying over something, and was losing his +nerve.' + +Trent smoked thoughtfully. He wondered how much Mr. Bunner knew of the +domestic difficulty in his chief's household, and decided to put out a +feeler. 'I understood that he had trouble with his wife.' + +'Sure,' replied Mr. Bunner. 'But do you suppose a thing like that was +going to upset Sig Manderson that way? No, sir! He was a sight too big a +man to be all broken up by any worry of that kind.' + +Trent looked half-incredulously into the eyes of the young man. But +behind all their shrewdness and intensity he saw a massive innocence. Mr +Bunner really believed a serious breach between husband and wife to be a +minor source of trouble for a big man. + +'What was the trouble between them, anyhow?' Trent enquired. + +'You can search me,' Mr. Bunner replied briefly. He puffed at his cigar. +'Marlowe and I have often talked about it, and we could never make out +a solution. I had a notion at first,' said Mr. Bunner in a lower voice, +leaning forward, 'that the old man was disappointed and vexed because +he had expected a child; but Marlowe told me that the disappointment +on that score was the other way around, likely as not. His idea was all +right, I guess; he gathered it from something said by Mrs. Manderson's +French maid.' + +Trent looked up at him quickly. 'Clestine!' he said; and his thought +was, 'So that was what she was getting at!' + +Mr. Bunner misunderstood his glance. 'Don't you think I'm giving a man +away, Mr. Trent,' he said. 'Marlowe isn't that kind. Clestine just took +a fancy to him because he talks French like a native, and she would +always be holding him up for a gossip. French servants are quite unlike +English that way. And servant or no servant,' added Mr. Bunner with +emphasis, 'I don't see how a woman could mention such a subject to a +man. But the French beat me.' He shook his head slowly. + +'But to come back to what you were telling me just now,' Trent said. +'You believe that Manderson was going in terror of his life for some +time. Who should threaten it? I am quite in the dark.' + +'Terror--I don't know,' replied Mr. Bunner meditatively. 'Anxiety, if you +like. Or suspense--that's rather my idea of it. The old man was hard +to terrify, anyway; and more than that, he wasn't taking any +precautions--he was actually avoiding them. It looked more like he was +asking for a quick finish--supposing there's any truth in my idea. Why, +he would sit in that library window, nights, looking out into the dark, +with his white shirt just a target for anybody's gun. As for who should +threaten his life well, sir,' said Mr. Bunner with a faint smile, 'it's +certain you have not lived in the States. To take the Pennsylvania coal +hold-up alone, there were thirty thousand men, with women and children +to keep, who would have jumped at the chance of drilling a hole through +the man who fixed it so that they must starve or give in to his terms. +Thirty thousand of the toughest aliens in the country, Mr. Trent. There's +a type of desperado you find in that kind of push who has been known to +lay for a man for years, and kill him when he had forgotten what he did. +They have been known to dynamite a man in Idaho who had done them dirt +in New Jersey ten years before. Do you suppose the Atlantic is going to +stop them?... It takes some sand, I tell you, to be a big business man +in our country. No, sir: the old man knew--had always known--that there +was a whole crowd of dangerous men scattered up and down the States who +had it in for him. My belief is that he had somehow got to know that +some of them were definitely after him at last. What licks me altogether +is why he should have just laid himself open to them the way he did--why +he never tried to dodge, but walked right down into the garden yesterday +morning to be shot at.' + +Mr. Bunner ceased to speak, and for a little while both men sat with +wrinkled brows, faint blue vapours rising from their cigars. Then Trent +rose. 'Your theory is quite fresh to me,' he said. 'It's perfectly +rational, and it's only a question of whether it fits all the facts. I +mustn't give away what I'm doing for my newspaper, Mr. Bunner, but I will +say this: I have already satisfied myself that this was a premeditated +crime, and an extraordinarily cunning one at that. I'm deeply obliged to +you. We must talk it over again.' He looked at his watch. 'I have been +expected for some time by my friend. Shall we make a move?' + +'Two o'clock,' said Mr. Bunner, consulting his own, as he got up from +the foot-board. 'Ten a.m. in little old New York. You don't know Wall +Street, Mr. Trent. Let's you and I hope we never see anything nearer hell +than what's loose in the Street this minute.' + + + + +CHAPTER VII: The Lady in Black + +The sea broke raging upon the foot of the cliff under a good breeze; +the sun flooded the land with life from a dappled blue sky. In this +perfection of English weather Trent, who had slept ill, went down before +eight o'clock to a pool among the rocks, the direction of which had been +given him, and dived deep into clear water. Between vast grey boulders +he swam out to the tossing open, forced himself some little way against +a coast-wise current, and then returned to his refuge battered and +refreshed. Ten minutes later he was scaling the cliff again, and his +mind, cleared for the moment of a heavy disgust for the affair he had in +hand, was turning over his plans for the morning. + +It was the day of the inquest, the day after his arrival in the place. +He had carried matters not much further after parting with the American +on the road to Bishopsbridge. In the afternoon he had walked from the +inn into the town, accompanied by Mr. Cupples, and had there made certain +purchases at a chemist's shop, conferred privately for some time with a +photographer, sent off a reply-paid telegram, and made an enquiry at the +telephone exchange. He had said but little about the case to Mr. Cupples, +who seemed incurious on his side, and nothing at all about the results +of his investigation or the steps he was about to take. After their +return from Bishopsbridge, Trent had written a long dispatch for the +Record and sent it to be telegraphed by the proud hands of the paper's +local representative. He had afterwards dined with Mr. Cupples, and had +spent the rest of the evening in meditative solitude on the veranda. + +This morning as he scaled the cliff he told himself that he had never +taken up a case he liked so little, or which absorbed him so much. The +more he contemplated it in the golden sunshine of this new day, the more +evil and the more challenging it appeared. All that he suspected and +all that he almost knew had occupied his questing brain for hours to the +exclusion of sleep; and in this glorious light and air, though washed +in body and spirit by the fierce purity of the sea, he only saw the more +clearly the darkness of the guilt in which he believed, and was more +bitterly repelled by the motive at which he guessed. But now at least +his zeal was awake again, and the sense of the hunt quickened. He would +neither slacken nor spare; here need be no compunction. In the course of +the day, he hoped, his net would be complete. He had work to do in the +morning; and with very vivid expectancy, though not much serious hope, +he awaited the answer to the telegram which he had shot into the sky, as +it were, the day before. + +The path back to the hotel wound for some way along the top of the +cliff, and on nearing a spot he had marked from the sea level, where the +face had fallen away long ago, he approached the edge and looked down, +hoping to follow with his eyes the most delicately beautiful of all the +movements of water--the wash of a light sea over broken rock. But no +rock was there. A few feet below him a broad ledge stood out, a rough +platform as large as a great room, thickly grown with wiry grass and +walled in steeply on three sides. There, close to the verge where the +cliff at last dropped sheer, a woman was sitting, her arms about her +drawn-up knees, her eyes fixed on the trailing smoke of a distant liner, +her face full of some dream. + +This woman seemed to Trent, whose training had taught him to live in his +eyes, to make the most beautiful picture he had ever seen. Her face +of southern pallor, touched by the kiss of the wind with colour on the +cheek, presented to him a profile of delicate regularity in which there +was nothing hard; nevertheless the black brows bending down toward the +point where they almost met gave her in repose a look of something like +severity, strangely redeemed by the open curves of the mouth. Trent said +to himself that the absurdity or otherwise of a lover writing sonnets to +his mistress's eyebrow depended after all on the quality of the eyebrow. +Her nose was of the straight and fine sort, exquisitely escaping the +perdition of too much length, which makes a conscientious mind ashamed +that it cannot help, on occasion, admiring the tip-tilted. Her hat lay +pinned to the grass beside her, and the lively breeze played with her +thick dark hair, blowing backward the two broad bandeaux that should +have covered much of her forehead, and agitating a hundred tiny curls +from the mass gathered at her nape. Everything about this lady was +black, from her shoes of suede to the hat that she had discarded; +lustreless black covered her to her bare throat. All she wore was fine +and well put on. Dreamy and delicate of spirit as her looks declared +her, it was very plain that she was long-practised as only a woman grown +can be in dressing well, the oldest of the arts, and had her touch of +primal joy in the excellence of the body that was so admirably curved +now in the attitude of embraced knees. With the suggestion of French +taste in her clothes, she made a very modern figure seated there, until +one looked at her face and saw the glow and triumph of all vigorous +beings that ever faced sun and wind and sea together in the prime of +the year. One saw, too, a womanhood so unmixed and vigorous, so +unconsciously sure of itself, as scarcely to be English, still less +American. + +Trent, who had halted only for a moment in the surprise of seeing the +woman in black, had passed by on the cliff above her, perceiving and +feeling as he went the things set down. At all times his keen vision and +active brain took in and tasted details with an easy swiftness that was +marvellous to men of slower chemistry; the need to stare, he held, +was evidence of blindness. Now the feeling of beauty was awakened +and exultant, and doubled the power of his sense. In these instants a +picture was printed on his memory that would never pass away. + +As he went by unheard on the turf the woman, still alone with her +thoughts, suddenly moved. She unclasped her long hands from about her +knees, stretched her limbs and body with feline grace, then slowly +raised her head and extended her arms with open, curving fingers, as if +to gather to her all the glory and overwhelming sanity of the morning. +This was a gesture not to be mistaken: it was a gesture of freedom, +the movement of a soul's resolution to be, to possess, to go forward, +perhaps to enjoy. + +So he saw her for an instant as he passed, and he did not turn. He knew +suddenly who the woman must be, and it was as if a curtain of gloom were +drawn between him and the splendour of the day. + +*** + +During breakfast at the hotel Mr. Cupples found Trent little inclined to +talk. He excused himself on the plea of a restless night. Mr. Cupples, on +the other hand, was in a state of bird-like alertness. The prospect +of the inquest seemed to enliven him. He entertained Trent with a +disquisition upon the history of that most ancient and once busy +tribunal, the coroner's court, and remarked upon the enviable freedom +of its procedure from the shackles of rule and precedent. From this he +passed to the case that was to come before it that morning. + +'Young Bunner mentioned to me last night,' he said, 'when I went up +there after dinner, the hypothesis which he puts forward in regard +to the crime. A very remarkable young man, Trent. His meaning is +occasionally obscure, but in my opinion he is gifted with a clearheaded +knowledge of the world quite unusual in one of his apparent age. Indeed, +his promotion by Manderson to the position of his principal lieutenant +speaks for itself. He seems to have assumed with perfect confidence the +control at this end of the wire, as he expresses it, of the complicated +business situation caused by the death of his principal, and he has +advised very wisely as to the steps I should take on Mabel's behalf, +and the best course for her to pursue until effect has been given to +the provisions of the will. I was accordingly less disposed than I might +otherwise have been to regard his suggestion of an industrial vendetta +as far-fetched. When I questioned him he was able to describe a +number of cases in which attacks of one sort or another--too often +successful--had been made upon the lives of persons who had incurred the +hostility of powerful labour organizations. This is a terrible time in +which we live, my dear boy. There is none recorded in history, I +think, in which the disproportion between the material and the moral +constituents of society has been so great or so menacing to the +permanence of the fabric. But nowhere, in my judgement, is the prospect +so dark as it is in the United States.' + +'I thought,' said Trent listlessly, 'that Puritanism was about as strong +there as the money-getting craze.' + +'Your remark,' answered Mr. Cupples, with as near an approach to humour +as was possible to him, 'is not in the nature of a testimonial to what +you call Puritanism--a convenient rather than an accurate term; for I +need not remind you that it was invented to describe an Anglican party +which aimed at the purging of the services and ritual of their Church +from certain elements repugnant to them. The sense of your observation, +however, is none the less sound, and its truth is extremely well +illustrated by the case of Manderson himself, who had, I believe, the +virtues of purity, abstinence, and self-restraint in their strongest +form. No, Trent, there are other and more worthy things among the moral +constituents of which I spoke; and in our finite nature, the more +we preoccupy ourselves with the bewildering complexity of external +apparatus which science places in our hands, the less vigour have we +left for the development of the holier purposes of humanity within us. +Agricultural machinery has abolished the festival of the Harvest Home. +Mechanical travel has abolished the inn, or all that was best in it. I +need not multiply instances. The view I am expressing to you,' pursued +Mr. Cupples, placidly buttering a piece of toast, 'is regarded as +fundamentally erroneous by many of those who think generally as I +do about the deeper concerns of life, but I am nevertheless firmly +persuaded of its truth.' + +'It needs epigrammatic expression,' said Trent, rising from the table. +'If only it could be crystallized into some handy formula, like "No +Popery", or "Tax the Foreigner", you would find multitudes to go to the +stake for it. But you were planning to go to White Gables before the +inquest, I think. You ought to be off if you are to get back to the +court in time. I have something to attend to there myself, so we might +walk up together. I will just go and get my camera.' + +'By all means,' Mr. Cupples answered; and they set off at once in the +ever-growing warmth of the morning. The roof of White Gables, a surly +patch of dull red against the dark trees, seemed to harmonize with +Trent's mood; he felt heavy, sinister, and troubled. If a blow must fall +that might strike down that creature radiant of beauty and life whom +he had seen that morning, he did not wish it to come from his hand. An +exaggerated chivalry had lived in Trent since the first teachings of his +mother; but at this moment the horror of bruising anything so lovely was +almost as much the artist's revulsion as the gentleman's. On the other +hand, was the hunt to end in nothing? The quality of the affair was such +that the thought of forbearance was an agony. There never was such a +case; and he alone, he was confident, held the truth of it under his +hand. At least, he determined, that day should show whether what he +believed was a delusion. He would trample his compunction underfoot +until he was quite sure that there was any call for it. That same +morning he would know. + +As they entered at the gate of the drive they saw Marlowe and the +American standing in talk before the front door. In the shadow of the +porch was the lady in black. + +She saw them, and came gravely forward over the lawn, moving as Trent +had known that she would move, erect and balanced, stepping lightly. +When she welcomed him on Mr. Cupples's presentation her eyes of +golden-flecked brown observed him kindly. In her pale composure, worn as +the mask of distress, there was no trace of the emotion that had +seemed a halo about her head on the ledge of the cliff. She spoke the +appropriate commonplace in a low and even voice. After a few words to Mr +Cupples she turned her eyes on Trent again. + +'I hope you will succeed,' she said earnestly. 'Do you think you will +succeed?' + +He made his mind up as the words left her lips. He said, 'I believe I +shall do so, Mrs. Manderson. When I have the case sufficiently complete +I shall ask you to let me see you and tell you about it. It may be +necessary to consult you before the facts are published.' + +She looked puzzled, and distress showed for an instant in her eyes. 'If +it is necessary, of course you shall do so,' she said. + +On the brink of his next speech Trent hesitated. He remembered that +the lady had not wished to repeat to him the story already given to the +inspector--or to be questioned at all. He was not unconscious that he +desired to hear her voice and watch her face a little longer, if it +might be; but the matter he had to mention really troubled his mind, +it was a queer thing that fitted nowhere into the pattern within whose +corners he had by this time brought the other queer things in the case. +It was very possible that she could explain it away in a breath; it was +unlikely that any one else could. He summoned his resolution. + +'You have been so kind,' he said, 'in allowing me access to the house +and every opportunity of studying the case, that I am going to ask leave +to put a question or two to yourself--nothing that you would rather not +answer, I think. May I?' + +She glanced at him wearily. 'It would be stupid of me to refuse, Ask +your questions, Mr. Trent.' 'It's only this,' said Trent hurriedly. 'We +know that your husband lately drew an unusually large sum of ready money +from his London bankers, and was keeping it here. It is here now, in +fact. Have you any idea why he should have done that?' + +She opened her eyes in astonishment. 'I cannot imagine,' she said. 'I +did not know he had done so. I am very much surprised to hear it.' + +'Why is it surprising?' + +'I thought my husband had very little money in the house. On Sunday +night, just before he went out in the motor, he came into the +drawing-room where I was sitting. He seemed to be irritated about +something, and asked me at once if I had any notes or gold I could let +him have until next day. I was surprised at that, because he was never +without money; he made it a rule to carry a hundred pounds or so about +him always in a note-case. I unlocked my escritoire, and gave him all I +had by me. It was nearly thirty pounds.' + +'And he did not tell you why he wanted it?' + +'No. He put it in his pocket, and then said that Mr. Marlowe had +persuaded him to go for a run in the motor by moonlight, and he thought +it might help him to sleep. He had been sleeping badly, as perhaps you +know. Then he went off with Mr. Marlowe. I thought it odd he should need +money on Sunday night, but I soon forgot about it. I never remembered it +again until now.' + +'It was curious, certainly,' said Trent, staring into the distance. Mr +Cupples began to speak to his niece of the arrangements for the inquest, +and Trent moved away to where Marlowe was pacing slowly upon the lawn. +The young man seemed relieved to talk about the coming business of the +day. Though he still seemed tired out and nervous, he showed himself not +without a quiet humour in describing the pomposities of the local police +and the portentous airs of Dr Stock. Trent turned the conversation +gradually toward the problem of the crime, and all Marlowe's gravity +returned. + +'Bunner has told me what he thinks,' he said when Trent referred to +the American's theory. 'I don't find myself convinced by it, because it +doesn't really explain some of the oddest facts. But I have lived long +enough in the United States to know that such a stroke of revenge, done +in a secret, melodramatic way, is not an unlikely thing. It is quite a +characteristic feature of certain sections of the labour movement there. +Americans have a taste and a talent for that sort of business. Do you +know Huckleberry Finn?' + +'Do I know my own name?' exclaimed Trent. + +'Well, I think the most American thing in that great American epic is +Tom Sawyer's elaboration of an extremely difficult and romantic scheme, +taking days to carry out, for securing the escape of the nigger Jim, +which could have been managed quite easily in twenty minutes. You know +how fond they are of lodges and brotherhoods. Every college club has its +secret signs and handgrips. You've heard of the Know-Nothing movement in +politics, I dare say, and the Ku Klux Klan. Then look at Brigham Young's +penny-dreadful tyranny in Utah, with real blood. The founders of the +Mormon State were of the purest Yankee stock in America; and you know +what they did. It's all part of the same mental tendency. Americans make +fun of it among themselves. For my part, I take it very seriously.' + +'It can have a very hideous side to it, certainly,' said Trent, 'when +you get it in connection with crime--or with vice--or even mere luxury. +But I have a sort of sneaking respect for the determination to make life +interesting and lively in spite of civilization. To return to the matter +in hand, however; has it struck you as a possibility that Manderson's +mind was affected to some extent by this menace that Bunner believes in? +For instance, it was rather an extraordinary thing to send you posting +off like that in the middle of the night.' + +'About ten o'clock, to be exact,' replied Marlowe. 'Though, mind you, if +he'd actually roused me out of my bed at midnight I shouldn't have been +very much surprised. It all chimes in with what we've just been saying. +Manderson had a strong streak of the national taste for dramatic +proceedings. He was rather fond of his well-earned reputation for +unexpected strokes and for going for his object with ruthless directness +through every opposing consideration. He had decided suddenly that he +wanted to have word from this man Harris--' + +'Who is Harris?' interjected Trent. + +'Nobody knows. Even Bunner never heard of him, and can't imagine what +the business in hand was. All I know is that when I went up to London +last week to attend to various things I booked a deck-cabin, at +Manderson's request, for a Mr. George Harris on the boat that sailed +on Monday. It seems that Manderson suddenly found he wanted news from +Harris which presumably was of a character too secret for the telegraph; +and there was no train that served; so I was sent off as you know.' + +Trent looked round to make sure that they were not overheard, then faced +the other gravely, 'There is one thing I may tell you,' he said quietly, +'that I don't think you know. Martin the butler caught a few words at +the end of your conversation with Manderson in the orchard before you +started with him in the car. He heard him say, "If Harris is there, +every moment is of importance." Now, Mr. Marlowe, you know my business +here. I am sent to make enquiries, and you mustn't take offence. I want +to ask you if, in the face of that sentence, you will repeat that you +know nothing of what the business was.' + +Marlowe shook his head. 'I know nothing, indeed. I'm not easily +offended, and your question is quite fair. What passed during that +conversation I have already told the detective. Manderson plainly said +to me that he could not tell me what it was all about. He simply wanted +me to find Harris, tell him that he desired to know how matters stood, +and bring back a letter or message from him. Harris, I was further told, +might not turn up. If he did, "every moment was of importance". And now +you know as much as I do.' + +'That talk took place before he told his wife that you were taking +him for a moonlight run. Why did he conceal your errand in that way, I +wonder.' + +The young man made a gesture of helplessness. 'Why? I can guess no +better than you.' + +'Why,' muttered Trent as if to himself, gazing on the ground, 'did he +conceal it--from Mrs. Manderson?' He looked up at Marlowe. + +'And from Martin,' the other amended coolly. 'He was told the same +thing.' + +With a sudden movement of his head Trent seemed to dismiss the subject. +He drew from his breast-pocket a letter-case, and thence extracted two +small leaves of clean, fresh paper. + +'Just look at these two slips, Mr. Marlowe,' he said. 'Did you ever +see them before? Have you any idea where they come from?' he added as +Marlowe took one in each hand and examined them curiously. + +'They seem to have been cut with a knife or scissors from a small diary +for this year from the October pages,' Marlowe observed, looking them +over on both sides. 'I see no writing of any kind on them. Nobody here +has any such diary so far as I know. What about them?' + +'There may be nothing in it,' Trent said dubiously. 'Any one in the +house, of course, might have such a diary without your having seen it. +But I didn't much expect you would be able to identify the leaves--in +fact, I should have been surprised if you had.' + +He stopped speaking as Mrs. Manderson came towards them. 'My uncle thinks +we should be going now,' she said. + +'I think I will walk on with Mr. Bunner,' Mr. Cupples said as he joined +them. 'There are certain business matters that must be disposed of as +soon as possible. Will you come on with these two gentlemen, Mabel? We +will wait for you before we reach the place.' + +Trent turned to her. 'Mrs. Manderson will excuse me, I hope,' he said. +'I really came up this morning in order to look about me here for +some indications I thought I might possibly find. I had not thought of +attending the--the court just yet.' + +She looked at him with eyes of perfect candour. 'Of course, Mr. Trent. +Please do exactly as you wish. We are all relying upon you. If you will +wait a few moments, Mr. Marlowe, I shall be ready.' + +She entered the house. Her uncle and the American had already strolled +towards the gate. + +Trent looked into the eyes of his companion. 'That is a wonderful +woman,' he said in a lowered voice. + +'You say so without knowing her,' replied Marlowe in a similar tone. +'She is more than that.' + +Trent said nothing to this. He stared out over the fields towards the +sea. In the silence a noise of hobnailed haste rose on the still air. A +little distance down the road a boy appeared trotting towards them +from the direction of the hotel. In his hand was the orange envelope, +unmistakable afar off, of a telegram. Trent watched him with an +indifferent eye as he met and passed the two others. Then he turned +to Marlowe. 'A propos of nothing in particular,' he said, 'were you at +Oxford?' + +'Yes,' said the young man. 'Why do you ask?' + +'I just wondered if I was right in my guess. It's one of the things you +can very often tell about a man, isn't it?' + +'I suppose so,' Marlowe said. 'Well, each of us is marked in one way +or another, perhaps. I should have said you were an artist, if I hadn't +known it.' + +'Why? Does my hair want cutting?' + +'Oh, no! It's only that you look at things and people as I've +seen artists do, with an eye that moves steadily from detail to +detail--rather looking them over than looking at them.' + +The boy came up panting. 'Telegram for you, sir,' he said to Trent. +'Just come, sir.' + +Trent tore open the envelope with an apology, and his eyes lighted up +so visibly as he read the slip that Marlowe's tired face softened in a +smile. + +'It must be good news,' he murmured half to himself. + +Trent turned on him a glance in which nothing could be read. 'Not +exactly news,' he said. 'It only tells me that another little guess of +mine was a good one.' + + + + +CHAPTER VIII: The Inquest + +The coroner, who fully realized that for that one day of his life as +a provincial solicitor he was living in the gaze of the world, had +resolved to be worthy of the fleeting eminence. He was a large man of +jovial temper, with a strong interest in the dramatic aspects of +his work, and the news of Manderson's mysterious death within his +jurisdiction had made him the happiest coroner in England. A respectable +capacity for marshalling facts was fortified in him by a copiousness of +impressive language that made juries as clay in his hands, and sometimes +disguised a doubtful interpretation of the rules of evidence. + +The court was held in a long, unfurnished room lately built on to the +hotel, and intended to serve as a ballroom or concert-hall. A regiment +of reporters was entrenched in the front seats, and those who were to +be called on to give evidence occupied chairs to one side of the table +behind which the coroner sat, while the jury, in double row, with +plastered hair and a spurious ease of manner, flanked him on the other +side. An undistinguished public filled the rest of the space, and +listened, in an awed silence, to the opening solemnities. The newspaper +men, well used to these, muttered among themselves. Those of them who +knew Trent by sight assured the rest that he was not in the court. + +The identity of the dead man was proved by his wife, the first witness +called, from whom the coroner, after some enquiry into the health and +circumstances of the deceased, proceeded to draw an account of the last +occasion on which she had seen her husband alive. Mrs. Manderson was +taken through her evidence by the coroner with the sympathy which every +man felt for that dark figure of grief. She lifted her thick veil before +beginning to speak, and the extreme paleness and unbroken composure of +the lady produced a singular impression. This was not an impression of +hardness. Interesting femininity was the first thing to be felt in her +presence. She was not even enigmatic. It was only clear that the force +of a powerful character was at work to master the emotions of her +situation. Once or twice as she spoke she touched her eyes with her +handkerchief, but her voice was low and clear to the end. + +Her husband, she said, had come up to his bedroom about his usual +hour for retiring on Sunday night. His room was really a dressing-room +attached to her own bedroom, communicating with it by a door which was +usually kept open during the night. Both dressing-room and bedroom were +entered by other doors giving on the passage. Her husband had always had +a preference for the greatest simplicity in his bedroom arrangements, +and liked to sleep in a small room. She had not been awake when he came +up, but had been half-aroused, as usually happened, when the light was +switched on in her husband's room. She had spoken to him. She had no +clear recollection of what she had said, as she had been very drowsy at +the time; but she had remembered that he had been out for a moonlight +run in the car, and she believed she had asked whether he had had a good +run, and what time it was. She had asked what the time was because +she felt as if she had only been a very short time asleep, and she had +expected her husband to be out very late. In answer to her question he +had told her it was half-past eleven, and had gone on to say that he had +changed his mind about going for a run. + +'Did he say why?' the coroner asked. + +'Yes,' replied the lady, 'he did explain why. I remember very well what +he said, because--' she stopped with a little appearance of confusion. + +'Because--' the coroner insisted gently. + +'Because my husband was not as a rule communicative about his business +affairs,' answered the witness, raising her chin with a faint touch of +defiance. 'He did not--did not think they would interest me, and as a +rule referred to them as little as possible. That was why I was rather +surprised when he told me that he had sent Mr. Marlowe to Southampton +to bring back some important information from a man who was leaving for +Paris by the next day's boat. He said that Mr. Marlowe could do it quite +easily if he had no accident. He said that he had started in the car, +and then walked back home a mile or so, and felt all the better for it.' + +'Did he say any more?' + +'Nothing, as well as I remember,' the witness said. 'I was very sleepy, +and I dropped off again in a few moments. I just remember my husband +turning his light out, and that is all. I never saw him again alive.' + +'And you heard nothing in the night?' + +'No: I never woke until my maid brought my tea in the morning at seven +o'clock. She closed the door leading to my husband's room, as she always +did, and I supposed him to be still there. He always needed a great +deal of sleep. He sometimes slept until quite late in the morning. I +had breakfast in my sitting-room. It was about ten when I heard that +my husband's body had been found.' The witness dropped her head and +silently waited for her dismissal. + +But it was not to be yet. + +'Mrs. Manderson.' The coroner's voice was sympathetic, but it had a hint +of firmness in it now. 'The question I am going to put to you must, in +these sad circumstances, be a painful one; but it is my duty to ask it. +Is it the fact that your relations with your late husband had not been, +for some time past, relations of mutual affection and confidence? Is it +the fact that there was an estrangement between you?' + +The lady drew herself up again and faced her questioner, the colour +rising in her cheeks. 'If that question is necessary,' she said +with cold distinctness, 'I will answer it so that there shall be no +misunderstanding. During the last few months of my husband's life +his attitude towards me had given me great anxiety and sorrow. He had +changed towards me; he had become very reserved, and seemed mistrustful. +I saw much less of him than before; he seemed to prefer to be alone. I +can give no explanation at all of the change. I tried to work against +it; I did all I could with justice to my own dignity, as I thought. +Something was between us, I did not know what, and he never told me. +My own obstinate pride prevented me from asking what it was in so many +words; I only made a point of being to him exactly as I had always been, +so far as he would allow me. I suppose I shall never know now what it +was.' The witness, whose voice had trembled in spite of her self-control +over the last few sentences, drew down her veil when she had said this, +and stood erect and quiet. + +One of the jury asked a question, not without obvious hesitation. 'Then +was there never anything of the nature of what they call Words between +you and your husband, ma'am?' + +'Never.' The word was colourlessly spoken; but every one felt that a +crass misunderstanding of the possibilities of conduct in the case of a +person like Mrs. Manderson had been visited with some severity. + +Did she know, the coroner asked, of any other matter which might have +been preying upon her husband's mind recently? + +Mrs. Manderson knew of none whatever. The coroner intimated that her +ordeal was at an end, and the veiled lady made her way to the door. The +general attention, which followed her for a few moments, was now eagerly +directed upon Martin, whom the coroner had proceeded to call. + +It was at this moment that Trent appeared at the doorway and edged his +way into the great room. But he did not look at Martin. He was observing +the well-balanced figure that came quickly toward him along an opening +path in the crowd, and his eye was gloomy. He started, as he stood aside +from the door with a slight bow, to hear Mrs. Manderson address him by +name in a low voice. He followed her a pace or two into the hall. + +'I wanted to ask you,' she said in a voice now weak and oddly broken, +'if you would give me your arm a part of the way to the house. I could +not see my uncle near the door, and I suddenly felt rather faint.... I +shall be better in the air.... No, no; I cannot stay here--please, Mr +Trent!' she said, as he began to make an obvious suggestion. 'I must go +to the house.' Her hand tightened momentarily on his arm as if, for all +her weakness, she could drag him from the place; then again she leaned +heavily upon it, and with that support, and with bent head, she walked +slowly from the hotel and along the oak-shaded path toward White Gables. + +Trent went in silence, his thoughts whirling, dancing insanely to a +chorus of 'Fool! fool!' All that he alone knew, all that he guessed and +suspected of this affair, rushed through his brain in a rout; but the +touch of her unnerved hand upon his arm never for an instant left +his consciousness, filling him with an exaltation that enraged and +bewildered him. He was still cursing himself furiously behind the +mask of conventional solicitude that he turned to the lady when he +had attended her to the house and seen her sink upon a couch in the +morning-room. Raising her veil, she thanked him gravely and frankly, +with a look of sincere gratitude in her eyes. She was much better now, +she said, and a cup of tea would work a miracle upon her. She hoped +she had not taken him away from anything important. She was ashamed +of herself; she thought she could go through with it, but she had not +expected those last questions. 'I am glad you did not hear me,' she said +when he explained. 'But of course you will read it all in the reports. +It shook me so to have to speak of that,' she added simply; 'and to keep +from making an exhibition of myself took it out of me. And all those +staring men by the door! Thank you again for helping me when I asked +you.... I thought I might,' she ended queerly, with a little tired +smile; and Trent took himself away, his hand still quivering from the +cool touch of her fingers. + +*** + +The testimony of the servants and of the finder of the body brought +nothing new to the reporters' net. That of the police was as colourless +and cryptic as is usual at the inquest stage of affairs of the kind. +Greatly to the satisfaction of Mr. Bunner, his evidence afforded the +sensation of the day, and threw far into the background the interesting +revelation of domestic difficulty made by the dead man's wife. He +told the court in substance what he had already told Trent. The flying +pencils did not miss a word of the young American's story, and it +appeared with scarcely the omission of a sentence in every journal of +importance in Great Britain and the United States. + +Public opinion next day took no note of the faint suggestion of the +possibility of suicide which the coroner, in his final address to +the jury, had thought it right to make in connection with the lady's +evidence. The weight of evidence, as the official had indeed pointed +out, was against such a theory. He had referred with emphasis to the +fact that no weapon had been found near the body. + +'This question, of course, is all-important, gentlemen,' he had said to +the jury. 'It is, in fact, the main issue before you. You have seen the +body for yourselves. You have just heard the medical evidence; but I +think it would be well for me to read you my notes of it in so far as +they bear on this point, in order to refresh your memories. Dr Stock +told you--I am going to omit all technical medical language and repeat +to you merely the plain English of his testimony--that in his opinion +death had taken place six or eight hours previous to the finding of the +body. He said that the cause of death was a bullet wound, the bullet +having entered the left eye, which was destroyed, and made its way +to the base of the brain, which was quite shattered. The external +appearance of the wound, he said, did not support the hypothesis of its +being self-inflicted, inasmuch as there were no signs of the firearm +having been pressed against the eye, or even put very close to it; at +the same time it was not physically impossible that the weapon should +have been discharged by the deceased with his own hand, at some small +distance from the eye. Dr Stock also told us that it was impossible to +say with certainty, from the state of the body, whether any struggle had +taken place at the time of death; that when seen by him, at which time +he understood that it had not been moved since it was found, the body +was lying in a collapsed position such as might very well result from +the shot alone; but that the scratches and bruises upon the wrists and +the lower part of the arms had been very recently inflicted, and were, +in his opinion, marks of violence. + +'In connection with this same point, the remarkable evidence given by Mr +Bunner cannot be regarded, I think, as without significance. It may have +come as a surprise to some of you to hear that risks of the character +described by this witness are, in his own country, commonly run by +persons in the position of the deceased. On the other hand, it may have +been within the knowledge of some of you that in the industrial world of +America the discontent of labour often proceeds to lengths of which +we in England happily know nothing. I have interrogated the witness +somewhat fully upon this. At the same time, gentlemen, I am by no means +suggesting that Mr. Bunner's personal conjecture as to the cause of death +can fitly be adopted by you. That is emphatically not the case. What his +evidence does is to raise two questions for your consideration. First, +can it be said that the deceased was to any extent in the position of a +threatened man--of a man more exposed to the danger of murderous attack +than an ordinary person? Second, does the recent alteration in his +demeanour, as described by this witness, justify the belief that +his last days were overshadowed by a great anxiety? These points may +legitimately be considered by you in arriving at a conclusion upon the +rest of the evidence.' + +Thereupon the coroner, having indicated thus clearly his opinion that Mr +Bunner had hit the right nail on the head, desired the jury to consider +their verdict. + + + + +CHAPTER IX: A Hot Scent + + +'Come in!' called Trent. + +Mr. Cupples entered his sitting-room at the hotel. It was the early +evening of the day on which the coroner's jury, without leaving the box, +had pronounced the expected denunciation of a person or persons unknown. +Trent, with a hasty glance upward, continued his intent study of what +lay in a photographic dish of enamelled metal, which he moved slowly +about in the light of the window. He looked very pale, and his movements +were nervous. + +'Sit on the sofa,' he advised. 'The chairs are a job lot bought at the +sale after the suppression of the Holy Inquisition in Spain. This is a +pretty good negative,' he went on, holding it up to the light with his +head at the angle of discriminating judgement. 'Washed enough now, I +think. Let us leave it to dry, and get rid of all this mess.' + +Mr. Cupples, as the other busily cleared the table of a confusion of +basins, dishes, racks, boxes, and bottles, picked up first one and then +another of the objects and studied them with innocent curiosity. + +'That is called hypo-eliminator,' said Trent, as Mr. Cupples uncorked and +smelt at one of the bottles. 'Very useful when you're in a hurry with +a negative. I shouldn't drink it, though, all the same. It eliminates +sodium hypophosphite, but I shouldn't wonder if it would eliminate human +beings too.' He found a place for the last of the litter on the crowded +mantel-shelf, and came to sit before Mr. Cupples on the table. 'The great +thing about a hotel sitting-room is that its beauty does not distract +the mind from work. It is no place for the mayfly pleasures of a mind at +ease. Have you ever been in this room before, Cupples? I have, hundreds +of times. It has pursued me all over England for years. I should feel +lost without it if, in some fantastic, far-off hotel, they were to give +me some other sitting-room. Look at this table-cover; there is the ink +I spilt on it when I had this room in Halifax. I burnt that hole in the +carpet when I had it in Ipswich. But I see they have mended the glass +over the picture of "Silent Sympathy", which I threw a boot at in +Banbury. I do all my best work here. This afternoon, for instance, since +the inquest, I have finished several excellent negatives. There is a +very good dark room downstairs.' + +'The inquest--that reminds me,' said Mr. Cupples, who knew that this sort +of talk in Trent meant the excitement of action, and was wondering what +he could be about. 'I came in to thank you, my dear fellow, for looking +after Mabel this morning. I had no idea she was going to feel ill after +leaving the box; she seemed quite unmoved, and, really, she is a woman +of such extraordinary self-command, I thought I could leave her to her +own devices and hear out the evidence, which I thought it important I +should do. It was a very fortunate thing she found a friend to assist +her, and she is most grateful. She is quite herself again now.' + +Trent, with his hands in his pockets and a slight frown on his brow, +made no reply to this. 'I tell you what,' he said after a short pause, +'I was just getting to the really interesting part of the job when you +came in. Come; would you like to see a little bit of high-class police +work? It's the very same kind of work that old Murch ought to be doing +at this moment. Perhaps he is; but I hope to glory he isn't.' He sprang +off the table and disappeared into his bedroom. Presently he came out +with a large drawing-board on which a number of heterogeneous objects +was ranged. + +'First I must introduce you to these little things,' he said, setting +them out on the table. 'Here is a big ivory paper-knife; here are two +leaves cut out of a diary--my own diary; here is a bottle containing +dentifrice; here is a little case of polished walnut. Some of these +things have to be put back where they belong in somebody's bedroom at +White Gables before night. That's the sort of man I am--nothing stops +me. I borrowed them this very morning when every one was down at +the inquest, and I dare say some people would think it rather an odd +proceeding if they knew. Now there remains one object on the board. Can +you tell me, without touching it, what it is?' + +'Certainly I can,' said Mr. Cupples, peering at it with great interest. +'It is an ordinary glass bowl. It looks like a finger-bowl. I see +nothing odd about it,' he added after some moments of close scrutiny. + +'I can't see much myself,' replied Trent, 'and that is exactly where the +fun comes in. Now take this little fat bottle, Cupples, and pull out the +cork. Do you recognize that powder inside it? You have swallowed pounds +of it in your time, I expect. They give it to babies. Grey powder is its +ordinary name--mercury and chalk. It is great stuff. Now, while I hold +the basin sideways over this sheet of paper, I want you to pour a little +powder out of the bottle over this part of the bowl--just here.... +Perfect! Sir Edward Henry himself could not have handled the powder +better. You have done this before, Cupples, I can see. You are an old +hand.' + +'I really am not,' said Mr. Cupples seriously, as Trent returned the +fallen powder to the bottle. 'I assure you it is all a complete mystery +to me. What did I do then?' + +'I brush the powdered part of the bowl lightly with this camel-hair +brush. Now look at it again. You saw nothing odd about it before. Do you +see anything now?' + +Mr. Cupples peered again. 'How curious!' he said. 'Yes, there are two +large grey finger-marks on the bowl. They were not there before.' + +'I am Hawkshaw the detective,' observed Trent. 'Would it interest you to +hear a short lecture on the subject of glass finger-bowls? When you +take one up with your hand you leave traces upon it, usually practically +invisible, which may remain for days or months. You leave the marks of +your fingers. The human hand, even when quite clean, is never quite dry, +and sometimes--in moments of great anxiety, for instance, Cupples--it +is very moist. It leaves a mark on any cold smooth surface it may touch. +That bowl was moved by somebody with a rather moist hand quite lately.' +He sprinkled the powder again. 'Here on the other side, you see, is the +thumb-mark--very good impressions all of them.' He spoke without raising +his voice, but Mr. Cupples could perceive that he was ablaze with +excitement as he stared at the faint grey marks. 'This one should be the +index finger. I need not tell a man of your knowledge of the world that +the pattern of it is a single-spiral whorl, with deltas symmetrically +disposed. This, the print of the second finger, is a simple loop, with a +staple core and fifteen counts. I know there are fifteen, because I +have just the same two prints on this negative, which I have examined +in detail. Look!'--he held one of the negatives up to the light of the +declining sun and demonstrated with a pencil point. 'You can see they're +the same. You see the bifurcation of that ridge. There it is in the +other. You see that little scar near the centre. There it is in the +other. There are a score of ridge-characteristics on which an expert +would swear in the witness-box that the marks on that bowl and the marks +I have photographed on this negative were made by the same hand.' + +'And where did you photograph them? What does it all mean?' asked Mr +Cupples, wide-eyed. + +'I found them on the inside of the left-hand leaf of the front window +in Mrs. Manderson's bedroom. As I could not bring the window with me, I +photographed them, sticking a bit of black paper on the other side of +the glass for the purpose. The bowl comes from Manderson's room. It is +the bowl in which his false teeth were placed at night. I could bring +that away, so I did.' + +'But those cannot be Mabel's finger-marks.' + +'I should think not!' said Trent with decision. 'They are twice the size +of any print Mrs. Manderson could make.' + +'Then they must be her husband's.' + +'Perhaps they are. Now shall we see if we can match them once more? I +believe we can.' Whistling faintly, and very white in the face, Trent +opened another small squat bottle containing a dense black powder. +'Lamp-black,' he explained. 'Hold a bit of paper in your hand for a +second or two, and this little chap will show you the pattern of your +fingers.' He carefully took up with a pair of tweezers one of the leaves +cut from his diary, and held it out for the other to examine. No marks +appeared on the leaf. He tilted some of the powder out upon one surface +of the paper, then, turning it over, upon the other; then shook the leaf +gently to rid it of the loose powder. He held it out to Mr. Cupples in +silence. On one side of the paper appeared unmistakably, clearly printed +in black, the same two finger-prints that he had already seen on the +bowl and on the photographic plate. He took up the bowl and compared +them. Trent turned the paper over, and on the other side was a bold +black replica of the thumb-mark that was printed in grey on the glass in +his hand. + +'Same man, you see,' Trent said with a short laugh. 'I felt that it must +be so, and now I know.' He walked to the window and looked out. 'Now +I know,' he repeated in a low voice, as if to himself. His tone was +bitter. Mr. Cupples, understanding nothing, stared at his motionless back +for a few moments. + +'I am still completely in the dark,' he ventured presently. 'I have +often heard of this fingerprint business, and wondered how the police +went to work about it. It is of extraordinary interest to me, but upon +my life I cannot see how in this case Manderson's fingerprints are +going--' + +'I am very sorry, Cupples,' Trent broke in upon his meditative speech +with a swift return to the table. 'When I began this investigation I +meant to take you with me every step of the way. You mustn't think I +have any doubts about your discretion if I say now that I must hold my +tongue about the whole thing, at least for a time. I will tell you this: +I have come upon a fact that looks too much like having very painful +consequences if it is discovered by any one else.' He looked at the +other with a hard and darkened face, and struck the table with his hand. +'It is terrible for me here and now. Up to this moment I was hoping +against hope that I was wrong about the fact. I may still be wrong in +the surmise that I base upon that fact. There is only one way of finding +out that is open to me, and I must nerve myself to take it.' He smiled +suddenly at Mr. Cupples's face of consternation. 'All right--I'm not +going to be tragic any more, and I'll tell you all about it when I can. +Look here, I'm not half through my game with the powder-bottles yet.' + +He drew one of the defamed chairs to the table and sat down to test +the broad ivory blade of the paper knife. Mr. Cupples, swallowing his +amazement, bent forward in an attitude of deep interest and handed Trent +the bottle of lamp-black. + + + + +CHAPTER X: The Wife of Dives + +Mrs. Manderson stood at the window of her sitting-room at White Gables +gazing out upon a wavering landscape of fine rain and mist. The weather +had broken as it seldom does in that part in June. White wreathings +drifted up the fields from the sullen sea; the sky was an unbroken grey +deadness shedding pin-point moisture that was now and then blown against +the panes with a crepitation of despair. The lady looked out on the dim +and chilling prospect with a woeful face. It was a bad day for a woman +bereaved, alone, and without a purpose in life. + +There was a knock, and she called 'Come in,' drawing herself up with +an unconscious gesture that always came when she realized that the +weariness of the world had been gaining upon her spirit. Mr. Trent had +called, the maid said; he apologized for coming at such an early +hour, but hoped that Mrs. Manderson would see him on a matter of urgent +importance. Mrs. Manderson would see Mr. Trent. She walked to a mirror, +looked into the olive face she saw reflected there, shook her head at +herself with the flicker of a grimace, and turned to the door as Trent +was shown in. + +His appearance, she noted, was changed. He had the jaded look of +the sleepless, and a new and reserved expression, in which her quick +sensibilities felt something not propitious, took the place of his half +smile of fixed good-humour. + +'May I come to the point at once?' he said, when she had given him her +hand. 'There is a train I ought to catch at Bishopsbridge at twelve +o'clock, but I cannot go until I have settled this thing, which concerns +you only, Mrs. Manderson. I have been working half the night and thinking +the rest; and I know now what I ought to do.' + +'You look wretchedly tired,' she said kindly. 'Won't you sit down? This +is a very restful chair. Of course it is about this terrible business +and your work as correspondent. Please ask me anything you think I can +properly tell you, Mr. Trent. I know that you won't make it worse for me +than you can help in doing your duty here. If you say you must see me +about something, I know it must be because, as you say, you ought to do +it.' + +'Mrs. Manderson,' said Trent, slowly measuring his words, 'I won't make +it worse for you than I can help. But I am bound to make it bad for +you--only between ourselves, I hope. As to whether you can properly tell +me what I shall ask you, you will decide that; but I tell you this on my +word of honour: I shall ask you only as much as will decide me whether +to publish or to withhold certain grave things that I have found out +about your husband's death, things not suspected by any one else, nor, +I think, likely to be so. What I have discovered--what I believe that I +have practically proved--will be a great shock to you in any case. But +it may be worse for you than that; and if you give me reason to think +it would be so, then I shall suppress this manuscript,' he laid a long +envelope on the small table beside him, 'and nothing of what it has +to tell shall ever be printed. It consists, I may tell you, of a short +private note to my editor, followed by a long dispatch for publication +in the Record. Now you may refuse to say anything to me. If you do +refuse, my duty to my employers, as I see it, is to take this up to +London with me today and leave it with my editor to be dealt with at +his discretion. My view is, you understand, that I am not entitled to +suppress it on the strength of a mere possibility that presents itself +to my imagination. But if I gather from you--and I can gather it from +no other person--that there is substance in that imaginary possibility +I speak of, then I have only one thing to do as a gentleman and as one +who'--he hesitated for a phrase--'wishes you well. I shall not publish +that dispatch of mine. In some directions I decline to assist the +police. Have you followed me so far?' he asked with a touch of anxiety +in his careful coldness; for her face, but for its pallor, gave no sign +as she regarded him, her hands clasped before her, and her shoulders +drawn back in a pose of rigid calm. She looked precisely as she had +looked at the inquest. + +'I understand quite well,' said Mrs. Manderson in a low voice. She drew +a deep breath, and went on: 'I don't know what dreadful thing you have +found out, or what the possibility that has occurred to you can be, but +it was good, it was honourable of you to come to me about it. Now will +you please tell me?' + +'I cannot do that,' Trent replied. 'The secret is my newspaper's if it +is not yours. If I find it is yours, you shall have my manuscript to +read and destroy. Believe me,' he broke out with something of his old +warmth, 'I detest such mystery-making from the bottom of my soul; but it +is not I who have made this mystery. This is the most painful hour of my +life, and you make it worse by not treating me like a hound. The +first thing I ask you to tell me,' he reverted with an effort to his +colourless tone, 'is this: is it true, as you stated at the inquest, +that you had no idea at all of the reason why your late husband had +changed his attitude toward you, and become mistrustful and reserved, +during the last few months of his life?' + +Mrs. Manderson's dark brows lifted and her eyes flamed; she quickly rose +from her chair. Trent got up at the same moment, and took his envelope +from the table; his manner said that he perceived the interview to be at +an end. But she held up a hand, and there was colour in her cheeks and +quick breathing in her voice as she said: 'Do you know what you ask, Mr +Trent? You ask me if I perjured myself.' + +'I do,' he answered unmoved; and he added after a pause, 'you knew +already that I had not come here to preserve the polite fictions, Mrs +Manderson. The theory that no reputable person, being on oath, could +withhold a part of the truth under any circumstances is a polite +fiction.' He still stood as awaiting dismissal, but she was silent. +She walked to the window, and he stood miserably watching the slight +movement of her shoulders until it subsided. Then with face averted, +looking out on the dismal weather, she spoke at last clearly. + +'Mr. Trent,' she said, 'you inspire confidence in people, and I feel that +things which I don't want known or talked about are safe with you. And +I know you must have a very serious reason for doing what you are doing, +though I don't know what it is. I suppose it would be assisting justice +in some way if I told you the truth about what you asked just now. To +understand that truth you ought to know about what went before--I mean +about my marriage. After all, a good many people could tell you as well +as I can that it was not... a very successful union. I was only twenty. +I admired his force and courage and certainty; he was the only strong +man I had ever known. But it did not take me long to find out that he +cared for his business more than for me, and I think I found out even +sooner that I had been deceiving myself and blinding myself, promising +myself impossible things and wilfully misunderstanding my own feelings, +because I was dazzled by the idea of having more money to spend than an +English girl ever dreams of. I have been despising myself for that +for five years. My husband's feeling for me... well, I cannot speak of +that... what I want to say is that along with it there had always been +a belief of his that I was the sort of woman to take a great place in +society, and that I should throw myself into it with enjoyment, and +become a sort of personage and do him great credit--that was his idea; +and the idea remained with him after other delusions had gone. I was a +part of his ambition. That was his really bitter disappointment, that +I failed him as a social success. I think he was too shrewd not to have +known in his heart that such a man as he was, twenty years older than I, +with great business responsibilities that filled every hour of his life, +and caring for nothing else--he must have felt that there was a risk +of great unhappiness in marrying the sort of girl I was, brought up to +music and books and unpractical ideas, always enjoying myself in my own +way. But he had really reckoned on me as a wife who would do the honours +of his position in the world; and I found I couldn't.' + +Mrs. Manderson had talked herself into a more emotional mood than she had +yet shown to Trent. Her words flowed freely, and her voice had begun to +ring and give play to a natural expressiveness that must hitherto have +been dulled, he thought, by the shock and self-restraint of the past few +days. Now she turned swiftly from the window and faced him as she went +on, her beautiful face flushed and animated, her eyes gleaming, her +hands moving in slight emphatic gestures, as she surrendered herself to +the impulse of giving speech to things long pent up. + +'The people,' she said. 'Oh, those people! Can you imagine what it must +be for any one who has lived in a world where there was always creative +work in the background, work with some dignity about it, men and women +with professions or arts to follow, with ideals and things to believe +in and quarrel about, some of them wealthy, some of them quite poor; can +you think what it means to step out of that into another world where you +have to be very rich, shamefully rich, to exist at all--where money +is the only thing that counts and the first thing in everybody's +thoughts--where the men who make the millions are so jaded by the work, +that sport is the only thing they can occupy themselves with when they +have any leisure, and the men who don't have to work are even duller +than the men who do, and vicious as well; and the women live for display +and silly amusements and silly immoralities; do you know how awful that +life is? Of course I know there are clever people, and people of taste +in that set, but they're swamped and spoiled, and it's the same thing +in the end; empty, empty! Oh! I suppose I'm exaggerating, and I did make +friends and have some happy times; but that's how I feel after it +all. The seasons in New York and London--how I hated them! And our +house-parties and cruises in the yacht and the rest--the same people, +the same emptiness. + +'And you see, don't you, that my husband couldn't have an idea of all +this. His life was never empty. He did not live it in society, and when +he was in society he had always his business plans and difficulties to +occupy his mind. He hadn't a suspicion of what I felt, and I never +let him know; I couldn't, it wouldn't have been fair. I felt I must +do something to justify myself as his wife, sharing his position and +fortune; and the only thing I could do was to try, and try, to live up +to his idea about my social qualities... I did try. I acted my best. And +it became harder year by year... I never was what they call a popular +hostess, how could I be? I was a failure; but I went on trying... I used +to steal holidays now and then. I used to feel as if I was not doing my +part of a bargain--it sounds horrid to put it like that, I know, but it +was so--when I took one of my old school-friends, who couldn't afford to +travel, away to Italy for a month or two, and we went about cheaply all +by ourselves, and were quite happy; or when I went and made a long stay +in London with some quiet people who had known me all my life, and we +all lived just as in the old days, when we had to think twice about +seats at the theatre, and told each other about cheap dressmakers. Those +and a few other expeditions of the same sort were my best times after +I was married, and they helped me to go through with it the rest of the +time. But I felt my husband would have hated to know how much I enjoyed +every hour of those returns to the old life. + +'And in the end, in spite of everything I could do, he came to know.... +He could see through anything, I think, once his attention was turned to +it. He had always been able to see that I was not fulfilling his idea of +me as a figure in the social world, and I suppose he thought it was +my misfortune rather than my fault. But the moment he began to see, in +spite of my pretending, that I wasn't playing my part with any spirit, +he knew the whole story; he divined how I loathed and was weary of the +luxury and the brilliancy and the masses of money just because of the +people who lived among them--who were made so by them, I suppose.... +It happened last year. I don't know just how or when. It may have been +suggested to him by some woman--for they all understood, of course. He +said nothing to me, and I think he tried not to change in his manner to +me at first; but such things hurt--and it was working in both of us. +I knew that he knew. After a time we were just being polite and +considerate to each other. Before he found me out we had been on a +footing of--how can I express it to you?--of intelligent companionship, +I might say. We talked without restraint of many things of the kind +we could agree or disagree about without its going very deep... if you +understand. And then that came to an end. I felt that the only possible +basis of our living in each other's company was going under my feet. And +at last it was gone. + +'It had been like that,' she ended simply, 'for months before he died.' +She sank into the corner of a sofa by the window, as though relaxing +her body after an effort. For a few moments both were silent. Trent +was hastily sorting out a tangle of impressions. He was amazed at +the frankness of Mrs. Manderson's story. He was amazed at the vigorous +expressiveness in her telling of it. In this vivid being, carried away +by an impulse to speak, talking with her whole personality, he had seen +the real woman in a temper of activity, as he had already seen the real +woman by chance in a temper of reverie and unguarded emotion. In both +she was very unlike the pale, self-disciplined creature of majesty that +she had been to the world. With that amazement of his went something +like terror of her dark beauty, which excitement kindled into an +appearance scarcely mortal in his eyes. Incongruously there rushed into +his mind, occupied as it was with the affair of the moment, a little +knot of ideas... she was unique not because of her beauty but because +of its being united with intensity of nature; in England all the very +beautiful women were placid, all the fiery women seemed to have burnt up +the best of their beauty; that was why no beautiful woman had ever cast +this sort of spell on him before; when it was a question of wit in +women he had preferred the brighter flame to the duller, without much +regarding the lamp. 'All this is very disputable,' said his reason; and +instinct answered, 'Yes, except that I am under a spell'; and a deeper +instinct cried out, 'Away with it!' He forced his mind back to her +story, and found growing swiftly in him an irrepressible conviction. It +was all very fine; but it would not do. + +'I feel as if I had led you into saying more than you meant to say, +or than I wanted to learn,' he said slowly. 'But there is one brutal +question which is the whole point of my enquiry.' He braced his frame +like one preparing for a plunge into cold waters. 'Mrs. Manderson, will +you assure me that your husband's change toward you had nothing to do +with John Marlowe?' + +And what he had dreaded came. 'Oh!' she cried with a sound of anguish, +her face thrown up and open hands stretched out as if for pity; and then +the hands covered the burning face, and she flung herself aside among +the cushions at her elbow, so that he saw nothing but her heavy crown of +black hair, and her body moving with sobs that stabbed his heart, and a +foot turned inward gracelessly in an abandonment of misery. Like a +tall tower suddenly breaking apart she had fallen in ruins, helplessly +weeping. + +Trent stood up, his face white and calm. With a senseless particularity +he placed his envelope exactly in the centre of the little polished +table. He walked to the door, closed it noiselessly as he went out, and +in a few minutes was tramping through the rain out of sight of White +Gables, going nowhere, seeing nothing, his soul shaken in the fierce +effort to kill and trample the raving impulse that had seized him in the +presence of her shame, that clamoured to him to drag himself before her +feet, to pray for pardon, to pour out words--he knew not what words, +but he knew that they had been straining at his lips--to wreck his +self-respect for ever, and hopelessly defeat even the crazy purpose that +had almost possessed him, by drowning her wretchedness in disgust, by +babbling with the tongue of infatuation to a woman with a husband not +yet buried, to a woman who loved another man. + +Such was the magic of her tears, quickening in a moment the thing which, +as his heart had known, he must not let come to life. For Philip Trent +was a young man, younger in nature even than his years, and a way of +life that kept his edge keen and his spirit volcanic had prepared him +very ill for the meeting that comes once in the early manhood of most of +us, usually--as in his case, he told himself harshly--to no purpose but +the testing of virtue and the power of the will. + + + + +CHAPTER XI: Hitherto Unpublished + +My Dear Molloy:--This is in case I don't find you at your office. I +have found out who killed Manderson, as this dispatch will show. This +was my problem; yours is to decide what use to make of it. It definitely +charges an unsuspected person with having a hand in the crime, and +practically accuses him of being the murderer, so I don't suppose you +will publish it before his arrest, and I believe it is illegal to do so +afterwards until he has been tried and found guilty. You may decide to +publish it then; and you may find it possible to make some use or other +before then of the facts I have given. That is your affair. Meanwhile, +will you communicate with Scotland Yard, and let them see what I have +written? I have done with the Manderson mystery, and I wish to God I had +never touched it. Here follows my dispatch. P.T. + +Marlstone, June 16th. + +I begin this, my third and probably my final +dispatch to the Record upon the Manderson murder, with conflicting +feelings. I have a strong sense of relief, because in my two previous +dispatches I was obliged, in the interests of justice, to withhold facts +ascertained by me which would, if published then, have put a certain +person upon his guard and possibly have led to his escape; for he is +a man of no common boldness and resource. These facts I shall now set +forth. But I have, I confess, no liking for the story of treachery and +perverted cleverness which I have to tell. It leaves an evil taste +in the mouth, a savour of something revolting in the deeper puzzle of +motive underlying the puzzle of the crime itself, which I believe I have +solved. + +It will be remembered that in my first dispatch I described the +situation as I found it on reaching this place early on Tuesday morning. +I told how the body was found, and in what state; dwelt upon the +complete mystery surrounding the crime, and mentioned one or two +local theories about it; gave some account of the dead man's domestic +surroundings; and furnished a somewhat detailed description of his +movements on the evening before his death. I gave, too, a little fact +which may or may not have seemed irrelevant: that a quantity of whisky +much larger than Manderson habitually drank at night had disappeared +from his private decanter since the last time he was seen alive. On +the following day, the day of the inquest, I wired little more than an +abstract of the proceedings in the coroner's court, of which a verbatim +report was made at my request by other representatives of the Record. +That day is not yet over as I write these lines; and I have now +completed an investigation which has led me directly to the man who must +be called upon to clear himself of the guilt of the death of Manderson. + +Apart from the central mystery of Manderson's having arisen long before +his usual hour to go out and meet his death, there were two minor points +of oddity about this affair which, I suppose, must have occurred to +thousands of those who have read the accounts in the newspapers: points +apparent from the very beginning. The first of these was that, whereas +the body was found at a spot not thirty yards from the house, all the +people of the house declared that they had heard no cry or other noise +in the night. Manderson had not been gagged; the marks on his wrists +pointed to a struggle with his assailant; and there had been at least +one pistol-shot. (I say at least one, because it is the fact that in +murders with firearms, especially if there has been a struggle, the +criminal commonly misses his victim at least once.) This odd fact seemed +all the more odd to me when I learned that Martin the butler was a bad +sleeper, very keen of hearing, and that his bedroom, with the window +open, faced almost directly toward the shed by which the body was found. + +The second odd little fact that was apparent from the outset was +Manderson's leaving his dental plate by the bedside. It appeared that he +had risen and dressed himself fully, down to his necktie and watch and +chain, and had gone out of doors without remembering to put in this +plate, which he had carried in his mouth every day for years, and which +contained all the visible teeth of the upper jaw. It had evidently not +been a case of frantic hurry; and even if it had been, he would have +been more likely to forget almost anything than this denture. Any one +who wears such a removable plate will agree that the putting it in on +rising is a matter of second nature. Speaking as well as eating, to say +nothing of appearances, depend upon it. + +Neither of these queer details, however, seemed to lead to anything at +the moment. They only awakened in me a suspicion of something lurking in +the shadows, something that lent more mystery to the already mysterious +question how and why and through whom Manderson met his end. + +With this much of preamble I come at once to the discovery which, in the +first few hours of my investigation, set me upon the path which so much +ingenuity had been directed to concealing. + +I have already described Manderson's bedroom, the rigorous simplicity +of its furnishing, contrasted so strangely with the multitude of clothes +and shoes, and the manner of its communication with Mrs. Manderson's +room. On the upper of the two long shelves on which the shoes were +ranged I found, where I had been told I should find them, the pair of +patent leather shoes which Manderson had worn on the evening before his +death. I had glanced over the row, not with any idea of their giving me +a clue, but merely because it happens that I am a judge of shoes, and +all these shoes were of the very best workmanship. But my attention was +at once caught by a little peculiarity in this particular pair. They +were the lightest kind of lace-up dress shoes, very thin in the sole, +without toe-caps, and beautifully made, like all the rest. These shoes +were old and well worn; but being carefully polished, and fitted, as all +the shoes were, upon their trees, they looked neat enough. What caught +my eye was a slight splitting of the leather in that part of the upper +known as the vamp--a splitting at the point where the two laced parts of +the shoe rise from the upper. It is at this point that the strain +comes when a tight shoe of this sort is forced upon the foot, and it +is usually guarded with a strong stitching across the bottom of the +opening. In both the shoes I was examining this stitching had parted, +and the leather below had given way. The splitting was a tiny affair in +each case, not an eighth of an inch long, and the torn edges having come +together again on the removal of the strain, there was nothing that a +person who was not something of a connoisseur of shoe-leather would have +noticed. Even less noticeable, and indeed not to be seen at all unless +one were looking for it, was a slight straining of the stitches uniting +the upper to the sole. At the toe and on the outer side of each +shoe this stitching had been dragged until it was visible on a close +inspection of the join. + +These indications, of course, could mean only one thing--the shoes had +been worn by some one for whom they were too small. + +Now it was clear at a glance that Manderson was always thoroughly well +shod, and careful, perhaps a little vain, of his small and narrow feet. +Not one of the other shoes in the collection, as I soon ascertained, +bore similar marks; they had not belonged to a man who squeezed himself +into tight shoe-leather. Someone who was not Manderson had worn these +shoes, and worn them recently; the edges of the tears were quite fresh. + +The possibility of some one having worn them since Manderson's death +was not worth considering; the body had only been found about twenty-six +hours when I was examining the shoes; besides, why should any one wear +them? The possibility of some one having borrowed Manderson's shoes and +spoiled them for him while he was alive seemed about as negligible. With +others to choose from he would not have worn these. Besides, the only +men in the place were the butler and the two secretaries. But I do not +say that I gave those possibilities even as much consideration as they +deserved, for my thoughts were running away with me, and I have always +found it good policy, in cases of this sort, to let them have their +heads. Ever since I had got out of the train at Marlstone early that +morning I had been steeped in details of the Manderson affair; the thing +had not once been out of my head. Suddenly the moment had come when the +daemon wakes and begins to range. + +Let me put it less fancifully. After all, it is a detail of psychology +familiar enough to all whose business or inclination brings them in +contact with difficult affairs of any kind. Swiftly and spontaneously, +when chance or effort puts one in possession of the key-fact in any +system of baffling circumstances, one's ideas seem to rush to group +themselves anew in relation to that fact, so that they are suddenly +rearranged almost before one has consciously grasped the significance +of the key-fact itself. In the present instance, my brain had scarcely +formulated within itself the thought, 'Somebody who was not Manderson +has been wearing these shoes,' when there flew into my mind a flock of +ideas, all of the same character and all bearing upon this new notion. +It was unheard-of for Manderson to drink much whisky at night. It was +very unlike him to be untidily dressed, as the body was when found--the +cuffs dragged up inside the sleeves, the shoes unevenly laced; very +unlike him not to wash when he rose, and to put on last night's evening +shirt and collar and underclothing; very unlike him to have his watch in +the waistcoat pocket that was not lined with leather for its reception. +(In my first dispatch I mentioned all these points, but neither I nor +any one else saw anything significant in them when examining the body.) +It was very strange, in the existing domestic situation, that Manderson +should be communicative to his wife about his doings, especially at the +time of his going to bed, when he seldom spoke to her at all. It was +extraordinary that Manderson should leave his bedroom without his false +teeth. + +All these thoughts, as I say, came flocking into my mind together, +drawn from various parts of my memory of the morning's enquiries and +observations. They had all presented themselves, in far less time than +it takes to read them as set down here, as I was turning over the shoes, +confirming my own certainty on the main point. And yet when I confronted +the definite idea that had sprung up suddenly and unsupported before +me--'It was not Manderson who was in the house that night'--it seemed a +stark absurdity at the first formulating. It was certainly Manderson who +had dined at the house and gone out with Marlowe in the car. People +had seen him at close quarters. But was it he who returned at ten? That +question too seemed absurd enough. But I could not set it aside. It +seemed to me as if a faint light was beginning to creep over the whole +expanse of my mind, as it does over land at dawn, and that presently the +sun would be rising. I set myself to think over, one by one, the points +that had just occurred to me, so as to make out, if possible, why +any man masquerading as Manderson should have done these things that +Manderson would not have done. + +I had not to cast about very long for the motive a man might have in +forcing his feet into Manderson's narrow shoes. The examination of +footmarks is very well understood by the police. But not only was the +man concerned to leave no footmarks of his own: he was concerned to +leave Manderson's, if any; his whole plan, if my guess was right, must +have been directed to producing the belief that Manderson was in +the place that night. Moreover, his plan did not turn upon leaving +footmarks. He meant to leave the shoes themselves, and he did so. The +maidservant had found them outside the bedroom door, as Manderson +always left his shoes, and had polished them, replacing them on the +shoe-shelves later in the morning, after the body had been found. + +When I came to consider in this new light the leaving of the false +teeth, an explanation of what had seemed the maddest part of the affair +broke upon me at once. A dental plate is not inseparable from its owner. +If my guess was right, the unknown had brought the denture to the house +with him, and left it in the bedroom, with the same object as he had in +leaving the shoes: to make it impossible that any one should doubt that +Manderson had been in the house and had gone to bed there. This, of +course, led me to the inference that Manderson was dead before the false +Manderson came to the house, and other things confirmed this. + +For instance, the clothing, to which I now turned in my review of the +position. If my guess was right, the unknown in Manderson's shoes +had certainly had possession of Manderson's trousers, waistcoat, and +shooting jacket. They were there before my eyes in the bedroom; and +Martin had seen the jacket--which nobody could have mistaken--upon the +man who sat at the telephone in the library. It was now quite plain +(if my guess was right) that this unmistakable garment was a cardinal +feature of the unknown's plan. He knew that Martin would take him for +Manderson at the first glance. + +And there my thinking was interrupted by the realization of a thing +that had escaped me before. So strong had been the influence of the +unquestioned assumption that it was Manderson who was present that +night, that neither I nor, as far as I know, any one else had noted the +point. Martin had not seen the man's face, nor had Mrs. Manderson. + +Mrs. Manderson (judging by her evidence at the inquest, of which, as +I have said, I had a full report made by the Record stenographers in +court) had not seen the man at all. She hardly could have done, as I +shall show presently. She had merely spoken with him as she lay half +asleep, resuming a conversation which she had had with her living +husband about an hour before. Martin, I perceived, could only have +seen the man's back, as he sat crouching over the telephone; no doubt +a characteristic pose was imitated there. And the man had worn his hat, +Manderson's broad-brimmed hat! There is too much character in the back +of a head and neck. The unknown, in fact, supposing him to have been of +about Manderson's build, had had no need for any disguise, apart from +the jacket and the hat and his powers of mimicry. + +I paused there to contemplate the coolness and ingenuity of the man. +The thing, I now began to see, was so safe and easy, provided that +his mimicry was good enough, and that his nerve held. Those two points +assured, only some wholly unlikely accident could unmask him. + +To come back to my puzzling out of the matter as I sat in the dead man's +bedroom with the tell-tale shoes before me. The reason for the entrance +by the window instead of by the front door will already have occurred +to any one reading this. Entering by the door, the man would almost +certainly have been heard by the sharp-eared Martin in his pantry just +across the hall; he might have met him face to face. + +Then there was the problem of the whisky. I had not attached much +importance to it; whisky will sometimes vanish in very queer ways in a +household of eight or nine persons; but it had seemed strange that it +should go in that way on that evening. Martin had been plainly quite +dumbfounded by the fact. It seemed to me now that many a man--fresh, +as this man in all likelihood was, from a bloody business, from the +unclothing of a corpse, and with a desperate part still to play--would +turn to that decanter as to a friend. No doubt he had a drink before +sending for Martin; after making that trick with ease and success, he +probably drank more. + +But he had known when to stop. The worst part of the enterprise was +before him: the business--clearly of such vital importance to him, for +whatever reason--of shutting himself in Manderson's room and preparing +a body of convincing evidence of its having been occupied by Manderson; +and this with the risk--very slight, as no doubt he understood, but how +unnerving!--of the woman on the other side of the half-open door awaking +and somehow discovering him. True, if he kept out of her limited field +of vision from the bed, she could only see him by getting up and going +to the door. I found that to a person lying in her bed, which stood +with its head to the wall a little beyond the door, nothing was visible +through the doorway but one of the cupboards by Manderson's bed-head. +Moreover, since this man knew the ways of the household, he would think +it most likely that Mrs. Manderson was asleep. Another point with him, I +guessed, might have been the estrangement between the husband and wife, +which they had tried to cloak by keeping up, among other things, their +usual practice of sleeping in connected rooms, but which was well known +to all who had anything to do with them. He would hope from this that +if Mrs. Manderson heard him, she would take no notice of the supposed +presence of her husband. + +So, pursuing my hypothesis, I followed the unknown up to the bedroom, +and saw him setting about his work. And it was with a catch in my own +breath that I thought of the hideous shock with which he must have heard +the sound of all others he was dreading most: the drowsy voice from the +adjoining room. + +What Mrs. Manderson actually said, she was unable to recollect at the +inquest. She thinks she asked her supposed husband whether he had had a +good run in the car. And now what does the unknown do? Here, I think, we +come to a supremely significant point. Not only does he--standing rigid +there, as I picture him, before the dressing-table, listening to the +sound of his own leaping heart--not only does he answer the lady in the +voice of Manderson; he volunteers an explanatory statement. He tells +her that he has, on a sudden inspiration, sent Marlowe in the car +to Southampton; that he has sent him to bring back some important +information from a man leaving for Paris by the steamboat that morning. +Why these details from a man who had long been uncommunicative to his +wife, and that upon a point scarcely likely to interest her? Why these +details about Marlowe? + +Having taken my story so far, I now put forward the following definite +propositions: that between a time somewhere about ten, when the car +started, and a time somewhere about eleven, Manderson was shot--probably +at a considerable distance from the house, as no shot was heard; that +the body was brought back, left by the shed, and stripped of its outer +clothing; that at some time round about eleven o'clock a man who was +not Manderson, wearing Manderson's shoes, hat, and jacket, entered the +library by the garden window; that he had with him Manderson's black +trousers, waistcoat, and motor-coat, the denture taken from Manderson's +mouth, and the weapon with which he had been murdered; that he concealed +these, rang the bell for the butler, and sat down at the telephone +with his hat on and his back to the door; that he was occupied with the +telephone all the time Martin was in the room; that on going up to the +bedroom floor he quietly entered Marlowe's room and placed the revolver +with which the crime had been committed--Marlowe's revolver--in the case +on the mantelpiece from which it had been taken; and that he then went +to Manderson's room, placed Manderson's shoes outside the door, threw +Manderson's garments on a chair, placed the denture in the bowl by the +bedside, and selected a suit of clothes, a pair of shoes, and a tie from +those in the bedroom. + +Here I will pause in my statement of this man's proceedings to go into a +question for which the way is now sufficiently prepared: + +Who was the false Manderson? + +Reviewing what was known to me, or might almost with certainty be +surmised, about that person, I set down the following five conclusions: + +(1.) He had been in close relations with the dead man. In his acting +before Martin and his speaking to Mrs. Manderson he had made no mistake. + +(2.) He was of a build not unlike Manderson's, especially as to height +and breadth of shoulder, which mainly determine the character of the +back of a seated figure when the head is concealed and the body loosely +clothed. But his feet were larger, though not greatly larger, than +Manderson's. + +(3.) He had considerable aptitude for mimicry and acting--probably some +experience too. + +(4.) He had a minute acquaintance with the ways of the Manderson +household. + +(5.) He was under a vital necessity of creating the belief that +Manderson was alive and in that house until some time after midnight on +the Sunday night. + +So much I took as either certain or next door to it. It was as far as I +could see. And it was far enough. + +I proceed to give, in an order corresponding with the numbered +paragraphs above, such relevant facts as I was able to obtain about Mr +John Marlowe, from himself and other sources: + +(1.) He had been Mr. Manderson's private secretary, upon a footing of +great intimacy, for nearly four years. + +(2.) The two men were nearly of the same height, about five feet eleven +inches; both were powerfully built and heavy in the shoulder. Marlowe, +who was the younger by some twenty years, was rather slighter about the +body, though Manderson was a man in good physical condition. Marlowe's +shoes (of which I examined several pairs) were roughly about one +shoemaker's size longer and broader than Manderson's. + +(3.) In the afternoon of the first day of my investigation, after +arriving at the results already detailed, I sent a telegram to a +personal friend, a Fellow of a college at Oxford, whom I knew to be +interested in theatrical matters, in these terms: + +PLEASE WIRE JOHN MARLOWE'S RECORD IN CONNECTION WITH ACTING AT OXFORD +SOME TIME PAST DECADE VERY URGENT AND CONFIDENTIAL. + +My friend replied in the following telegram, which reached me next +morning (the morning of the inquest): + +MARLOWE WAS MEMBER O.U.D.S FOR THREE YEARS AND PRESIDENT 19-- PLAYED +BARDOLPH CLEON AND MERCUTIO EXCELLED IN CHARACTER ACTING AND IMITATIONS +IN GREAT DEMAND AT SMOKERS WAS HERO OF SOME HISTORIC HOAXES. + +I had been led to send the telegram which brought this very helpful +answer by seeing on the mantel-shelf in Marlowe's bedroom a photograph +of himself and two others in the costume of Falstaff's three followers, +with an inscription from The Merry Wives, and by noting that it bore the +imprint of an Oxford firm of photographers. + +(4.) During his connection with Manderson, Marlowe had lived as one +of the family. No other person, apart from the servants, had his +opportunities for knowing the domestic life of the Mandersons in detail. + +(5.) I ascertained beyond doubt that Marlowe arrived at a hotel in +Southampton on the Monday morning at 6.30, and there proceeded to carry +out the commission which, according to his story, and according to the +statement made to Mrs. Manderson in the bedroom by the false Manderson, +had been entrusted to him by his employer. He had then returned in the +car to Marlstone, where he had shown great amazement and horror at the +news of the murder. + +*** + +These, I say, are the relevant facts about Marlowe. We must now examine +fact number 5 (as set out above) in connection with conclusion number 5 +about the false Manderson. + +I would first draw attention to one important fact. The only person who +professed to have heard Manderson mention Southampton at all before he +started in the car was Marlowe. His story--confirmed to some extent by +what the butler overheard--was that the journey was all arranged in a +private talk before they set out, and he could not say, when I put the +question to him, why Manderson should have concealed his intentions by +giving out that he was going with Marlowe for a moonlight drive. This +point, however, attracted no attention. Marlowe had an absolutely +air-tight alibi in his presence at Southampton by 6.30; nobody thought +of him in connection with a murder which must have been committed after +12.30--the hour at which Martin the butler had gone to bed. But it was +the Manderson who came back from the drive who went out of his way to +mention Southampton openly to two persons. He even went so far as +to ring up a hotel at Southampton and ask questions which bore out +Marlowe's story of his errand. This was the call he was busy with when +Martin was in the library. + +Now let us consider the alibi. If Manderson was in the house that night, +and if he did not leave it until some time after 12.30, Marlowe could +not by any possibility have had a direct hand in the murder. It is a +question of the distance between Marlstone and Southampton. If he had +left Marlstone in the car at the hour when he is supposed to have done +so--between 10 and 10.30--with a message from Manderson, the run would +be quite an easy one to do in the time. But it would be physically +impossible for the car--a 15 h.p. four-cylinder Northumberland, an +average medium-power car--to get to Southampton by half-past six unless +it left Marlstone by midnight at latest. Motorists who will examine the +road-map and make the calculations required, as I did in Manderson's +library that day, will agree that on the facts as they appeared there +was absolutely no case against Marlowe. + +But even if they were not as they appeared; if Manderson was dead by +eleven o'clock, and if at about that time Marlowe impersonated him at +White Gables; if Marlowe retired to Manderson's bedroom--how can all +this be reconciled with his appearance next morning at Southampton? He +had to get out of the house, unseen and unheard, and away in the car by +midnight. And Martin, the sharp-eared Martin, was sitting up until 12.30 +in his pantry, with the door open, listening for the telephone bell. +Practically he was standing sentry over the foot of the staircase, the +only staircase leading down from the bedroom floor. + +With this difficulty we arrive at the last and crucial phase of my +investigation. Having the foregoing points clearly in mind, I spent the +rest of the day before the inquest in talking to various persons and in +going over my story, testing it link by link. I could only find the one +weakness which seemed to be involved in Martin's sitting up until 12.30; +and since his having been instructed to do so was certainly a part of +the plan, meant to clinch the alibi for Marlowe, I knew there must be an +explanation somewhere. If I could not find that explanation, my theory +was valueless. I must be able to show that at the time Martin went up to +bed the man who had shut himself in Manderson's bedroom might have been +many miles away on the road to Southampton. + +I had, however, a pretty good idea already--as perhaps the reader of +these lines has by this time, if I have made myself clear--of how the +escape of the false Manderson before midnight had been contrived. But I +did not want what I was now about to do to be known. If I had chanced to +be discovered at work, there would have been no concealing the direction +of my suspicions. I resolved not to test them on this point until the +next day, during the opening proceedings at the inquest. This was to be +held, I knew, at the hotel, and I reckoned upon having White Gables to +myself so far as the principal inmates were concerned. + +So in fact it happened. By the time the proceedings at the hotel had +begun I was hard at work at White Gables. I had a camera with me. I +made search, on principles well known to and commonly practised by the +police, and often enough by myself, for certain indications. Without +describing my search, I may say at once that I found and was able to +photograph two fresh fingerprints, very large and distinct, on the +polished front of the right-hand top drawer of the chest of drawers +in Manderson's bedroom; five more (among a number of smaller and less +recent impressions made by other hands) on the glasses of the French +window in Mrs. Manderson's room, a window which always stood open at +night with a curtain before it; and three more upon the glass bowl in +which Manderson's dental plate had been found lying. + +I took the bowl with me from White Gables. I took also a few articles +which I selected from Marlowe's bedroom, as bearing the most distinct +of the innumerable fingerprints which are always to be found upon toilet +articles in daily use. I already had in my possession, made upon leaves +cut from my pocket diary, some excellent fingerprints of Marlowe's +which he had made in my presence without knowing it. I had shown him the +leaves, asking if he recognized them; and the few seconds during which +he had held them in his fingers had sufficed to leave impressions which +I was afterwards able to bring out. + +By six o'clock in the evening, two hours after the jury had brought in +their verdict against a person or persons unknown, I had completed my +work, and was in a position to state that two of the five large prints +made on the window-glasses, and the three on the bowl, were made by the +left hand of Marlowe; that the remaining three on the window and the two +on the drawer were made by his right hand. + +By eight o'clock I had made at the establishment of Mr. H. T. Copper, +photographer, of Bishopsbridge, and with his assistance, a dozen +enlarged prints of the finger-marks of Marlowe, clearly showing the +identity of those which he unknowingly made in my presence and those +left upon articles in his bedroom, with those found by me as I have +described, and thus establishing the facts that Marlowe was recently in +Manderson's bedroom, where he had in the ordinary way no business, +and in Mrs. Manderson's room, where he had still less. I hope it may be +possible to reproduce these prints for publication with this dispatch. + +At nine o'clock I was back in my room at the hotel and sitting down to +begin this manuscript. I had my story complete. I bring it to a close +by advancing these further propositions: that on the night of the murder +the impersonator of Manderson, being in Manderson's bedroom, told Mrs +Manderson, as he had already told Martin, that Marlowe was at that +moment on his way to Southampton; that having made his dispositions in +the room, he switched off the light, and lay in the bed in his clothes; +that he waited until he was assured that Mrs. Manderson was asleep; that +he then arose and stealthily crossed Mrs. Manderson's bedroom in his +stocking feet, having under his arm the bundle of clothing and shoes for +the body; that he stepped behind the curtain, pushing the doors of +the window a little further open with his hands, strode over the iron +railing of the balcony, and let himself down until only a drop of a few +feet separated him from the soft turf of the lawn. + +All this might very well have been accomplished within half an hour of +his entering Manderson's bedroom, which, according to Martin, he did at +about half-past eleven. + +What followed your readers and the authorities may conjecture for +themselves. The corpse was found next morning clothed--rather untidily. +Marlowe in the car appeared at Southampton by half-past six. + +I bring this manuscript to an end in my sitting-room at the hotel at +Marlstone. It is four o'clock in the morning. I leave for London by the +noon train from Bishopsbridge, and immediately after arriving I shall +place these pages in your hands. I ask you to communicate the substance +of them to the Criminal Investigation Department. + +PHILIP TRENT. + + + + +CHAPTER XII: Evil Days + +'I am returning the cheque you sent for what I did on the Manderson +case,' Trent wrote to Sir James Molloy from Munich, whither he had +gone immediately after handing in at the Record office a brief dispatch +bringing his work on the case to an unexciting close. 'What I sent you +wasn't worth one-tenth of the amount; but I should have no scruple about +pocketing it if I hadn't taken a fancy--never mind why--not to touch +any money at all for this business. I should like you, if there is no +objection, to pay for the stuff at your ordinary space-rate, and hand +the money to some charity which does not devote itself to bullying +people, if you know of any such. I have come to this place to see some +old friends and arrange my ideas, and the idea that comes out uppermost +is that for a little while I want some employment with activity in it. I +find I can't paint at all: I couldn't paint a fence. Will you try me as +your Own Correspondent somewhere? If you can find me a good adventure I +will send you good accounts. After that I could settle down and work.' + +Sir James sent him instructions by telegram to proceed at once to +Kurland and Livonia, where Citizen Browning was abroad again, and town +and countryside blazed in revolt. It was a roving commission, and for +two months Trent followed his luck. It served him not less well than +usual. He was the only correspondent who saw General Dragilew killed in +the street at Volmar by a girl of eighteen. He saw burnings, lynchings, +fusillades, hangings; each day his soul sickened afresh at the +imbecilities born of misrule. Many nights he lay down in danger. Many +days he went fasting. But there was never an evening or a morning when +he did not see the face of the woman whom he hopelessly loved. + +He discovered in himself an unhappy pride at the lasting force of +this infatuation. It interested him as a phenomenon; it amazed and +enlightened him. Such a thing had not visited him before. It confirmed +so much that he had found dubious in the recorded experience of men. + +It was not that, at thirty-two, he could pretend to ignorance of this +world of emotion. About his knowledge let it be enough to say that +what he had learned had come unpursued and unpurchased, and was without +intolerable memories; broken to the realities of sex, he was still +troubled by its inscrutable history. He went through life full of a +strange respect for certain feminine weakness and a very simple terror +of certain feminine strength. He had held to a rather lukewarm faith +that something remained in him to be called forth, and that the voice +that should call would be heard in its own time, if ever, and not +through any seeking. + +But he had not thought of the possibility that, if this proved true some +day, the truth might come in a sinister shape. The two things that had +taken him utterly by surprise in the matter of his feeling towards Mabel +Manderson were the insane suddenness of its uprising in full strength +and its extravagant hopelessness. Before it came, he had been much +disposed to laugh at the permanence of unrequited passion as a generous +boyish delusion. He knew now that he had been wrong, and he was living +bitterly in the knowledge. + +Before the eye of his fancy the woman always came just as she was when +he had first had sight of her, with the gesture which he had surprised +as he walked past unseen on the edge of the cliff; that great gesture of +passionate joy in her new liberty which had told him more plainly than +speech that her widowhood was a release from torment, and had confirmed +with terrible force the suspicion, active in his mind before, that it +was her passport to happiness with a man whom she loved. He could not +with certainty name to himself the moment when he had first suspected +that it might be so. The seed of the thought must have been sown, he +believed, at his first meeting with Marlowe; his mind would have noted +automatically that such evident strength and grace, with the sort of +looks and manners that the tall young man possessed, might go far with +any woman of unfixed affections. And the connection of this with what +Mr. Cupples had told him of the Mandersons' married life must have formed +itself in the unconscious depths of his mind. Certainly it had presented +itself as an already established thing when he began, after satisfying +himself of the identity of the murderer, to cast about for the motive +of the crime. Motive, motive! How desperately he had sought for another, +turning his back upon that grim thought, that Marlowe--obsessed by +passion like himself, and privy perhaps to maddening truths about the +wife's unhappiness--had taken a leaf, the guiltiest, from the book +of Bothwell. But in all his investigations at the time, in all his +broodings on the matter afterwards, he had been able to discover nothing +that could prompt Marlowe to such a deed--nothing but that temptation, +the whole strength of which he could not know, but which if it had +existed must have pressed urgently upon a bold spirit in which scruple +had been somehow paralysed. If he could trust his senses at all, the +young man was neither insane nor by nature evil. But that could not +clear him. Murder for a woman's sake, he thought, was not a rare crime, +Heaven knew! If the modern feebleness of impulse in the comfortable +classes, and their respect for the modern apparatus of detection, had +made it rare among them, it was yet far from impossible. It only needed +a man of equal daring and intelligence, his soul drugged with the +vapours of an intoxicating intrigue, to plan and perform such a deed. + +A thousand times, with a heart full of anguish, he had sought to reason +away the dread that Mabel Manderson had known too much of what had been +intended against her husband's life. That she knew all the truth after +the thing was done he could not doubt; her unforgettable collapse in his +presence when the question about Marlowe was suddenly and bluntly put, +had swept away his last hope that there was no love between the pair, +and had seemed to him, moreover, to speak of dread of discovery. In any +case, she knew the truth after reading what he had left with her; and it +was certain that no public suspicion had been cast upon Marlowe since. +She had destroyed his manuscript, then, and taken him at his word to +keep the secret that threatened her lover's life. + +But it was the monstrous thought that she might have known murder was +brewing, and guiltily kept silence, that haunted Trent's mind. She might +have suspected, have guessed something; was it conceivable that she was +aware of the whole plot, that she connived? He could never forget that +his first suspicion of Marlowe's motive in the crime had been roused by +the fact that his escape was made through the lady's room. At that time, +when he had not yet seen her, he had been ready enough to entertain the +idea of her equal guilt and her co-operation. He had figured to himself +some passionate hysterique, merciless as a cat in her hate and her love, +a zealous abettor, perhaps even the ruling spirit in the crime. + +Then he had seen her, had spoken with her, had helped her in her +weakness; and such suspicions, since their first meeting, had seemed the +vilest of infamy. He had seen her eyes and her mouth; he had breathed +the woman's atmosphere. Trent was one of those who fancy they can +scent true wickedness in the air. In her presence he had felt an inward +certainty of her ultimate goodness of heart; and it was nothing against +this that she had abandoned herself a moment, that day on the cliff, to +the sentiment of relief at the ending of her bondage, of her years of +starved sympathy and unquickened motherhood. That she had turned to +Marlowe in her destitution he believed; that she had any knowledge of +his deadly purpose he did not believe. + +And yet, morning and evening the sickening doubts returned, and he +recalled again that it was almost in her presence that Marlowe had made +his preparations in the bedroom of the murdered man, that it was by the +window of her own chamber that he had escaped from the house. Had he +forgotten his cunning and taken the risk of telling her then? Or had he, +as Trent thought more likely, still played his part with her then, +and stolen off while she slept? He did not think she had known of the +masquerade when she gave evidence at the inquest; it read like honest +evidence. Or--the question would never be silenced, though he scorned +it--had she lain expecting the footsteps in the room and the whisper +that should tell her that it was done? Among the foul possibilities of +human nature, was it possible that black ruthlessness and black deceit +as well were hidden behind that good and straight and gentle seeming? + +These thoughts would scarcely leave him when he was alone. + +*** + +Trent served Sir James, well earning his pay for six months, and then +returned to Paris where he went to work again with a better heart. His +powers had returned to him, and he began to live more happily than +he had expected among a tribe of strangely assorted friends, French, +English, and American, artists, poets, journalists, policemen, +hotel-keepers, soldiers, lawyers, business men, and others. His old +faculty of sympathetic interest in his fellows won for him, just as in +his student days, privileges seldom extended to the Briton. He enjoyed +again the rare experience of being taken into the bosom of a Frenchman's +family. He was admitted to the momentous confidence of les jeunes, and +found them as sure that they had surprised the secrets of art and life +as the departed jeunes of ten years before had been. + +The bosom of the Frenchman's family was the same as those he had known +in the past, even to the patterns of the wallpaper and movables. But +the jeunes, he perceived with regret, were totally different from their +forerunners. They were much more shallow and puerile, much less really +clever. The secrets they wrested from the Universe were not such +important and interesting secrets as had been wrested by the old jeunes. +This he believed and deplored until one day he found himself seated at +a restaurant next to a too well-fed man whom, in spite of the ravages +of comfortable living, he recognized as one of the jeunes of his own +period. This one had been wont to describe himself and three or four +others as the Hermits of the New Parnassus. He and his school had talked +outside cafes and elsewhere more than solitaries do as a rule; but, +then, rules were what they had vowed themselves to destroy. They +proclaimed that verse, in particular, was free. The Hermit of the +New Parnassus was now in the Ministry of the Interior, and already +decorated: he expressed to Trent the opinion that what France needed +most was a hand of iron. He was able to quote the exact price paid for +certain betrayals of the country, of which Trent had not previously +heard. + +Thus he was brought to make the old discovery that it was he who had +changed, like his friend of the Administration, and that les jeunes were +still the same. Yet he found it hard to say what precisely he had lost +that so greatly mattered; unless indeed it were so simple a thing as his +high spirits. + +One morning in June, as he descended the slope of the Rue des Martyrs, +he saw approaching a figure that he remembered. He glanced quickly +round, for the thought of meeting Mr. Bunner again was unacceptable. For +some time he had recognized that his wound was healing under the spell +of creative work; he thought less often of the woman he loved, and with +less pain. He would not have the memory of those three days reopened. + +But the straight and narrow thoroughfare offered no refuge, and the +American saw him almost at once. + +His unforced geniality made Trent ashamed, for he had liked the man. +They sat long over a meal, and Mr. Bunner talked. Trent listened to +him, now that he was in for it, with genuine pleasure, now and then +contributing a question or remark. Besides liking his companion, he +enjoyed his conversation, with its unending verbal surprises, for its +own sake. + +Bunner was, it appeared, resident in Paris as the chief Continental +agent of the Manderson firm, and fully satisfied with his position and +prospects. He discoursed on these for some twenty minutes. This subject +at length exhausted, he went on to tell Trent, who confessed that he had +been away from England for a year, that Marlowe had shortly after the +death of Manderson entered his father's business, which was now again in +a flourishing state, and had already come to be practically in control +of it. They had kept up their intimacy, and were even now planning a +holiday for the summer. Mr. Bunner spoke with generous admiration of his +friend's talent for affairs. 'Jack Marlowe has a natural big head,' he +declared, 'and if he had more experience, I wouldn't want to have him up +against me. He would put a crimp in me every time.' + +As the American's talk flowed on, Trent listened with a slowly growing +perplexity. It became more and more plain that something was very wrong +in his theory of the situation; there was no mention of its central +figure. Presently Mr. Bunner mentioned that Marlowe was engaged to +be married to an Irish girl, whose charms he celebrated with native +enthusiasm. + +Trent clasped his hands savagely together beneath the table. What could +have happened? His ideas were sliding and shifting. At last he forced +himself to put a direct question. + +Mr. Bunner was not very fully informed. He knew that Mrs. Manderson had +left England immediately after the settlement of her husband's affairs, +and had lived for some time in Italy. She had returned not long ago to +London, where she had decided not to live in the house in Mayfair, +and had bought a smaller one in the Hampstead neighbourhood; also, he +understood, one somewhere in the country. She was said to go but little +into society. 'And all the good hard dollars just waiting for some one +to spraddle them around,' said Mr. Bunner, with a note of pathos in his +voice. 'Why, she has money to burn--money to feed to the birds--and +nothing doing. The old man left her more than half his wad. And think of +the figure she might make in the world. She is beautiful, and she is the +best woman I ever met, too. But she couldn't ever seem to get the habit +of spending money the way it ought to be spent.' + +His words now became a soliloquy: Trent's thoughts were occupying all +his attention. He pleaded business soon, and the two men parted with +cordiality. + +Half an hour later Trent was in his studio, swiftly and mechanically +'cleaning up'. He wanted to know what had happened; somehow he must find +out. He could never approach herself, he knew; he would never bring back +to her the shame of that last encounter with him; it was scarcely likely +that he would even set eyes on her. But he must get to know!... Cupples +was in London, Marlowe was there.... And, anyhow, he was sick of Paris. + +Such thoughts came and went; and below them all strained the fibres of +an unseen cord that dragged mercilessly at his heart, and that he cursed +bitterly in the moments when he could not deny to himself that it was +there. The folly, the useless, pitiable folly of it! + +In twenty-four hours his feeble roots in Paris had been torn out. He +was looking over a leaden sea at the shining fortress-wall of the Dover +cliffs. + +*** + +But though he had instinctively picked out the lines of a set purpose +from among the welter of promptings in his mind, he found it delayed at +the very outset. + +He had decided that he must first see Mr. Cupples, who would be in a +position to tell him much more than the American knew. But Mr. Cupples +was away on his travels, not expected to return for a month; and Trent +had no reasonable excuse for hastening his return. Marlowe he would not +confront until he had tried at least to reconnoitre the position. He +constrained himself not to commit the crowning folly of seeking out Mrs +Manderson's house in Hampstead; he could not enter it, and the thought +of the possibility of being seen by her lurking in its neighbourhood +brought the blood to his face. + +He stayed at an hotel, took a studio, and while he awaited Mr. Cupples's +return attempted vainly to lose himself in work. + +At the end of a week he had an idea that he acted upon with eager +precipitancy. She had let fall some word at their last meeting, of a +taste for music. Trent went that evening, and thenceforward regularly, +to the opera. He might see her; and if, in spite of his caution, +she caught sight of him, they could be blind to each other's +presence--anybody might happen to go to the opera. + +So he went alone each evening, passing as quickly as he might through +the people in the vestibule; and each evening he came away knowing that +she had not been in the house. It was a habit that yielded him a sort of +satisfaction along with the guilty excitement of his search; for he too +loved music, and nothing gave him so much peace while its magic endured. + +One night as he entered, hurrying through the brilliant crowd, he felt a +touch on his arm. Flooded with an incredible certainty at the touch, he +turned. + +It was she: so much more radiant in the absence of grief and anxiety, in +the fact that she was smiling, and in the allurement of evening dress, +that he could not speak. She, too, breathed a little quickly, and there +was a light of daring in her eyes and cheeks as she greeted him. + +Her words were few. 'I wouldn't miss a note of Tristan,' she said, 'nor +must you. Come and see me in the interval.' She gave him the number of +the box. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII: Eruption + +The following two months were a period in Trent's life that he has never +since remembered without shuddering. He met Mrs. Manderson half a dozen +times, and each time her cool friendliness, a nicely calculated mean +between mere acquaintance and the first stage of intimacy, baffled and +maddened him. At the opera he had found her, to his further amazement, +with a certain Mrs. Wallace, a frisky matron whom he had known from +childhood. Mrs. Manderson, it appeared, on her return from Italy, had +somehow wandered into circles to which he belonged by nurture and +disposition. It came, she said, of her having pitched her tent in their +hunting-grounds; several of his friends were near neighbours. He had +a dim but horrid recollection of having been on that occasion unlike +himself, ill at ease, burning in the face, talking with idiot loquacity +of his adventures in the Baltic provinces, and finding from time to time +that he was addressing himself exclusively to Mrs. Wallace. The other +lady, when he joined them, had completely lost the slight appearance +of agitation with which she had stopped him in the vestibule. She had +spoken pleasantly to him of her travels, of her settlement in London, +and of people whom they both knew. + +During the last half of the opera, which he had stayed in the box to +hear, he had been conscious of nothing, as he sat behind them, but the +angle of her cheek and the mass of her hair, the lines of her shoulder +and arm, her hand upon the cushion. The black hair had seemed at last +a forest, immeasurable, pathless and enchanted, luring him to a fatal +adventure.... At the end he had been pale and subdued, parting with them +rather formally. + +The next time he saw her--it was at a country house where both were +guests--and the subsequent times, he had had himself in hand. He had +matched her manner and had acquitted himself, he thought, decently, +considering-- + +Considering that he lived in an agony of bewilderment and remorse and +longing. He could make nothing, absolutely nothing, of her attitude. +That she had read his manuscript and understood the suspicion indicated +in his last question to her at White Gables was beyond the possibility +of doubt. Then how could she treat him thus and frankly, as she treated +all the world of men who had done no injury? + +For it had become clear to his intuitive sense, for all the absence of +any shade of differentiation in her outward manner, that an injury had +been done, and that she had felt it. Several times, on the rare and +brief occasions when they had talked apart, he had warning from the same +sense that she was approaching this subject; and each time he had turned +the conversation with the ingenuity born of fear. Two resolutions he +made. The first was that when he had completed a commissioned work which +tied him to London he would go away and stay away. The strain was too +great. He no longer burned to know the truth; he wanted nothing to +confirm his fixed internal conviction by faith, that he had blundered, +that he had misread the situation, misinterpreted her tears, written +himself down a slanderous fool. He speculated no more on Marlowe's +motive in the killing of Manderson. Mr. Cupples returned to London, and +Trent asked him nothing. He knew now that he had been right in those +words--Trent remembered them for the emphasis with which they were +spoken--'So long as she considered herself bound to him... no power on +earth could have persuaded her.' He met Mrs. Manderson at dinner at her +uncle's large and tomb-like house in Bloomsbury, and there he conversed +most of the evening with a professor of archaeology from Berlin. + +His other resolution was that he would not be with her alone. + +But when, a few days after, she wrote asking him to come and see her on +the following afternoon, he made no attempt to excuse himself. This was +a formal challenge. + +*** + +While she celebrated the rites of tea, and for some little time +thereafter, she joined with such natural ease in his slightly fevered +conversation on matters of the day that he began to hope she had changed +what he could not doubt had been her resolve, to corner him and speak to +him gravely. She was to all appearance careless now, smiling so that he +recalled, not for the first time since that night at the opera, what was +written long ago of a Princess of Brunswick: 'Her mouth has ten thousand +charms that touch the soul.' She made a tour of the beautiful room where +she had received him, singling out this treasure or that from the spoils +of a hundred bric-a-brac shops, laughing over her quests, discoveries, +and bargainings. And when he asked if she would delight him again with a +favourite piece of his which he had heard her play at another house, she +consented at once. + +She played with a perfection of execution and feeling that moved him now +as it had moved him before. 'You are a musician born,' he said quietly +when she had finished, and the last tremor of the music had passed away. +'I knew that before I first heard you.' + +'I have played a great deal ever since I can remember. It has been a +great comfort to me,' she said simply, and half-turned to him smiling. +'When did you first detect music in me? Oh, of course: I was at the +opera. But that wouldn't prove much, would it?' + +'No,' he said abstractedly, his sense still busy with the music that +had just ended. 'I think I knew it the first time I saw you.' Then +understanding of his own words came to him, and turned him rigid. For +the first time the past had been invoked. + +There was a short silence. Mrs. Manderson looked at Trent, then hastily +looked away. Colour began to rise in her cheeks, and she pursed her lips +as if for whistling. Then with a defiant gesture of the shoulders which +he remembered she rose suddenly from the piano and placed herself in a +chair opposite to him. + +'That speech of yours will do as well as anything,' she began slowly, +looking at the point of her shoe, 'to bring us to what I wanted to say. +I asked you here today on purpose, Mr. Trent, because I couldn't bear it +any longer. Ever since the day you left me at White Gables I have been +saying to myself that it didn't matter what you thought of me in that +affair; that you were certainly not the kind of man to speak to others +of what you believed about me, after what you had told me of your +reasons for suppressing your manuscript. I asked myself how it could +matter. But all the time, of course, I knew it did matter. It mattered +horribly. Because what you thought was not true.' She raised her eyes +and met his gaze calmly. Trent, with a completely expressionless face, +returned her look. + +'Since I began to know you,' he said, 'I have ceased to think it.' +'Thank you,' said Mrs. Manderson; and blushed suddenly and deeply. Then, +playing with a glove, she added, 'But I want you to know what was true. + +'I did not know if I should ever see you again,' she went on in a lower +voice, 'but I felt that if I did I must speak to you about this. I +thought it would not be hard to do so, because you seemed to me an +understanding person; and besides, a woman who has been married isn't +expected to have the same sort of difficulty as a young girl in speaking +about such things when it is necessary. And then we did meet again, and +I discovered that it was very difficult indeed. You made it difficult.' + +'How?' he asked quietly. + +'I don't know,' said the lady. 'But yes--I do know. It was just because +you treated me exactly as if you had never thought or imagined anything +of that sort about me. I had always supposed that if I saw you again you +would turn on me that hard, horrible sort of look you had when you asked +me that last question--do you remember?--at White Gables. Instead of +that you were just like any other acquaintance. You were just'--she +hesitated and spread out her hands--'nice. You know. After that first +time at the opera when I spoke to you I went home positively wondering +if you had really recognized me. I mean, I thought you might have +recognized my face without remembering who it was.' + +A short laugh broke from Trent in spite of himself, but he said nothing. + +She smiled deprecatingly. 'Well, I couldn't remember if you had spoken +my name; and I thought it might be so. But the next time, at the +Iretons', you did speak it, so I knew; and a dozen times during those +few days I almost brought myself to tell you, but never quite. I began +to feel that you wouldn't let me, that you would slip away from the +subject if I approached it. Wasn't I right? Tell me, please.' He nodded. +'But why?' He remained silent. + +'Well,' she said, 'I will finish what I had to say, and then you +will tell me, I hope, why you had to make it so hard. When I began to +understand that you wouldn't let me talk of the matter to you, it made +me more determined than ever. I suppose you didn't realize that I would +insist on speaking even if you were quite discouraging. I dare say I +couldn't have done it if I had been guilty, as you thought. You walked +into my parlour today, never thinking I should dare. Well, now you see.' + +Mrs. Manderson had lost all her air of hesitancy. She had, as she was +wont to say, talked herself enthusiastic, and in the ardour of her +purpose to annihilate the misunderstanding that had troubled her so long +she felt herself mistress of the situation. + +'I am going to tell you the story of the mistake you made,' she +continued, as Trent, his hands clasped between his knees, still looked +at her enigmatically. 'You will have to believe it, Mr. Trent; it +is utterly true to life, with its confusions and hidden things and +cross-purposes and perfectly natural mistakes that nobody thinks twice +about taking for facts. Please understand that I don't blame you in the +least, and never did, for jumping to the conclusion you did. You knew +that I was estranged from my husband, and you knew what that so often +means. You knew before I told you, I expect, that he had taken up an +injured attitude towards me; and I was silly enough to try and explain +it away. I gave you the explanation of it that I had given myself +at first, before I realized the wretched truth; I told you he was +disappointed in me because I couldn't take a brilliant lead in society. +Well, that was true; he was so. But I could see you weren't convinced. +You had guessed what it took me much longer to see, because I knew how +irrational it was. Yes; my husband was jealous of John Marlowe; you +divined that. + +'Then I behaved like a fool when you let me see you had divined it; it +was such a blow, you understand, when I had supposed all the humiliation +and strain was at an end, and that his delusion had died with him. You +practically asked me if my husband's secretary was not my lover, Mr +Trent--I have to say it, because I want you to understand why I broke +down and made a scene. You took that for a confession; you thought I was +guilty of that, and I think you even thought I might be a party to +the crime, that I had consented.... That did hurt me; but perhaps you +couldn't have thought anything else--I don't know.' + +Trent, who had not hitherto taken his eyes from her face, hung his head +at the words. He did not raise it again as she continued. 'But really it +was simple shock and distress that made me give way, and the memory of +all the misery that mad suspicion had meant to me. And when I pulled +myself together again you had gone.' + +She rose and went to an escritoire beside the window, unlocked a drawer, +and drew out a long, sealed envelope. + +'This is the manuscript you left with me,' she said. 'I have read it +through again and again. I have always wondered, as everybody does, at +your cleverness in things of this kind.' A faintly mischievous smile +flashed upon her face, and was gone. 'I thought it was splendid, Mr +Trent--I almost forgot that the story was my own, I was so interested. +And I want to say now, while I have this in my hand, how much I thank +you for your generous, chivalrous act in sacrificing this triumph of +yours rather than put a woman's reputation in peril. If all had been as +you supposed, the facts must have come out when the police took up the +case you put in their hands. Believe me, I understood just what you had +done, and I never ceased to be grateful even when I felt most crushed by +your suspicion.' + +As she spoke her thanks her voice shook a little, and her eyes were +bright. Trent perceived nothing of this. His head was still bent. He +did not seem to hear. She put the envelope into his hand as it lay open, +palm upwards, on his knee. There was a touch of gentleness about the act +which made him look up. + +'Can you--' he began slowly. + +She raised her hand as she stood before him. 'No, Mr. Trent; let me +finish before you say anything. It is such an unspeakable relief to me +to have broken the ice at last, and I want to end the story while I am +still feeling the triumph of beginning it.' She sank down into the sofa +from which she had first risen. 'I am telling you a thing that nobody +else knows. Everybody knew, I suppose, that something had come between +us, though I did everything in my power to hide it. But I don't think +any one in the world ever guessed what my husband's notion was. People +who know me don't think that sort of thing about me, I believe. And his +fancy was so ridiculously opposed to the facts. I will tell you what the +situation was. Mr. Marlowe and I had been friendly enough since he came +to us. For all his cleverness--my husband said he had a keener brain +than any man he knew--I looked upon him as practically a boy. You know +I am a little older than he is, and he had a sort of amiable lack of +ambition that made me feel it the more. One day my husband asked me what +I thought was the best thing about Marlowe, and not thinking much about +it I said, "His manners." He surprised me very much by looking black at +that, and after a silence he said, "Yes, Marlowe is a gentleman; that's +so", not looking at me. + +'Nothing was ever said about that again until about a year ago, when +I found that Mr. Marlowe had done what I always expected he would +do--fallen desperately in love with an American girl. But to my disgust +he had picked out the most worthless girl, I do believe, of all those +whom we used to meet. She was the daughter of wealthy parents, and she +did as she liked with them; very beautiful, well educated, very good at +games--what they call a woman-athlete--and caring for nothing on earth +but her own amusement. She was one of the most unprincipled flirts I +ever knew, and quite the cleverest. Every one knew it, and Mr. Marlowe +must have heard it; but she made a complete fool of him, brain and all. +I don't know how she managed it, but I can imagine. She liked him, of +course; but it was quite plain to me that she was playing with him. The +whole affair was so idiotic, I got perfectly furious. One day I asked +him to row me in a boat on the lake--all this happened at our house by +Lake George. We had never been alone together for any length of time +before. In the boat I talked to him. I was very kind about it, I think, +and he took it admirably, but he didn't believe me a bit. He had the +impudence to tell me that I misunderstood Alice's nature. When I hinted +at his prospects--I knew he had scarcely anything of his own--he said +that if she loved him he could make himself a position in the world. I +dare say that was true, with his abilities and his friends--he is rather +well connected, you know, as well as popular. But his enlightenment came +very soon after that. + +'My husband helped me out of the boat when we got back. He joked with +Mr. Marlowe about something, I remember; for through all that followed he +never once changed in his manner to him, and that was one reason why I +took so long to realize what he thought about him and myself. But to +me he was reserved and silent that evening--not angry. He was always +perfectly cold and expressionless to me after he took this idea into his +head. After dinner he only spoke to me once. Mr. Marlowe was telling him +about some horse he had bought for the farm in Kentucky, and my husband +looked at me and said, "Marlowe may be a gentleman, but he seldom quits +loser in a horse-trade." I was surprised at that, but at that time--and +even on the next occasion when he found us together--I didn't understand +what was in his mind. That next time was the morning when Mr +Marlowe received a sweet little note from the girl asking for his +congratulations on her engagement. It was in our New York house. +He looked so wretched at breakfast that I thought he was ill, and +afterwards I went to the room where he worked, and asked what was the +matter. He didn't say anything, but just handed me the note, and turned +away to the window. I was very glad that was all over, but terribly +sorry for him too, of course. I don't remember what I said, but I +remember putting my hand on his arm as he stood there staring out on +the garden and just then my husband appeared at the open door with some +papers. He just glanced at us, and then turned and walked quietly back +to his study. I thought that he might have heard what I was saying to +comfort Mr. Marlowe, and that it was rather nice of him to slip away. +Mr. Marlowe neither saw nor heard him. My husband left the house that +morning for the West while I was out. Even then I did not understand. He +used often to go off suddenly like that, if some business project called +him. + +'It was not until he returned a week later that I grasped the situation. +He was looking white and strange, and as soon as he saw me he asked +me where Mr. Marlowe was. Somehow the tone of his question told me +everything in a flash. + +'I almost gasped; I was wild with indignation. You know, Mr. Trent, +I don't think I should have minded at all if any one had thought me +capable of openly breaking with my husband and leaving him for somebody +else. I dare say I might have done that. But that coarse suspicion... +a man whom he trusted... and the notion of concealment. It made me see +scarlet. Every shred of pride in me was strung up till I quivered, and I +swore to myself on the spot that I would never show by any word or sign +that I was conscious of his having such a thought about me. I would +behave exactly as I always had behaved, I determined--and that I did, up +to the very last. Though I knew that a wall had been made between us now +that could never be broken down--even if he asked my pardon and obtained +it--I never once showed that I noticed any change. + +'And so it went on. I never could go through such a time again. My +husband showed silent and cold politeness to me always when we were +alone--and that was only when it was unavoidable. He never once alluded +to what was in his mind; but I felt it, and he knew that I felt it. Both +of us were stubborn in our different attitudes. To Mr. Marlowe he was +more friendly, if anything, than before--Heaven only knows why. I +fancied he was planning some sort of revenge; but that was only a fancy. +Certainly Mr. Marlowe never knew what was suspected of him. He and I +remained good friends, though we never spoke of anything intimate after +that disappointment of his; but I made a point of seeing no less of him +than I had always done. Then we came to England and to White Gables, and +after that followed--my husband's dreadful end.' + +She threw out her right hand in a gesture of finality. 'You know about +the rest--so much more than any other man,' she added, and glanced up at +him with a quaint expression. + +Trent wondered at that look, but the wonder was only a passing shadow on +his thought. Inwardly his whole being was possessed by thankfulness. All +the vivacity had returned to his face. Long before the lady had ended +her story he had recognized the certainty of its truth, as from the +first days of their renewed acquaintance he had doubted the story that +his imagination had built up at White Gables, upon foundations that +seemed so good to him. + +He said, 'I don't know how to begin the apologies I have to make. There +are no words to tell you how ashamed and disgraced I feel when I realize +what a crude, cock-sure blundering at a conclusion my suspicion was. +Yes, I suspected--you! I had almost forgotten that I was ever such +a fool. Almost--not quite. Sometimes when I have been alone I have +remembered that folly, and poured contempt on it. I have tried to +imagine what the facts were. I have tried to excuse myself.' + +She interrupted him quickly. 'What nonsense! Do be sensible, Mr. Trent. +You had only seen me on two occasions in your life before you came to me +with your solution of the mystery.' Again the quaint expression came and +was gone. 'If you talk of folly, it really is folly for a man like you +to pretend to a woman like me that I had innocence written all over +me in large letters--so large that you couldn't believe very strong +evidence against me after seeing me twice.' + +'What do you mean by "a man like me"?' he demanded with a sort of +fierceness. 'Do you take me for a person without any normal instincts? +I don't say you impress people as a simple, transparent sort of +character--what Mr. Calvin Bunner calls a case of open-work; I don't say +a stranger might not think you capable of wickedness, if there was good +evidence for it: but I say that a man who, after seeing you and being +in your atmosphere, could associate you with the particular kind of +abomination I imagined, is a fool--the kind of fool who is afraid to +trust his senses.... As for my making it hard for you to approach +the subject, as you say, it is true. It was simply moral cowardice. I +understood that you wished to clear the matter up; and I was revolted at +the notion of my injurious blunder being discussed. I tried to show you +by my actions that it was as if it had never been. I hoped you would +pardon me without any words. I can't forgive myself, and I never shall. +And yet if you could know--' He stopped short, and then added quietly, +'Well, will you accept all that as an apology? The very scrubbiest +sackcloth made, and the grittiest ashes on the heap.... I didn't mean to +get worked up,' he ended lamely. + +Mrs. Manderson laughed, and her laugh carried him away with it. He knew +well by this time that sudden rush of cascading notes of mirth, the +perfect expression of enjoyment; he had many times tried to amuse her +merely for his delight in the sound of it. + +'But I love to see you worked up,' she said. 'The bump with which you +always come down as soon as you realize that you are up in the air +at all is quite delightful. Oh, we're actually both laughing. What a +triumphant end to our explanations, after all my dread of the time when +I should have it out with you. And now it's all over, and you know; and +we'll never speak of it any more.' + +'I hope not,' Trent said in sincere relief. 'If you're resolved to be so +kind as this about it, I am not high-principled enough to insist on your +blasting me with your lightnings. And now, Mrs. Manderson, I had +better go. Changing the subject after this would be like playing +puss-in-the-corner after an earthquake.' He rose to his feet. + +'You are right,' she said. 'But no! Wait. There is another thing--part +of the same subject; and we ought to pick up all the pieces now while we +are about it. Please sit down.' She took the envelope containing Trent's +manuscript dispatch from the table where he had laid it. 'I want to +speak about this.' + +His brows bent, and he looked at her questioningly. 'So do I, if you +do,' he said slowly. 'I want very much to know one thing.' + +'Tell me.' + +'Since my reason for suppressing that information was all a fantasy, +why did you never make any use of it? When I began to realize that I had +been wrong about you, I explained your silence to myself by saying that +you could not bring yourself to do a thing that would put a rope round +a man's neck, whatever he might have done. I can quite understand that +feeling. Was that what it was? Another possibility I thought of was +that you knew of something that was by way of justifying or excusing +Marlowe's act. Or I thought you might have a simple horror, quite apart +from humanitarian scruples, of appearing publicly in connection with +a murder trial. Many important witnesses in such cases have to be +practically forced into giving their evidence. They feel there is +defilement even in the shadow of the scaffold.' + +Mrs. Manderson tapped her lips with the envelope without quite concealing +a smile. 'You didn't think of another possibility, I suppose, Mr. Trent,' +she said. + +'No.' He looked puzzled. + +'I mean the possibility of your having been wrong about Mr. Marlowe as +well as about me. No, no; you needn't tell me that the chain of evidence +is complete. I know it is. But evidence of what? Of Mr. Marlowe having +impersonated my husband that night, and having escaped by way of my +window, and built up an alibi. I have read your dispatch again and +again, Mr. Trent, and I don't see that those things can be doubted.' + +Trent gazed at her with narrowed eyes. He said nothing to fill the brief +pause that followed. Mrs. Manderson smoothed her skirt with a preoccupied +air, as one collecting her ideas. + +'I did not make any use of the facts found out by you,' she slowly said +at last, 'because it seemed to me very likely that they would be fatal +to Mr. Marlowe.' + +'I agree with you,' Trent remarked in a colourless tone. + +'And,' pursued the lady, looking up at him with a mild reasonableness in +her eyes, 'as I knew that he was innocent I was not going to expose him +to that risk.' + +There was another little pause. Trent rubbed his chin, with an +affectation of turning over the idea. Inwardly he was telling himself, +somewhat feebly, that this was very right and proper; that it was quite +feminine, and that he liked her to be feminine. It was permitted to +her--more than permitted--to set her loyal belief in the character of a +friend above the clearest demonstrations of the intellect. Nevertheless, +it chafed him. He would have had her declaration of faith a little less +positive in form. It was too irrational to say she 'knew'. In fact +(he put it to himself bluntly), it was quite unlike her. If to be +unreasonable when reason led to the unpleasant was a specially feminine +trait, and if Mrs. Manderson had it, she was accustomed to wrap it up +better than any woman he had known. + +'You suggest,' he said at length, 'that Marlowe constructed an alibi for +himself, by means which only a desperate man would have attempted, +to clear himself of a crime he did not commit. Did he tell you he was +innocent?' + +She uttered a little laugh of impatience. 'So you think he has been +talking me round. No, that is not so. I am merely sure he did not do it. +Ah! I see you think that absurd. But see how unreasonable you are, Mr +Trent! Just now you were explaining to me quite sincerely that it was +foolishness in you to have a certain suspicion of me after seeing me and +being in my atmosphere, as you said.' Trent started in his chair. She +glanced at him, and went on: 'Now, I and my atmosphere are much obliged +to you, but we must stand up for the rights of other atmospheres. I know +a great deal more about Mr. Marlowe's atmosphere than you know about mine +even now. I saw him constantly for several years. I don't pretend to +know all about him; but I do know that he is incapable of a crime of +bloodshed. The idea of his planning a murder is as unthinkable to me as +the idea of your picking a poor woman's pocket, Mr. Trent. I can imagine +you killing a man, you know... if the man deserved it and had an +equal chance of killing you. I could kill a person myself in some +circumstances. But Mr. Marlowe was incapable of doing it, I don't care +what the provocation might be. He had a temper that nothing could shake, +and he looked upon human nature with a sort of cold magnanimity that +would find excuses for absolutely anything. It wasn't a pose; you could +see it was a part of him. He never put it forward, but it was there +always. It was quite irritating at times.... Now and then in America, I +remember, I have heard people talking about lynching, for instance, when +he was there. He would sit quite silent and expressionless, appearing +not to listen; but you could feel disgust coming from him in waves. He +really loathed and hated physical violence. He was a very strange man in +some ways, Mr. Trent. He gave one a feeling that he might do unexpected +things--do you know that feeling one has about some people? What part +he really played in the events of that night I have never been able to +guess. But nobody who knew anything about him could possibly believe in +his deliberately taking a man's life.' Again the movement of her head +expressed finality, and she leaned back in the sofa, calmly regarding +him. + +'Then,' said Trent, who had followed this with earnest attention, 'we +are forced back on two other possibilities, which I had not thought +worth much consideration until this moment. Accepting what you say, he +might still conceivably have killed in self-defence; or he might have +done so by accident.' + +The lady nodded. 'Of course I thought of those two explanations when I +read your manuscript.' + +'And I suppose you felt, as I did myself, that in either of those cases +the natural thing, and obviously the safest thing, for him to do was to +make a public statement of the truth, instead of setting up a series of +deceptions which would certainly stamp him as guilty in the eyes of the +law, if anything went wrong with them.' + +'Yes,' she said wearily, 'I thought over all that until my head ached. +And I thought somebody else might have done it, and that he was somehow +screening the guilty person. But that seemed wild. I could see no light +in the mystery, and after a while I simply let it alone. All I was clear +about was that Mr. Marlowe was not a murderer, and that if I told what +you had found out, the judge and jury would probably think he was. I +promised myself that I would speak to you about it if we should meet +again; and now I've kept my promise.' + +Trent, his chin resting on his hand, was staring at the carpet. The +excitement of the hunt for the truth was steadily rising in him. He +had not in his own mind accepted Mrs. Manderson's account of Marlowe's +character as unquestionable. But she had spoken forcibly; he could by no +means set it aside, and his theory was much shaken. + +'There is only one thing for it,' he said, looking up. 'I must see +Marlowe. It worries me too much to have the thing left like this. I will +get at the truth. Can you tell me,' he broke off, 'how he behaved after +the day I left White Gables?' + +'I never saw him after that,' said Mrs. Manderson simply. 'For some days +after you went away I was ill, and didn't go out of my room. When I got +down he had left and was in London, settling things with the lawyers. He +did not come down to the funeral. Immediately after that I went abroad. +After some weeks a letter from him reached me, saying he had concluded +his business and given the solicitors all the assistance in his power. +He thanked me very nicely for what he called all my kindness, and said +goodbye. There was nothing in it about his plans for the future, and +I thought it particularly strange that he said not a word about my +husband's death. I didn't answer. Knowing what I knew, I couldn't. In +those days I shuddered whenever I thought of that masquerade in the +night. I never wanted to see or hear of him again.' + +'Then you don't know what has become of him?' + +'No, but I dare say Uncle Burton--Mr. Cupples, you know--could tell you. +Some time ago he told me that he had met Mr. Marlowe in London, and had +some talk with him. I changed the conversation.' She paused and smiled +with a trace of mischief. 'I rather wonder what you supposed had +happened to Mr. Marlowe after you withdrew from the scene of the drama +that you had put together so much to your satisfaction.' + +Trent flushed. 'Do you really want to know?' he said. + +'I ask you,' she retorted quietly. + +'You ask me to humiliate myself again, Mrs. Manderson. Very well. I will +tell you what I thought I should most likely find when I returned to +London after my travels: that you had married Marlowe to live abroad.' + +She heard him with unmoved composure. 'We certainly couldn't have +lived very comfortably in England on his money and mine,' she observed +thoughtfully. 'He had practically nothing then.' + +He stared at her--'gaped', she told him some time afterwards. At the +moment she laughed with a little embarrassment. + +'Dear me, Mr. Trent! Have I said anything dreadful? You surely must +know.... I thought everybody understood by now.... I'm sure I've had to +explain it often enough... if I marry again I lose everything that my +husband left me.' + +The effect of this speech upon Trent was curious. For an instant his +face was flooded with the emotion of surprise. As this passed away he +gradually drew himself together, as he sat, into a tense attitude. He +looked, she thought as she saw his knuckles grow white on the arms of +the chair, like a man prepared for pain under the hand of the surgeon. +But all he said, in a voice lower than his usual tone, was, 'I had no +idea of it.' + +'It is so,' she said calmly, trifling with a ring on her finger. +'Really, Mr. Trent, it is not such a very unusual thing. I think I am +glad of it. For one thing, it has secured me--at least since it became +generally known--from a good many attentions of a kind that a woman in +my position has to put up with as a rule.' + +'No doubt,' he said gravely. 'And... the other kind?' + +She looked at him questioningly. 'Ah!' she laughed. 'The other kind +trouble me even less. I have not yet met a man silly enough to want +to marry a widow with a selfish disposition, and luxurious habits and +tastes, and nothing but the little my father left me.' + +She shook her head, and something in the gesture shattered the last +remnants of Trent's self-possession. + +'Haven't you, by Heaven!' he exclaimed, rising with a violent movement +and advancing a step towards her. 'Then I am going to show you that +human passion is not always stifled by the smell of money. I am going +to end the business--my business. I am going to tell you what I dare +say scores of better men have wanted to tell you, but couldn't summon up +what I have summoned up--the infernal cheek to do it. They were afraid +of making fools of themselves. I am not. You have accustomed me to the +feeling this afternoon.' He laughed aloud in his rush of words, and +spread out his hands. 'Look at me! It is the sight of the century! It +is one who says he loves you, and would ask you to give up very great +wealth to stand at his side.' + +She was hiding her face in her hands. He heard her say brokenly, +'Please... don't speak in that way.' + +He answered: 'It will make a great difference to me if you will allow me +to say all I have to say before I leave you. Perhaps it is in bad +taste, but I will risk that; I want to relieve my soul; it needs open +confession. This is the truth. You have troubled me ever since the first +time I saw you--and you did not know it--as you sat under the edge of +the cliff at Marlstone, and held out your arms to the sea. It was only +your beauty that filled my mind then. As I passed by you it seemed as if +all the life in the place were crying out a song about you in the wind +and the sunshine. And the song stayed in my ears; but even your beauty +would be no more than an empty memory to me by now if that had been all. +It was when I led you from the hotel there to your house, with your +hand on my arm, that--what was it that happened? I only knew that your +stronger magic had struck home, and that I never should forget that day, +whatever the love of my life should be. Till that day I had admired as +I should admire the loveliness of a still lake; but that day I felt +the spell of the divinity of the lake. And next morning the waters +were troubled, and she rose--the morning when I came to you with my +questions, tired out with doubts that were as bitter as pain, and when I +saw you without your pale, sweet mask of composure--when I saw you moved +and glowing, with your eyes and your hands alive, and when you made me +understand that for such a creature as you there had been emptiness and +the mere waste of yourself for so long. Madness rose in me then, and +my spirit was clamouring to say what I say at last now: that life would +never seem a full thing again because you could not love me, that I was +taken for ever in the nets of your black hair and by the incantation of +your voice--' + +'Oh, stop!' she cried, suddenly throwing back her head, her face flaming +and her hands clutching the cushions beside her. She spoke fast and +disjointedly, her breath coming quick. 'You shall not talk me into +forgetting common sense. What does all this mean? Oh, I do not recognize +you at all--you seem another man. We are not children; have you +forgotten that? You speak like a boy in love for the first time. It is +foolish, unreal--I know that if you do not. I will not hear it. What has +happened to you?' She was half sobbing. 'How can these sentimentalities +come from a man like you? Where is your self-restraint?' + +'Gone!' exclaimed Trent, with an abrupt laugh. 'It has got right away. I +am going after it in a minute.' He looked gravely down into her eyes. +'I don't care so much now. I never could declare myself to you under +the cloud of your great fortune. It was too heavy. There's nothing +creditable in that feeling, as I look at it; as a matter of simple +fact it was a form of cowardice--fear of what you would think, and very +likely say--fear of the world's comment too, I suppose. But the cloud +being rolled away, I have spoken, and I don't care so much. I can face +things with a quiet mind now that I have told you the truth in its own +terms. You may call it sentimentality or any other nickname you like. It +is quite true that it was not intended for a scientific statement. Since +it annoys you, let it be extinguished. But please believe that it was +serious to me if it was comedy to you. I have said that I love you, and +honour you, and would hold you dearest of all the world. Now give me +leave to go.' + +But she held out her hands to him. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV: Writing a Letter + +'If you insist,' Trent said, 'I suppose you will have your way. But I +had much rather write it when I am not with you. However, if I must, +bring me a tablet whiter than a star, or hand of hymning angel; I mean +a sheet of note-paper not stamped with your address. Don't underestimate +the sacrifice I am making. I never felt less like correspondence in my +life.' + +She rewarded him. + +'What shall I say?' he enquired, his pen hovering over the paper. 'Shall +I compare him to a summer's day? What shall I say?' + +'Say what you want to say,' she suggested helpfully. + +He shook his head. 'What I want to say--what I have been wanting for the +past twenty-four hours to say to every man, woman, and child I met--is +"Mabel and I are betrothed, and all is gas and gaiters." But that +wouldn't be a very good opening for a letter of strictly formal, not to +say sinister, character. I have got as far as "Dear Mr. Marlowe." What +comes next?' + +'I am sending you a manuscript,' she prompted, 'which I thought you +might like to see.' + +'Do you realize,' he said, 'that in that sentence there are only two +words of more than one syllable? This letter is meant to impress, not to +put him at his ease. We must have long words.' + +'I don't see why,' she answered. 'I know it is usual, but why is it? I +have had a great many letters from lawyers and business people, and +they always begin, "with reference to our communication", or some such +mouthful, and go on like that all the way through. Yet when I see them +they don't talk like that. It seems ridiculous to me.' + +'It is not at all ridiculous to them.' Trent laid aside the pen with +an appearance of relief and rose to his feet. 'Let me explain. A people +like our own, not very fond of using its mind, gets on in the ordinary +way with a very small and simple vocabulary. Long words are abnormal, +and like everything else that is abnormal, they are either very funny +or tremendously solemn. Take the phrase "intelligent anticipation", for +instance. If such a phrase had been used in any other country in Europe, +it would not have attracted the slightest attention. With us it has +become a proverb; we all grin when we hear it in a speech or read it in +a leading article; it is considered to be one of the best things +ever said. Why? Just because it consists of two long words. The idea +expressed is as commonplace as cold mutton. Then there's "terminological +inexactitude". How we all roared, and are still roaring, at that! And +the whole of the joke is that the words are long. It's just the same +when we want to be very serious; we mark it by turning to long +words. When a solicitor can begin a sentence with, "pursuant to the +instructions communicated to our representative," or some such gibberish, +he feels that he is earning his six-and-eightpence. Don't laugh! It +is perfectly true. Now Continentals haven't got that feeling. They are +always bothering about ideas, and the result is that every shopkeeper or +peasant has a vocabulary in daily use that is simply Greek to the vast +majority of Britons. I remember some time ago I was dining with a +friend of mine who is a Paris cabman. We had dinner at a dirty little +restaurant opposite the central post office, a place where all the +clients were cabmen or porters. Conversation was general, and it struck +me that a London cabman would have felt a little out of his depth. +Words like "functionary" and "unforgettable" and "exterminate" and +"independence" hurtled across the table every instant. And these were +just ordinary, vulgar, jolly, red-faced cabmen. Mind you,' he went on +hurriedly, as the lady crossed the room and took up his pen, 'I merely +mention this to illustrate my point. I'm not saying that cab-men ought +to be intellectuals. I don't think so; I agree with Keats--happy is +England, sweet her artless cabmen, enough their simple loveliness +for me. But when you come to the people who make up the collective +industrial brain-power of the country.... Why, do you know--' + +'Oh no, no, no!' cried Mrs. Manderson. 'I don't know anything at the +moment, except that your talking must be stopped somehow, if we are to +get any further with that letter to Mr. Marlowe. You shall not get out of +it. Come!' She put the pen into his hand. + +Trent looked at it with distaste. 'I warn you not to discourage my +talking,' he said dejectedly. 'Believe me, men who don't talk are even +worse to live with than men who do. O have a care of natures that +are mute. I confess I'm shirking writing this thing. It is almost an +indecency. It's mixing two moods to write the sort of letter I mean to +write, and at the same time to be sitting in the same room with you.' + +She led him to his abandoned chair before the escritoire and pushed him +gently into it. 'Well, but please try. I want to see what you write, and +I want it to go to him at once. You see, I would be contented enough to +leave things as they are; but you say you must get at the truth, and if +you must, I want it to be as soon as possible. Do it now--you know you +can if you will--and I'll send it off the moment it's ready. Don't you +ever feel that--the longing to get the worrying letter into the post and +off your hands, so that you can't recall it if you would, and it's no +use fussing any more about it?' + +'I will do as you wish,' he said, and turned to the paper, which he +dated as from his hotel. Mrs. Manderson looked down at his bent head with +a gentle light in her eyes, and made as if to place a smoothing hand +upon his rather untidy crop of hair. But she did not touch it. Going in +silence to the piano, she began to play very softly. It was ten minutes +before Trent spoke. + +'If he chooses to reply that he will say nothing?' + +Mrs. Manderson looked over her shoulder. 'Of course he dare not take that +line. He will speak to prevent you from denouncing him.' + +'But I'm not going to do that anyhow. You wouldn't allow it--you said +so; besides, I won't if you would. The thing's too doubtful now.' + +'But,' she laughed, 'poor Mr. Marlowe doesn't know you won't, does he?' + +Trent sighed. 'What extraordinary things codes of honour are!' he +remarked abstractedly. 'I know that there are things I should do, and +never think twice about, which would make you feel disgraced if you did +them--such as giving any one who grossly insulted me a black eye, or +swearing violently when I barked my shin in a dark room. And now you are +calmly recommending me to bluff Marlowe by means of a tacit threat which +I don't mean; a thing which hell's most abandoned fiend did never, in +the drunkenness of guilt--well, anyhow, I won't do it.' He resumed his +writing, and the lady, with an indulgent smile, returned to playing very +softly. + +In a few minutes more, Trent said: 'At last I am his faithfully. Do +you want to see it?' She ran across the twilight room, and turned on a +reading lamp beside the escritoire. Then, leaning on his shoulder, she +read what follows: + +DEAR MR MARLOWE,--YOU WILL PERHAPS REMEMBER THAT WE MET, UNDER UNHAPPY +CIRCUMSTANCES, IN JUNE OF LAST YEAR AT MARLSTONE. + +ON THAT OCCASION IT WAS MY DUTY, AS REPRESENTING A NEWSPAPER, TO MAKE AN +INDEPENDENT INVESTIGATION OF THE CIRCUMSTANCES OF THE DEATH OF THE LATE +SIGSBEE MANDERSON. I DID SO, AND I ARRIVED AT CERTAIN CONCLUSIONS. YOU +MAY LEARN FROM THE ENCLOSED MANUSCRIPT, WHICH WAS ORIGINALLY WRITTEN AS +A DISPATCH FOR MY NEWSPAPER, WHAT THOSE CONCLUSIONS WERE. FOR REASONS +WHICH IT IS NOT NECESSARY TO STATE I DECIDED AT THE LAST MOMENT NOT TO +MAKE THEM PUBLIC, OR TO COMMUNICATE THEM TO YOU, AND THEY ARE KNOWN TO +ONLY TWO PERSONS BESIDE MYSELF. + +At this point Mrs. Manderson raised her eyes quickly from the letter. Her +dark brows were drawn together. 'Two persons?' she said with a note of +enquiry. + +'Your uncle is the other. I sought him out last night and told him +the whole story. Have you anything against it? I always felt uneasy at +keeping it from him as I did, because I had led him to expect I should +tell him all I discovered, and my silence looked like mystery-making. +Now it is to be cleared up finally, and there is no question of +shielding you, I wanted him to know everything. He is a very shrewd +adviser, too, in a way of his own; and I should like to have him with me +when I see Marlowe. I have a feeling that two heads will be better than +one on my side of the interview.' + +She sighed. 'Yes, of course, uncle ought to know the truth. I hope there +is nobody else at all.' She pressed his hand. 'I so much want all that +horror buried--buried deep. I am very happy now, dear, but I shall be +happier still when you have satisfied that curious mind of yours and +found out everything, and stamped down the earth upon it all.' She +continued her reading. + +QUITE RECENTLY, HOWEVER [the letter went on], FACTS HAVE COME TO MY +KNOWLEDGE WHICH HAVE LED ME TO CHANGE MY DECISION. I DO NOT MEAN THAT I +SHALL PUBLISH WHAT I DISCOVERED, BUT THAT I HAVE DETERMINED TO APPROACH +YOU AND ASK YOU FOR A PRIVATE STATEMENT. IF YOU HAVE ANYTHING TO SAY +WHICH WOULD PLACE THE MATTER IN ANOTHER LIGHT, I CAN IMAGINE NO REASON +WHY YOU SHOULD WITHHOLD IT. + +I EXPECT, THEN, TO HEAR FROM YOU WHEN AND WHERE I MAY CALL UPON YOU; +UNLESS YOU PREFER THE INTERVIEW TO TAKE PLACE AT MY HOTEL. IN EITHER +CASE I DESIRE THAT MR. CUPPLES, WHOM YOU WILL REMEMBER, AND WHO HAS READ +THE ENCLOSED DOCUMENT, SHOULD BE PRESENT ALSO.--FAITHFULLY YOURS, PHILIP +TRENT. + +What a very stiff letter!' she said. 'Now I am sure you couldn't have +made it any stiffer in your own rooms.' + +Trent slipped the letter and enclosure into a long envelope. 'Yes,' he +said, 'I think it will make him sit up suddenly. Now this thing +mustn't run any risk of going wrong. It would be best to send a special +messenger with orders to deliver it into his own hands. If he's away it +oughtn't to be left.' + +She nodded. 'I can arrange that. Wait here for a little.' + +*** + +When Mrs. Manderson returned, he was hunting through the music cabinet. +She sank on the carpet beside him in a wave of dark brown skirts. 'Tell +me something, Philip,' she said. + +'If it is among the few things that I know.' + +'When you saw uncle last night, did you tell him about--about us?' + +'I did not,' he answered. 'I remembered you had said nothing about +telling any one. It is for you--isn't it?--to decide whether we take the +world into our confidence at once or later on.' + +'Then will you tell him?' She looked down at her clasped hands. 'I wish +you to tell him. Perhaps if you think you will guess why.... There! that +is settled.' She lifted her eyes again to his, and for a time there was +silence between them. + +*** + +He leaned back at length in the deep chair. 'What a world!' he said. +'Mabel, will you play something on the piano that expresses mere joy, +the genuine article, nothing feverish or like thorns under a pot, but +joy that has decided in favour of the universe? It's a mood that can't +last altogether, so we had better get all we can out of it.' + +She went to the instrument and struck a few chords while she thought. +Then she began to work with all her soul at the theme in the last +movement of the Ninth Symphony which is like the sound of the opening of +the gates of Paradise. + + + + +CHAPTER XV: Double Cunning + +An old oaken desk with a deep body stood by the window in a room that +overlooked St. James's Park from a height. The room was large, furnished +and decorated by some one who had brought taste to the work; but the +hand of the bachelor lay heavy upon it. John Marlowe unlocked the desk +and drew a long, stout envelope from the back of the well. + +'I understand,' he said to Mr. Cupples, 'that you have read this.' + +'I read it for the first time two days ago,' replied Mr. Cupples, who, +seated on a sofa, was peering about the room with a benignant face. 'We +have discussed it fully.' + +Marlowe turned to Trent. 'There is your manuscript,' he said, laying +the envelope on the table. 'I have gone over it three times. I do not +believe there is another man who could have got at as much of the truth +as you have set down there.' + +Trent ignored the compliment. He sat by the table gazing stonily at the +fire, his long legs twisted beneath his chair. 'You mean, of course, he +said, drawing the envelope towards him, 'that there is more of the truth +to be disclosed now. We are ready to hear you as soon as you like. I +expect it will be a long story, and the longer the better, so far as I +am concerned; I want to understand thoroughly. What we should both like, +I think, is some preliminary account of Manderson and your relations +with him. It seemed to me from the first that the character of the dead +man must be somehow an element in the business.' + +'You were right, Marlowe answered grimly. He crossed the room and seated +himself on a corner of the tall cushion-topped fender. 'I will begin as +you suggest.' + +'I ought to tell you beforehand, said Trent, looking him in the eyes, +'that although I am here to listen to you, I have not as yet any reason +to doubt the conclusions I have stated here.' He tapped the envelope. +'It is a defence that you will be putting forward--you understand that?' + +'Perfectly.' Marlowe was cool and in complete possession of himself, a +man different indeed from the worn-out, nervous being Trent remembered +at Marlstone a year and a half ago. His tall, lithe figure was held with +the perfection of muscular tone. His brow was candid, his blue eyes were +clear, though they still had, as he paused collecting his ideas, the +look that had troubled Trent at their first meeting. Only the lines of +his mouth showed that he knew himself in a position of difficulty, and +meant to face it. + +'Sigsbee Manderson was not a man of normal mind,' Marlowe began in his +quiet voice. 'Most of the very rich men I met with in America had +become so by virtue of abnormal greed, or abnormal industry, or +abnormal personal force, or abnormal luck. None of them had remarkable +intellects. Manderson delighted too in heaping up wealth; he worked +incessantly at it; he was a man of dominant will; he had quite his +share of luck; but what made him singular was his brainpower. In his +own country they would perhaps tell you that it was his ruthlessness in +pursuit of his aims that was his most striking characteristic; but there +are hundreds of them who would have carried out his plans with just as +little consideration for others if they could have formed the plans. + +'I'm not saying Americans aren't clever; they are ten times cleverer +than we are, as a nation; but I never met another who showed such +a degree of sagacity and foresight, such gifts of memory and mental +tenacity, such sheer force of intelligence, as there was behind +everything Manderson did in his money-making career. They called him +the "Napoleon of Wall Street" often enough in the papers; but few people +knew so well as I did how much truth there was in the phrase. He seemed +never to forget a fact that might be of use to him, in the first place; +and he did systematically with the business facts that concerned him +what Napoleon did, as I have read, with military facts. He studied them +in special digests which were prepared for him at short intervals, and +which he always had at hand, so that he could take up his report on coal +or wheat or railways, or whatever it might be, in any unoccupied moment. +Then he could make a bolder and cleverer plan than any man of them all. +People got to know that Manderson would never do the obvious thing, but +they got no further; the thing he did do was almost always a surprise, +and much of his success flowed from that. The Street got rattled, as +they used to put it, when it was known that the old man was out with his +gun, and often his opponents seemed to surrender as easily as Colonel +Crockett's coon in the story. The scheme I am going to describe to you +would have occupied most men long enough. Manderson could have plotted +the thing, down to the last detail, while he shaved himself. + +'I used to think that his strain of Indian blood, remote as it was, +might have something to do with the cunning and ruthlessness of the man. +Strangely enough, its existence was unknown to any one but himself and +me. It was when he asked me to apply my taste for genealogical work to +his own obscure family history that I made the discovery that he had in +him a share of the blood of the Iroquois chief Montour and his French +wife, a terrible woman who ruled the savage politics of the tribes of +the Wilderness two hundred years ago. The Mandersons were active in the +fur trade on the Pennsylvanian border in those days, and more than one +of them married Indian women. Other Indian blood than Montour's may +have descended to Manderson, for all I can say, through previous +and subsequent unions; some of the wives' antecedents were quite +untraceable, and there were so many generations of pioneering before the +whole country was brought under civilization. My researches left me with +the idea that there is a very great deal of the aboriginal blood present +in the genealogical make-up of the people of America, and that it is +very widely spread. The newer families have constantly intermarried with +the older, and so many of them had a strain of the native in them--and +were often rather proud of it, too, in those days. But Manderson had the +idea about the disgracefulness of mixed blood, which grew much stronger, +I fancy, with the rise of the negro question after the war. He was +thunderstruck at what I told him, and was anxious to conceal it from +every soul. Of course I never gave it away while he lived, and I don't +think he supposed I would; but I have thought since that his mind took +a turn against me from that time onward. It happened about a year before +his death.' + +'Had Manderson,' asked Mr. Cupples, so unexpectedly that the others +started, 'any definable religious attitude?' + +Marlowe considered a moment. 'None that ever I heard of,' he said. +'Worship and prayer were quite unknown to him, so far as I could see, +and I never heard him mention religion. I should doubt if he had any +real sense of God at all, or if he was capable of knowing God through +the emotions. But I understood that as a child he had had a religious +upbringing with a strong moral side to it. His private life was, in the +usual limited sense, blameless. He was almost ascetic in his habits, +except as to smoking. I lived with him four years without ever knowing +him to tell a direct verbal falsehood, constantly as he used to practise +deceit in other forms. Can you understand the soul of a man who never +hesitated to take steps that would have the effect of hoodwinking +people, who would use every trick of the markets to mislead, and who +was at the same time scrupulous never to utter a direct lie on the most +insignificant matter? Manderson was like that, and he was not the only +one. I suppose you might compare the state of mind to that of a soldier +who is personally a truthful man, but who will stick at nothing to +deceive the enemy. The rules of the game allow it; and the same may be +said of business as many business men regard it. Only with them it is +always wartime.' + +'It is a sad world,' observed Mr. Cupples. + +'As you say,' Marlowe agreed. 'Now I was saying that one could always +take Manderson's word if he gave it in a definite form. The first time +I ever heard him utter a downright lie was on the night he died; and +hearing it, I believe, saved me from being hanged as his murderer.' + +Marlowe stared at the light above his head and Trent moved impatiently +in his chair. 'Before we come to that,' he said, 'will you tell us +exactly on what footing you were with Manderson during the years you +were with him?' + +'We were on very good terms from beginning to end,' answered Marlowe. +'Nothing like friendship--he was not a man for making friends--but the +best of terms as between a trusted employee and his chief. I went to him +as private secretary just after getting my degree at Oxford. I was +to have gone into my father's business, where I am now, but my father +suggested that I should see the world for a year or two. So I took this +secretaryship, which seemed to promise a good deal of varied experience, +and I had let the year or two run on to four years before the end came. +The offer came to me through the last thing in the world I should have +put forward as a qualification for a salaried post, and that was chess.' + +At the word Trent struck his hands together with a muttered exclamation. +The others looked at him in surprise. + +'Chess!' repeated Trent. 'Do you know,' he said, rising and approaching +Marlowe, 'what was the first thing I noted about you at our first +meeting? It was your eye, Mr. Marlowe. I couldn't place it then, but I +know now where I had seen your eyes before. They were in the head of no +less a man than the great Nikolay Korchagin, with whom I once sat in the +same railway carriage for two days. I thought I should never forget the +chess eye after that, but I could not put a name to it when I saw it in +you. I beg your pardon,' he ended suddenly, resuming marmoreal attitude +in his chair. + +'I have played the game from my childhood, and with good players,' said +Marlowe simply. 'It is an hereditary gift, if you can call it a gift. At +the University I was nearly as good as anybody there, and I gave most of +my brains to that and the OUDS and playing about generally. At Oxford, +as I dare say you know, inducements to amuse oneself at the expense of +one's education are endless, and encouraged by the authorities. Well, +one day toward the end of my last term, Dr Munro of Queen's, whom I had +never defeated, sent for me. He told me that I played a fairish game +of chess. I said it was very good of him to say so. Then he said, "They +tell me you hunt, too." I said, "Now and then." He asked, "Is there +anything else you can do?" "No," I said, not much liking the tone of the +conversation--the old man generally succeeded in putting people's backs +up. He grunted fiercely, and then told me that enquiries were being made +on behalf of a wealthy American man of business who wanted an English +secretary. Manderson was the name, he said. He seemed never to have +heard it before, which was quite possible, as he never opened a +newspaper and had not slept a night outside the college for thirty +years. If I could rub up my spelling--as the old gentleman put it--I +might have a good chance for the post, as chess and riding and an Oxford +education were the only indispensable points. + +'Well, I became Manderson's secretary. For a long time I liked the +position greatly. When one is attached to an active American plutocrat +in the prime of life one need not have many dull moments. Besides, it +made me independent. My father had some serious business reverses about +that time, and I was glad to be able to do without an allowance from +him. At the end of the first year Manderson doubled my salary. "It's big +money," he said, "but I guess I don't lose." You see, by that time I was +doing a great deal more than accompany him on horseback in the morning +and play chess in the evening, which was mainly what he had required. +I was attending to his houses, his farm in Ohio, his shooting in +Maine, his horses, his cars, and his yacht. I had become a walking +railway-guide and an expert cigar-buyer. I was always learning +something. + +'Well, now you understand what my position was in regard to Manderson +during the last two or three years of my connection with him. It was +a happy life for me on the whole. I was busy, my work was varied and +interesting; I had time to amuse myself too, and money to spend. At +one time I made a fool of myself about a girl, and that was not a +happy time; but it taught me to understand the great goodness of Mrs +Manderson.' Marlowe inclined his head to Mr. Cupples as he said this. +'She may choose to tell you about it. As for her husband, he had never +varied in his attitude towards me, in spite of the change that came over +him in the last months of his life, as you know. He treated me well and +generously in his unsympathetic way, and I never had a feeling that he +was less than satisfied with his bargain--that was the sort of footing +we lived upon. And it was that continuance of his attitude right up to +the end that made the revelation so shocking when I was suddenly shown, +on the night on which he met his end, the depth of crazy hatred of +myself that was in Manderson's soul.' + +The eyes of Trent and Mr. Cupples met for an instant. + +'You never suspected that he hated you before that time?' asked Trent; +and Mr. Cupples asked at the same moment, 'To what did you attribute it?' + +'I never guessed until that night,' answered Marlowe, 'that he had the +smallest ill-feeling toward me. How long it had existed I do not know. +I cannot imagine why it was there. I was forced to think, when I +considered the thing in those awful days after his death, that it was a +case of a madman's delusion, that he believed me to be plotting against +him, as they so often do. Some such insane conviction must have been at +the root of it. But who can sound the abysses of a lunatic's fancy? Can +you imagine the state of mind in which a man dooms himself to death with +the object of delivering some one he hates to the hangman?' + +Mr. Cupples moved sharply in his chair. 'You say Manderson was +responsible for his own death?' he asked. + +Trent glanced at him with an eye of impatience, and resumed his intent +watch upon the face of Marlowe. In the relief of speech it was now less +pale and drawn. + +'I do say so,' Marlowe answered concisely, and looked his questioner in +the face. Mr. Cupples nodded. + +'Before we proceed to the elucidation of your statement,' observed the +old gentleman, in a tone of one discussing a point of abstract science, +'it may be remarked that the state of mind which you attribute to +Manderson--' + +'Suppose we have the story first,' Trent interrupted, gently laying a +hand on Mr. Cupples's arm. 'You were telling us,' he went on, turning to +Marlowe, 'how things stood between you and Manderson. Now will you tell us +the facts of what happened that night?' + +Marlowe flushed at the barely perceptible emphasis which Trent laid upon +the word 'facts'. He drew himself up. + +'Bunner and myself dined with Mr. and Mrs. Manderson that Sunday evening,' +he began, speaking carefully. 'It was just like other dinners at which +the four of us had been together. Manderson was taciturn and gloomy, +as we had latterly been accustomed to see him. We others kept a +conversation going. We rose from the table, I suppose, about nine. Mrs +Manderson went to the drawing-room, and Bunner went up to the hotel to +see an acquaintance. Manderson asked me to come into the orchard behind +the house, saying he wished to have a talk. We paced up and down the +pathway there, out of earshot from the house, and Manderson, as he +smoked his cigar, spoke to me in his cool, deliberate way. He had never +seemed more sane, or more well-disposed to me. He said he wanted me to +do him an important service. There was a big thing on. It was a secret +affair. Bunner knew nothing of it, and the less I knew the better. He +wanted me to do exactly as he directed, and not bother my head about +reasons. + +'This, I may say, was quite characteristic of Manderson's method of +going to work. If at times he required a man to be a mere tool in his +hand, he would tell him so. He had used me in the same kind of way a +dozen times. I assured him he could rely on me, and said I was ready. +"Right now?" he asked. I said of course I was. + +'He nodded, and said--I tell you his words as well as I can recollect +them--attend to this. "There is a man in England now who is in this thing +with me. He was to have left tomorrow for Paris by the noon boat from +Southampton to Havre. His name is George Harris--at least that's the +name he is going by. Do you remember that name?" "Yes," I said, "when I +went up to London a week ago you asked me to book a cabin in that name +on the boat that goes tomorrow. I gave you the ticket." "Here it is," he +said, producing it from his pocket. + +'"Now," Manderson said to me, poking his cigar-butt at me with each +sentence in a way he used to have, "George Harris cannot leave England +tomorrow. I find I shall want him where he is. And I want Bunner where +he is. But somebody has got to go by that boat and take certain papers +to Paris. Or else my plan is going to fall to pieces. Will you go?" I +said, "Certainly. I am here to obey orders." + +'He bit his cigar, and said, "That's all right; but these are not just +ordinary orders. Not the kind of thing one can ask of a man in the +ordinary way of his duty to an employer. The point is this. The deal +I am busy with is one in which neither myself nor any one known to be +connected with me must appear as yet. That is vital. But these people I +am up against know your face as well as they know mine. If my secretary +is known in certain quarters to have crossed to Paris at this time and +to have interviewed certain people--and that would be known as soon +as it happened--then the game is up." He threw away his cigar-end and +looked at me questioningly. + +'I didn't like it much, but I liked failing Manderson at a pinch still +less. I spoke lightly. I said I supposed I should have to conceal my +identity, and I would do my best. I told him I used to be pretty good at +make-up. + +'He nodded in approval. He said, "That's good. I judged you would not +let me down." Then he gave me my instructions. "You take the car right +now," he said, "and start for Southampton--there's no train that will +fit in. You'll be driving all night. Barring accidents, you ought to get +there by six in the morning. But whenever you arrive, drive straight to +the Bedford Hotel and ask for George Harris. If he's there, tell him you +are to go over instead of him, and ask him to telephone me here. It is +very important he should know that at the earliest moment possible. But +if he isn't there, that means he has got the instructions I wired today, +and hasn't gone to Southampton. In that case you don't want to trouble +about him any more, but just wait for the boat. You can leave the car at +a garage under a fancy name--mine must not be given. See about changing +your appearance--I don't care how, so you do it well. Travel by the boat +as George Harris. Let on to be anything you like, but be careful, and +don't talk much to anybody. When you arrive, take a room at the Hotel +St Petersbourg. You will receive a note or message there, addressed to +George Harris, telling you where to take the wallet I shall give you. +The wallet is locked, and you want to take good care of it. Have you got +that all clear?" + +'I repeated the instructions. I asked if I should return from Paris +after handing over the wallet. "As soon as you like," he said. "And mind +this--whatever happens, don't communicate with me at any stage of the +journey. If you don't get the message in Paris at once, just wait +until you do--days, if necessary. But not a line of any sort to me. +Understand? Now get ready as quick as you can. I'll go with you in the +car a little way. Hurry." + +'That is, as far as I can remember, the exact substance of what +Manderson said to me that night. I went to my room, changed into day +clothes, and hastily threw a few necessaries into a kit-bag. My mind +was in a whirl, not so much at the nature of the business as at the +suddenness of it. I think I remember telling you the last time we +met'--he turned to Trent--'that Manderson shared the national fondness +for doings things in a story-book style. Other things being equal, he +delighted in a bit of mystification and melodrama, and I told myself +that this was Manderson all over. I hurried downstairs with my bag and +rejoined him in the library. He handed me a stout leather letter-case, +about eight inches by six, fastened with a strap with a lock on it. I +could just squeeze it into my side-pocket. Then I went to get the car +from the garage behind the house. + +'As I was bringing it round to the front a disconcerting thought struck +me. I remembered that I had only a few shillings in my pocket. + +'For some time past I had been keeping myself very short of cash, and +for this reason--which I tell you because it is a vital point, as you +shall see in a minute. I was living temporarily on borrowed money. I had +always been careless about money while I was with Manderson, and being +a gregarious animal I had made many friends, some of them belonging to +a New York set that had little to do but get rid of the large incomes +given them by their parents. Still, I was very well paid, and I was +too busy even to attempt to go very far with them in that amusing +occupation. I was still well on the right side of the ledger until I +began, merely out of curiosity, to play at speculation. It's a very old +story--particularly in Wall Street. I thought it was easy; I was lucky +at first; I would always be prudent--and so on. Then came the day when +I went out of my depth. In one week I was separated from my toll, as +Bunner expressed it when I told him; and I owed money too. I had had +my lesson. Now in this pass I went to Manderson and told him what I had +done and how I stood. He heard me with a very grim smile, and then, with +the nearest approach to sympathy I had ever found in him, he advanced +me a sum on account of my salary that would clear me. "Don't play the +markets any more," was all he said. + +'Now on that Sunday night Manderson knew that I was practically without +any money in the world. He knew that Bunner knew it too. He may +have known that I had even borrowed a little more from Bunner +for pocket-money until my next cheque was due, which, owing to my +anticipation of my salary, would not have been a large one. Bear this +knowledge of Manderson's in mind. + +'As soon as I had brought the car round I went into the library and +stated the difficulty to Manderson. + +'What followed gave me, slight as it was, my first impression of +something odd being afoot. As soon as I mentioned the word "expenses" +his hand went mechanically to his left hip-pocket, where he always kept +a little case containing notes to the value of about a hundred pounds in +our money. This was such a rooted habit in him that I was astonished to +see him check the movement suddenly. Then, to my greater amazement, he +swore under his breath. I had never heard him do this before; but Bunner +had told me that of late he had often shown irritation in this way when +they were alone. "Has he mislaid his note-case?" was the question that +flashed through my mind. But it seemed to me that it could not affect +his plan at all, and I will tell you why. The week before, when I +had gone up to London to carry out various commissions, including the +booking of a berth for Mr. George Harris, I had drawn a thousand pounds +for Manderson from his bankers, and all, at his request, in notes of +small amounts. I did not know what this unusually large sum in cash was +for, but I did know that the packets of notes were in his locked desk +in the library, or had been earlier in the day, when I had seen him +fingering them as he sat at the desk. + +'But instead of turning to the desk, Manderson stood looking at me. +There was fury in his face, and it was a strange sight to see him +gradually master it until his eyes grew cold again. "Wait in the car," +he said slowly. "I will get some money." We both went out, and as I was +getting into my overcoat in the hall I saw him enter the drawing-room, which, +you remember, was on the other side of the entrance hall. + +'I stepped out on to the lawn before the house and smoked a cigarette, +pacing up and down. I was asking myself again and again where that +thousand pounds was; whether it was in the drawing-room, and if so, why. +Presently, as I passed one of the drawing-room windows, I noticed Mrs +Manderson's shadow on the thin silk curtain. She was standing at her +escritoire. The window was open, and as I passed I heard her say, "I +have not quite thirty pounds here. Will that be enough?" I did not hear +the answer, but next moment Manderson's shadow was mingled with hers, +and I heard the chink of money. Then, as he stood by the window, and +as I was moving away, these words of his came to my ears--and these +at least I can repeat exactly, for astonishment stamped them on my +memory--"I'm going out now. Marlowe has persuaded me to go for a +moonlight run in the car. He is very urgent about it. He says it will +help me to sleep, and I guess he is right." + +I have told you that in the course of four years I had never once heard +Manderson utter a direct lie about anything, great or small. I believed +that I understood the man's queer, skin-deep morality, and I could have +sworn that if he was firmly pressed with a question that could not be +evaded he would either refuse to answer or tell the truth. But what had +I just heard? No answer to any question. A voluntary statement, precise +in terms, that was utterly false. The unimaginable had happened. It was +almost as if some one I knew well, in a moment of closest sympathy, had +suddenly struck me in the face. The blood rushed to my head, and I stood +still on the grass. I stood there until I heard his step at the front +door, and then I pulled myself together and stepped quickly to the car. +He handed me a banker's paper bag with gold and notes in it. "There's +more than you'll want there," he said, and I pocketed it mechanically. + +'For a minute or so I stood discussing with Manderson--it was by one +of those tours de force of which one's mind is capable under great +excitement--points about the route of the long drive before me. I had +made the run several times by day, and I believe I spoke quite calmly +and naturally about it. But while I spoke my mind was seething in a +flood of suddenly born suspicion and fear. I did not know what I +feared. I simply felt fear, somehow--I did not know how--connected with +Manderson. My soul once opened to it, fear rushed in like an assaulting +army. I felt--I knew--that something was altogether wrong and sinister, +and I felt myself to be the object of it. Yet Manderson was surely no +enemy of mine. Then my thoughts reached out wildly for an answer to the +question why he had told that lie. And all the time the blood hammered +in my ears, "Where is that money?" Reason struggled hard to set up +the suggestion that the two things were not necessarily connected. The +instinct of a man in danger would not listen to it. As we started, and +the car took the curve into the road, it was merely the unconscious part +of me that steered and controlled it, and that made occasional empty +remarks as we slid along in the moonlight. Within me was a confusion and +vague alarm that was far worse than any definite terror I ever felt. + +'About a mile from the house, you remember, one passed on one's left a +gate, on the other side of which was the golf-course. There Manderson +said he would get down, and I stopped the car. "You've got it all +clear?" he asked. With a sort of wrench I forced myself to remember and +repeat the directions given me. "That's OK," he said. "Goodbye, then. +Stay with that wallet." Those were the last words I heard him speak, as +the car moved gently away from him.' + +Marlowe rose from his chair and pressed his hands to his eyes. He was +flushed with the excitement of his own narrative, and there was in his +look a horror of recollection that held both the listeners silent. He +shook himself with a movement like a dog's, and then, his hands behind +him, stood erect before the fire as he continued his tale. + +'I expect you both know what the back-reflector of a motor car is.' + +Trent nodded quickly, his face alive with anticipation; but Mr. Cupples, +who cherished a mild but obstinate prejudice against motor cars, readily +confessed to ignorance. + +'It is a small round or more often rectangular mirror,' Marlowe +explained, 'rigged out from the right side of the screen in front of +the driver, and adjusted in such a way that he can see, without turning +round, if anything is coming up behind to pass him. It is quite an +ordinary appliance, and there was one on this car. As the car moved on, +and Manderson ceased speaking behind me, I saw in that mirror a thing +that I wish I could forget.' + +Marlowe was silent for a moment, staring at the wall before him. + +'Manderson's face,' he said in a low tone. 'He was standing in the road, +looking after me, only a few yards behind, and the moonlight was full on +his face. The mirror happened to catch it for an instant. + +'Physical habit is a wonderful thing. I did not shift hand or foot on +the controlling mechanism of the car. Indeed, I dare say it steadied me +against the shock to have myself braced to the business of driving. You +have read in books, no doubt, of hell looking out of a man's eyes, but +perhaps you don't know what a good metaphor that is. If I had not known +Manderson was there, I should not have recognized the face. It was that +of a madman, distorted, hideous in the imbecility of hate, the teeth +bared in a simian grin of ferocity and triumph; the eyes.... In the +little mirror I had this glimpse of the face alone. I saw nothing of +whatever gesture there may have been as that writhing white mask glared +after me. And I saw it only for a flash. The car went on, gathering +speed, and as it went, my brain, suddenly purged of the vapours of doubt +and perplexity, was as busy as the throbbing engine before my feet. I +knew. + +'You say something in that manuscript of yours, Mr. Trent, about the +swift automatic way in which one's ideas arrange themselves about some +new illuminating thought. It is quite true. The awful intensity of +ill-will that had flamed after me from those straining eyeballs poured +over my mind like a searchlight. I was thinking quite clearly now, and +almost coldly, for I knew what--at least I knew whom--I had to fear, and +instinct warned me that it was not a time to give room to the emotions +that were fighting to possess me. The man hated me insanely. That +incredible fact I suddenly knew. But the face had told me, it would +have told anybody, more than that. It was a face of hatred gratified, it +proclaimed some damnable triumph. It had gloated over me driving away to +my fate. This too was plain to me. And to what fate? + +'I stopped the car. It had gone about two hundred and fifty yards, and +a sharp bend of the road hid the spot where I had set Manderson down. I +lay back in the seat and thought it out. Something was to happen to me. +In Paris? Probably--why else should I be sent there, with money and a +ticket? But why Paris? That puzzled me, for I had no melodramatic ideas +about Paris. I put the point aside for a moment. I turned to the other +things that had roused my attention that evening. The lie about my +"persuading him to go for a moonlight run". What was the intention of +that? Manderson, I said to myself, will be returning without me while +I am on my way to Southampton. What will he tell them about me? How +account for his returning alone, and without the car? As I asked +myself that sinister question there rushed into my mind the last of my +difficulties: "Where are the thousand pounds?" And in the same instant +came the answer: "The thousand pounds are in my pocket." + +'I got up and stepped from the car. My knees trembled and I felt very +sick. I saw the plot now, as I thought. The whole of the story about the +papers and the necessity of their being taken to Paris was a blind. With +Manderson's money about me, of which he would declare I had robbed him, +I was, to all appearance, attempting to escape from England, with every +precaution that guilt could suggest. He would communicate with the +police at once, and would know how to put them on my track. I should +be arrested in Paris, if I got so far, living under a false name, after +having left the car under a false name, disguised myself, and travelled +in a cabin which I had booked in advance, also under a false name. It +would be plainly the crime of a man without money, and for some reason +desperately in want of it. As for my account of the affair, it would be +too preposterous. + +'As this ghastly array of incriminating circumstances rose up before me, +I dragged the stout letter-case from my pocket. In the intensity of the +moment, I never entertained the faintest doubt that I was right, and +that the money was there. It would easily hold the packets of notes. But +as I felt it and weighed it in my hands it seemed to me there must be +more than this. It was too bulky. What more was to be laid to my charge? +After all, a thousand pounds was not much to tempt a man like myself to +run the risk of penal servitude. In this new agitation, scarcely knowing +what I did, I caught the surrounding strap in my fingers just above the +fastening and tore the staple out of the lock. Those locks, you know, +are pretty flimsy as a rule.' + +Here Marlowe paused and walked to the oaken desk before the window. +Opening a drawer full of miscellaneous objects, he took out a box of odd +keys, and selected a small one distinguished by a piece of pink tape. + +He handed it to Trent. 'I keep that by me as a sort of morbid memento. +It is the key to the lock I smashed. I might have saved myself the +trouble, if I had known that this key was at that moment in the +left-hand side-pocket of my overcoat. Manderson must have slipped it in, +either while the coat was hanging in the hall or while he sat at my side +in the car. I might not have found the tiny thing there for weeks: as +a matter of fact I did find it two days after Manderson was dead, but +a police search would have found it in five minutes. And then I--I +with the case and its contents in my pocket, my false name and my sham +spectacles and the rest of it--I should have had no explanation to offer +but the highly convincing one that I didn't know the key was there.' + +Trent dangled the key by its tape idly. Then: 'How do you know this is +the key of that case?' he asked quickly. + +'I tried it. As soon as I found it I went up and fitted it to the lock. +I knew where I had left the thing. So do you, I think, Mr. Trent. Don't +you?' There was a faint shade of mockery in Marlowe's voice. + +'Touch,' Trent said, with a dry smile. 'I found a large empty +letter-case with a burst lock lying with other odds and ends on the +dressing-table in Manderson's room. Your statement is that you put it +there. I could make nothing of it.' He closed his lips. + +'There was no reason for hiding it,' said Marlowe. 'But to get back to +my story. I burst the lock of the strap. I opened the case before one +of the lamps of the car. The first thing I found in it I ought to have +expected, of course, but I hadn't.' He paused and glanced at Trent. + +'It was--' began Trent mechanically, and then stopped himself. 'Try +not to bring me in any more, if you don't mind,' he said, meeting the +other's eye. 'I have complimented you already in that document on your +cleverness. You need not prove it by making the judge help you out with +your evidence.' + +'All right,' agreed Marlowe. 'I couldn't resist just that much. If you +had been in my place you would have known before I did that Manderson's +little pocket-case was there. As soon as I saw it, of course, I +remembered his not having had it about him when I asked for money, and +his surprising anger. He had made a false step. He had already fastened +his note-case up with the rest of what was to figure as my plunder, and +placed it in my hands. I opened it. It contained a few notes as usual, I +didn't count them. + +'Tucked into the flaps of the big case in packets were the other notes, +just as I had brought them from London. And with them were two small +wash-leather bags, the look of which I knew well. My heart jumped +sickeningly again, for this, too, was utterly unexpected. In those bags +Manderson kept the diamonds in which he had been investing for some time +past. I didn't open them; I could feel the tiny stones shifting under +the pressure of my fingers. How many thousands of pounds' worth there +were there I have no idea. We had regarded Manderson's diamond-buying +as merely a speculative fad. I believe now that it was the earliest +movement in the scheme for my ruin. For any one like myself to be +represented as having robbed him, there ought to be a strong inducement +shown. That had been provided with a vengeance. + +'Now, I thought, I have the whole thing plain, and I must act. I saw +instantly what I must do. I had left Manderson about a mile from the +house. It would take him twenty minutes, fifteen if he walked fast, to +get back to the house, where he would, of course, immediately tell +his story of robbery, and probably telephone at once to the police in +Bishopsbridge. I had left him only five or six minutes ago; for all that +I have just told you was as quick thinking as I ever did. It would be +easy to overtake him in the car before he neared the house. There would +be an awkward interview. I set my teeth as I thought of it, and all my +fears vanished as I began to savour the gratification of telling him my +opinion of him. There are probably few people who ever positively looked +forward to an awkward interview with Manderson; but I was mad with +rage. My honour and my liberty had been plotted against with detestable +treachery. I did not consider what would follow the interview. That +would arrange itself. + +'I had started and turned the car, I was already going fast toward White +Gables, when I heard the sound of a shot in front of me, to the right. + +'Instantly I stopped the car. My first wild thought was that Manderson +was shooting at me. Then I realized that the noise had not been close at +hand. I could see nobody on the road, though the moonlight flooded it. I +had left Manderson at a spot just round the corner that was now about a +hundred yards ahead of me. After half a minute or so, I started again, +and turned the corner at a slow pace. Then I stopped again with a jar, +and for a moment I sat perfectly still. + +'Manderson lay dead a few steps from me on the turf within the gate, +clearly visible to me in the moonlight.' + +Marlowe made another pause, and Trent, with a puckered brow, enquired, +'On the golf-course?' + +'Obviously,' remarked Mr. Cupples. 'The eighth green is just there.' +He had grown more and more interested as Marlowe went on, and was now +playing feverishly with his thin beard. + +'On the green, quite close to the flag,' said Marlowe. 'He lay on his +back, his arms were stretched abroad, his jacket and heavy overcoat were +open; the light shone hideously on his white face and his shirt-front; +it glistened on his bared teeth and one of the eyes. The other... you +saw it. The man was certainly dead. As I sat there stunned, unable for +the moment to think at all, I could even see a thin dark line of blood +running down from the shattered socket to the ear. Close by lay his soft +black hat, and at his feet a pistol. + +'I suppose it was only a few seconds that I sat helplessly staring at +the body. Then I rose and moved to it with dragging feet; for now +the truth had come to me at last, and I realized the fullness of my +appalling danger. It was not only my liberty or my honour that the +maniac had undermined. It was death that he had planned for me; death +with the degradation of the scaffold. To strike me down with certainty, +he had not hesitated to end his life; a life which was, no doubt, +already threatened by a melancholic impulse to self-destruction; and the +last agony of the suicide had been turned, perhaps, to a devilish joy by +the thought that he dragged down my life with his. For as far as I could +see at the moment my situation was utterly hopeless. If it had been +desperate on the assumption that Manderson meant to denounce me as a +thief, what was it now that his corpse denounced me as a murderer? + +'I picked up the revolver and saw, almost without emotion, that it was +my own. Manderson had taken it from my room, I suppose, while I was +getting out the car. At the same moment I remembered that it was by +Manderson's suggestion that I had had it engraved with my initials, to +distinguish it from a precisely similar weapon which he had of his own. + +'I bent over the body and satisfied myself that there was no life left +in it. I must tell you here that I did not notice, then or afterwards, +the scratches and marks on the wrists, which were taken as evidence of +a struggle with an assailant. But I have no doubt that Manderson +deliberately injured himself in this way before firing the shot; it was +a part of his plan. + +'Though I never perceived that detail, however, it was evident enough as +I looked at the body that Manderson had not forgotten, in his last act +on earth, to tie me tighter by putting out of court the question of +suicide. He had clearly been at pains to hold the pistol at arm's +length, and there was not a trace of smoke or of burning on the face. +The wound was absolutely clean, and was already ceasing to bleed +outwardly. I rose and paced the green, reckoning up the points in the +crushing case against me. + +'I was the last to be seen with Manderson. I had persuaded him--so he +had lied to his wife and, as I afterwards knew, to the butler--to go +with me for the drive from which he never returned. My pistol had killed +him. It was true that by discovering his plot I had saved myself +from heaping up further incriminating facts--flight, concealment, the +possession of the treasure. But what need of them, after all? As I +stood, what hope was there? What could I do?' + +Marlowe came to the table and leaned forward with his hands upon it. 'I +want,' he said very earnestly, 'to try to make you understand what was +in my mind when I decided to do what I did. I hope you won't be bored, +because I must do it. You may both have thought I acted like a fool. +But after all the police never suspected me. I walked that green for +a quarter of an hour, I suppose, thinking the thing out like a game of +chess. I had to think ahead and think coolly; for my safety depended on +upsetting the plans of one of the longest-headed men who ever lived. And +remember that, for all I knew, there were details of the scheme still +hidden from me, waiting to crush me. + +'Two plain courses presented themselves at once. Either of them, I +thought, would certainly prove fatal. I could, in the first place, do +the completely straightforward thing: take back the dead man, tell my +story, hand over the notes and diamonds, and trust to the saving power +of truth and innocence. I could have laughed as I thought of it. I +saw myself bringing home the corpse and giving an account of myself, +boggling with sheer shame over the absurdity of my wholly unsupported +tale, as I brought a charge of mad hatred and fiendish treachery against +a man who had never, as far as I knew, had a word to say against me. +At every turn the cunning of Manderson had forestalled me. His careful +concealment of such a hatred was a characteristic feature of the +stratagem; only a man of his iron self-restraint could have done it. You +can see for yourselves how every fact in my statement would appear, in +the shadow of Manderson's death, a clumsy lie. I tried to imagine myself +telling such a story to the counsel for my defence. I could see the face +with which he would listen to it; I could read in the lines of it his +thought, that to put forward such an impudent farrago would mean merely +the disappearance of any chance there might be of a commutation of the +capital sentence. + +'True, I had not fled. I had brought back the body; I had handed over +the property. But how did that help me? It would only suggest that I had +yielded to a sudden funk after killing my man, and had no nerve left to +clutch at the fruits of the crime; it would suggest, perhaps, that I had +not set out to kill but only to threaten, and that when I found that I +had done murder the heart went out of me. Turn it which way I would, I +could see no hope of escape by this plan of action. + +'The second of the obvious things that I might do was to take the hint +offered by the situation, and to fly at once. That too must prove fatal. +There was the body. I had no time to hide it in such a way that it would +not be found at the first systematic search. But whatever I should +do with the body, Manderson's not returning to the house would cause +uneasiness in two or three hours at most. Martin would suspect an +accident to the car, and would telephone to the police. At daybreak the +roads would be scoured and enquiries telegraphed in every direction. The +police would act on the possibility of there being foul play. They +would spread their nets with energy in such a big business as the +disappearance of Manderson. Ports and railway termini would be watched. +Within twenty-four hours the body would be found, and the whole country +would be on the alert for me--all Europe, scarcely less; I did not +believe there was a spot in Christendom where the man accused of +Manderson's murder could pass unchallenged, with every newspaper crying +the fact of his death into the ears of all the world. Every stranger +would be suspect; every man, woman, and child would be a detective. The +car, wherever I should abandon it, would put people on my track. If I +had to choose between two utterly hopeless courses, I decided, I would +take that of telling the preposterous truth. + +'But now I cast about desperately for some tale that would seem more +plausible than the truth. Could I save my neck by a lie? One after +another came into my mind; I need not trouble to remember them now. Each +had its own futilities and perils; but every one split upon the fact--or +what would be taken for fact--that I had induced Manderson to go out +with me, and the fact that he had never returned alive. Notion after +notion I swiftly rejected as I paced there by the dead man, and doom +seemed to settle down upon me more heavily as the moments passed. Then a +strange thought came to me. + +'Several times I had repeated to myself half-consciously, as a sort of +refrain, the words in which I had heard Manderson tell his wife that +I had induced him to go out. "Marlowe has persuaded me to go for a +moonlight run in the car. He is very urgent about it." All at once +it struck me that, without meaning to do so, I was saying this in +Manderson's voice. + +'As you found out for yourself, Mr. Trent, I have a natural gift of +mimicry. I had imitated Manderson's voice many times so successfully as +to deceive even Bunner, who had been much more in his company than +his own wife. It was, you remember'--Marlowe turned to Mr. Cupples--'a +strong, metallic voice, of great carrying power, so unusual as to make +it a very fascinating voice to imitate, and at the same time very easy. +I said the words carefully to myself again, like this--' he uttered +them, and Mr. Cupples opened his eyes in amazement--'and then I struck +my hand upon the low wall beside me. "Manderson never returned alive?" I +said aloud. "But Manderson shall return alive!"' + +'In thirty seconds the bare outline of the plan was complete in my mind. +I did not wait to think over details. Every instant was precious now. I +lifted the body and laid it on the floor of the car, covered with a rug. +I took the hat and the revolver. Not one trace remained on the green, I +believe, of that night's work. As I drove back to White Gables my design +took shape before me with a rapidity and ease that filled me with a wild +excitement. I should escape yet! It was all so easy if I kept my pluck. +Putting aside the unusual and unlikely, I should not fail. I wanted to +shout, to scream! + +'Nearing the house I slackened speed, and carefully reconnoitred the +road. Nothing was moving. I turned the car into the open field on the +other side of the road, about twenty paces short of the little door at +the extreme corner of the grounds. I brought it to rest behind a stack. +When, with Manderson's hat on my head and the pistol in my pocket, I had +staggered with the body across the moonlit road and through that door, +I left much of my apprehension behind me. With swift action and an +unbroken nerve I thought I ought to succeed.' + +With a long sigh Marlowe threw himself into one of the deep chairs at +the fireside and passed his handkerchief over his damp forehead. Each of +his hearers, too, drew a deep breath, but not audibly. + +'Everything else you know,' he said. He took a cigarette from a box +beside him and lighted it. Trent watched the very slight quiver of the +hand that held the match, and privately noted that his own was at the +moment not so steady. + +'The shoes that betrayed me to you,' pursued Marlowe after a short +silence, 'were painful all the time I wore them, but I never dreamed +that they had given anywhere. I knew that no footstep of mine must +appear by any accident in the soft ground about the hut where I laid +the body, or between the hut and the house, so I took the shoes off and +crammed my feet into them as soon as I was inside the little door. I +left my own shoes, with my own jacket and overcoat, near the body, ready +to be resumed later. I made a clear footmark on the soft gravel outside +the French window, and several on the drugget round the carpet. The +stripping off of the outer clothing of the body, and the dressing of it +afterwards in the brown suit and shoes, and putting the things into the +pockets, was a horrible business; and getting the teeth out of the mouth +was worse. The head--but you don't want to hear about it. I didn't feel +it much at the time. I was wriggling my own head out of a noose, you +see. I wish I had thought of pulling down the cuffs, and had tied the +shoes more neatly. And putting the watch in the wrong pocket was a bad +mistake. It had all to be done so hurriedly. + +'You were wrong, by the way, about the whisky. After one stiffish drink +I had no more; but I filled up a flask that was in the cupboard, and +pocketed it. I had a night of peculiar anxiety and effort in front of +me and I didn't know how I should stand it. I had to take some once or +twice during the drive. Speaking of that, you give rather a generous +allowance of time in your document for doing that run by night. You +say that to get to Southampton by half-past six in that car, under +the conditions, a man must, even if he drove like a demon, have left +Marlstone by twelve at latest. I had not got the body dressed in the +other suit, with tie and watch-chain and so forth, until nearly ten +minutes past; and then I had to get to the car and start it going. But +then I don't suppose any other man would have taken the risks I did in +that car at night, without a headlight. It turns me cold to think of it +now. + +'There's nothing much to say about what I did in the house. I spent the +time after Martin had left me in carefully thinking over the remaining +steps in my plan, while I unloaded and thoroughly cleaned the revolver +using my handkerchief and a penholder from the desk. I also placed the +packets of notes, the note-case, and the diamonds in the roll-top desk, +which I opened and relocked with Manderson's key. When I went upstairs +it was a trying moment, for though I was safe from the eyes of Martin, +as he sat in his pantry, there was a faint possibility of somebody +being about on the bedroom floor. I had sometimes found the French maid +wandering about there when the other servants were in bed. Bunner, I +knew, was a deep sleeper. Mrs. Manderson, I had gathered from things +I had heard her say, was usually asleep by eleven; I had thought it +possible that her gift of sleep had helped her to retain all her beauty +and vitality in spite of a marriage which we all knew was an unhappy +one. Still it was uneasy work mounting the stairs, and holding myself +ready to retreat to the library again at the least sound from above. But +nothing happened. + +'The first thing I did on reaching the corridor was to enter my room and +put the revolver and cartridges back in the case. Then I turned off the +light and went quietly into Manderson's room. + +'What I had to do there you know. I had to take off the shoes and put +them outside the door, leave Manderson's jacket, waistcoat, trousers, +and black tie, after taking everything out of the pockets, select a suit +and tie and shoes for the body, and place the dental plate in the bowl, +which I moved from the washing-stand to the bedside, leaving those +ruinous finger-marks as I did so. The marks on the drawer must have been +made when I shut it after taking out the tie. Then I had to lie down +in the bed and tumble it. You know all about it--all except my state of +mind, which you couldn't imagine and I couldn't describe. + +'The worst came when I had hardly begun my operations: the moment when +Mrs. Manderson spoke from the room where I supposed her asleep. I was +prepared for it happening; it was a possibility; but I nearly lost my +nerve all the same. However.... + +'By the way, I may tell you this: in the extremely unlikely contingency +of Mrs. Manderson remaining awake, and so putting out of the question my +escape by way of her window, I had planned simply to remain where I was +a few hours, and then, not speaking to her, to leave the house quickly +and quietly by the ordinary way. Martin would have been in bed by that +time. I might have been heard to leave, but not seen. I should have done +just as I had planned with the body, and then made the best time I +could in the car to Southampton. The difference would have been that +I couldn't have furnished an unquestionable alibi by turning up at the +hotel at 6.30. I should have made the best of it by driving straight to +the docks, and making my ostentatious enquiries there. I could in any +case have got there long before the boat left at noon. I couldn't see +that anybody could suspect me of the supposed murder in any case; but if +any one had, and if I hadn't arrived until ten o'clock, say, I shouldn't +have been able to answer, "It is impossible for me to have got to +Southampton so soon after shooting him." I should simply have had to say +I was delayed by a breakdown after leaving Manderson at half-past ten, +and challenged any one to produce any fact connecting me with the crime. +They couldn't have done it. The pistol, left openly in my room, +might have been used by anybody, even if it could be proved that that +particular pistol was used. Nobody could reasonably connect me with +the shooting so long as it was believed that it was Manderson who had +returned to the house. The suspicion could not, I was confident, enter +any one's mind. All the same, I wanted to introduce the element of +absolute physical impossibility; I knew I should feel ten times as +safe with that. So when I knew from the sound of her breathing that +Mrs. Manderson was asleep again, I walked quickly across her room in my +stocking feet, and was on the grass with my bundle in ten seconds. I +don't think I made the least noise. The curtain before the window was of +soft, thick stuff and didn't rustle, and when I pushed the glass doors +further open there was not a sound.' + +'Tell me,' said Trent, as the other stopped to light a new cigarette, +'why you took the risk of going through Mrs. Manderson's room to escape +from the house. I could see when I looked into the thing on the spot why +it had to be on that side of the house; there was a danger of being seen +by Martin, or by some servant at a bedroom window, if you got out by a +window on one of the other sides. But there were three unoccupied rooms +on that side; two spare bedrooms and Mrs. Manderson's sitting-room. I should have +thought it would have been safer, after you had done what was necessary +to your plan in Manderson's room, to leave it quietly and escape through +one of those three rooms.... The fact that you went through her window, +you know,' he added coldly, 'would have suggested, if it became known, +various suspicions in regard to the lady herself. I think you understand +me.' + +Marlowe turned upon him with a glowing face. 'And I think you will +understand me, Mr. Trent,' he said in a voice that shook a little, 'when +I say that if such a possibility had occurred to me then, I would have +taken any risk rather than make my escape by that way.... Oh well!' he +went on more coolly, 'I suppose that to any one who didn't know her, +the idea of her being privy to her husband's murder might not seem so +indescribably fatuous. Forgive the expression.' He looked attentively at +the burning end of his cigarette, studiously unconscious of the red flag +that flew in Trent's eyes for an instant at his words and the tone of +them. + +That emotion, however, was conquered at once. 'Your remark is perfectly +just,' Trent said with answering coolness. 'I can quite believe, too, +that at the time you didn't think of the possibility I mentioned. But +surely, apart from that, it would have been safer to do as I said; go by +the window of an unoccupied room.' + +'Do you think so?' said Marlowe. 'All I can say is, I hadn't the nerve +to do it. I tell you, when I entered Manderson's room I shut the door of +it on more than half my terrors. I had the problem confined before me in +a closed space, with only one danger in it, and that a known danger: the +danger of Mrs. Manderson. The thing was almost done; I had only to wait +until she was certainly asleep after her few moments of waking up, +for which, as I told you, I was prepared as a possibility. Barring +accidents, the way was clear. But now suppose that I, carrying +Manderson's clothes and shoes, had opened that door again and gone in my +shirt-sleeves and socks to enter one of the empty rooms. The moonlight +was flooding the corridor through the end window. Even if my face was +concealed, nobody could mistake my standing figure for Manderson's. +Martin might be going about the house in his silent way. Bunner might +come out of his bedroom. One of the servants who were supposed to be +in bed might come round the corner from the other passage--I had found +Clestine prowling about quite as late as it was then. None of these +things was very likely; but they were all too likely for me. They were +uncertainties. Shut off from the household in Manderson's room I knew +exactly what I had to face. As I lay in my clothes in Manderson's bed +and listened for the almost inaudible breathing through the open door, I +felt far more ease of mind, terrible as my anxiety was, than I had felt +since I saw the dead body on the turf. I even congratulated myself +that I had had the chance, through Mrs. Manderson's speaking to me, of +tightening one of the screws in my scheme by repeating the statement +about my having been sent to Southampton.' + +Marlowe looked at Trent, who nodded as who should say that his point was +met. + +'As for Southampton,' pursued Marlowe, 'you know what I did when I got +there, I have no doubt. I had decided to take Manderson's story about +the mysterious Harris and act it out on my own lines. It was a carefully +prepared lie, better than anything I could improvise. I even went so +far as to get through a trunk call to the hotel at Southampton from the +library before starting, and ask if Harris was there. As I expected, he +wasn't.' + +'Was that why you telephoned?' Trent enquired quickly. + +'The reason for telephoning was to get myself into an attitude in which +Martin couldn't see my face or anything but the jacket and hat, yet +which was a natural and familiar attitude. But while I was about it, it +was obviously better to make a genuine call. If I had simply pretended +to be telephoning, the people at the exchange could have told at once +that there hadn't been a call from White Gables that night.' + +'One of the first things I did was to make that enquiry,' said Trent. +'That telephone call, and the wire you sent from Southampton to the +dead man to say Harris hadn't turned up, and you were returning--I +particularly appreciated both those.' + +A constrained smile lighted Marlowe's face for a moment. 'I don't know +that there's anything more to tell. I returned to Marlstone, and faced +your friend the detective with such nerve as I had left. The worst was +when I heard you had been put on the case--no, that wasn't the worst. +The worst was when I saw you walk out of the shrubbery the next day, +coming away from the shed where I had laid the body. For one ghastly +moment I thought you were going to give me in charge on the spot. Now +I've told you everything, you don't look so terrible.' + +He closed his eyes, and there was a short silence. Then Trent got +suddenly to his feet. + +'Cross-examination?' enquired Marlowe, looking at him gravely. + +'Not at all,' said Trent, stretching his long limbs. 'Only stiffness +of the legs. I don't want to ask any questions. I believe what you have +told us. I don't believe it simply because I always liked your face, +or because it saves awkwardness, which are the most usual reasons for +believing a person, but because my vanity will have it that no man could +lie to me steadily for an hour without my perceiving it. Your story is +an extraordinary one; but Manderson was an extraordinary man, and so are +you. You acted like a lunatic in doing what you did; but I quite agree +with you that if you had acted like a sane man you wouldn't have had +the hundredth part of a dog's chance with a judge and jury. One thing is +beyond dispute on any reading of the affair: you are a man of courage.' + +The colour rushed into Marlowe's face, and he hesitated for words. +Before he could speak Mr. Cupples arose with a dry cough. + +'For my part,' he said, 'I never supposed you guilty for a moment.' +Marlowe turned to him in grateful amazement, Trent with an incredulous +stare. 'But,' pursued Mr. Cupples, holding up his hand, 'there is one +question which I should like to put.' + +Marlowe bowed, saying nothing. + +'Suppose,' said Mr. Cupples, 'that some one else had been suspected of +the crime and put upon trial. What would you have done?' + +'I think my duty was clear. I should have gone with my story to the +lawyers for the defence, and put myself in their hands.' + +Trent laughed aloud. Now that the thing was over, his spirits were +rapidly becoming ungovernable. 'I can see their faces!' he said. 'As a +matter of fact, though, nobody else was ever in danger. There wasn't a +shred of evidence against any one. I looked up Murch at the Yard this +morning, and he told me he had come round to Bunner's view, that it +was a case of revenge on the part of some American black-hand gang. So +there's the end of the Manderson case. Holy, suffering Moses! What an +ass a man can make of himself when he thinks he's being preternaturally +clever!' He seized the bulky envelope from the table and stuffed it into +the heart of the fire. 'There's for you, old friend! For want of you the +world's course will not fail. But look here! It's getting late--nearly +seven, and Cupples and I have an appointment at half-past. We must go. +Mr. Marlowe, goodbye.' He looked into the other's eyes. 'I am a man +who has worked hard to put a rope round your neck. Considering the +circumstances, I don't know whether you will blame me. Will you shake +hands?' + + + + +CHAPTER XVI: The Last Straw + +'What was that you said about our having an appointment at half-past +seven?' asked Mr. Cupples as the two came out of the great gateway of the +pile of flats. 'Have we such an appointment?' + +'Certainly we have,' replied Trent. 'You are dining with me. Only one +thing can properly celebrate this occasion, and that is a dinner for +which I pay. No, no! I asked you first. I have got right down to the +bottom of a case that must be unique--a case that has troubled even my +mind for over a year--and if that isn't a good reason for standing a +dinner, I don't know what is. Cupples, we will not go to my club. This +is to be a festival, and to be seen in a London club in a state of +pleasurable emotion is more than enough to shatter any man's career. +Besides that, the dinner there is always the same, or, at least, they +always make it taste the same, I know not how. The eternal dinner at my +club hath bored millions of members like me, and shall bore; but tonight +let the feast be spread in vain, so far as we are concerned. We will not +go where the satraps throng the hall. We will go to Sheppard's.' + +'Who is Sheppard?' asked Mr. Cupples mildly, as they proceeded up +Victoria Street. His companion went with an unnatural lightness, and a +policeman, observing his face, smiled indulgently at a look of happiness +which he could only attribute to alcohol. + +'Who is Sheppard?' echoed Trent with bitter emphasis. 'That question, if +you will pardon me for saying so, Cupples, is thoroughly characteristic +of the spirit of aimless enquiry prevailing in this restless day. I +suggest our dining at Sheppard's, and instantly you fold your arms +and demand, in a frenzy of intellectual pride, to know who Sheppard is +before you will cross the threshold of Sheppard's. I am not going to +pander to the vices of the modern mind. Sheppard's is a place where one +can dine. I do not know Sheppard. It never occurred to me that Sheppard +existed. Probably he is a myth of totemistic origin. All I know is that +you can get a bit of saddle of mutton at Sheppard's that has made many +an American visitor curse the day that Christopher Columbus was born.... +Taxi!' + +A cab rolled smoothly to the kerb, and the driver received his +instructions with a majestic nod. + +'Another reason I have for suggesting Sheppard's,' continued Trent, +feverishly lighting a cigarette, 'is that I am going to be married to +the most wonderful woman in the world. I trust the connection of ideas +is clear.' + +'You are going to marry Mabel!' cried Mr. Cupples. 'My dear friend, what +good news this is! Shake hands, Trent; this is glorious! I congratulate +you both from the bottom of my heart. And may I say--I don't want to +interrupt your flow of high spirits, which is very natural indeed, and I +remember being just the same in similar circumstances long ago--but +may I say how earnestly I have hoped for this? Mabel has seen so much +unhappiness, yet she is surely a woman formed in the great purpose of +humanity to be the best influence in the life of a good man. But I did +not know her mind as regarded yourself. Your mind I have known for some +time,' Mr. Cupples went on, with a twinkle in his eye that would have +done credit to the worldliest of creatures. 'I saw it at once when +you were both dining at my house, and you sat listening to Professor +Peppmuller and looking at her. Some of us older fellows have our wits +about us still, my dear boy.' + +'Mabel says she knew it before that,' replied Trent, with a slightly +crestfallen air. 'And I thought I was acting the part of a person +who was not mad about her to the life. Well, I never was any good at +dissembling. I shouldn't wonder if even old Peppmuller noticed something +through his double convex lenses. But however crazy I may have been as +an undeclared suitor,' he went on with a return to vivacity, 'I am going +to be much worse now. As for your congratulations, thank you a thousand +times, because I know you mean them. You are the sort of uncomfortable +brute who would pull a face three feet long if you thought we were +making a mistake. By the way, I can't help being an ass tonight; I'm +obliged to go on blithering. You must try to bear it. Perhaps it would +be easier if I sang you a song--one of your old favourites. What was +that song you used always to be singing? Like this, wasn't it?' He +accompanied the following stave with a dexterous clog-step on the floor +of the cab: + +'There was an old nigger, and he had a wooden leg. He had no tobacco, no +tobacco could he beg. Another old nigger was as cunning as a fox, And he +always had tobacco in his old tobacco-box. + +'Now for the chorus! + +'Yes, he always had tobacco in his old tobacco-box. + +'But you're not singing. I thought you would be making the welkin ring.' + +'I never sang that song in my life,' protested Mr. Cupples. 'I never +heard it before.' + +'Are you sure?' enquired Trent doubtfully. 'Well, I suppose I must take +your word for it. It is a beautiful song, anyhow: not the whole warbling +grove in concert heard can beat it. Somehow it seems to express my +feelings at the present moment as nothing else could; it rises unbidden +to the lips. Out of the fullness of the heart the mouth speaketh, as +the Bishop of Bath and Wells said when listening to a speech of Mr +Balfour's.' + +'When was that?' asked Mr. Cupples. + +'On the occasion,' replied Trent, 'of the introduction of the Compulsory +Notification of Diseases of Poultry Bill, which ill-fated measure you +of course remember. Hullo!' he broke off, as the cab rushed down a side +street and swung round a corner into a broad and populous thoroughfare, +'we're there already'. The cab drew up. + +'Here we are,' said Trent, as he paid the man, and led Mr. Cupples into a +long, panelled room set with many tables and filled with a hum of talk. +'This is the house of fulfilment of craving, this is the bower with +the roses around it. I see there are three bookmakers eating pork at my +favourite table. We will have that one in the opposite corner.' + +He conferred earnestly with a waiter, while Mr. Cupples, in a pleasant +meditation, warmed himself before the great fire. 'The wine here,' Trent +resumed, as they seated themselves, 'is almost certainly made out of +grapes. What shall we drink?' + +Mr. Cupples came out of his reverie. 'I think,' he said, 'I will have +milk and soda water.' + +'Speak lower!' urged Trent. 'The head-waiter has a weak heart, and might +hear you. Milk and soda water! Cupples, you may think you have a strong +constitution, and I don't say you have not, but I warn you that this +habit of mixing drinks has been the death of many a robuster man than +you. Be wise in time. Fill high the bowl with Samian wine, leave soda to +the Turkish hordes. Here comes our food.' He gave another order to the +waiter, who ranged the dishes before them and darted away. Trent was, it +seemed, a respected customer. 'I have sent,' he said, 'for wine that I +know, and I hope you will try it. If you have taken a vow, then in the +name of all the teetotal saints drink water, which stands at your elbow, +but don't seek a cheap notoriety by demanding milk and soda.' + +'I have never taken any pledge,' said Mr. Cupples, examining his mutton +with a favourable eye. 'I simply don't care about wine. I bought a +bottle once and drank it to see what it was like, and it made me ill. +But very likely it was bad wine. I will taste some of yours, as it is +your dinner, and I do assure you, my dear Trent, I should like to do +something unusual to show how strongly I feel on the present occasion. I +have not been so delighted for many years. To think,' he reflected aloud +as the waiter filled his glass, 'of the Manderson mystery disposed of, +the innocent exculpated, and your own and Mabel's happiness crowned--all +coming upon me together! I drink to you, my dear friend.' And Mr. Cupples +took a very small sip of the wine. + +'You have a great nature,' said Trent, much moved. 'Your outward +semblance doth belie your soul's immensity. I should have expected +as soon to see an elephant conducting at the opera as you drinking +my health. Dear Cupples! May his beak retain ever that delicate +rose-stain!--No, curse it all!' he broke out, surprising a shade of +discomfort that flitted over his companion's face as he tasted the wine +again. 'I have no business to meddle with your tastes. I apologize. You +shall have what you want, even if it causes the head-waiter to perish in +his pride.' + +When Mr. Cupples had been supplied with his monastic drink, and the +waiter had retired, Trent looked across the table with significance. 'In +this babble of many conversations,' he said, 'we can speak as freely as +if we were on a bare hillside. The waiter is whispering soft nothings +into the ear of the young woman at the pay-desk. We are alone. What do +you think of that interview of this afternoon?' He began to dine with an +appetite. + +Without pausing in the task of cutting his mutton into very small pieces +Mr. Cupples replied: 'The most curious feature of it, in my judgement, +was the irony of the situation. We both held the clue to that mad hatred +of Manderson's which Marlowe found so mysterious. We knew of his jealous +obsession; which knowledge we withheld, as was very proper, if only in +consideration of Mabel's feelings. Marlowe will never know of what he +was suspected by that person. Strange! Nearly all of us, I venture +to think, move unconsciously among a network of opinions, often quite +erroneous, which other people entertain about us. I remember, for +instance, discovering quite by accident some years ago that a number +of people of my acquaintance believed me to have been secretly received +into the Church of Rome. This absurd fiction was based upon the fact, +which in the eyes of many appeared conclusive, that I had expressed +myself in talk as favouring the plan of a weekly abstinence from meat. +Manderson's belief in regard to his secretary probably rested upon a +much slighter ground. It was Mr. Bunner, I think you said, who told +you of his rooted and apparently hereditary temper of suspicious +jealousy.... With regard to Marlowe's story, it appeared to me entirely +straightforward, and not, in its essential features, especially +remarkable, once we have admitted, as we surely must, that in the case +of Manderson we have to deal with a more or less disordered mind.' + +Trent laughed loudly. 'I confess,' he said, 'that the affair struck me +as a little unusual. + +'Only in the development of the details,' argued Mr. Cupples. 'What +is there abnormal in the essential facts? A madman conceives a crazy +suspicion; he hatches a cunning plot against his fancied injurer; it +involves his own destruction. Put thus, what is there that any man with +the least knowledge of the ways of lunatics would call remarkable? Turn +now to Marlowe's proceedings. He finds himself in a perilous position +from which, though he is innocent, telling the truth will not save +him. Is that an unheard-of situation? He escapes by means of a bold and +ingenious piece of deception. That seems to me a thing that might happen +every day, and probably does so.' He attacked his now unrecognizable +mutton. + +'I should like to know,' said Trent, after an alimentary pause in the +conversation, 'whether there is anything that ever happened on the +face of the earth that you could not represent as quite ordinary and +commonplace by such a line of argument as that.' + +A gentle smile illuminated Mr. Cupples's face. 'You must not suspect me +of empty paradox,' he said. 'My meaning will become clearer, perhaps, if +I mention some things which do appear to me essentially remarkable. +Let me see .... Well, I would call the life history of the liver-fluke, +which we owe to the researches of Poulton, an essentially remarkable +thing.' + +'I am unable to argue the point,' replied Trent. 'Fair science may have +smiled upon the liver-fluke's humble birth, but I never even heard it +mentioned.' + +'It is not, perhaps, an appetizing subject,' said Mr. Cupples +thoughtfully, 'and I will not pursue it. All I mean is, my dear Trent, +that there are really remarkable things going on all round us if we +will only see them; and we do our perceptions no credit in regarding as +remarkable only those affairs which are surrounded with an accumulation +of sensational detail.' + +Trent applauded heartily with his knife-handle on the table, as Mr +Cupples ceased and refreshed himself with milk and soda water. 'I have +not heard you go on like this for years,' he said. 'I believe you must +be almost as much above yourself as I am. It is a bad case of the unrest +which men miscall delight. But much as I enjoy it, I am not going to sit +still and hear the Manderson affair dismissed as commonplace. You may +say what you like, but the idea of impersonating Manderson in those +circumstances was an extraordinarily ingenious idea.' + +'Ingenious--certainly!' replied Mr. Cupples. 'Extraordinarily so--no! In +those circumstances (your own words) it was really not strange that +it should occur to a clever man. It lay almost on the surface of the +situation. Marlowe was famous for his imitation of Manderson's voice; he +had a talent for acting; he had a chess-player's mind; he knew the +ways of the establishment intimately. I grant you that the idea +was brilliantly carried out; but everything favoured it. As for the +essential idea, I do not place it, as regards ingenuity, in the same +class with, for example, the idea of utilizing the force of recoil in a +discharged firearm to actuate the mechanism of ejecting and reloading. +I do, however, admit, as I did at the outset, that in respect of +details the case had unusual features. It developed a high degree of +complexity.' + +'Did it really strike you in that way?' enquired Trent with desperate +sarcasm. + +'The affair became complicated,' went on Mr. Cupples unmoved, 'because +after Marlowe's suspicions were awakened, a second subtle mind came +in to interfere with the plans of the first. That sort of duel often +happens in business and politics, but less frequently, I imagine, in the +world of crime.' + +'I should say never,' Trent replied; 'and the reason is, that even the +cleverest criminals seldom run to strategic subtlety. When they do, they +don't get caught, since clever policemen have if possible less strategic +subtlety than the ordinary clever criminal. But that rather deep quality +seems very rarely to go with the criminal make-up. Look at Crippen. He +was a very clever criminal as they go. He solved the central problem +of every clandestine murder, the disposal of the body, with extreme +neatness. But how far did he see through the game? The criminal and the +policeman are often swift and bold tacticians, but neither of them is +good for more than a quite simple plan. After all, it's a rare faculty +in any walk of life.' + +'One disturbing reflection was left on my mind,' said Mr. Cupples, who +seemed to have had enough of abstractions for the moment, 'by what we +learned today. If Marlowe had suspected nothing and walked into the +trap, he would almost certainly have been hanged. Now how often may +not a plan to throw the guilt of murder on an innocent person have been +practised successfully? There are, I imagine, numbers of cases in which +the accused, being found guilty on circumstantial evidence, have +died protesting their innocence. I shall never approve again of a +death-sentence imposed in a case decided upon such evidence.' + +'I never have done so, for my part,' said Trent. 'To hang in such +cases seems to me flying in the face of the perfectly obvious and sound +principle expressed in the saying that "you never can tell". I agree +with the American jurist who lays it down that we should not hang a +yellow dog for stealing jam on circumstantial evidence, not even if +he has jam all over his nose. As for attempts being made by malevolent +persons to fix crimes upon innocent men, of course it is constantly +happening. It's a marked feature, for instance, of all systems of rule +by coercion, whether in Ireland or Russia or India or Korea; if the +police cannot get hold of a man they think dangerous by fair means, +they do it by foul. But there's one case in the State Trials that is +peculiarly to the point, because not only was it a case of fastening a +murder on innocent people, but the plotter did in effect what Manderson +did; he gave up his own life in order to secure the death of his +victims. Probably you have heard of the Campden Case.' + +Mr. Cupples confessed his ignorance and took another potato. + +'John Masefield has written a very remarkable play about it,' said +Trent, 'and if it ever comes on again in London, you should go and see +it, if you like having the fan-tods. I have often seen women weeping in +an undemonstrative manner at some slab of oleo-margarine sentiment in +the theatre. By George! what everlasting smelling-bottle hysterics they +ought to have if they saw that play decently acted! Well, the facts were +that John Perry accused his mother and brother of murdering a man, and +swore he had helped them to do it. He told a story full of elaborate +detail, and had an answer to everything, except the curious fact that +the body couldn't be found; but the judge, who was probably drunk at the +time--this was in Restoration days--made nothing of that. The mother and +brother denied the accusation. All three prisoners were found guilty and +hanged, purely on John's evidence. Two years after, the man whom they +were hanged for murdering came back to Campden. He had been kidnapped by +pirates and taken to sea. His disappearance had given John his idea. The +point about John is, that his including himself in the accusation, +which amounted to suicide, was the thing in his evidence which convinced +everybody of its truth. It was so obvious that no man would do himself +to death to get somebody else hanged. Now that is exactly the answer +which the prosecution would have made if Marlowe had told the truth. Not +one juryman in a million would have believed in the Manderson plot.' + +Mr. Cupples mused upon this a few moments. 'I have not your acquaintance +with that branch of history,' he said at length; 'in fact, I have none +at all. But certain recollections of my own childhood return to me in +connection with this affair. We know from the things Mabel told you what +may be termed the spiritual truth underlying this matter; the insane +depth of jealous hatred which Manderson concealed. We can understand +that he was capable of such a scheme. But as a rule it is in the task +of penetrating to the spiritual truth that the administration of justice +breaks down. Sometimes that truth is deliberately concealed, as in +Manderson's case. Sometimes, I think, it is concealed because simple +people are actually unable to express it, and nobody else divines it. +When I was a lad in Edinburgh the whole country went mad about the +Sandyford Place murder.' + +Trent nodded. 'Mrs. M'Lachlan's case. She was innocent right enough.' + +'My parents thought so,' said Mr. Cupples. 'I thought so myself when I +became old enough to read and understand that excessively sordid story. +But the mystery of the affair was so dark, and the task of getting +at the truth behind the lies told by everybody concerned proved so +hopeless, that others were just as fully convinced of the innocence of +old James Fleming. All Scotland took sides on the question. It was the +subject of debates in Parliament. The press divided into two camps, and +raged with a fury I have never seen equalled. Yet it is obvious, is it +not? for I see you have read of the case--that if the spiritual truth +about that old man could have been known there would have been very +little room for doubt in the matter. If what some surmised about his +disposition was true, he was quite capable of murdering Jessie M'Pherson +and then casting the blame on the poor feeble-minded creature who came +so near to suffering the last penalty of the law.' + +'Even a commonplace old dotard like Fleming can be an unfathomable +mystery to all the rest of the human race,' said Trent, 'and most of all +in a court of justice. The law certainly does not shine when it comes +to a case requiring much delicacy of perception. It goes wrong +easily enough over the Flemings of this world. As for the people with +temperaments who get mixed up in legal proceedings, they must feel as +if they were in a forest of apes, whether they win or lose. Well, I dare +say it's good for their sort to have their noses rubbed in reality now +and again. But what would twelve red-faced realities in a jury-box have +done to Marlowe? His story would, as he says, have been a great deal +worse than no defence at all. It's not as if there were a single +piece of evidence in support of his tale. Can't you imagine how the +prosecution would tear it to rags? Can't you see the judge simply taking +it in his stride when it came to the summing up? And the jury--you've +served on juries, I expect--in their room, snorting with indignation +over the feebleness of the lie, telling each other it was the clearest +case they ever heard of, and that they'd have thought better of him if +he hadn't lost his nerve at the crisis, and had cleared off with the +swag as he intended. Imagine yourself on that jury, not knowing +Marlowe, and trembling with indignation at the record unrolled before +you--cupidity, murder, robbery, sudden cowardice, shameless, impenitent, +desperate lying! Why, you and I believed him to be guilty until--' + +'I beg your pardon! I beg your pardon!' interjected Mr. Cupples, laying +down his knife and fork. 'I was most careful, when we talked it all over +the other night, to say nothing indicating such a belief. I was always +certain that he was innocent.' + +'You said something of the sort at Marlowe's just now. I wondered what +on earth you could mean. Certain that he was innocent! How can you be +certain? You are generally more careful about terms than that, Cupples.' + +'I said "certain",' Mr. Cupples repeated firmly. + +Trent shrugged his shoulders. 'If you really were, after reading my +manuscript and discussing the whole thing as we did,' he rejoined, 'then +I can only say that you must have totally renounced all trust in the +operations of the human reason; an attitude which, while it is bad +Christianity and also infernal nonsense, is oddly enough bad Positivism +too, unless I misunderstand that system. Why, man--' + +'Let me say a word,' Mr. Cupples interposed again, folding his hands +above his plate. 'I assure you I am far from abandoning reason. I am +certain he is innocent, and I always was certain of it, because of +something that I know, and knew from the very beginning. You asked me +just now to imagine myself on the jury at Marlowe's trial. That would +be an unprofitable exercise of the mental powers, because I know that I +should be present in another capacity. I should be in the witness-box, +giving evidence for the defence. You said just now, "If there were a +single piece of evidence in support of his tale." There is, and it is +my evidence. And,' he added quietly, 'it is conclusive.' He took up his +knife and fork and went contentedly on with his dinner. + +The pallor of sudden excitement had turned Trent to marble while Mr +Cupples led laboriously up to this statement. At the last word the blood +rushed to his face again, and he struck the table with an unnatural +laugh. 'It can't be!' he exploded. 'It's something you fancied, +something you dreamed after one of those debauches of soda and milk. You +can't really mean that all the time I was working on the case down there +you knew Marlowe was innocent.' + +Mr. Cupples, busy with his last mouthful, nodded brightly. He made an end +of eating, wiped his sparse moustache, and then leaned forward over the +table. 'It's very simple,' he said. 'I shot Manderson myself.' + +*** + +'I am afraid I startled you,' Trent heard the voice of Mr. Cupples say. +He forced himself out of his stupefaction like a diver striking upward +for the surface, and with a rigid movement raised his glass. But half +of the wine splashed upon the cloth, and he put it carefully down again +untasted. He drew a deep breath, which was exhaled in a laugh wholly +without merriment. 'Go on,' he said. + +'It was not murder,' began Mr. Cupples, slowly measuring off inches with +a fork on the edge of the table. 'I will tell you the whole story. On +that Sunday night I was taking my before-bedtime constitutional, having +set out from the hotel about a quarter past ten. I went along the field +path that runs behind White Gables, cutting off the great curve of the +road, and came out on the road nearly opposite that gate that is just by +the eighth hole on the golf-course. Then I turned in there, meaning to +walk along the turf to the edge of the cliff, and go back that way. I +had only gone a few steps when I heard the car coming, and then I heard +it stop near the gate. I saw Manderson at once. Do you remember my +telling you I had seen him once alive after our quarrel in front of the +hotel? Well, this was the time. You asked me if I had, and I did not +care to tell a falsehood.' + +A slight groan came from Trent. He drank a little wine, and said +stonily, 'Go on, please.' + +'It was, as you know,' pursued Mr. Cupples, 'a moonlight night, but I was +in shadow under the trees by the stone wall, and anyhow they could not +suppose there was any one near them. I heard all that passed just +as Marlowe has narrated it to us, and I saw the car go off towards +Bishopsbridge. I did not see Manderson's face as it went, because his +back was to me, but he shook the back of his left hand at the car with +extraordinary violence, greatly to my amazement. Then I waited for him +to go back to White Gables, as I did not want to meet him again. But he +did not go. He opened the gate through which I had just passed, and he +stood there on the turf of the green, quite still. His head was bent, +his arms hung at his sides, and he looked some-how--rigid. For a few +moments he remained in this tense attitude, then all of a sudden his +right arm moved swiftly, and his hand was at the pocket of his overcoat. +I saw his face raised in the moonlight, the teeth bared, and the eyes +glittering, and all at once I knew that the man was not sane. Almost as +quickly as that flashed across my mind, something else flashed in the +moonlight. He held the pistol before him, pointing at his breast. + +'Now I may say here I shall always be doubtful whether Manderson really +meant to kill himself then. Marlowe naturally thinks so, knowing nothing +of my intervention. But I think it quite likely he only meant to wound +himself, and to charge Marlowe with attempted murder and robbery. + +'At that moment, however, I assumed it was suicide. Before I knew what I +was doing I had leapt out of the shadows and seized his arm. He shook +me off with a furious snarling noise, giving me a terrific blow in the +chest, and presenting the revolver at my head. But I seized his wrists +before he could fire, and clung with all my strength--you remember how +bruised and scratched they were. I knew I was fighting for my own life +now, for murder was in his eyes. We struggled like two beasts, without +an articulate word, I holding his pistol-hand down and keeping a grip +on the other. I never dreamed that I had the strength for such an +encounter. Then, with a perfectly instinctive movement--I never knew I +meant to do it--I flung away his free hand and clutched like lightning +at the weapon, tearing it from his fingers. By a miracle it did not go +off. I darted back a few steps, he sprang at my throat like a wild cat, +and I fired blindly in his face. He would have been about a yard away, +I suppose. His knees gave way instantly, and he fell in a heap on the +turf. + +'I flung the pistol down and bent over him. The heart's action ceased +under my hand. I knelt there staring, struck motionless; and I don't +know how long it was before I heard the noise of the car returning. + +'Trent, all the time that Marlowe paced that green, with the moonlight +on his white and working face, I was within a few yards of him, +crouching in the shadow of the furze by the ninth tee. I dared not +show myself. I was thinking. My public quarrel with Manderson the same +morning was, I suspected, the talk of the hotel. I assure you that every +horrible possibility of the situation for me had rushed across my mind +the moment I saw Manderson fall. I became cunning. I knew what I must +do. I must get back to the hotel as fast as I could, get in somehow +unperceived, and play a part to save myself. I must never tell a word to +any one. Of course I was assuming that Marlowe would tell every one how +he had found the body. I knew he would suppose it was suicide; I thought +every one would suppose so. + +'When Marlowe began at last to lift the body, I stole away down the wall +and got out into the road by the clubhouse, where he could not see me. +I felt perfectly cool and collected. I crossed the road, climbed the +fence, and ran across the meadow to pick up the field path I had come by +that runs to the hotel behind White Gables. I got back to the hotel very +much out of breath.' + +'Out of breath,' repeated Trent mechanically, still staring at his +companion as if hypnotized. + +'I had had a sharp run,' Mr. Cupples reminded him. 'Well, approaching the +hotel from the back I could see into the writing-room through the open +window. There was nobody in there, so I climbed over the sill, walked to +the bell and rang it, and then sat down to write a letter I had meant to +write the next day. I saw by the clock that it was a little past eleven. +When the waiter answered the bell I asked for a glass of milk and a +postage stamp. Soon afterwards I went up to bed. But I could not sleep.' + +Mr. Cupples, having nothing more to say, ceased speaking. He looked in +mild surprise at Trent, who now sat silent, supporting his bent head in +his hands. + +'He could not sleep,' murmured Trent at last in a hollow tone. 'A +frequent result of over-exertion during the day. Nothing to be alarmed +about.' He was silent again, then looked up with a pale face. 'Cupples, +I am cured. I will never touch a crime-mystery again. The Manderson +affair shall be Philip Trent's last case. His high-blown pride at length +breaks under him.' Trent's smile suddenly returned. 'I could have borne +everything but that last revelation of the impotence of human reason. +Cupples, I have absolutely nothing left to say, except this: you have +beaten me. I drink your health in a spirit of self-abasement. And you +shall pay for the dinner.' + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Trent's Last Case, by +E.C. (Edmund Clerihew) Bentley + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TRENT'S LAST CASE *** + +***** This file should be named 2568.txt or 2568.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/5/6/2568/ + +Produced by Stuart E. Thiel + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Trent's Last Case + The Woman in Black + +Author: E.C. (Edmund Clerihew) Bentley + +Release Date: 2001 +Posting Date: November 14, 2009 [EBook #2568] +Last updated: September 18, 2015 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TRENT'S LAST CASE *** + + + + +Produced by Stuart E. Thiel + + + + + +TRENT'S LAST CASE + +THE WOMAN IN BLACK + + +By E.C. (Edmund Clerihew) Bentley + + + + +CHAPTER I: Bad News + +Between what matters and what seems to matter, how should the world we +know judge wisely? + +When the scheming, indomitable brain of Sigsbee Manderson was scattered +by a shot from an unknown hand, that world lost nothing worth a single +tear; it gained something memorable in a harsh reminder of the vanity +of such wealth as this dead man had piled up--without making one loyal +friend to mourn him, without doing an act that could help his memory to +the least honour. But when the news of his end came, it seemed to those +living in the great vortices of business as if the earth too shuddered +under a blow. + +In all the lurid commercial history of his country there had been no +figure that had so imposed itself upon the mind of the trading world. He +had a niche apart in its temples. Financial giants, strong to direct and +augment the forces of capital, and taking an approved toll in millions +for their labour, had existed before; but in the case of Manderson there +had been this singularity, that a pale halo of piratical romance, a +thing especially dear to the hearts of his countrymen, had remained +incongruously about his head through the years when he stood in every +eye as the unquestioned guardian of stability, the stamper-out of +manipulated crises, the foe of the raiding chieftains that infest the +borders of Wall Street. + +The fortune left by his grandfather, who had been one of those +chieftains on the smaller scale of his day, had descended to him +with accretion through his father, who during a long life had quietly +continued to lend money and never had margined a stock. Manderson, who +had at no time known what it was to be without large sums to his hand, +should have been altogether of that newer American plutocracy which is +steadied by the tradition and habit of great wealth. But it was not so. +While his nurture and education had taught him European ideas of a rich +man's proper external circumstance; while they had rooted in him an +instinct for quiet magnificence, the larger costliness which does not +shriek of itself with a thousand tongues; there had been handed on to +him nevertheless much of the Forty-Niner and financial buccaneer, his +forbear. During that first period of his business career which had been +called his early bad manner, he had been little more than a gambler of +genius, his hand against every man's--an infant prodigy--who brought to +the enthralling pursuit of speculation a brain better endowed than +any opposed to it. At St Helena it was laid down that war is une belle +occupation; and so the young Manderson had found the multitudinous and +complicated dog-fight of the Stock Exchange of New York. + +Then came his change. At his father's death, when Manderson was thirty +years old, some new revelation of the power and the glory of the god +he served seemed to have come upon him. With the sudden, elastic +adaptability of his nation he turned to steady labour in his father's +banking business, closing his ears to the sound of the battles of the +Street. In a few years he came to control all the activity of the great +firm whose unimpeached conservatism, safety, and financial weight lifted +it like a cliff above the angry sea of the markets. All mistrust founded +on the performances of his youth had vanished. He was quite plainly a +different man. How the change came about none could with authority say, +but there was a story of certain last words spoken by his father, whom +alone he had respected and perhaps loved. + +He began to tower above the financial situation. Soon his name was +current in the bourses of the world. One who spoke the name of Manderson +called up a vision of all that was broad-based and firm in the vast +wealth of the United States. He planned great combinations of capital, +drew together and centralized industries of continental scope, financed +with unerring judgement the large designs of state or of private +enterprise. Many a time when he 'took hold' to smash a strike, or to +federate the ownership of some great field of labour, he sent ruin upon +a multitude of tiny homes; and if miners or steelworkers or cattlemen +defied him and invoked disorder, he could be more lawless and ruthless +than they. But this was done in the pursuit of legitimate business ends. +Tens of thousands of the poor might curse his name, but the financier +and the speculator execrated him no more. He stretched a hand to protect +or to manipulate the power of wealth in every corner of the country. +Forcible, cold, and unerring, in all he did he ministered to the +national lust for magnitude; and a grateful country surnamed him the +Colossus. + +But there was an aspect of Manderson in this later period that lay long +unknown and unsuspected save by a few, his secretaries and lieutenants +and certain of the associates of his bygone hurling time. This little +circle knew that Manderson, the pillar of sound business and stability +in the markets, had his hours of nostalgia for the lively times when +the Street had trembled at his name. It was, said one of them, as if +Blackbeard had settled down as a decent merchant in Bristol on the +spoils of the Main. Now and then the pirate would glare suddenly +out, the knife in his teeth and the sulphur matches sputtering in his +hatband. During such spasms of reversion to type a score of tempestuous +raids upon the market had been planned on paper in the inner room of the +offices of Manderson, Colefax and Company. But they were never carried +out. Blackbeard would quell the mutiny of his old self within him and go +soberly down to his counting-house--humming a stave or two of 'Spanish +Ladies', perhaps, under his breath. Manderson would allow himself the +harmless satisfaction, as soon as the time for action had gone by, of +pointing out to some Rupert of the markets a coup worth a million to +the depredator might have been made. 'Seems to me,' he would say almost +wistfully, 'the Street is getting to be a mighty dull place since I +quit.' By slow degrees this amiable weakness of the Colossus became +known to the business world, which exulted greatly in the knowledge. + +*** + +At the news of his death panic went through the markets like a +hurricane; for it came at a luckless time. Prices tottered and crashed +like towers in an earthquake. For two days Wall Street was a clamorous +inferno of pale despair. All over the United States, wherever +speculation had its devotees, went a waft of ruin, a plague of suicide. +In Europe also not a few took with their own hands lives that had become +pitiably linked to the destiny of a financier whom most of them had +never seen. In Paris a well-known banker walked quietly out of the +Bourse and fell dead upon the broad steps among the raving crowd of +Jews, a phial crushed in his hand. In Frankfort one leapt from the +Cathedral top, leaving a redder stain where he struck the red tower. Men +stabbed and shot and strangled themselves, drank death or breathed it +as the air, because in a lonely corner of England the life had departed +from one cold heart vowed to the service of greed. + +The blow could not have fallen at a more disastrous moment. It came when +Wall Street was in a condition of suppressed 'scare'--suppressed, because +for a week past the great interests known to act with or to be actually +controlled by the Colossus had been desperately combating the effects of +the sudden arrest of Lucas Hahn, and the exposure of his plundering of +the Hahn banks. This bombshell, in its turn, had fallen at a time when +the market had been 'boosted' beyond its real strength. In the language +of the place, a slump was due. Reports from the corn-lands had not been +good, and there had been two or three railway statements which had been +expected to be much better than they were. But at whatever point in the +vast area of speculation the shudder of the threatened break had been +felt, 'the Manderson crowd' had stepped in and held the market up. +All through the week the speculator's mind, as shallow as it is +quick-witted, as sentimental as greedy, had seen in this the hand of +the giant stretched out in protection from afar. Manderson, said the +newspapers in chorus, was in hourly communication with his lieutenants +in the Street. One journal was able to give in round figures the sum +spent on cabling between New York and Marlstone in the past twenty-four +hours; it told how a small staff of expert operators had been sent down +by the Post Office authorities to Marlstone to deal with the flood of +messages. Another revealed that Manderson, on the first news of the +Hahn crash, had arranged to abandon his holiday and return home by the +Lusitania; but that he soon had the situation so well in hand that he +had determined to remain where he was. + +All this was falsehood, more or less consciously elaborated by the +'finance editors', consciously initiated and encouraged by the shrewd +business men of the Manderson group, who knew that nothing could better +help their plans than this illusion of hero-worship--knew also that +no word had come from Manderson in answer to their messages, and that +Howard B. Jeffrey, of Steel and Iron fame, was the true organizer of +victory. So they fought down apprehension through four feverish days, +and minds grew calmer. On Saturday, though the ground beneath the +feet of Mr. Jeffrey yet rumbled now and then with Etna-mutterings of +disquiet, he deemed his task almost done. The market was firm, and +slowly advancing. Wall Street turned to its sleep of Sunday, worn out +but thankfully at peace. + +In the first trading hour of Monday a hideous rumour flew round the +sixty acres of the financial district. It came into being as the +lightning comes--a blink that seems to begin nowhere; though it is to be +suspected that it was first whispered over the telephone--together with +an urgent selling order by some employee in the cable service. A sharp +spasm convulsed the convalescent share-list. In five minutes the dull +noise of the kerbstone market in Broad Street had leapt to a high note +of frantic interrogation. From within the hive of the Exchange itself +could be heard a droning hubbub of fear, and men rushed hatless in and +out. Was it true? asked every man; and every man replied, with trembling +lips, that it was a lie put out by some unscrupulous 'short' interest +seeking to cover itself. In another quarter of an hour news came of a +sudden and ruinous collapse of 'Yankees' in London at the close of +the Stock Exchange day. It was enough. New York had still four hours' +trading in front of her. The strategy of pointing to Manderson as the +saviour and warden of the markets had recoiled upon its authors with +annihilating force, and Jeffrey, his ear at his private telephone, +listened to the tale of disaster with a set jaw. The new Napoleon had +lost his Marengo. He saw the whole financial landscape sliding and +falling into chaos before him. In half an hour the news of the finding +of Manderson's body, with the inevitable rumour that it was suicide, was +printing in a dozen newspaper offices; but before a copy reached Wall +Street the tornado of the panic was in full fury, and Howard B. Jeffrey +and his collaborators were whirled away like leaves before its breath. + +*** + +All this sprang out of nothing. + +Nothing in the texture of the general life had changed. The corn had not +ceased to ripen in the sun. The rivers bore their barges and gave power +to a myriad engines. The flocks fattened on the pastures, the herds were +unnumbered. Men laboured everywhere in the various servitudes to which +they were born, and chafed not more than usual in their bonds. Bellona +tossed and murmured as ever, yet still slept her uneasy sleep. To all +mankind save a million or two of half-crazed gamblers, blind to all +reality, the death of Manderson meant nothing; the life and work of the +world went on. Weeks before he died strong hands had been in control +of every wire in the huge network of commerce and industry that he +had supervised. Before his corpse was buried his countrymen had made a +strange discovery--that the existence of the potent engine of monopoly +that went by the name of Sigsbee Manderson had not been a condition of +even material prosperity. The panic blew itself out in two days, the +pieces were picked up, the bankrupts withdrew out of sight; the market +'recovered a normal tone'. + +While the brief delirium was yet subsiding there broke out a domestic +scandal in England that suddenly fixed the attention of two continents. +Next morning the Chicago Limited was wrecked, and the same day a notable +politician was shot down in cold blood by his wife's brother in the +streets of New Orleans. Within a week of its rising, 'the Manderson +story', to the trained sense of editors throughout the Union, was +'cold'. The tide of American visitors pouring through Europe made eddies +round the memorial or statue of many a man who had died in poverty; and +never thought of their most famous plutocrat. Like the poet who died +in Rome, so young and poor, a hundred years ago, he was buried far away +from his own land; but for all the men and women of Manderson's people +who flock round the tomb of Keats in the cemetery under the Monte +Testaccio, there is not one, nor ever Will be, to stand in reverence by +the rich man's grave beside the little church of Marlstone. + + + + +CHAPTER II: Knocking the Town Endways + +In the only comfortably furnished room in the offices of the Record, the +telephone on Sir James Molloy's table buzzed. Sir James made a motion +with his pen, and Mr. Silver, his secretary, left his work and came over +to the instrument. + +'Who is that?' he said. 'Who?... I can't hear you.... Oh, it's Mr. +Bunner, is it?... Yes, but... I know, but he's fearfully busy this +afternoon. Can't you... Oh, really? Well, in that case--just hold on, +will you?' + +He placed the receiver before Sir James. 'It's Calvin Bunner, Sigsbee +Manderson's right-hand man,' he said concisely. 'He insists on speaking +to you personally. Says it is the gravest piece of news. He is talking +from the house down by Bishopsbridge, so it will be necessary to speak +clearly.' + +Sir James looked at the telephone, not affectionately, and took up the +receiver. 'Well?' he said in his strong voice, and listened. 'Yes,' he +said. The next moment Mr. Silver, eagerly watching him, saw a look of +amazement and horror. 'Good God!' murmured Sir James. Clutching the +instrument, he slowly rose to his feet, still bending ear intently. At +intervals he repeated 'Yes.' Presently, as he listened, he glanced +at the clock, and spoke quickly to Mr. Silver over the top of the +transmitter. 'Go and hunt up Figgis and young Williams. Hurry.' Mr. +Silver darted from the room. + +The great journalist was a tall, strong, clever Irishman of fifty, swart +and black-moustached, a man of untiring business energy, well known in +the world, which he understood very thoroughly, and played upon with the +half-cynical competence of his race. Yet was he without a touch of the +charlatan: he made no mysteries, and no pretences of knowledge, and +he saw instantly through these in others. In his handsome, well-bred, +well-dressed appearance there was something a little sinister when anger +or intense occupation put its imprint about his eyes and brow; but when +his generous nature was under no restraint he was the most cordial +of men. He was managing director of the company which owned that most +powerful morning paper, the Record, and also that most indispensable +evening paper, the Sun, which had its offices on the other side of the +street. He was, moreover, editor-in-chief of the Record, to which he had +in the course of years attached the most variously capable personnel in +the country. It was a maxim of his that where you could not get gifts, +you must do the best you could with solid merit; and he employed a great +deal of both. He was respected by his staff as few are respected in a +profession not favourable to the growth of the sentiment of reverence. + +'You're sure that's all?' asked Sir James, after a few minutes of +earnest listening and questioning. 'And how long has this been known?... +Yes, of course, the police are; but the servants? Surely it's all over +the place down there by now.... Well, we'll have a try.... Look here, +Bunner, I'm infinitely obliged to you about this. I owe you a good turn. +You know I mean what I say. Come and see me the first day you get to +town.... All right, that's understood. Now I must act on your news. +Goodbye.' + +Sir James hung up the receiver, and seized a railway timetable from the +rack before him. After a rapid consultation of this oracle, he flung it +down with a forcible word as Mr. Silver hurried into the room, followed +by a hard-featured man with spectacles, and a youth with an alert eye. + +'I want you to jot down some facts, Figgis,' said Sir James, banishing +all signs of agitation and speaking with a rapid calmness. 'When you +have them, put them into shape just as quick as you can for a special +edition of the Sun.' The hard-featured man nodded and glanced at the +clock, which pointed to a few minutes past three; he pulled out a +notebook and drew a chair up to the big writing-table. 'Silver,' Sir +James went on, 'go and tell Jones to wire our local correspondent very +urgently, to drop everything and get down to Marlstone at once. He is +not to say why in the telegram. There must not be an unnecessary +word about this news until the Sun is on the streets with it--you all +understand. Williams, cut across the way and tell Mr. Anthony to hold +himself ready for a two-column opening that will knock the town endways. +Just tell him that he must take all measures and precautions for a +scoop. Say that Figgis will be over in five minutes with the facts, and +that he had better let him write up the story in his private room. As +you go, ask Miss Morgan to see me here at once, and tell the telephone +people to see if they can get Mr. Trent on the wire for me. After +seeing Mr. Anthony, return here and stand by.' The alert-eyed young man +vanished like a spirit. + +Sir James turned instantly to Mr. Figgis, whose pencil was poised over +the paper. 'Sigsbee Manderson has been murdered,' he began quickly +and clearly, pacing the floor with his hands behind him. Mr. Figgis +scratched down a line of shorthand with as much emotion as if he had +been told that the day was fine--the pose of his craft. 'He and his wife +and two secretaries have been for the past fortnight at the house called +White Gables, at Marlstone, near Bishopsbridge. He bought it four years +ago. He and Mrs. Manderson have since spent a part of each summer there. +Last night he went to bed about half-past eleven, just as usual. No one +knows when he got up and left the house. He was not missed until this +morning. About ten o'clock his body was found by a gardener. It was +lying by a shed in the grounds. He was shot in the head, through the +left eye. Death must have been instantaneous. The body was not robbed, +but there were marks on the wrists which pointed to a struggle having +taken place. Dr Stock, of Marlstone, was at once sent for, and will +conduct the post-mortem examination. The police from Bishopsbridge, who +were soon on the spot, are reticent, but it is believed that they are +quite without a clue to the identity of the murderer. There you are, +Figgis. Mr. Anthony is expecting you. Now I must telephone him and +arrange things.' + +Mr. Figgis looked up. 'One of the ablest detectives at Scotland +Yard,' he suggested, 'has been put in charge of the case. It's a safe +statement.' + +'If you like,' said Sir James. + +'And Mrs. Manderson? Was she there?' + +'Yes. What about her?' + +'Prostrated by the shock,' hinted the reporter, 'and sees nobody. Human +interest.' + +'I wouldn't put that in, Mr. Figgis,' said a quiet voice. It belonged +to Miss Morgan, a pale, graceful woman, who had silently made her +appearance while the dictation was going on. 'I have seen Mrs. +Manderson,' she proceeded, turning to Sir James. 'She looks quite +healthy and intelligent. Has her husband been murdered? I don't think +the shock would prostrate her. She is more likely to be doing all she +can to help the police.' + +'Something in your own style, then, Miss Morgan,' he said with a +momentary smile. Her imperturbable efficiency was an office proverb. +'Cut it out, Figgis. Off you go! Now, madam, I expect you know what I +want.' + +'Our Manderson biography happens to be well up to date,' replied Miss +Morgan, drooping her dark eyelashes as she considered the position. 'I +was looking over it only a few months ago. It is practically ready for +tomorrow's paper. I should think the Sun had better use the sketch +of his life they had about two years ago, when he went to Berlin and +settled the potash difficulty. I remember it was a very good sketch, and +they won't be able to carry much more than that. As for our paper, +of course we have a great quantity of cuttings, mostly rubbish. The +sub-editors shall have them as soon as they come in. Then we have two +very good portraits that are our own property; the best is a drawing Mr. +Trent made when they were both on the same ship somewhere. It is better +than any of the photographs; but you say the public prefers a bad +photograph to a good drawing. I will send them down to you at once, and +you can choose. As far as I can see, the Record is well ahead of the +situation, except that you will not be able to get a special man down +there in time to be of any use for tomorrow's paper.' + +Sir James sighed deeply. 'What are we good for, anyhow?' he enquired +dejectedly of Mr. Silver, who had returned to his desk. 'She even knows +Bradshaw by heart.' + +Miss Morgan adjusted her cuffs with an air of patience. 'Is there +anything else?' she asked, as the telephone bell rang. + +'Yes, one thing,' replied Sir James, as he took up the receiver. 'I +want you to make a bad mistake some time, Miss Morgan--an everlasting +bloomer--just to put us in countenance.' She permitted herself the +fraction of what would have been a charming smile as she went out. + +'Anthony?' asked Sir James, and was at once deep in consultation with +the editor on the other side of the road. He seldom entered the Sun +building in person; the atmosphere of an evening paper, he would say, +was all very well if you liked that kind of thing. Mr. Anthony, the +Murat of Fleet Street, who delighted in riding the whirlwind and +fighting a tumultuous battle against time, would say the same of a +morning paper. + +It was some five minutes later that a uniformed boy came in to say that +Mr. Trent was on the wire. Sir James abruptly closed his talk with Mr. +Anthony. + +'They can put him through at once,' he said to the boy. + +'Hullo!' he cried into the telephone after a few moments. + +A voice in the instrument replied, 'Hullo be blowed! What do you want?' + +'This is Molloy,' said Sir James. + +'I know it is,' the voice said. 'This is Trent. He is in the middle of +painting a picture, and he has been interrupted at a critical moment. +Well, I hope it's something important, that's all!' + +'Trent,' said Sir James impressively, 'it is important. I want you to do +some work for us.' + +'Some play, you mean,' replied the voice. 'Believe me, I don't want a +holiday. The working fit is very strong. I am doing some really decent +things. Why can't you leave a man alone?' 'Something very serious has +happened.' 'What?' + +'Sigsbee Manderson has been murdered--shot through the brain--and +they don't know who has done it. They found the body this morning. It +happened at his place near Bishopsbridge.' Sir James proceeded to tell +his hearer, briefly and clearly, the facts that he had communicated to +Mr. Figgis. 'What do you think of it?' he ended. A considering grunt was +the only answer. 'Come now,' urged Sir James. + +'Tempter!' + +'You will go down?' + +There was a brief pause. + +'Are you there?' said Sir James. + +'Look here, Molloy,' the voice broke out querulously, 'the thing may +be a case for me, or it may not. We can't possibly tell. It may be a +mystery; it may be as simple as bread and cheese. The body not being +robbed looks interesting, but he may have been outed by some wretched +tramp whom he found sleeping in the grounds and tried to kick out. It's +the sort of thing he would do. Such a murderer might easily have sense +enough to know that to leave the money and valuables was the safest +thing. I tell you frankly, I wouldn't have a hand in hanging a poor +devil who had let daylight into a man like Sig Manderson as a measure of +social protest.' + +Sir James smiled at the telephone--a smile of success. 'Come, my boy, +you're getting feeble. Admit you want to go and have a look at the case. +You know you do. If it's anything you don't want to handle, you're free +to drop it. By the by, where are you?' + +'I am blown along a wandering wind,' replied the voice irresolutely, +'and hollow, hollow, hollow all delight.' + +'Can you get here within an hour?' persisted Sir James. + +'I suppose I can,' the voice grumbled. 'How much time have I?' + +'Good man! Well, there's time enough--that's just the worst of it. I've +got to depend on our local correspondent for tonight. The only good +train of the day went half an hour ago. The next is a slow one, leaving +Paddington at midnight. You could have the Buster, if you like'--Sir +James referred to a very fast motor car of his--'but you wouldn't get +down in time to do anything tonight.' + +'And I'd miss my sleep. No, thanks. The train for me. I am quite fond of +railway travelling, you know; I have a gift for it. I am the stoker and +the stoked. I am the song the porter sings.' + +'What's that you say?' + +'It doesn't matter,' said the voice sadly. 'I say,' it continued, 'will +your people look out a hotel near the scene of action, and telegraph for +a room?' + +'At once,' said Sir James. 'Come here as soon as you can.' + +He replaced the receiver. As he turned to his papers again a shrill +outcry burst forth in the street below. He walked to the open window. A +band of excited boys was rushing down the steps of the Sun building and +up the narrow thoroughfare toward Fleet Street. Each carried a bundle of +newspapers and a large broadsheet with the simple legend: + + MURDER OF SIGSBEE MANDERSON + +Sir James smiled and rattled the money in his pockets cheerfully. 'It +makes a good bill,' he observed to Mr. Silver, who stood at his elbow. + +Such was Manderson's epitaph. + + + + +CHAPTER III: Breakfast + +At about eight o'clock in the morning of the following day Mr. Nathaniel +Burton Cupples stood on the veranda of the hotel at Marlstone. He was +thinking about breakfast. In his case the colloquialism must be taken +literally: he really was thinking about breakfast, as he thought about +every conscious act of his life when time allowed deliberation. +He reflected that on the preceding day the excitement and activity +following upon the discovery of the dead man had disorganized his +appetite, and led to his taking considerably less nourishment than +usual. This morning he was very hungry, having already been up and about +for an hour; and he decided to allow himself a third piece of toast and +an additional egg; the rest as usual. The remaining deficit must be made +up at luncheon, but that could be gone into later. + +So much being determined, Mr. Cupples applied himself to the enjoyment +of the view for a few minutes before ordering his meal. With a +connoisseur's eye he explored the beauty of the rugged coast, where a +great pierced rock rose from a glassy sea, and the ordered loveliness of +the vast tilted levels of pasture and tillage and woodland that sloped +gently up from the cliffs toward the distant moor. Mr. Cupples delighted +in landscape. + +He was a man of middle height and spare figure, nearly sixty years old, +by constitution rather delicate in health, but wiry and active for his +age. A sparse and straggling beard and moustache did not conceal a thin +but kindly mouth; his eyes were keen and pleasant; his sharp nose and +narrow jaw gave him very much of a clerical air, and this impression +was helped by his commonplace dark clothes and soft black hat. The +whole effect of him, indeed, was priestly. He was a man of unusually +conscientious, industrious, and orderly mind, with little imagination. +His father's household had been used to recruit its domestic +establishment by means of advertisements in which it was truthfully +described as a serious family. From that fortress of gloom he had +escaped with two saintly gifts somehow unspoiled: an inexhaustible +kindness of heart, and a capacity for innocent gaiety which owed nothing +to humour. In an earlier day and with a clerical training he might have +risen to the scarlet hat. He was, in fact, a highly regarded member +of the London Positivist Society, a retired banker, a widower without +children. His austere but not unhappy life was spent largely among books +and in museums; his profound and patiently accumulated knowledge of a +number of curiously disconnected subjects which had stirred his interest +at different times had given him a place in the quiet, half-lit world +of professors and curators and devotees of research; at their amiable, +unconvivial dinner parties he was most himself. His favourite author was +Montaigne. + +Just as Mr. Cupples was finishing his meal at a little table on the +veranda, a big motor car turned into the drive before the hotel. 'Who +is this?' he enquired of the waiter. 'Id is der manager,' said the young +man listlessly. 'He have been to meed a gendleman by der train.' + +The car drew up and the porter hurried from the entrance. Mr. Cupples +uttered an exclamation of pleasure as a long, loosely built man, much +younger than himself, stepped from the car and mounted the veranda, +flinging his hat on a chair. His high-boned, quixotic face wore a +pleasant smile; his rough tweed clothes, his hair and short moustache +were tolerably untidy. + +'Cupples, by all that's miraculous!' cried the man, pouncing upon Mr. +Cupples before he could rise, and seizing his outstretched hand in +a hard grip. 'My luck is serving me today,' the newcomer went on +spasmodically. 'This is the second slice within an hour. How are you, +my best of friends? And why are you here? Why sit'st thou by that ruined +breakfast? Dost thou its former pride recall, or ponder how it passed +away? I am glad to see you!' + +'I was half expecting you, Trent,' Mr. Cupples replied, his face +wreathed in smiles. 'You are looking splendid, my dear fellow. I will +tell you all about it. But you cannot have had your own breakfast yet. +Will you have it at my table here?' + +'Rather!' said the man. 'An enormous great breakfast, too--with refined +conversation and tears of recognition never dry. Will you get young +Siegfried to lay a place for me while I go and wash? I shan't be three +minutes.' He disappeared into the hotel, and Mr. Cupples, after a +moment's thought, went to the telephone in the porter's office. + +He returned to find his friend already seated, pouring out tea, and +showing an unaffected interest in the choice of food. 'I expect this to +be a hard day for me,' he said, with the curious jerky utterance which +seemed to be his habit. 'I shan't eat again till the evening, very +likely. You guess why I'm here, don't you?' + +'Undoubtedly,' said Mr. Cupples. 'You have come down to write about the +murder.' + +'That is rather a colourless way of stating it,' the man called Trent +replied, as he dissected a sole. 'I should prefer to put it that I have +come down in the character of avenger of blood, to hunt down the guilty, +and vindicate the honour of society. That is my line of business. +Families waited on at their private residences. I say, Cupples, I have +made a good beginning already. Wait a bit, and I'll tell you.' There was +a silence, during which the newcomer ate swiftly and abstractedly, while +Mr. Cupples looked on happily. + +'Your manager here,' said the tall man at last, 'is a fellow of +remarkable judgement. He is an admirer of mine. He knows more about my +best cases than I do myself. The Record wired last night to say I was +coming, and when I got out of the train at seven o'clock this morning, +there he was waiting for me with a motor car the size of a haystack. He +is beside himself with joy at having me here. It is fame.' He drank a +cup of tea and continued: 'Almost his first words were to ask me if +I would like to see the body of the murdered man--if so, he thought he +could manage it for me. He is as keen as a razor. The body lies in Dr +Stock's surgery, you know, down in the village, exactly as it was when +found. It's to be post-mortem'd this morning, by the way, so I was only +just in time. Well, he ran me down here to the doctor's, giving me full +particulars about the case all the way. I was pretty well au fait by +the time we arrived. I suppose the manager of a place like this has some +sort of a pull with the doctor. Anyhow, he made no difficulties, nor did +the constable on duty, though he was careful to insist on my not giving +him away in the paper.' + +'I saw the body before it was removed,' remarked Mr. Cupples. 'I should +not have said there was anything remarkable about it, except that the +shot in the eye had scarcely disfigured the face at all, and caused +scarcely any effusion of blood, apparently. The wrists were scratched +and bruised. I expect that, with your trained faculties, you were able +to remark other details of a suggestive nature.' + +'Other details, certainly; but I don't know that they suggest anything. +They are merely odd. Take the wrists, for instance. How was it you +could see bruises and scratches on them? I dare say you saw something of +Manderson down here before the murder.' + +'Certainly,' Mr. Cupples said. + +'Well, did you ever see his wrists?' + +Mr. Cupples reflected. 'No. Now you raise the point, I am reminded that +when I interviewed Manderson here he was wearing stiff cuffs, coming +well down over his hands.' + +'He always did,' said Trent. 'My friend the manager says so. I pointed +out to him the fact you didn't observe, that there were no cuffs +visible, and that they had, indeed, been dragged up inside the +coat-sleeves, as yours would be if you hurried into a coat without +pulling your cuffs down. That was why you saw his wrists.' + +'Well, I call that suggestive,' observed Mr. Cupples mildly. 'You might +infer, perhaps, that when he got up he hurried over his dressing.' + +'Yes, but did he? The manager said just what you say. "He was always a +bit of a swell in his dress," he told me, and he drew the inference +that when Manderson got up in that mysterious way, before the house was +stirring, and went out into the grounds, he was in a great hurry. "Look +at his shoes," he said to me: "Mr. Manderson was always specially +neat about his footwear. But those shoe-laces were tied in a hurry." +I agreed. "And he left his false teeth in his room," said the manager. +"Doesn't that prove he was flustered and hurried?" I allowed that it +looked like it. But I said, "Look here: if he was so very much pressed, +why did he part his hair so carefully? That parting is a work of +art. Why did he put on so much? for he had on a complete outfit of +underclothing, studs in his shirt, sock-suspenders, a watch and chain, +money and keys and things in his pockets. That's what I said to the +manager. He couldn't find an explanation. Can you?" + +Mr. Cupples considered. 'Those facts might suggest that he was hurried +only at the end of his dressing. Coat and shoes would come last.' + +'But not false teeth. You ask anybody who wears them. And besides, I'm +told he hadn't washed at all on getting up, which in a neat man looks +like his being in a violent hurry from the beginning. And here's another +thing. One of his waistcoat pockets was lined with wash-leather for the +reception of his gold watch. But he had put his watch into the pocket on +the other side. Anybody who has settled habits can see how odd that is. +The fact is, there are signs of great agitation and haste, and there are +signs of exactly the opposite. For the present I am not guessing. I must +reconnoitre the ground first, if I can manage to get the right side of +the people of the house.' Trent applied himself again to his breakfast. + +Mr. Cupples smiled at him benevolently. 'That is precisely the point,' +he said, 'on which I can be of some assistance to you.' Trent glanced +up in surprise. 'I told you I half expected you. I will explain the +situation. Mrs. Manderson, who is my niece--' + +'What!' Trent laid down his knife and fork with a clash. 'Cupples, you +are jesting with me.' + +'I am perfectly serious, Trent, really,' returned Mr. Cupples earnestly. +'Her father, John Peter Domecq, was my wife's brother. I never mentioned +my niece or her marriage to you before, I suppose. To tell the truth, it +has always been a painful subject to me, and I have avoided discussing +it with anybody. To return to what I was about to say: last night, +when I was over at the house--by the way, you can see it from here. You +passed it in the car.' He indicated a red roof among poplars some three +hundred yards away, the only building in sight that stood separate from +the tiny village in the gap below them. + +'Certainly I did,' said Trent. 'The manager told me all about it, among +other things, as he drove me in from Bishopsbridge.' + +'Other people here have heard of you and your performances,' Mr. Cupples +went on. 'As I was saying, when I was over there last night, Mr. Bunner, +who is one of Manderson's two secretaries, expressed a hope that the +Record would send you down to deal with the case, as the police seemed +quite at a loss. He mentioned one or two of your past successes, and +Mabel--my niece--was interested when I told her afterwards. She is +bearing up wonderfully well, Trent; she has remarkable fortitude of +character. She said she remembered reading your articles about the +Abinger case. She has a great horror of the newspaper side of this +sad business, and she had entreated me to do anything I could to +keep journalists away from the place--I'm sure you can understand her +feeling, Trent; it isn't really any reflection on that profession. But +she said you appeared to have great powers as a detective, and she would +not stand in the way of anything that might clear up the crime. Then +I told her you were a personal friend of mine, and gave you a good +character for tact and consideration of others' feelings; and it ended +in her saying that, if you should come, she would like you to be helped +in every way.' + +Trent leaned across the table and shook Mr. Cupples by the hand in +silence. Mr. Cupples, much delighted with the way things were turning +out, resumed: + +'I spoke to my niece on the telephone only just now, and she is glad you +are here. She asks me to say that you may make any enquiries you like, +and she puts the house and grounds at your disposal. She had rather not +see you herself; she is keeping to her own sitting-room. She has already +been interviewed by a detective officer who is there, and she feels +unequal to any more. She adds that she does not believe she could say +anything that would be of the smallest use. The two secretaries and +Martin, the butler (who is a most intelligent man), could tell you all +you want to know, she thinks.' + +Trent finished his breakfast with a thoughtful brow. He filled a pipe +slowly, and seated himself on the rail of the veranda. 'Cupples,' he +said quietly, 'is there anything about this business that you know and +would rather not tell me?' + +Mr. Cupples gave a slight start, and turned an astonished gaze on the +questioner. 'What do you mean?' he said. + +'I mean about the Mandersons. Look here! Shall I tell you a thing +that strikes me about this affair at the very beginning? Here's a man +suddenly and violently killed, and nobody's heart seems to be broken +about it, to say the least. The manager of this hotel spoke to me about +him as coolly as if he'd never set eyes on him, though I understand +they've been neighbours every summer for some years. Then you talk about +the thing in the coldest of blood. And Mrs. Manderson--well, you won't +mind my saying that I have heard of women being more cut up about their +husbands being murdered than she seems to be. Is there something in +this, Cupples, or is it my fancy? Was there something queer about +Manderson? I travelled on the same boat with him once, but never spoke +to him. I only know his public character, which was repulsive enough. +You see, this may have a bearing on the case; that's the only reason why +I ask.' + +Mr. Cupples took time for thought. He fingered his sparse beard and +looked out over the sea. At last he turned to Trent. 'I see no reason,' +he said, 'why I shouldn't tell you as between ourselves, my dear fellow. +I need not say that this must not be referred to, however distantly. The +truth is that nobody really liked Manderson; and I think those who were +nearest to him liked him least.' + +'Why?' the other interjected. + +'Most people found a difficulty in explaining why. In trying to account +to myself for my own sensations, I could only put it that one felt in +the man a complete absence of the sympathetic faculty. There was nothing +outwardly repellent about him. He was not ill-mannered, or vicious, or +dull--indeed, he could be remarkably interesting. But I received the +impression that there could be no human creature whom he would not +sacrifice in the pursuit of his schemes, in his task of imposing himself +and his will upon the world. Perhaps that was fanciful, but I think not +altogether so. However, the point is that Mabel, I am sorry to say, was +very unhappy. I am nearly twice your age, my dear boy, though you always +so kindly try to make me feel as if we were contemporaries--I am getting +to be an old man, and a great many people have been good enough to +confide their matrimonial troubles to me; but I never knew another case +like my niece's and her husband's. I have known her since she was a +baby, Trent, and I know--you understand, I think, that I do not employ +that word lightly--I know that she is as amiable and honourable a woman, +to say nothing of her other good gifts, as any man could wish. But +Manderson, for some time past, had made her miserable.' + +'What did he do?' asked Trent, as Mr. Cupples paused. + +'When I put that question to Mabel, her words were that he seemed to +nurse a perpetual grievance. He maintained a distance between them, and +he would say nothing. I don't know how it began or what was behind it; +and all she would tell me on that point was that he had no cause in the +world for his attitude. I think she knew what was in his mind, whatever +it was; but she is full of pride. This seems to have gone on for months. +At last, a week ago, she wrote to me. I am the only near relative she +has. Her mother died when she was a child; and after John Peter died +I was something like a father to her until she married--that was five +years ago. She asked me to come and help her, and I came at once. That +is why I am here now.' + +Mr. Cupples paused and drank some tea. Trent smoked and stared out at +the hot June landscape. + +'I would not go to White Gables,' Mr. Cupples resumed. 'You know my +views, I think, upon the economic constitution of society, and the +proper relationship of the capitalist to the employee, and you know, +no doubt, what use that person made of his vast industrial power upon +several very notorious occasions. I refer especially to the trouble in +the Pennsylvania coal-fields, three years ago. I regarded him, apart +from an all personal dislike, in the light of a criminal and a disgrace +to society. I came to this hotel, and I saw my niece here. She told +me What I have more briefly told you. She said that the worry and the +humiliation of it, and the strain of trying to keep up appearances +before the world, were telling upon her, and she asked for my advice. I +said I thought she should face him and demand an explanation of his way +of treating her. But she would not do that. She had always taken +the line of affecting not to notice the change in his demeanour, +and nothing, I knew, would persuade her to admit to him that she was +injured, once pride had led her into that course. Life is quite full, my +dear Trent,' said Mr. Cupples with a sigh, 'of these obstinate silences +and cultivated misunderstandings.' + +'Did she love him?' Trent enquired abruptly. Mr. Cupples did not reply +at once. 'Had she any love left for him?' Trent amended. + +Mr. Cupples played with his teaspoon. 'I am bound to say,' he answered +slowly, 'that I think not. But you must not misunderstand the woman, +Trent. No power on earth would have persuaded her to admit that to any +one--even to herself, perhaps--so long as she considered herself bound +to him. And I gather that, apart from this mysterious sulking of late, +he had always been considerate and generous.' + +'You were saying that she refused to have it out with him.' + +'She did,' replied Mr. Cupples. 'And I knew by experience that it was +quite useless to attempt to move a Domecq where the sense of dignity +was involved. So I thought it over carefully, and next day I watched my +opportunity and met Manderson as he passed by this hotel. I asked him +to favour me with a few minutes' conversation, and he stepped inside +the gate down there. We had held no communication of any kind since my +niece's marriage, but he remembered me, of course. I put the matter to +him at once and quite definitely. I told him what Mabel had confided +to me. I said that I would neither approve nor condemn her action +in bringing me into the business, but that she was suffering, and I +considered it my right to ask how he could justify himself in placing +her in such a position.' + +'And how did he take that?' said Trent, smiling secretly at the +landscape. The picture of this mildest of men calling the formidable +Manderson to account pleased him. + +'Not very well,' Mr. Cupples replied sadly. 'In fact, far from well. I +can tell you almost exactly what he said--it wasn't much. He said, +"See here, Cupples, you don't want to butt in. My wife can look after +herself. I've found that out, along with other things." He was perfectly +quiet--you know he was said never to lose control of himself--though +there was a light in his eyes that would have frightened a man who was +in the wrong, I dare say. But I had been thoroughly roused by his last +remark, and the tone of it, which I cannot reproduce. You see,' said Mr. +Cupples simply, 'I love my niece. She is the only child that there has +been in our--in my house. Moreover, my wife brought her up as a girl, +and any reflection on Mabel I could not help feeling, in the heat of the +moment, as an indirect reflection upon one who is gone.' + +'You turned upon him,' suggested Trent in a low tone. 'You asked him to +explain his words.' + +'That is precisely what I did,' said Mr. Cupples. 'For a moment he +only stared at me, and I could see a vein on his forehead swelling--an +unpleasant sight. Then he said quite quietly, "This thing has gone far +enough, I guess," and turned to go.' + +'Did he mean your interview?' Trent asked thoughtfully. + +'From the words alone you would think so,' Mr. Cupples answered. 'But +the way in which he uttered them gave me a strange and very apprehensive +feeling. I received the impression that the man had formed some sinister +resolve. But I regret to say I had lost the power of dispassionate +thought. I fell into a great rage'--Mr. Cupples's tone was mildly +apologetic--'and said a number of foolish things. I reminded him that +the law allowed a measure of freedom to wives who received intolerable +treatment. I made some utterly irrelevant references to his public +record, and expressed the view that such men as he were unfit to live. +I said these things, and others as ill-considered, under the eyes, and +very possibly within earshot, of half a dozen persons sitting on this +veranda. I noticed them, in spite of my agitation, looking at me as I +walked up to the hotel again after relieving my mind for it undoubtedly +did relieve it,' sighed Mr. Cupples, lying back in his chair. + +'And Manderson? Did he say no more?' + +'Not a word. He listened to me with his eyes on my face, as quiet as +before. When I stopped he smiled very slightly, and at once turned +away and strolled through the gate, making for White Gables.' + +'And this happened--?' + +'On the Sunday morning.' + +'Then I suppose you never saw him alive again?' + +'No,' said Mr. Cupples. 'Or rather yes--once. It was later in the day, +on the golf-course. But I did not speak to him. And next morning he was +found dead.' + +The two regarded each other in silence for a few moments. A party of +guests who had been bathing came up the steps and seated themselves, +with much chattering, at a table near them. The waiter approached. Mr. +Cupples rose, and, taking Trent's arm, led him to a long tennis-lawn at +the side of the hotel. + +'I have a reason for telling you all this,' began Mr. Cupples as they +paced slowly up and down. + +'Trust you for that,' rejoined Trent, carefully filling his pipe again. +He lit it, smoked a little, and then said, 'I'll try and guess what your +reason is, if you like.' + +Mr. Cupples's face of solemnity relaxed into a slight smile. He said +nothing. + +'You thought it possible,' said Trent meditatively--'may I say you +thought it practically certain?--that I should find out for myself that +there had been something deeper than a mere conjugal tiff between the +Mandersons. You thought that my unwholesome imagination would begin at +once to play with the idea of Mrs. Manderson having something to do with +the crime. Rather than that I should lose myself in barren speculations +about this, you decided to tell me exactly how matters stood, and +incidentally to impress upon me, who know how excellent your judgement +is, your opinion of your niece. Is that about right?' + +'It is perfectly right. Listen to me, my dear fellow,' said Mr. Cupples +earnestly, laying his hand on the other's arm. 'I am going to be very +frank. I am extremely glad that Manderson is dead. I believe him to have +done nothing but harm in the world as an economic factor. I know that he +was making a desert of the life of one who was like my own child to me. +But I am under an intolerable dread of Mabel being involved in suspicion +with regard to the murder. It is horrible to me to think of her delicacy +and goodness being in contact, if only for a time, with the brutalities +of the law. She is not fitted for it. It would mark her deeply. Many +young women of twenty-six in these days could face such an ordeal, I +suppose. I have observed a sort of imitative hardness about the products +of the higher education of women today which would carry them through +anything, perhaps. + +'I am not prepared to say it is a bad thing in the conditions of feminine +life prevailing at present. Mabel, however, is not like that. She is as +unlike that as she is unlike the simpering misses that used to surround +me as a child. She has plenty of brains; she is full of character; her +mind and her tastes are cultivated; but it is all mixed up'--Mr. Cupples +waved his hands in a vague gesture--'with ideals of refinement and +reservation and womanly mystery. I fear she is not a child of the age. +You never knew my wife, Trent. Mabel is my wife's child.' + +The younger man bowed his head. They paced the length of the lawn before +he asked gently, 'Why did she marry him?' + +'I don't know,' said Mr. Cupples briefly. + +'Admired him, I suppose,' suggested Trent. + +Mr. Cupples shrugged his shoulders. 'I have been told that a woman will +usually be more or less attracted by the most successful man in her +circle. Of course we cannot realize how a wilful, dominating personality +like his would influence a girl whose affections were not bestowed +elsewhere; especially if he laid himself out to win her. It is probably +an overwhelming thing to be courted by a man whose name is known all +over the world. She had heard of him, of course, as a financial great +power, and she had no idea--she had lived mostly among people of +artistic or literary propensities--how much soulless inhumanity that +might involve. For all I know, she has no adequate idea of it to this +day. When I first heard of the affair the mischief was done, and I knew +better than to interpose my unsought opinions. She was of age, and there +was absolutely nothing against him from the conventional point of view. +Then I dare say his immense wealth would cast a spell over almost any +woman. Mabel had some hundreds a year of her own; just enough, +perhaps, to let her realize what millions really meant. But all this is +conjecture. She certainly had not wanted to marry some scores of young +fellows who to my knowledge had asked her; and though I don't believe, +and never did believe, that she really loved this man of forty-five, she +certainly did want to marry him. But if you ask me why, I can only say I +don't know.' + +Trent nodded, and after a few more paces looked at his watch. 'You've +interested me so much,' he said, 'that I had quite forgotten my main +business. I mustn't waste my morning. I am going down the road to White +Gables at once, and I dare say I shall be poking about there until +midday. If you can meet me then, Cupples, I should like to talk over +anything I find out with you, unless something detains me.' + +'I am going for a walk this morning,' Mr. Cupples replied. 'I meant to +have luncheon at a little inn near the golf-course, The Three Tuns. You +had better join me there. It's further along the road, about a quarter +of a mile beyond White Gables. You can just see the roof between those +two trees. The food they give one there is very plain, but good.' + +'So long as they have a cask of beer,' said Trent, 'they are all right. +We will have bread and cheese, and oh, may Heaven our simple lives +prevent from luxury's contagion, weak and vile! Till then, goodbye.' He +strode off to recover his hat from the veranda, waved it to Mr. Cupples, +and was gone. + +The old gentleman, seating himself in a deck-chair on the lawn, clasped +his hands behind his head and gazed up into the speckless blue sky. 'He +is a dear fellow,' he murmured. 'The best of fellows. And a terribly +acute fellow. Dear me! How curious it all is!' + + + + +CHAPTER IV: Handcuffs in the Air + +A painter and the son of a painter, Philip Trent had while yet in his +twenties achieved some reputation within the world of English art. +Moreover, his pictures sold. An original, forcible talent and a habit +of leisurely but continuous working, broken by fits of strong creative +enthusiasm, were at the bottom of it. His father's name had helped; +a patrimony large enough to relieve him of the perilous imputation of +being a struggling man had certainly not hindered. But his best aid to +success had been an unconscious power of getting himself liked. Good +spirits and a lively, humorous fancy will always be popular. Trent +joined to these a genuine interest in others that gained him something +deeper than popularity. His judgement of persons was penetrating, but +its process was internal; no one felt on good behaviour with a man +who seemed always to be enjoying himself. Whether he was in a mood for +floods of nonsense or applying himself vigorously to a task, his face +seldom lost its expression of contained vivacity. Apart from a sound +knowledge of his art and its history, his culture was large and loose, +dominated by a love of poetry. At thirty-two he had not yet passed the +age of laughter and adventure. + +His rise to a celebrity a hundred times greater than his proper work +had won for him came of a momentary impulse. One day he had taken up a +newspaper to find it chiefly concerned with a crime of a sort curiously +rare in our country--a murder done in a railway train. The circumstances +were puzzling; two persons were under arrest upon suspicion. Trent, to +whom an interest in such affairs was a new sensation, heard the thing +discussed among his friends, and set himself in a purposeless mood to +read up the accounts given in several journals. He became intrigued; his +imagination began to work, in a manner strange to him, upon facts; an +excitement took hold of him such as he had only known before in his +bursts of art-inspiration or of personal adventure. At the end of the +day he wrote and dispatched a long letter to the editor of the Record, +which he chose only because it had contained the fullest and most +intelligent version of the facts. + +In this letter he did very much what Poe had done in the case of the +murder of Mary Rogers. With nothing but the newspapers to guide him, +he drew attention to the significance of certain apparently negligible +facts, and ranged the evidence in such a manner as to throw grave +suspicion upon a man who had presented himself as a witness. Sir James +Molloy had printed this letter in leaded type. The same evening he +was able to announce in the Sun the arrest and full confession of the +incriminated man. + +Sir James, who knew all the worlds of London, had lost no time in making +Trent's acquaintance. The two men got on well, for Trent possessed +some secret of native tact which had the effect of almost abolishing +differences of age between himself and others. The great rotary presses +in the basement of the Record building had filled him with a new +enthusiasm. He had painted there, and Sir James had bought at sight, +what he called a machinery-scape in the manner of Heinrich Kley. + +Then a few months later came the affair known as the Ilkley mystery. Sir +James had invited Trent to an emollient dinner, and thereafter offered +him what seemed to the young man a fantastically large sum for his +temporary services as special representative of the Record at Ilkley. + +'You could do it,' the editor had urged. 'You can write good stuff, +and you know how to talk to people, and I can teach you all the +technicalities of a reporter's job in half an hour. And you have a head +for a mystery; you have imagination and cool judgement along with it. +Think how it would feel if you pulled it off!' + +Trent had admitted that it would be rather a lark. He had smoked, +frowned, and at last convinced himself that the only thing that held him +back was fear of an unfamiliar task. To react against fear had become a +fixed moral habit with him, and he had accepted Sir James's offer. + +He had pulled it off. For the second time he had given the authorities +a start and a beating, and his name was on all tongues. He withdrew and +painted pictures. He felt no leaning towards journalism, and Sir James, +who knew a good deal about art, honourably refrained--as other editors +did not--from tempting him with a good salary. But in the course of a +few years he had applied to him perhaps thirty times for his services in +the unravelling of similar problems at home and abroad. Sometimes +Trent, busy with work that held him, had refused; sometimes he had +been forestalled in the discovery of the truth. But the result of his +irregular connection with the Record had been to make his name one of +the best known in England. It was characteristic of him that his name +was almost the only detail of his personality known to the public. He +had imposed absolute silence about himself upon the Molloy papers; and +the others were not going to advertise one of Sir James's men. + +*** + +The Manderson case, he told himself as he walked rapidly up the sloping +road to White Gables, might turn out to be terribly simple. Cupples +was a wise old boy, but it was probably impossible for him to have an +impartial opinion about his niece. But it was true that the manager +of the hotel, who had spoken of her beauty in terms that aroused his +attention, had spoken even more emphatically of her goodness. Not an +artist in words, the manager had yet conveyed a very definite idea to +Trent's mind. 'There isn't a child about here that don't brighten up +at the sound of her voice,' he had said, 'nor yet a grown-up, for the +matter of that. Everybody used to look forward to her coming over in +the summer. I don't mean that she's one of those women that are all kind +heart and nothing else. There's backbone with it, if you know what I +mean--pluck--any amount of go. There's nobody in Marlstone that isn't +sorry for the lady in her trouble--not but what some of us may think +she's lucky at the last of it.' Trent wanted very much to meet Mrs. +Manderson. + +He could see now, beyond a spacious lawn and shrubbery, the front of the +two-storied house of dull-red brick, with the pair of great gables from +which it had its name. He had had but a glimpse of it from the car that +morning. A modern house, he saw; perhaps ten years old. The place was +beautifully kept, with that air of opulent peace that clothes even the +smallest houses of the well-to-do in an English countryside. Before +it, beyond the road, the rich meadow-land ran down to the edge of the +cliffs; behind it a woody landscape stretched away across a broad +vale to the moors. That such a place could be the scene of a crime of +violence seemed fantastic; it lay so quiet and well ordered, so eloquent +of disciplined service and gentle living. Yet there beyond the house, +and near the hedge that rose between the garden and the hot, white road, +stood the gardener's toolshed, by which the body had been found, lying +tumbled against the wooden wall, Trent walked past the gate of the drive +and along the road until he was opposite this shed. Some forty yards +further along the road turned sharply away from the house, to run +between thick plantations; and just before the turn the grounds of the +house ended, with a small white gate at the angle of the boundary hedge. +He approached the gate, which was plainly for the use of gardeners and +the service of the establishment. It swung easily on its hinges, and he +passed slowly up a path that led towards the back of the house, between +the outer hedge and a tall wall of rhododendrons. Through a gap in this +wall a track led him to the little neatly built erection of wood, which +stood among trees that faced a corner of the front. The body had lain on +the side away from the house; a servant, he thought, looking out of +the nearer windows in the earlier hours of the day before, might have +glanced unseeing at the hut, as she wondered what it could be like to be +as rich as the master. + +He examined the place carefully and ransacked the hut within, but he +could note no more than the trodden appearance of the uncut grass where +the body had lain. Crouching low, with keen eyes and feeling fingers, +he searched the ground minutely over a wide area; but the search was +fruitless. + +It was interrupted by the sound--the first he had heard from the +house--of the closing of the front door. Trent unbent his long legs and +stepped to the edge of the drive. A man was walking quickly away from +the house in the direction of the great gate. + +At the noise of a footstep on the gravel, the man wheeled with nervous +swiftness and looked earnestly at Trent. The sudden sight of his face +was almost terrible, so white and worn it was. Yet it was a young man's +face. There was not a wrinkle about the haggard blue eyes, for all their +tale of strain and desperate fatigue. As the two approached each other, +Trent noted with admiration the man's breadth of shoulder and lithe, +strong figure. In his carriage, inelastic as weariness had made it; in +his handsome, regular features; in his short, smooth, yellow hair; and +in his voice as he addressed Trent, the influence of a special sort of +training was confessed. 'Oxford was your playground, I think, my young +friend,' said Trent to himself. + +'If you are Mr. Trent,' said the young man pleasantly, 'you are +expected. Mr. Cupples telephoned from the hotel. My name is Marlowe.' + +'You were secretary to Mr. Manderson, I believe,' said Trent. He was +much inclined to like young Mr. Marlowe. Though he seemed so near a +physical breakdown, he gave out none the less that air of clean living +and inward health that is the peculiar glory of his social type at his +years. But there was something in the tired eyes that was a challenge +to Trent's penetration; an habitual expression, as he took it to be, of +meditating and weighing things not present to their sight. It was a look +too intelligent, too steady and purposeful, to be called dreamy. Trent +thought he had seen such a look before somewhere. He went on to say: +'It is a terrible business for all of you. I fear it has upset you +completely, Mr. Marlowe.' + +'A little limp, that's all,' replied the young man wearily. 'I was +driving the car all Sunday night and most of yesterday, and I didn't +sleep last night after hearing the news--who would? But I have an +appointment now, Mr. Trent, down at the doctor's--arranging about the +inquest. I expect it'll be tomorrow. If you will go up to the house and +ask for Mr. Bunner, you'll find him expecting you; he will tell you all +about things and show you round. He's the other secretary; an American, +and the best of fellows; he'll look after you. There's a detective here, +by the way--Inspector Murch, from Scotland Yard. He came yesterday.' + +'Murch!' Trent exclaimed. 'But he and I are old friends. How under the +sun did he get here so soon?' + +'I have no idea,' Mr. Marlowe answered. 'But he was here last evening, +before I got back from Southampton, interviewing everybody, and +he's been about here since eight this morning. He's in the library +now--that's where the open French window is that you see at the end +of the house there. Perhaps you would like to step down there and talk +about things.' + +'I think I will,' said Trent. Marlowe nodded and went on his way. The +thick turf of the lawn round which the drive took its circular sweep +made Trent's footsteps as noiseless as a cat's. In a few moments he was +looking in through the open leaves of the window at the southward end +of the house, considering with a smile a very broad back and a bent head +covered with short grizzled hair. The man within was stooping over a +number of papers laid out on the table. + +''Twas ever thus,' said Trent in a melancholy tone, at the first sound +of which the man within turned round with startling swiftness. 'From +childhood's hour I've seen my fondest hopes decay. I did think I was +ahead of Scotland Yard this time, and now here is the hugest officer in +the entire Metropolitan force already occupying the position.' + +The detective smiled grimly and came to the window. 'I was expecting +you, Mr. Trent,' he said. 'This is the sort of case that you like.' + +'Since my tastes were being considered,' Trent replied, stepping into +the room, 'I wish they had followed up the idea by keeping my hated +rival out of the business. You have got a long start, too--I know all +about it.' His eyes began to wander round the room. 'How did you manage +it? You are a quick mover, I know; the dun deer's hide on fleeter foot +was never tied; but I don't see how you got here in time to be at work +yesterday evening. Has Scotland Yard secretly started an aviation corps? +Or is it in league with the infernal powers? In either case the Home +Secretary should be called upon to make a statement.' + +'It's simpler than that,' said Mr. Murch with professional stolidity. 'I +happened to be on leave with the missus at Havley, which is only twelve +miles or so along the coast. As soon as our people there heard of the +murder they told me. I wired to the Chief, and was put in charge of the +case at once. I bicycled over yesterday evening, and have been at it +since then.' + +'Arising out of that reply,' said Trent inattentively, 'how is Mrs. +Inspector Murch?' + +'Never better, thank you,' answered the inspector, 'and frequently +speaks of you and the games you used to have with our kids. But you'll +excuse me saying, Mr. Trent, that you needn't trouble to talk your +nonsense to me while you're using your eyes. I know your ways by now. +I understand you've fallen on your feet as usual, and have the lady's +permission to go over the place and make enquiries.' + +'Such is the fact,' said Trent. 'I am going to cut you out again, +inspector. I owe you one for beating me over the Abinger case, you old +fox. But if you really mean that you're not inclined for the social +amenities just now, let us leave compliments and talk business.' He +stepped to the table, glanced through the papers arranged there in +order, and then turned to the open roll-top desk. He looked into the +drawers swiftly. 'I see this has been cleared out. Well now, inspector, +I suppose we play the game as before.' + +Trent had found himself on a number of occasions in the past thrown into +the company of Inspector Murch, who stood high in the councils of the +Criminal Investigation Department. He was a quiet, tactful, and +very shrewd officer, a man of great courage, with a vivid history in +connection with the more dangerous class of criminals. His humanity was +as broad as his frame, which was large even for a policeman. Trent +and he, through some obscure working of sympathy, had appreciated +one another from the beginning, and had formed one of those curious +friendships with which it was the younger man's delight to adorn his +experience. The inspector would talk more freely to him than to any +one, under the rose, and they would discuss details and possibilities of +every case, to their mutual enlightenment. There were necessarily +rules and limits. It was understood between them that Trent made no +journalistic use of any point that could only have come to him from an +official source. Each of them, moreover, for the honour and prestige of +the institution he represented, openly reserved the right to withhold +from the other any discovery or inspiration that might come to him +which he considered vital to the solution of the difficulty. Trent had +insisted on carefully formulating these principles of what he called +detective sportsmanship. Mr. Murch, who loved a contest, and who only +stood to gain by his association with the keen intelligence of the +other, entered very heartily into 'the game'. In these strivings for the +credit of the press and of the police, victory sometimes attended the +experience and method of the officer, sometimes the quicker brain and +livelier imagination of Trent, his gift of instinctively recognizing the +significant through all disguises. + +The inspector then replied to Trent's last words with cordial agreement. +Leaning on either side of the French window, with the deep peace and +hazy splendor of the summer landscape before them, they reviewed the +case. + +*** + +Trent had taken out a thin notebook, and as they talked he began to +make, with light, secure touches, a rough sketch plan of the room. It +was a thing he did habitually on such occasions, and often quite idly, +but now and then the habit had served him to good purpose. + +This was a large, light apartment at the corner of the house, with +generous window-space in two walls. A broad table stood in the middle. +As one entered by the window the roll-top desk stood just to the left of +it against the wall. The inner door was in the wall to the left, at the +farther end of the room; and was faced by a broad window divided into +openings of the casement type. A beautifully carved old corner-cupboard +rose high against the wall beyond the door, and another cupboard filled +a recess beside the fireplace. Some coloured prints of Harunobu, with +which Trent promised himself a better acquaintance, hung on what +little wall-space was unoccupied by books. These had a very uninspiring +appearance of having been bought by the yard and never taken from +their shelves. Bound with a sober luxury, the great English novelists, +essayists, historians, and poets stood ranged like an army struck dead +in its ranks. There were a few chairs made, like the cupboard and table, +of old carved oak; a modern armchair and a swivel office-chair before +the desk. The room looked costly but very bare. Almost the only portable +objects were a great porcelain bowl of a wonderful blue on the table, a +clock and some cigar boxes on the mantelshelf, and a movable telephone +standard on the top of the desk. + +'Seen the body?' enquired the inspector. + +Trent nodded. 'And the place where it lay,' he said. + +'First impressions of this case rather puzzle me,' said the inspector. +'From what I heard at Halvey I guessed it might be common robbery and +murder by some tramp, though such a thing is very far from common in +these parts. But as soon as I began my enquiries I came on some curious +points, which by this time I dare say you've noted for yourself. The +man is shot in his own grounds, quite near the house, to begin with. Yet +there's not the slightest trace of any attempt at burglary. And the body +wasn't robbed. In fact, it would be as plain a case of suicide as you +could wish to see, if it wasn't for certain facts. Here's another thing: +for a month or so past, they tell me, Manderson had been in a queer +state of mind. I expect you know already that he and his wife had some +trouble between them. The servants had noticed a change in his manner +to her for a long time, and for the past week he had scarcely spoken to +her. They say he was a changed man, moody and silent--whether on +account of that or something else. The lady's maid says he looked as if +something was going to arrive. It's always easy to remember that people +looked like that, after something has happened to them. Still, that's +what they say. There you are again, then: suicide! Now, why wasn't it +suicide, Mr. Trent?' + +'The facts so far as I know them are really all against it,' Trent +replied, sitting on the threshold of the window and clasping his knees. +'First, of course, no weapon is to be found. I've searched, and you've +searched, and there's no trace of any firearm anywhere within a stone's +throw of where the body lay. Second, the marks on the wrists, fresh +scratches and bruises, which we can only assume to have been done in +a struggle with somebody. Third, who ever heard of anybody shooting +himself in the eye? Then I heard from the manager of the hotel here +another fact, which strikes me as the most curious detail in this +affair. Manderson had dressed himself fully before going out there, but +he forgot his false teeth. Now how could a suicide who dressed himself +to make a decent appearance as a corpse forget his teeth?' + +'That last argument hadn't struck me,' admitted Mr. Murch. 'There's +something in it. But on the strength of the other points, which had +occurred to me, I am not considering suicide. I have been looking about +for ideas in this house, this morning. I expect you were thinking of +doing the same.' + +'That is so. It is a case for ideas, it seems to me. Come, Murch, let +us make an effort; let us bend our spirits to a temper of general +suspicion. Let us suspect everybody in the house, to begin with. Listen: +I will tell you whom I suspect. I suspect Mrs. Manderson, of course. I +also suspect both the secretaries--I hear there are two, and I hardly +know which of them I regard as more thoroughly open to suspicion. I +suspect the butler and the lady's maid. I suspect the other domestics, +and especially do I suspect the boot-boy. By the way, what domestics are +there? I have more than enough suspicion to go round, whatever the size +of the establishment; but as a matter of curiosity I should like to +know.' + +'All very well to laugh,' replied the inspector, 'but at the first stage +of affairs it's the only safe principle, and you know that as well as I +do, Mr. Trent. However, I've seen enough of the people here, last night +and today, to put a few of them out of my mind for the present at least. +You will form your own conclusions. As for the establishment, there's +the butler and lady's maid, cook, and three other maids, one a young +girl. One chauffeur, who's away with a broken wrist. No boy.' + +'What about the gardener? You say nothing about that shadowy and +sinister figure, the gardener. You are keeping him in the background, +Murch. Play the game. Out with him--or I report you to the Rules +Committee.' + +'The garden is attended to by a man in the village, who comes twice a +week. I've talked to him. He was here last on Friday.' + +'Then I suspect him all the more,' said Trent. 'And now as to the house +itself. What I propose to do, to begin with, is to sniff about a little +in this room, where I am told Manderson spent a great deal of his time, +and in his bedroom; especially the bedroom. But since we're in this +room, let's start here. You seem to be at the same stage of the inquiry. +Perhaps you've done the bedrooms already?' + +The inspector nodded. 'I've been over Manderson's and his wife's. +Nothing to be got there, I think. His room is very simple and bare, +no signs of any sort--that I could see. Seems to have insisted on the +simple life, does Manderson. Never employed a valet. The room's almost +like a cell, except for the clothes and shoes. You'll find it all +exactly as I found it; and they tell me that's exactly as Manderson left +it, at we don't know what o'clock yesterday morning. Opens into Mrs. +Manderson's bedroom--not much of the cell about that, I can tell you. +I should say the lady was as fond of pretty things as most. But she +cleared out of it on the morning of the discovery--told the maid she +could never sleep in a room opening into her murdered husband's room. +Very natural feeling in a woman, Mr. Trent. She's camping out, so to +say, in one of the spare bedrooms now.' + +'Come, my friend,' Trent was saying to himself, as he made a few notes +in his little book. 'Have you got your eye on Mrs. Manderson? Or haven't +you? I know that colourless tone of the inspectorial voice. I wish I had +seen her. Either you've got something against her and you don't want me +to get hold of it; or else you've made up your mind she's innocent, but +have no objection to my wasting my time over her. Well, it's all in the +game; which begins to look extremely interesting as we go on.' To Mr. +Murch he said aloud: 'Well, I'll draw the bedroom later on. What about +this?' + +'They call it the library,' said the inspector. 'Manderson used to do +his writing and that in here; passed most of the time he spent indoors +here. Since he and his wife ceased to hit it off together, he had taken +to spending his evenings alone, and when at this house he always +spent 'em in here. He was last seen alive, as far as the servants are +concerned, in this room.' + +Trent rose and glanced again through the papers set out on the table. +'Business letters and documents, mostly,' said Mr. Murch. 'Reports, +prospectuses, and that. A few letters on private matters, nothing in +them that I can see. The American secretary--Bunner his name is, and +a queerer card I never saw turned--he's been through this desk with +me this morning. He had got it into his head that Manderson had been +receiving threatening letters, and that the murder was the outcome of +that. But there's no trace of any such thing; and we looked at every +blessed paper. The only unusual things we found were some packets of +banknotes to a considerable amount, and a couple of little bags of unset +diamonds. I asked Mr. Bunner to put them in a safer place. It appears +that Manderson had begun buying diamonds lately as a speculation--it was +a new game to him, the secretary said, and it seemed to amuse him.' + +'What about these secretaries?' Trent enquired. 'I met one called +Marlowe just now outside; a nice-looking chap with singular eyes, +unquestionably English. The other, it seems, is an American. What did +Manderson want with an English secretary?' + +'Mr. Marlowe explained to me how that was. The American was his +right-hand business man, one of his office staff, who never left him. +Mr. Marlowe had nothing to do with Manderson's business as a financier, +knew nothing of it. His job was to look after Manderson's horses and +motors and yacht and sporting arrangements and that--make himself +generally useful, as you might say. He had the spending of a lot of +money, I should think. The other was confined entirely to the office +affairs, and I dare say he had his hands full. As for his being English, +it was just a fad of Manderson's to have an English secretary. He'd had +several before Mr. Marlowe.' + +'He showed his taste,' observed Trent. 'It might be more than +interesting, don't you think, to be minister to the pleasures of a +modern plutocrat with a large P. Only they say that Manderson's +were exclusively of an innocent kind. Certainly Marlowe gives me the +impression that he would be weak in the part of Petronius. But to return +to the matter in hand.' He looked at his notes. 'You said just +now that he was last seen alive here, "so far as the servants were +concerned". That meant--?' + +'He had a conversation with his wife on going to bed. But for that, the +manservant, Martin by name, last saw him in this room. I had his story +last night, and very glad he was to tell it. An affair like this is meat +and drink to the servants of the house.' + +Trent considered for some moments, gazing through the open window over +the sun-flooded slopes. 'Would it bore you to hear what he has to say +again?' he asked at length. For reply, Mr. Murch rang the bell. A spare, +clean-shaven, middle-aged man, having the servant's manner in its most +distinguished form, answered it. + +'This is Mr. Trent, who is authorized by Mrs. Manderson to go over the +house and make enquiries,' explained the detective. 'He would like to +hear your story.' Martin bowed distantly. He recognized Trent for a +gentleman. Time would show whether he was what Martin called a gentleman +in every sense of the word. + +'I observed you approaching the house, sir,' said Martin with impassive +courtesy. He spoke with a slow and measured utterance. 'My instructions +are to assist you in every possible way. Should you wish me to recall +the circumstances of Sunday night?' + +'Please,' said Trent with ponderous gravity. Martin's style was making +clamorous appeal to his sense of comedy. He banished with an effort all +vivacity of expression from his face. + +'I last saw Mr. Manderson--' + +'No, not that yet,' Trent checked him quietly. 'Tell me all you saw +of him that evening--after dinner, say. Try to recollect every little +detail.' + +'After dinner, sir?--yes. I remember that after dinner Mr. Manderson and +Mr. Marlowe walked up and down the path through the orchard, talking. If +you ask me for details, it struck me they were talking about something +important, because I heard Mr. Manderson say something when they came +in through the back entrance. He said, as near as I can remember, "If +Harris is there, every minute is of importance. You want to start right +away. And not a word to a soul." Mr. Marlowe answered, "Very well. I +will just change out of these clothes and then I am ready"--or words +to that effect. I heard this plainly as they passed the window of my +pantry. Then Mr. Marlowe went up to his bedroom, and Mr. Manderson +entered the library and rang for me. He handed me some letters for the +postman in the morning and directed me to sit up, as Mr. Marlowe had +persuaded him to go for a drive in the car by moonlight.' + +'That was curious,' remarked Trent. + +'I thought so, sir. But I recollected what I had heard about "not a +word to a soul", and I concluded that this about a moonlight drive was +intended to mislead.' + +'What time was this?' + +'It would be about ten, sir, I should say. After speaking to me, Mr. +Manderson waited until Mr. Marlowe had come down and brought round the +car. He then went into the drawing-room, where Mrs. Manderson was.' + +'Did that strike you as curious?' + +Martin looked down his nose. 'If you ask me the question, sir,' he said +with reserve, 'I had not known him enter that room since we came here +this year. He preferred to sit in the library in the evenings. That +evening he only remained with Mrs. Manderson for a few minutes. Then he +and Mr. Marlowe started immediately.' + +'You saw them start?' + +'Yes, sir. They took the direction of Bishopsbridge.' + +'And you saw Mr. Manderson again later?' + +'After an hour or thereabouts, sir, in the library. That would have been +about a quarter past eleven, I should say; I had noticed eleven striking +from the church. I may say I am peculiarly quick of hearing, sir.' + +'Mr. Manderson had rung the bell for you, I suppose. Yes? And what +passed when you answered it?' + +'Mr. Manderson had put out the decanter of whisky and a syphon and +glass, sir, from the cupboard where he kept them--' + +Trent held up his hand. 'While we are on that point, Martin, I want to +ask you plainly, did Mr. Manderson drink very much? You understand this +is not impertinent curiosity on my part. I want you to tell me, because +it may possibly help in the clearing up of this case.' + +'Perfectly, sir,' replied Martin gravely. 'I have no hesitation in +telling you what I have already told the inspector. Mr. Manderson was, +considering his position in life, a remarkably abstemious man. In my +four years of service with him I never knew anything of an alcoholic +nature pass his lips, except a glass or two of wine at dinner, very +rarely a little at luncheon, and from time to time a whisky and soda +before going to bed. He never seemed to form a habit of it. Often I used +to find his glass in the morning with only a little soda water in it; +sometimes he would have been having whisky with it, but never much. +He never was particular about his drinks; ordinary soda was what +he preferred, though I had ventured to suggest some of the natural +minerals, having personally acquired a taste for them in my previous +service. He used to keep them in the cupboard here, because he had a +great dislike of being waited on more than was necessary. It was an +understood thing that I never came near him after dinner unless sent +for. And when he sent for anything, he liked it brought quick, and to be +left alone again at once. He hated to be asked if he required anything +more. Amazingly simple in his tastes, sir, Mr. Manderson was.' + +'Very well; and he rang for you that night about a quarter past eleven. +Now can you remember exactly what he said?' + +'I think I can tell you with some approach to accuracy, sir. It was not +much. First he asked me if Mr. Bunner had gone to bed, and I replied +that he had been gone up some time. He then said that he wanted some +one to sit up until 12.30, in case an important message should come by +telephone, and that Mr. Marlowe having gone to Southampton for him in +the motor, he wished me to do this, and that I was to take down the +message if it came, and not disturb him. He also ordered a fresh syphon +of soda water. I believe that was all, sir.' + +'You noticed nothing unusual about him, I suppose?' + +'No, sir, nothing unusual. When I answered the ring, he was seated +at the desk listening at the telephone, waiting for a number, as I +supposed. He gave his orders and went on listening at the same time. +'When I returned with the syphon he was engaged in conversation over the +wire.' + +'Do you remember anything of what he was saying?' + +'Very little, sir; it was something about somebody being at some +hotel--of no interest to me. I was only in the room just time enough to +place the syphon on the table and withdraw. As I closed the door he was +saying, "You're sure he isn't in the hotel?" or words to that effect.' + +'And that was the last you saw and heard of him alive?' + +'No, sir. A little later, at half-past eleven, when I had settled down +in my pantry with the door ajar, and a book to pass the time, I heard +Mr. Manderson go upstairs to bed. I immediately went to close the +library window, and slipped the lock of the front door. I did not hear +anything more.' + +Trent considered. 'I suppose you didn't doze at all,' he said +tentatively, 'while you were sitting up waiting for the telephone +message?' + +'Oh no, sir. I am always very wakeful about that time. I'm a bad +sleeper, especially in the neighbourhood of the sea, and I generally +read in bed until somewhere about midnight.' + + + +'And did any message come?' + +'No, sir.' + +'No. And I suppose you sleep with your window open, these warm nights?' + +'It is never closed at night, sir.' + +Trent added a last note; then he looked thoughtfully through those he +had taken. He rose and paced up and down the room for some moments with +a downcast eye. At length he paused opposite Martin. + +'It all seems perfectly ordinary and simple,' he said. 'I just want to +get a few details clear. You went to shut the windows in the library +before going to bed. Which windows?' + +'The French window, sir. It had been open all day. The windows opposite +the door were seldom opened.' + +'And what about the curtains? I am wondering whether any one outside the +house could have seen into the room.' + +'Easily, sir, I should say, if he had got into the grounds on that side. +The curtains were never drawn in the hot weather. Mr. Manderson would +often sit right in the doorway at nights, smoking and looking out into +the darkness. But nobody could have seen him who had any business to be +there.' + +'I see. And now tell me this. Your hearing is very acute, you say, and +you heard Mr. Manderson enter the house when he came in after dinner +from the garden. Did you hear him re-enter it after returning from the +motor drive?' + +Martin paused. 'Now you mention it, sir, I remember that I did not. His +ringing the bell in this room was the first I knew of his being back. I +should have heard him come in, if he had come in by the front. I should +have heard the door go. But he must have come in by the window.' The man +reflected for a moment, then added, 'As a general rule, Mr. Manderson +would come in by the front, hang up his hat and coat in the hall, and +pass down the hall into the study. It seems likely to me that he was in +a great hurry to use the telephone, and so went straight across the lawn +to the window. He was like that, sir, when there was anything important +to be done. He had his hat on, now I remember, and had thrown his +greatcoat over the end of the table. He gave his order very sharp, +too, as he always did when busy. A very precipitate man indeed was Mr. +Manderson; a hustler, as they say.' + +'Ah! he appeared to be busy. But didn't you say just now that you +noticed nothing unusual about him?' + +A melancholy smile flitted momentarily over Martin's face. 'That +observation shows that you did not know Mr. Manderson, sir, if you will +pardon my saying so. His being like that was nothing unusual; quite the +contrary. It took me long enough to get used to it. Either he would be +sitting quite still and smoking a cigar, thinking or reading, or else he +would be writing, dictating, and sending off wires all at the same time, +till it almost made one dizzy to see it, sometimes for an hour or more +at a stretch. As for being in a hurry over a telephone message, I may +say it wasn't in him to be anything else.' + +Trent turned to the inspector, who met his eye with a look of answering +intelligence. Not sorry to show his understanding of the line of inquiry +opened by Trent, Mr. Murch for the first time put a question. + +'Then you left him telephoning by the open window, with the lights on, +and the drinks on the table; is that it?' 'That is so, Mr. Murch.' The +delicacy of the change in Martin's manner when called upon to answer the +detective momentarily distracted Trent's appreciative mind. But the big +man's next question brought it back to the problem at once. + +'About those drinks. You say Mr. Manderson often took no whisky before +going to bed. Did he have any that night?' + +'I could not say. The room was put to rights in the morning by one of +the maids, and the glass washed, I presume, as usual. I know that the +decanter was nearly full that evening. I had refilled it a few days +before, and I glanced at it when I brought the fresh syphon, just out of +habit, to make sure there was a decent-looking amount.' + +The inspector went to the tall corner-cupboard and opened it. He took +out a decanter of cut glass and set it on the table before Martin. 'Was +it fuller than that?' he asked quietly. 'That's how I found it this +morning.' The decanter was more than half empty. + +For the first time Martin's self-possession wavered. He took up the +decanter quickly, tilted it before his eyes, and then stared amazedly +at the others. He said slowly: 'There's not much short of half a bottle +gone out of this since I last set eyes on it--and that was that Sunday +night.' + +'Nobody in the house, I suppose?' suggested Trent discreetly. 'Out of +the question!' replied Martin briefly; then he added, 'I beg pardon, +sir, but this is a most extraordinary thing to me. Such a thing +never happened in all my experience of Mr. Manderson. As for the +women-servants, they never touch anything, I can answer for it; and +as for me, when I want a drink I can help myself without going to the +decanters.' He took up the decanter again and aimlessly renewed his +observation of the contents, while the inspector eyed him with a look of +serene satisfaction, as a master contemplates his handiwork. + +Trent turned to a fresh page of his notebook, and tapped it thoughtfully +with his pencil. Then he looked up and said, 'I suppose Mr. Manderson +had dressed for dinner that night?' + +'Certainly, sir. He had on a suit with a dress-jacket, what he used to +refer to as a Tuxedo, which he usually wore when dining at home.' + +'And he was dressed like that when you saw him last?' + +'All but the jacket, sir. When he spent the evening in the library, as +usually happened, he would change it for an old shooting-jacket after +dinner, a light-coloured tweed, a little too loud in pattern for English +tastes, perhaps. He had it on when I saw him last. It used to hang in +this cupboard here'--Martin opened the door of it as he spoke--'along +with Mr. Manderson's fishing-rods and such things, so that he could slip +it on after dinner without going upstairs.' + +'Leaving the dinner-jacket in the cupboard?' + +'Yes, sir. The housemaid used to take it upstairs in the morning.' + +'In the morning,' Trent repeated slowly. 'And now that we are speaking +of the morning, will you tell me exactly what you know about that? I +understand that Mr. Manderson was not missed until the body was found +about ten o'clock.' + +'That is so, sir. Mr. Manderson would never be called, or have anything +brought to him in the morning. He occupied a separate bedroom. Usually +he would get up about eight and go round to the bathroom, and he would +come down some time before nine. But often he would sleep till nine or +ten o'clock. Mrs. Manderson was always called at seven. The maid would +take in tea to her. Yesterday morning Mrs. Manderson took breakfast +about eight in her sitting-room as usual, and every one supposed that +Mr. Manderson was still in bed and asleep, when Evans came rushing up to +the house with the shocking intelligence.' + +'I see,' said Trent. 'And now another thing. You say you slipped the +lock of the front door before going to bed. Was that all the locking-up +you did?' + +'To the front door, sir, yes; I slipped the lock. No more is considered +necessary in these parts. But I had locked both the doors at the back, +and seen to the fastenings of all the windows on the ground floor. In +the morning everything was as I had left it.' + +'As you had left it. Now here is another point--the last, I think. Were +the clothes in which the body was found the clothes that Mr. Manderson +would naturally have worn that day?' + +Martin rubbed his chin. 'You remind me how surprised I was when I first +set eyes on the body, sir. At first I couldn't make out what was unusual +about the clothes, and then I saw what it was. The collar was a shape of +collar Mr. Manderson never wore except with evening dress. Then I +found that he had put on all the same things that he had worn the night +before--large fronted shirt and all--except just the coat and waistcoat +and trousers, and the brown shoes, and blue tie. As for the suit, it was +one of half a dozen he might have worn. But for him to have simply put +on all the rest just because they were there, instead of getting out +the kind of shirt and things he always wore by day; well, sir, it was +unprecedented. It shows, like some other things, what a hurry he must +have been in when getting up.' + +'Of course,' said Trent. 'Well, I think that's all I wanted to know. You +have put everything with admirable clearness, Martin. If we want to ask +any more questions later on, I suppose you will be somewhere about.' + +'I shall be at your disposal, sir.' Martin bowed, and went out quietly. + +Trent flung himself into the armchair and exhaled a long breath. 'Martin +is a great creature,' he said. 'He is far, far better than a play. There +is none like him, none, nor will be when our summers have deceased. +Straight, too; not an atom of harm in dear old Martin. Do you know, +Murch, you are wrong in suspecting that man.' + +'I never said a word about suspecting him.' The inspector was taken +aback. 'You know, Mr. Trent, he would never have told his story like +that if he thought I suspected him.' + +'I dare say he doesn't think so. He is a wonderful creature, a great +artist; but, in spite of that, he is not at all a sensitive type. It has +never occurred to his mind that you, Murch, could suspect him, Martin, +the complete, the accomplished. But I know it. You must understand, +inspector, that I have made a special study of the psychology of +officers of the law. It is a grossly neglected branch of knowledge. They +are far more interesting than criminals, and not nearly so easy. All the +time I was questioning him I saw handcuffs in your eye. Your lips were +mutely framing the syllables of those tremendous words: "It is my duty +to tell you that anything you now say will be taken down and used in +evidence against you." Your manner would have deceived most men, but it +could not deceive me.' + +Mr. Murch laughed heartily. Trent's nonsense never made any sort of +impression on his mind, but he took it as a mark of esteem, which indeed +it was; so it never failed to please him. 'Well, Mr. Trent,' he said, +'you're perfectly right. There's no point in denying it, I have got my +eye on him. Not that there's anything definite; but you know as well as +I do how often servants are mixed up in affairs of this kind, and this +man is such a very quiet customer. You remember the case of Lord William +Russell's valet, who went in as usual, in the morning, to draw up the +blinds in his master's bedroom, as quiet and starchy as you please, a +few hours after he had murdered him in his bed. I've talked to all the +women of the house, and I don't believe there's a morsel of harm in one +of them. But Martin's not so easy set aside. I don't like his manner; I +believe he's hiding something. If so, I shall find it out.' + +'Cease!' said Trent. 'Drain not to its dregs the urn of bitter prophecy. +Let us get back to facts. Have you, as a matter of evidence, anything at +all to bring against Martin's story as he has told it to us?' + +'Nothing whatever at present. As for his suggestion that Manderson came +in by way of the window after leaving Marlowe and the car, that's right +enough, I should say. I questioned the servant who swept the room next +morning, and she tells me there were gravelly marks near the window, on +this plain drugget that goes round the carpet. And there's a footprint +in this soft new gravel just outside.' The inspector took a folding rule +from his pocket and with it pointed out the traces. 'One of the patent +shoes Manderson was wearing that night exactly fits that print; you'll +find them,' he added, 'on the top shelf in the bedroom, near the window +end, the only patents in the row. The girl who polished them in the +morning picked them out for me.' + +Trent bent down and studied the faint marks keenly. 'Good!' he said. +'You have covered a lot of ground, Murch, I must say. That was excellent +about the whisky; you made your point finely. I felt inclined to shout +"Encore!" It's a thing that I shall have to think over.' + +'I thought you might have fitted it in already,' said Mr. Murch. 'Come, +Mr. Trent, we're only at the beginning of our enquiries, but what do you +say to this for a preliminary theory? There's a plan of burglary, say +a couple of men in it and Martin squared. They know where the plate is, +and all about the handy little bits of stuff in the drawing-room and +elsewhere. They watch the house; see Manderson off to bed; Martin comes +to shut the window, and leaves it ajar, accidentally on purpose. They +wait till Martin goes to bed at twelve-thirty; then they just walk into +the library, and begin to sample the whisky first thing. Now suppose +Manderson isn't asleep, and suppose they make a noise opening the +window, or however it might be. He hears it; thinks of burglars; gets up +very quietly to see if anything's wrong; creeps down on them, perhaps, +just as they're getting ready for work. They cut and run; he chases them +down to the shed, and collars one; there's a fight; one of them loses +his temper and his head, and makes a swinging job of it. Now, Mr. Trent, +pick that to pieces.' + +'Very well,' said Trent; 'just to oblige you, Murch, especially as I +know you don't believe a word of it. First: no traces of any kind +left by your burglar or burglars, and the window found fastened in the +morning, according to Martin. Not much force in that, I allow. Next: +nobody in the house hears anything of this stampede through the library, +nor hears any shout from Manderson either inside the house or outside. +Next: Manderson goes down without a word to anybody, though Bunner +and Martin are both at hand. Next: did you ever hear, in your long +experience, of a householder getting up in the night to pounce on +burglars, who dressed himself fully, with underclothing, shirt; collar +and tie, trousers, waistcoat and coat, socks and hard leather shoes; and +who gave the finishing touches to a somewhat dandified toilet by doing +his hair, and putting on his watch and chain? Personally, I call that +over-dressing the part. The only decorative detail he seems to have +forgotten is his teeth.' + +The inspector leaned forward thinking, his large hands clasped before +him. 'No,' he said at last. 'Of course there's no help in that theory. +I rather expect we have some way to go before we find out why a man gets +up before the servants are awake, dresses himself awry, and is murdered +within sight of his house early enough to be 'cold and stiff by ten in +the morning.' + +Trent shook his head. 'We can't build anything on that last +consideration. I've gone into the subject with people who know. I +shouldn't wonder,' he added, 'if the traditional notions about loss of +temperature and rigour after death had occasionally brought an innocent +man to the gallows, or near it. Dr. Stock has them all, I feel sure; +most general practitioners of the older generation have. That Dr. Stock +will make an ass of himself at the inquest, is almost as certain as that +tomorrow's sun will rise. I've seen him. He will say the body must have +been dead about so long, because of the degree of coldness and rigor +mortis. I can see him nosing it all out in some textbook that was out +of date when he was a student. Listen, Murch, and I will tell you +some facts which will be a great hindrance to you in your professional +career. There are many things that may hasten or retard the cooling of +the body. This one was lying in the long dewy grass on the shady side of +the shed. As for rigidity, if Manderson died in a struggle, or +labouring under sudden emotion, his corpse might stiffen practically +instantaneously; there are dozens of cases noted, particularly in cases +of injury to the skull, like this one. On the other hand, the stiffening +might not have begun until eight or ten hours after death. You can't +hang anybody on rigor mortis nowadays, inspector, much as you may resent +the limitation. No, what we can say is this. If he had been shot after +the hour at which the world begins to get up and go about its business, +it would have been heard, and very likely seen too. In fact, we must +reason, to begin with, at any rate, on the assumption that he wasn't +shot at a time when people might be awake; it isn't done in these parts. +Put that time at 6.30 a.m. Manderson went up to bed at 11 p.m., and +Martin sat up till 12.30. Assuming that he went to sleep at once on +turning in, that leaves us something like six hours for the crime to +be committed in; and that is a long time. But whenever it took place, +I wish you would suggest a reason why Manderson, who was a fairly late +riser, was up and dressed at or before 6.30; and why neither Martin, +who sleeps lightly, nor Bunner, nor his wife heard him moving about, +or letting himself out of the house. He must have been careful. He must +have crept about like a cat. Do you feel as I do, Murch, about all this; +that it is very, very strange and baffling?' + +'That's how it looks,' agreed the inspector. + +'And now,' said Trent, rising to his feet, 'I'll leave you to your +meditations, and take a look at the bedrooms. Perhaps the explanation of +all this will suddenly burst upon you while I am poking about up there. +But,' concluded Trent in a voice of sudden exasperation, turning round +in the doorway, 'if you can tell me at any time, how under the sun a man +who put on all those clothes could forget to put in his teeth, you may +kick me from here to the nearest lunatic asylum, and hand me over as an +incipient dement.' + + + + +CHAPTER V: Poking About + +There are moments in life, as one might think, when that which is within +us, busy about its secret affair, lets escape into consciousness some +hint of a fortunate thing ordained. Who does not know what it is to feel +at times a wave of unaccountable persuasion that it is about to go well +with him?--not the feverish confidence of men in danger of a blow from +fate, not the persistent illusion of the optimist, but an unsought +conviction, springing up like a bird from the heather, that success is +at hand in some great or fine thing. The general suddenly knows at dawn +that the day will bring him victory; the man on the green suddenly +knows that he will put down the long putt. As Trent mounted the +stairway outside the library door he seemed to rise into certainty +of achievement. A host of guesses and inferences swarmed apparently +unsorted through his mind; a few secret observations that he had made, +and which he felt must have significance, still stood unrelated to +any plausible theory of the crime; yet as he went up he seemed to know +indubitably that light was going to appear. + +The bedrooms lay on either side of a broad carpeted passage, lighted by +a tall end window. It went the length of the house until it ran at right +angles into a narrower passage, out of which the servants' rooms opened. +Martin's room was the exception: it opened out of a small landing +half-way to the upper floor. As Trent passed it he glanced within. A +little square room, clean and commonplace. In going up the rest of the +stairway he stepped with elaborate precaution against noise, hugging +the wall closely and placing each foot with care; but a series of very +audible creaks marked his passage. + +He knew that Manderson's room was the first on the right hand when the +bedroom floor was reached, and he went to it at once. He tried the latch +and the lock, which worked normally, and examined the wards of the key. +Then he turned to the room. + +It was a small apartment, strangely bare. The plutocrat's toilet +appointments were of the simplest. All remained just as it had been +on the morning of the ghastly discovery in the grounds. The sheets and +blankets of the unmade bed lay tumbled over a narrow wooden bedstead, +and the sun shone brightly through the window upon them. It gleamed, +too, upon the gold parts of the delicate work of dentistry that lay in +water in a shallow bowl of glass placed on a small, plain table by the +bedside. On this also stood a wrought-iron candlestick. Some clothing +lay untidily over one of the two rush-bottomed chairs. Various +objects on the top of a chest of drawers, which had been used as a +dressing-table, lay in such disorder as a hurried man might make. Trent +looked them over with a questing eye. He noted also that the occupant of +the room had neither washed nor shaved. With his finger he turned over +the dental plate in the bowl, and frowned again at its incomprehensible +presence. + +The emptiness and disarray of the little room, flooded by the sunbeams, +were producing in Trent a sense of gruesomeness. His fancy called up +a picture of a haggard man dressing himself in careful silence by the +first light of dawn, glancing constantly at the inner door behind which +his wife slept, his eyes full of some terror. + +Trent shivered, and to fix his mind again on actualities, opened two +tall cupboards in the wall on either side of the bed. They contained +clothing, a large choice of which had evidently been one of the very few +conditions of comfort for the man who had slept there. + +In the matter of shoes, also, Manderson had allowed himself the +advantage of wealth. An extraordinary number of these, treed and +carefully kept, was ranged on two long low shelves against the wall. No +boots were among them. Trent, himself an amateur of good shoe-leather, +now turned to these, and glanced over the collection with an +appreciative eye. It was to be seen that Manderson had been inclined to +pride himself on a rather small and well-formed foot. The shoes were of +a distinctive shape, narrow and round-toed, beautifully made; all were +evidently from the same last. + +Suddenly his eyes narrowed themselves over a pair of patent-leather +shoes on the upper shelf. + +These were the shoes of which the inspector had already described the +position to him; the shoes worn by Manderson the night before his death. +They were a well-worn pair, he saw at once; he saw, too, that they had +been very recently polished. Something about the uppers of these shoes +had seized his attention. He bent lower and frowned over them, comparing +what he saw with the appearance of the neighbouring shoes. Then he took +them up and examined the line of junction of the uppers with the soles. + +As he did this, Trent began unconsciously to whistle faintly, and with +great precision, an air which Inspector Murch, if he had been present, +would have recognized. + +Most men who have the habit of self-control have also some involuntary +trick which tells those who know them that they are suppressing +excitement. The inspector had noted that when Trent had picked up a +strong scent he whistled faintly a certain melodious passage; though +the inspector could not have told you that it was in fact the opening +movement of Mendelssohn's Lied ohne Worter in A Major. + +He turned the shoes over, made some measurements with a marked tape, and +looked minutely at the bottoms. On each, in the angle between the heel +and the instep, he detected a faint trace of red gravel. + +Trent placed the shoes on the floor, and walked with his hands behind +him to the window, out of which, still faintly whistling, he gazed with +eyes that saw nothing. Once his lips opened to emit mechanically the +Englishman's expletive of sudden enlightenment. At length he turned to +the shelves again, and swiftly but carefully examined every one of the +shoes there. + +This done, he took up the garments from the chair, looked them over +closely and replaced them. He turned to the wardrobe cupboards again, +and hunted through them carefully. The litter on the dressing-table now +engaged his attention for the second time. Then he sat down on the +empty chair, took his head in his hands, and remained in that attitude, +staring at the carpet, for some minutes. He rose at last and opened the +inner door leading to Mrs. Manderson's room. + +It was evident at a glance that the big room had been hurriedly put down +from its place as the lady's bower. All the array of objects that belong +to a woman's dressing-table had been removed; on bed and chairs and +smaller tables there were no garments or hats, bags or boxes; no trace +remained of the obstinate conspiracy of gloves and veils, handkerchiefs +and ribbons, to break the captivity of the drawer. The room was like +an unoccupied guest-chamber. Yet in every detail of furniture and +decoration it spoke of an unconventional but exacting taste. Trent, +as his expert eye noted the various perfection of colour and form amid +which the ill-mated lady dreamed her dreams and thought her loneliest +thoughts, knew that she had at least the resources of an artistic +nature. His interest in this unknown personality grew stronger; and his +brows came down heavily as he thought of the burdens laid upon it, and +of the deed of which the history was now shaping itself with more and +more of substance before his busy mind. + +He went first to the tall French window in the middle of the wall that +faced the door, and opening it, stepped out upon a small balcony with +an iron railing. He looked down on a broad stretch of lawn that began +immediately beneath him, separated from the house-wall only by a narrow +flower-bed, and stretched away, with an abrupt dip at the farther +end, toward the orchard. The other window opened with a sash above the +garden-entrance of the library. In the farther inside corner of the room +was a second door giving upon the passage; the door by which the maid +was wont to come in, and her mistress to go out, in the morning. + +Trent, seated on the bed, quickly sketched in his notebook a plan of +the room and its neighbour. The bed stood in the angle between the +communicating-door and the sash-window, its head against the wall +dividing the room from Manderson's. Trent stared at the pillows; then he +lay down with deliberation on the bed and looked through the open door +into the adjoining room. + +This observation taken, he rose again and proceeded to note on his plan +that on either side of the bed was a small table with a cover. Upon that +furthest from the door was a graceful electric-lamp standard of copper +connected by a free wire with the wall. Trent looked at it thoughtfully, +then at the switches connected with the other lights in the room. They +were, as usual, on the wall just within the door, and some way out of +his reach as he sat on the bed. He rose, and satisfied himself that the +lights were all in order. Then he turned on his heel, walked quickly +into Manderson's room, and rang the bell. + +'I want your help again, Martin,' he said, as the butler presented +himself, upright and impassive, in the doorway. 'I want you to prevail +upon Mrs. Manderson's maid to grant me an interview.' + +'Certainly, sir,' said Martin. + +'What sort of a woman is she? Has she her wits about her?' + +'She's French, sir,' replied Martin succinctly; adding after a pause: +'She has not been with us long, sir, but I have formed the impression +that the young woman knows as much of the world as is good for +her--since you ask me.' + +'You think butter might possibly melt in her mouth, do you?' said Trent. +'Well, I am not afraid. I want to put some questions to her.' + +'I will send her up immediately, sir.' The butler withdrew, and Trent +wandered round the little room with his hands at his back. Sooner than +he had expected, a small neat figure in black appeared quietly before +him. + +The lady's maid, with her large brown eyes, had taken favourable notice +of Trent from a window when he had crossed the lawn, and had been hoping +desperately that the resolver of mysteries (whose reputation was as +great below-stairs as elsewhere) would send for her. For one thing, +she felt the need to make a scene; her nerves were overwrought. But her +scenes were at a discount with the other domestics, and as for Mr. Murch, +he had chilled her into self-control with his official manner. Trent, +her glimpse of him had told her, had not the air of a policeman, and at +a distance he had appeared sympathique. + +As she entered the room, however, instinct decided for her that any +approach to coquetry would be a mistake, if she sought to make a good +impression at the beginning. It was with an air of amiable candour, +then, that she said, 'Monsieur desire to speak with me.' She added +helpfully, 'I am called Celestine.' + +'Naturally,' said Trent with businesslike calm. 'Now what I want you +to tell me, Celestine, is this. When you took tea to your mistress +yesterday morning at seven o'clock, was the door between the two +bedrooms--this door here--open?' + +Celestine became intensely animated in an instant. 'Oh yes!' she +said, using her favourite English idiom. 'The door was open as always, +monsieur, and I shut it as always. But it is necessary to explain. +Listen! When I enter the room of madame from the other door in +there--ah! but if monsieur will give himself the pain to enter the other +room, all explains itself.' She tripped across to the door, and urged +Trent before her into the larger bedroom with a hand on his arm. 'See! I +enter the room with the tea like this. I approach the bed. Before I come +quite near the bed, here is the door to my right hand--open always--so! +But monsieur can perceive that I see nothing in the room of Monsieur +Manderson. The door opens to the bed, not to me who approach from down +there. I shut it without seeing in. It is the order. Yesterday it was +as ordinary. I see nothing of the next room. Madame sleep like an +angel--she see nothing. I shut the door. I place the plateau--I open the +curtains--I prepare the toilette--I retire--voila!' Celestine paused for +breath and spread her hands abroad. + +Trent, who had followed her movements and gesticulations with deepening +gravity, nodded his head. 'I see exactly how it was now,' he said. +'Thank you, Celestine. So Mr. Manderson was supposed to be still in +his room while your mistress was getting up, and dressing, and having +breakfast in her boudoir?' + +'Oui, monsieur.' + +'Nobody missed him, in fact,' remarked Trent. 'Well, Celestine, I am +very much obliged to you.' He reopened the door to the outer bedroom. + +'It is nothing, monsieur,' said Celestine, as she crossed the small +room. 'I hope that monsieur will catch the assassin of Monsieur +Manderson. But I not regret him too much,' she added with sudden and +amazing violence, turning round with her hand on the knob of the outer +door. She set her teeth with an audible sound, and the colour rose in +her small dark face. English departed from her. 'Je ne le regrette pas +du tout, du tout!' she cried with a flood of words. 'Madame--ah! je me +jetterais au leu pour madame--une femme si charmante, si adorable! Mais +un homme comme monsieur--maussade, boudeur, impassible! Ah, non!--de +ma vie! J'en avais par-dessus la tete, de monsieur! Ah! vrai! Est-ce +insupportable, tout de meme, qu'il existe des types comme ca? Je vous +jure que--' + +'Finissez ce chahut, Celestine!' Trent broke in sharply. Celestine's +tirade had brought back the memory of his student days with a rush. +'En voila une scene! C'est rasant, vous savez. Faut rentret ca, +mademoiselle. Du reste, c'est bien imprudent, croyez-moi. Hang it! Have +some common sense! If the inspector downstairs heard you saying that +kind of thing, you would get into trouble. And don't wave your fists +about so much; you might hit something. You seem,' he went on more +pleasantly, as Celestine grew calmer under his authoritative eye, 'to be +even more glad than other people that Mr. Manderson is out of the way. I +could almost suspect, Celestine, that Mr. Manderson did not take as much +notice of you as you thought necessary and right.' + +'A peine s'il m'avait regarde!' Celestine answered simply. + +'Ca, c'est un comble!' observed Trent. 'You are a nice young woman for a +small tea-party, I don't think. A star upon your birthday burned, +whose fierce, serene, red, pulseless planet never yearned in heaven, +Celestine. Mademoiselle, I am busy. Bon jour. You certainly are a +beauty!' + +Celestine took this as a scarcely expected compliment. The surprise +restored her balance. With a sudden flash of her eyes and teeth at +Trent over her shoulder, the lady's maid opened the door and swiftly +disappeared. + +Trent, left alone in the little bedroom, relieved his mind with two +forcible descriptive terms in Celestine's language, and turned to his +problem. He took the pair of shoes which he had already examined, and +placed them on one of the two chairs in the room, then seated himself +on the other opposite to this. With his hands in his pockets he sat +with eyes fixed upon those two dumb witnesses. Now and then he whistled, +almost inaudibly, a few bars. It was very still in the room. A subdued +twittering came from the trees through the open window. From time to +time a breeze rustled in the leaves of the thick creeper about the sill. +But the man in the room, his face grown hard and sombre now with his +thoughts, never moved. + +So he sat for the space of half an hour. Then he rose quickly to his +feet. He replaced the shoes on their shelf with care, and stepped out +upon the landing. + +Two bedroom doors faced him on the other side of the passage. He opened +that which was immediately opposite, and entered a bedroom by no means +austerely tidy. Some sticks and fishing-rods stood confusedly in one +corner, a pile of books in another. The housemaid's hand had failed to +give a look of order to the jumble of heterogeneous objects left on the +dressing-table and on the mantelshelf--pipes, penknives, pencils, keys, +golf-balls, old letters, photographs, small boxes, tins, and bottles. +Two fine etchings and some water-colour sketches hung on the walls; +leaning against the end of the wardrobe, unhung, were a few framed +engravings. A row of shoes and boots was ranged beneath the window. +Trent crossed the room and studied them intently; then he measured some +of them with his tape, whistling very softly. This done, he sat on the +side of the bed, and his eyes roamed gloomily about the room. + +The photographs on the mantelshelf attracted him presently. He rose and +examined one representing Marlowe and Manderson on horseback. Two others +were views of famous peaks in the Alps. There was a faded print of three +youths--one of them unmistakably his acquaintance of the haggard blue +eyes--clothed in tatterdemalion soldier's gear of the sixteenth century. +Another was a portrait of a majestic old lady, slightly resembling +Marlowe. Trent, mechanically taking a cigarette from an open box on the +mantel-shelf, lit it and stared at the photographs. Next he turned his +attention to a flat leathern case that lay by the cigarette-box. + +It opened easily. A small and light revolver, of beautiful workmanship, +was disclosed, with a score or so of loose cartridges. On the stock were +engraved the initials 'J. M.' + +A step was heard on the stairs, and as Trent opened the breech and +peered into the barrel of the weapon, Inspector Murch appeared at the +open door of the room. 'I was wondering--' he began; then stopped as +he saw what the other was about. His intelligent eyes opened slightly. +'Whose is the revolver, Mr. Trent?' he asked in a conversational tone. + +'Evidently it belongs to the occupant of the room, Mr. Marlowe,' replied +Trent with similar lightness, pointing to the initials. 'I found this +lying about on the mantelpiece. It seems a handy little pistol to me, +and it has been very carefully cleaned, I should say, since the last +time it was used. But I know little about firearms.' + +'Well, I know a good deal,' rejoined the inspector quietly, taking the +revolver from Trent's outstretched hand. 'It's a bit of a speciality +with me, is firearms, as I think you know, Mr. Trent. But it don't +require an expert to tell one thing.' He replaced the revolver in its +case on the mantel-shelf, took out one of the cartridges, and laid it +on the spacious palm of one hand; then, taking a small object from +his waistcoat pocket, he laid it beside the cartridge. It was a little +leaden bullet, slightly battered about the nose, and having upon it some +bright new scratches. + +'Is that the one?' Trent murmured as he bent over the inspector's hand. + +'That's him,' replied Mr. Murch. 'Lodged in the bone at the back of the +skull. Dr Stock got it out within the last hour, and handed it to the +local officer, who has just sent it on to me. These bright scratches you +see were made by the doctor's instruments. These other marks were made +by the rifling of the barrel--a barrel like this one.' He tapped the +revolver. 'Same make, same calibre. There is no other that marks the +bullet just like this.' + +With the pistol in its case between them, Trent and the inspector looked +into each other's eyes for some moments. Trent was the first to speak. +'This mystery is all wrong,' he observed. 'It is insanity. The symptoms +of mania are very marked. Let us see how we stand. We were not in any +doubt, I believe, about Manderson having dispatched Marlowe in the car +to Southampton, or about Marlowe having gone, returning late last night, +many hours after the murder was committed.' + +'There is no doubt whatever about all that,' said Mr. Murch, with a +slight emphasis on the verb. + +'And now,' pursued Trent, 'we are invited by this polished and +insinuating firearm to believe the following line of propositions: that +Marlowe never went to Southampton; that he returned to the house in the +night; that he somehow, without waking Mrs. Manderson or anybody else, +got Manderson to get up, dress himself, and go out into the grounds; +that he then and there shot the said Manderson with his incriminating +pistol; that he carefully cleaned the said pistol, returned to the house +and, again without disturbing any one, replaced it in its case in a +favourable position to be found by the officers of the law; that he then +withdrew and spent the rest of the day in hiding--with a large motor +car; and that he turned up, feigning ignorance of the whole affair, +at--what time was it?' + +'A little after 9 p.m.' The inspector still stared moodily at Trent. 'As +you say, Mr. Trent, that is the first theory suggested by this find, and +it seems wild enough--at least it would do if it didn't fall to pieces +at the very start. When the murder was done Marlowe must have been fifty +to a hundred miles away. He did go to Southampton.' + +'How do you know?' + +'I questioned him last night, and took down his story. He arrived in +Southampton about 6.30 on the Monday morning.' + +'Come off' exclaimed Trent bitterly. 'What do I care about his story? +What do you care about his story? I want to know how you know he went to +Southampton.' + +Mr. Murch chuckled. 'I thought I should take a rise out of you, Mr +Trent,' he said. 'Well, there's no harm in telling you. After I arrived +yesterday evening, as soon as I had got the outlines of the story from +Mrs. Manderson and the servants, the first thing I did was to go to the +telegraph office and wire to our people in Southampton. Manderson had +told his wife when he went to bed that he had changed his mind, and sent +Marlowe to Southampton to get some important information from some one +who was crossing by the next day's boat. It seemed right enough, but, +you see, Marlowe was the only one of the household who wasn't under +my hand, so to speak. He didn't return in the car until later in the +evening; so before thinking the matter out any further, I wired to +Southampton making certain enquiries. Early this morning I got this +reply.' He handed a series of telegraph slips to Trent, who read: + +PERSON ANSWERING DESCRIPTION IN MOTOR ANSWERING DESCRIPTION ARRIVED +BEDFORD HOTEL HERE 6.30 THIS MORNING GAVE NAME MARLOWE LEFT CAR HOTEL +GARAGE TOLD ATTENDANT CAR BELONGED MANDERSON HAD BATH AND BREAKFAST WENT +OUT HEARD OF LATER AT DOCKS ENQUIRING FOR PASSENGER NAME HARRIS ON HAVRE +BOAT ENQUIRED REPEATEDLY UNTIL BOAT LEFT AT NOON NEXT HEARD OF AT HOTEL +WHERE HE LUNCHED ABOUT 1.15 LEFT SOON AFTERWARDS IN CAR COMPANY'S AGENTS +INFORM BERTH WAS BOOKED NAME HARRIS LAST WEEK BUT HARRIS DID NOT TRAVEL +BY BOAT BURKE INSPECTOR. + +'Simple and satisfactory,' observed Mr. Murch as Trent, after twice +reading the message, returned it to him. 'His own story corroborated in +every particular. He told me he hung about the dock for half an hour or +so on the chance of Harris turning up late, then strolled back, lunched, +and decided to return at once. He sent a wire to Manderson--"Harris not +turned up missed boat returning Marlowe," which was duly delivered here +in the afternoon, and placed among the dead man's letters. He motored +back at a good rate, and arrived dog-tired. When he heard of Manderson's +death from Martin, he nearly fainted. What with that and the being +without sleep for so long, he was rather a wreck when I came to +interview him last night; but he was perfectly coherent.' + +Trent picked up the revolver and twirled the cylinder idly for a few +moments. 'It was unlucky for Manderson that Marlowe left his pistol and +cartridges about so carelessly,' he remarked at length, as he put it +back in the case. 'It was throwing temptation in somebody's way, don't +you think?' + +Mr. Murch shook his head. 'There isn't really much to lay hold of about +the revolver, when you come to think. That particular make of revolver +is common enough in England. It was introduced from the States. Half +the people who buy a revolver today for self-defence or mischief provide +themselves with that make, of that calibre. It is very reliable, and +easily carried in the hip-pocket. There must be thousands of them in +the possession of crooks and honest men. For instance,' continued the +inspector with an air of unconcern, 'Manderson himself had one, the +double of this. I found it in one of the top drawers of the desk +downstairs, and it's in my overcoat pocket now.' + +'Aha! so you were going to keep that little detail to yourself.' + +'I was,' said the inspector; 'but as you've found one revolver, you may +as well know about the other. As I say, neither of them may do us any +good. The people in the house--' + +Both men started, and the inspector checked his speech abruptly, as the +half-closed door of the bedroom was slowly pushed open, and a man stood +in the doorway. His eyes turned from the pistol in its open case to the +faces of Trent and the inspector. They, who had not heard a sound to +herald this entrance, simultaneously looked at his long, narrow feet. He +wore rubber-soled tennis shoes. + +'You must be Mr. Bunner,' said Trent. + + + + +CHAPTER VI: Mr. Bunner on the Case + +'Calvin C. Bunner, at your service,' amended the newcomer, with a touch +of punctilio, as he removed an unlighted cigar from his mouth. He was +used to finding Englishmen slow and ceremonious with strangers, and +Trent's quick remark plainly disconcerted him a little. 'You are Mr +Trent, I expect,' he went on. 'Mrs. Manderson was telling me a while ago. +Captain, good-morning.' Mr. Murch acknowledged the outlandish greeting +with a nod. 'I was coming up to my room, and I heard a strange voice in +here, so I thought I would take a look in.' Mr. Bunner laughed easily. +'You thought I might have been eavesdropping, perhaps,' he said. 'No, +sir; I heard a word or two about a pistol--this one, I guess--and that's +all.' + +Mr. Bunner was a thin, rather short young man with a shaven, pale, bony, +almost girlish face, and large, dark, intelligent eyes. His waving dark +hair was parted in the middle. His lips, usually occupied with a cigar, +in its absence were always half open with a curious expression as of +permanent eagerness. By smoking or chewing a cigar this expression was +banished, and Mr. Bunner then looked the consummately cool and sagacious +Yankee that he was. + +Born in Connecticut, he had gone into a broker's office on leaving +college, and had attracted the notice of Manderson, whose business with +his firm he had often handled. The Colossus had watched him for some +time, and at length offered him the post of private secretary. Mr. Bunner +was a pattern business man, trustworthy, long-headed, methodical, and +accurate. Manderson could have found many men with those virtues; but he +engaged Mr. Bunner because he was also swift and secret, and had besides +a singular natural instinct in regard to the movements of the stock +market. + +Trent and the American measured one another coolly with their eyes. Both +appeared satisfied with what they saw. 'I was having it explained to +me,' said Trent pleasantly, 'that my discovery of a pistol that might +have shot Manderson does not amount to very much. I am told it is a +favourite weapon among your people, and has become quite popular over +here.' + +Mr. Bunner stretched out a bony hand and took the pistol from its case. +'Yes, sir,' he said, handling it with an air of familiarity; 'the +captain is right. This is what we call out home a Little Arthur, and I +dare say there are duplicates of it in a hundred thousand hip-pockets +this minute. I consider it too light in the hand myself,' Mr. Bunner went +on, mechanically feeling under the tail of his jacket, and producing an +ugly looking weapon. 'Feel of that, now, Mr. Trent--it's loaded, by the +way. Now this Little Arthur--Marlowe bought it just before we came over +this year to please the old man. Manderson said it was ridiculous for a +man to be without a pistol in the twentieth century. So he went out and +bought what they offered him, I guess--never consulted me. Not but +what it's a good gun,' Mr. Bunner conceded, squinting along the sights. +'Marlowe was poor with it at first, but I've coached him some in the +last month or so, and he's practised until he is pretty good. But he +never could get the habit of carrying it around. Why, it's as natural to +me as wearing my pants. I have carried one for some years now, because +there was always likely to be somebody laying for Manderson. And now,' +Mr. Bunner concluded sadly, 'they got him when I wasn't around. Well, +gentlemen, you must excuse me. I am going into Bishopsbridge. There is +a lot to do these days, and I have to send off a bunch of cables big +enough to choke a cow.' + +'I must be off too,' said Trent. 'I have an appointment at the "Three +Tuns" inn.' + +Let me give you a lift in the automobile,' said Mr. Bunner cordially. 'I +go right by that joint. Say, cap., are you coming my way too? No? Then +come along, Mr. Trent, and help me get out the car. The chauffeur is out +of action, and we have to do 'most everything ourselves except clean the +dirt off her.' + +Still tirelessly talking in his measured drawl, Mr. Bunner led Trent +downstairs and through the house to the garage at the back. It stood at +a little distance from the house, and made a cool retreat from the blaze +of the midday sun. + +Mr. Bunner seemed to be in no hurry to get out the car. He offered Trent +a cigar, which was accepted, and for the first time lit his own. Then +he seated himself on the footboard of the car, his thin hands clasped +between his knees, and looked keenly at the other. + +'See here, Mr. Trent,' he said, after a few moments. 'There are some +things I can tell you that may be useful to you. I know your record. You +are a smart man, and I like dealing with smart men. I don't know if I +have that detective sized up right, but he strikes me as a mutt. I would +answer any questions he had the gumption to ask me--I have done so, +in fact--but I don't feel encouraged to give him any notions of mine +without his asking. See?' + +Trent nodded. 'That is a feeling many people have in the presence of our +police,' he said. 'It's the official manner, I suppose. But let me tell +you, Murch is anything but what you think. He is one of the shrewdest +officers in Europe. He is not very quick with his mind, but he is very +sure. And his experience is immense. My forte is imagination, but I +assure you in police work experience outweighs it by a great deal.' + +'Outweigh nothing!' replied Mr. Bunner crisply. 'This is no ordinary +case, Mr. Trent. I will tell you one reason why. I believe the old man +knew there was something coming to him. Another thing: I believe it was +something he thought he couldn't dodge.' + +Trent pulled a crate opposite to Mr. Bunner's place on the footboard +and seated himself. 'This sounds like business,' he said. 'Tell me your +ideas.' + +'I say what I do because of the change in the old man's manner this last +few weeks. I dare say you have heard, Mr. Trent, that he was a man who +always kept himself well in hand. That was so. I have always considered +him the coolest and hardest head in business. That man's calm was just +deadly--I never saw anything to beat it. And I knew Manderson as nobody +else did. I was with him in the work he really lived for. I guess I knew +him a heap better than his wife did, poor woman. I knew him better than +Marlowe could--he never saw Manderson in his office when there was a big +thing on. I knew him better than any of his friends.' + +'Had he any friends?' interjected Trent. + +Mr. Bunner glanced at him sharply. 'Somebody has been putting you next, I +see that,' he remarked. 'No: properly speaking, I should say not. He +had many acquaintances among the big men, people he saw, most every day; +they would even go yachting or hunting together. But I don't believe +there ever was a man that Manderson opened a corner of his heart to. But +what I was going to say was this. Some months ago the old man began to +get like I never knew him before--gloomy and sullen, just as if he was +everlastingly brooding over something bad, something that he couldn't +fix. This went on without any break; it was the same down town as it +was up home, he acted just as if there was something lying heavy on his +mind. But it wasn't until a few weeks back that his self-restraint began +to go; and let me tell you this, Mr. Trent'--the American laid his bony +claw on the other's knee--'I'm the only man that knows it. With every +one else he would be just morose and dull; but when he was alone with +me in his office, or anywhere where we would be working together, if the +least little thing went wrong, by George! he would fly off the handle to +beat the Dutch. In this library here I have seen him open a letter with +something that didn't just suit him in it, and he would rip around and +carry on like an Indian, saying he wished he had the man that wrote +it here, he wouldn't do a thing to him, and so on, till it was just +pitiful. I never saw such a change. And here's another thing. For a week +before he died Manderson neglected his work, for the first time in my +experience. He wouldn't answer a letter or a cable, though things looked +like going all to pieces over there. I supposed that this anxiety of +his, whatever it was, had got on to his nerves till they were worn out. +Once I advised him to see a doctor, and he told me to go to hell. But +nobody saw this side of him but me. If he was having one of these rages +in the library here, for example, and Mrs. Manderson would come into the +room, he would be all calm and cold again in an instant.' + +'And you put this down to some secret anxiety, a fear that somebody had +designs on his life?' asked Trent. + +The American nodded. + +'I suppose,' Trent resumed, 'you had considered the idea of there being +something wrong with his mind--a break-down from overstrain, say. That +is the first thought that your account suggests to me. Besides, it is +what is always happening to your big business men in America, isn't it? +That is the impression one gets from the newspapers.' + +'Don't let them slip you any of that bunk,' said Mr. Bunner earnestly. +'It's only the ones who have got rich too quick, and can't make good, +who go crazy. Think of all our really big men--the men anywhere near +Manderson's size: did you ever hear of any one of them losing his +senses? They don't do it--believe me. I know they say every man has +his loco point,' Mr. Bunner added reflectively, 'but that doesn't mean +genuine, sure-enough craziness; it just means some personal eccentricity +in a man ... like hating cats ... or my own weakness of not being able to +touch any kind of fish-food.' + +'Well, what was Manderson's?' + +'He was full of them--the old man. There was his objection to all the +unnecessary fuss and luxury that wealthy people don't kick at much, as +a general rule. He didn't have any use for expensive trifles and +ornaments. He wouldn't have anybody do little things for him; he +hated to have servants tag around after him unless he wanted them. And +although Manderson was as careful about his clothes as any man I ever +knew, and his shoes--well, sir, the amount of money he spent on shoes +was sinful--in spite of that, I tell you, he never had a valet. He never +liked to have anybody touch him. All his life nobody ever shaved him.' + +'I've heard something of that,' Trent remarked. 'Why was it, do you +think?' + +'Well,' Mr. Bunner answered slowly, 'it was the Manderson habit of mind, +I guess; a sort of temper of general suspicion and jealousy. + +'They say his father and grandfather were just the same.... Like a dog +with a bone, you know, acting as if all the rest of creation was laying +for a chance to steal it. He didn't really think the barber would start +in to saw his head off; he just felt there was a possibility that he +might, and he was taking no risks. Then again in business he was always +convinced that somebody else was after his bone--which was true enough a +good deal of the time; but not all the time. The consequence of that was +that the old man was the most cautious and secret worker in the world +of finance; and that had a lot to do with his success, too.... But that +doesn't amount to being a lunatic, Mr. Trent; not by a long way. You ask +me if Manderson was losing his mind before he died. I say I believe +he was just worn out with worrying over something, and was losing his +nerve.' + +Trent smoked thoughtfully. He wondered how much Mr. Bunner knew of the +domestic difficulty in his chief's household, and decided to put out a +feeler. 'I understood that he had trouble with his wife.' + +'Sure,' replied Mr. Bunner. 'But do you suppose a thing like that was +going to upset Sig Manderson that way? No, sir! He was a sight too big a +man to be all broken up by any worry of that kind.' + +Trent looked half-incredulously into the eyes of the young man. But +behind all their shrewdness and intensity he saw a massive innocence. Mr +Bunner really believed a serious breach between husband and wife to be a +minor source of trouble for a big man. + +'What was the trouble between them, anyhow?' Trent enquired. + +'You can search me,' Mr. Bunner replied briefly. He puffed at his cigar. +'Marlowe and I have often talked about it, and we could never make out +a solution. I had a notion at first,' said Mr. Bunner in a lower voice, +leaning forward, 'that the old man was disappointed and vexed because +he had expected a child; but Marlowe told me that the disappointment +on that score was the other way around, likely as not. His idea was all +right, I guess; he gathered it from something said by Mrs. Manderson's +French maid.' + +Trent looked up at him quickly. 'Celestine!' he said; and his thought +was, 'So that was what she was getting at!' + +Mr. Bunner misunderstood his glance. 'Don't you think I'm giving a man +away, Mr. Trent,' he said. 'Marlowe isn't that kind. Celestine just took +a fancy to him because he talks French like a native, and she would +always be holding him up for a gossip. French servants are quite unlike +English that way. And servant or no servant,' added Mr. Bunner with +emphasis, 'I don't see how a woman could mention such a subject to a +man. But the French beat me.' He shook his head slowly. + +'But to come back to what you were telling me just now,' Trent said. +'You believe that Manderson was going in terror of his life for some +time. Who should threaten it? I am quite in the dark.' + +'Terror--I don't know,' replied Mr. Bunner meditatively. 'Anxiety, if you +like. Or suspense--that's rather my idea of it. The old man was hard +to terrify, anyway; and more than that, he wasn't taking any +precautions--he was actually avoiding them. It looked more like he was +asking for a quick finish--supposing there's any truth in my idea. Why, +he would sit in that library window, nights, looking out into the dark, +with his white shirt just a target for anybody's gun. As for who should +threaten his life well, sir,' said Mr. Bunner with a faint smile, 'it's +certain you have not lived in the States. To take the Pennsylvania coal +hold-up alone, there were thirty thousand men, with women and children +to keep, who would have jumped at the chance of drilling a hole through +the man who fixed it so that they must starve or give in to his terms. +Thirty thousand of the toughest aliens in the country, Mr. Trent. There's +a type of desperado you find in that kind of push who has been known to +lay for a man for years, and kill him when he had forgotten what he did. +They have been known to dynamite a man in Idaho who had done them dirt +in New Jersey ten years before. Do you suppose the Atlantic is going to +stop them?... It takes some sand, I tell you, to be a big business man +in our country. No, sir: the old man knew--had always known--that there +was a whole crowd of dangerous men scattered up and down the States who +had it in for him. My belief is that he had somehow got to know that +some of them were definitely after him at last. What licks me altogether +is why he should have just laid himself open to them the way he did--why +he never tried to dodge, but walked right down into the garden yesterday +morning to be shot at.' + +Mr. Bunner ceased to speak, and for a little while both men sat with +wrinkled brows, faint blue vapours rising from their cigars. Then Trent +rose. 'Your theory is quite fresh to me,' he said. 'It's perfectly +rational, and it's only a question of whether it fits all the facts. I +mustn't give away what I'm doing for my newspaper, Mr. Bunner, but I will +say this: I have already satisfied myself that this was a premeditated +crime, and an extraordinarily cunning one at that. I'm deeply obliged to +you. We must talk it over again.' He looked at his watch. 'I have been +expected for some time by my friend. Shall we make a move?' + +'Two o'clock,' said Mr. Bunner, consulting his own, as he got up from +the foot-board. 'Ten a.m. in little old New York. You don't know Wall +Street, Mr. Trent. Let's you and I hope we never see anything nearer hell +than what's loose in the Street this minute.' + + + + +CHAPTER VII: The Lady in Black + +The sea broke raging upon the foot of the cliff under a good breeze; +the sun flooded the land with life from a dappled blue sky. In this +perfection of English weather Trent, who had slept ill, went down before +eight o'clock to a pool among the rocks, the direction of which had been +given him, and dived deep into clear water. Between vast grey boulders +he swam out to the tossing open, forced himself some little way against +a coast-wise current, and then returned to his refuge battered and +refreshed. Ten minutes later he was scaling the cliff again, and his +mind, cleared for the moment of a heavy disgust for the affair he had in +hand, was turning over his plans for the morning. + +It was the day of the inquest, the day after his arrival in the place. +He had carried matters not much further after parting with the American +on the road to Bishopsbridge. In the afternoon he had walked from the +inn into the town, accompanied by Mr. Cupples, and had there made certain +purchases at a chemist's shop, conferred privately for some time with a +photographer, sent off a reply-paid telegram, and made an enquiry at the +telephone exchange. He had said but little about the case to Mr. Cupples, +who seemed incurious on his side, and nothing at all about the results +of his investigation or the steps he was about to take. After their +return from Bishopsbridge, Trent had written a long dispatch for the +Record and sent it to be telegraphed by the proud hands of the paper's +local representative. He had afterwards dined with Mr. Cupples, and had +spent the rest of the evening in meditative solitude on the veranda. + +This morning as he scaled the cliff he told himself that he had never +taken up a case he liked so little, or which absorbed him so much. The +more he contemplated it in the golden sunshine of this new day, the more +evil and the more challenging it appeared. All that he suspected and +all that he almost knew had occupied his questing brain for hours to the +exclusion of sleep; and in this glorious light and air, though washed +in body and spirit by the fierce purity of the sea, he only saw the more +clearly the darkness of the guilt in which he believed, and was more +bitterly repelled by the motive at which he guessed. But now at least +his zeal was awake again, and the sense of the hunt quickened. He would +neither slacken nor spare; here need be no compunction. In the course of +the day, he hoped, his net would be complete. He had work to do in the +morning; and with very vivid expectancy, though not much serious hope, +he awaited the answer to the telegram which he had shot into the sky, as +it were, the day before. + +The path back to the hotel wound for some way along the top of the +cliff, and on nearing a spot he had marked from the sea level, where the +face had fallen away long ago, he approached the edge and looked down, +hoping to follow with his eyes the most delicately beautiful of all the +movements of water--the wash of a light sea over broken rock. But no +rock was there. A few feet below him a broad ledge stood out, a rough +platform as large as a great room, thickly grown with wiry grass and +walled in steeply on three sides. There, close to the verge where the +cliff at last dropped sheer, a woman was sitting, her arms about her +drawn-up knees, her eyes fixed on the trailing smoke of a distant liner, +her face full of some dream. + +This woman seemed to Trent, whose training had taught him to live in his +eyes, to make the most beautiful picture he had ever seen. Her face +of southern pallor, touched by the kiss of the wind with colour on the +cheek, presented to him a profile of delicate regularity in which there +was nothing hard; nevertheless the black brows bending down toward the +point where they almost met gave her in repose a look of something like +severity, strangely redeemed by the open curves of the mouth. Trent said +to himself that the absurdity or otherwise of a lover writing sonnets to +his mistress's eyebrow depended after all on the quality of the eyebrow. +Her nose was of the straight and fine sort, exquisitely escaping the +perdition of too much length, which makes a conscientious mind ashamed +that it cannot help, on occasion, admiring the tip-tilted. Her hat lay +pinned to the grass beside her, and the lively breeze played with her +thick dark hair, blowing backward the two broad bandeaux that should +have covered much of her forehead, and agitating a hundred tiny curls +from the mass gathered at her nape. Everything about this lady was +black, from her shoes of suede to the hat that she had discarded; +lustreless black covered her to her bare throat. All she wore was fine +and well put on. Dreamy and delicate of spirit as her looks declared +her, it was very plain that she was long-practised as only a woman grown +can be in dressing well, the oldest of the arts, and had her touch of +primal joy in the excellence of the body that was so admirably curved +now in the attitude of embraced knees. With the suggestion of French +taste in her clothes, she made a very modern figure seated there, until +one looked at her face and saw the glow and triumph of all vigorous +beings that ever faced sun and wind and sea together in the prime of +the year. One saw, too, a womanhood so unmixed and vigorous, so +unconsciously sure of itself, as scarcely to be English, still less +American. + +Trent, who had halted only for a moment in the surprise of seeing the +woman in black, had passed by on the cliff above her, perceiving and +feeling as he went the things set down. At all times his keen vision and +active brain took in and tasted details with an easy swiftness that was +marvellous to men of slower chemistry; the need to stare, he held, +was evidence of blindness. Now the feeling of beauty was awakened +and exultant, and doubled the power of his sense. In these instants a +picture was printed on his memory that would never pass away. + +As he went by unheard on the turf the woman, still alone with her +thoughts, suddenly moved. She unclasped her long hands from about her +knees, stretched her limbs and body with feline grace, then slowly +raised her head and extended her arms with open, curving fingers, as if +to gather to her all the glory and overwhelming sanity of the morning. +This was a gesture not to be mistaken: it was a gesture of freedom, +the movement of a soul's resolution to be, to possess, to go forward, +perhaps to enjoy. + +So he saw her for an instant as he passed, and he did not turn. He knew +suddenly who the woman must be, and it was as if a curtain of gloom were +drawn between him and the splendour of the day. + +*** + +During breakfast at the hotel Mr. Cupples found Trent little inclined to +talk. He excused himself on the plea of a restless night. Mr. Cupples, on +the other hand, was in a state of bird-like alertness. The prospect +of the inquest seemed to enliven him. He entertained Trent with a +disquisition upon the history of that most ancient and once busy +tribunal, the coroner's court, and remarked upon the enviable freedom +of its procedure from the shackles of rule and precedent. From this he +passed to the case that was to come before it that morning. + +'Young Bunner mentioned to me last night,' he said, 'when I went up +there after dinner, the hypothesis which he puts forward in regard +to the crime. A very remarkable young man, Trent. His meaning is +occasionally obscure, but in my opinion he is gifted with a clearheaded +knowledge of the world quite unusual in one of his apparent age. Indeed, +his promotion by Manderson to the position of his principal lieutenant +speaks for itself. He seems to have assumed with perfect confidence the +control at this end of the wire, as he expresses it, of the complicated +business situation caused by the death of his principal, and he has +advised very wisely as to the steps I should take on Mabel's behalf, +and the best course for her to pursue until effect has been given to +the provisions of the will. I was accordingly less disposed than I might +otherwise have been to regard his suggestion of an industrial vendetta +as far-fetched. When I questioned him he was able to describe a +number of cases in which attacks of one sort or another--too often +successful--had been made upon the lives of persons who had incurred the +hostility of powerful labour organizations. This is a terrible time in +which we live, my dear boy. There is none recorded in history, I +think, in which the disproportion between the material and the moral +constituents of society has been so great or so menacing to the +permanence of the fabric. But nowhere, in my judgement, is the prospect +so dark as it is in the United States.' + +'I thought,' said Trent listlessly, 'that Puritanism was about as strong +there as the money-getting craze.' + +'Your remark,' answered Mr. Cupples, with as near an approach to humour +as was possible to him, 'is not in the nature of a testimonial to what +you call Puritanism--a convenient rather than an accurate term; for I +need not remind you that it was invented to describe an Anglican party +which aimed at the purging of the services and ritual of their Church +from certain elements repugnant to them. The sense of your observation, +however, is none the less sound, and its truth is extremely well +illustrated by the case of Manderson himself, who had, I believe, the +virtues of purity, abstinence, and self-restraint in their strongest +form. No, Trent, there are other and more worthy things among the moral +constituents of which I spoke; and in our finite nature, the more +we preoccupy ourselves with the bewildering complexity of external +apparatus which science places in our hands, the less vigour have we +left for the development of the holier purposes of humanity within us. +Agricultural machinery has abolished the festival of the Harvest Home. +Mechanical travel has abolished the inn, or all that was best in it. I +need not multiply instances. The view I am expressing to you,' pursued +Mr. Cupples, placidly buttering a piece of toast, 'is regarded as +fundamentally erroneous by many of those who think generally as I +do about the deeper concerns of life, but I am nevertheless firmly +persuaded of its truth.' + +'It needs epigrammatic expression,' said Trent, rising from the table. +'If only it could be crystallized into some handy formula, like "No +Popery", or "Tax the Foreigner", you would find multitudes to go to the +stake for it. But you were planning to go to White Gables before the +inquest, I think. You ought to be off if you are to get back to the +court in time. I have something to attend to there myself, so we might +walk up together. I will just go and get my camera.' + +'By all means,' Mr. Cupples answered; and they set off at once in the +ever-growing warmth of the morning. The roof of White Gables, a surly +patch of dull red against the dark trees, seemed to harmonize with +Trent's mood; he felt heavy, sinister, and troubled. If a blow must fall +that might strike down that creature radiant of beauty and life whom +he had seen that morning, he did not wish it to come from his hand. An +exaggerated chivalry had lived in Trent since the first teachings of his +mother; but at this moment the horror of bruising anything so lovely was +almost as much the artist's revulsion as the gentleman's. On the other +hand, was the hunt to end in nothing? The quality of the affair was such +that the thought of forbearance was an agony. There never was such a +case; and he alone, he was confident, held the truth of it under his +hand. At least, he determined, that day should show whether what he +believed was a delusion. He would trample his compunction underfoot +until he was quite sure that there was any call for it. That same +morning he would know. + +As they entered at the gate of the drive they saw Marlowe and the +American standing in talk before the front door. In the shadow of the +porch was the lady in black. + +She saw them, and came gravely forward over the lawn, moving as Trent +had known that she would move, erect and balanced, stepping lightly. +When she welcomed him on Mr. Cupples's presentation her eyes of +golden-flecked brown observed him kindly. In her pale composure, worn as +the mask of distress, there was no trace of the emotion that had +seemed a halo about her head on the ledge of the cliff. She spoke the +appropriate commonplace in a low and even voice. After a few words to Mr +Cupples she turned her eyes on Trent again. + +'I hope you will succeed,' she said earnestly. 'Do you think you will +succeed?' + +He made his mind up as the words left her lips. He said, 'I believe I +shall do so, Mrs. Manderson. When I have the case sufficiently complete +I shall ask you to let me see you and tell you about it. It may be +necessary to consult you before the facts are published.' + +She looked puzzled, and distress showed for an instant in her eyes. 'If +it is necessary, of course you shall do so,' she said. + +On the brink of his next speech Trent hesitated. He remembered that +the lady had not wished to repeat to him the story already given to the +inspector--or to be questioned at all. He was not unconscious that he +desired to hear her voice and watch her face a little longer, if it +might be; but the matter he had to mention really troubled his mind, +it was a queer thing that fitted nowhere into the pattern within whose +corners he had by this time brought the other queer things in the case. +It was very possible that she could explain it away in a breath; it was +unlikely that any one else could. He summoned his resolution. + +'You have been so kind,' he said, 'in allowing me access to the house +and every opportunity of studying the case, that I am going to ask leave +to put a question or two to yourself--nothing that you would rather not +answer, I think. May I?' + +She glanced at him wearily. 'It would be stupid of me to refuse, Ask +your questions, Mr. Trent.' 'It's only this,' said Trent hurriedly. 'We +know that your husband lately drew an unusually large sum of ready money +from his London bankers, and was keeping it here. It is here now, in +fact. Have you any idea why he should have done that?' + +She opened her eyes in astonishment. 'I cannot imagine,' she said. 'I +did not know he had done so. I am very much surprised to hear it.' + +'Why is it surprising?' + +'I thought my husband had very little money in the house. On Sunday +night, just before he went out in the motor, he came into the +drawing-room where I was sitting. He seemed to be irritated about +something, and asked me at once if I had any notes or gold I could let +him have until next day. I was surprised at that, because he was never +without money; he made it a rule to carry a hundred pounds or so about +him always in a note-case. I unlocked my escritoire, and gave him all I +had by me. It was nearly thirty pounds.' + +'And he did not tell you why he wanted it?' + +'No. He put it in his pocket, and then said that Mr. Marlowe had +persuaded him to go for a run in the motor by moonlight, and he thought +it might help him to sleep. He had been sleeping badly, as perhaps you +know. Then he went off with Mr. Marlowe. I thought it odd he should need +money on Sunday night, but I soon forgot about it. I never remembered it +again until now.' + +'It was curious, certainly,' said Trent, staring into the distance. Mr +Cupples began to speak to his niece of the arrangements for the inquest, +and Trent moved away to where Marlowe was pacing slowly upon the lawn. +The young man seemed relieved to talk about the coming business of the +day. Though he still seemed tired out and nervous, he showed himself not +without a quiet humour in describing the pomposities of the local police +and the portentous airs of Dr Stock. Trent turned the conversation +gradually toward the problem of the crime, and all Marlowe's gravity +returned. + +'Bunner has told me what he thinks,' he said when Trent referred to +the American's theory. 'I don't find myself convinced by it, because it +doesn't really explain some of the oddest facts. But I have lived long +enough in the United States to know that such a stroke of revenge, done +in a secret, melodramatic way, is not an unlikely thing. It is quite a +characteristic feature of certain sections of the labour movement there. +Americans have a taste and a talent for that sort of business. Do you +know Huckleberry Finn?' + +'Do I know my own name?' exclaimed Trent. + +'Well, I think the most American thing in that great American epic is +Tom Sawyer's elaboration of an extremely difficult and romantic scheme, +taking days to carry out, for securing the escape of the nigger Jim, +which could have been managed quite easily in twenty minutes. You know +how fond they are of lodges and brotherhoods. Every college club has its +secret signs and handgrips. You've heard of the Know-Nothing movement in +politics, I dare say, and the Ku Klux Klan. Then look at Brigham Young's +penny-dreadful tyranny in Utah, with real blood. The founders of the +Mormon State were of the purest Yankee stock in America; and you know +what they did. It's all part of the same mental tendency. Americans make +fun of it among themselves. For my part, I take it very seriously.' + +'It can have a very hideous side to it, certainly,' said Trent, 'when +you get it in connection with crime--or with vice--or even mere luxury. +But I have a sort of sneaking respect for the determination to make life +interesting and lively in spite of civilization. To return to the matter +in hand, however; has it struck you as a possibility that Manderson's +mind was affected to some extent by this menace that Bunner believes in? +For instance, it was rather an extraordinary thing to send you posting +off like that in the middle of the night.' + +'About ten o'clock, to be exact,' replied Marlowe. 'Though, mind you, if +he'd actually roused me out of my bed at midnight I shouldn't have been +very much surprised. It all chimes in with what we've just been saying. +Manderson had a strong streak of the national taste for dramatic +proceedings. He was rather fond of his well-earned reputation for +unexpected strokes and for going for his object with ruthless directness +through every opposing consideration. He had decided suddenly that he +wanted to have word from this man Harris--' + +'Who is Harris?' interjected Trent. + +'Nobody knows. Even Bunner never heard of him, and can't imagine what +the business in hand was. All I know is that when I went up to London +last week to attend to various things I booked a deck-cabin, at +Manderson's request, for a Mr. George Harris on the boat that sailed +on Monday. It seems that Manderson suddenly found he wanted news from +Harris which presumably was of a character too secret for the telegraph; +and there was no train that served; so I was sent off as you know.' + +Trent looked round to make sure that they were not overheard, then faced +the other gravely, 'There is one thing I may tell you,' he said quietly, +'that I don't think you know. Martin the butler caught a few words at +the end of your conversation with Manderson in the orchard before you +started with him in the car. He heard him say, "If Harris is there, +every moment is of importance." Now, Mr. Marlowe, you know my business +here. I am sent to make enquiries, and you mustn't take offence. I want +to ask you if, in the face of that sentence, you will repeat that you +know nothing of what the business was.' + +Marlowe shook his head. 'I know nothing, indeed. I'm not easily +offended, and your question is quite fair. What passed during that +conversation I have already told the detective. Manderson plainly said +to me that he could not tell me what it was all about. He simply wanted +me to find Harris, tell him that he desired to know how matters stood, +and bring back a letter or message from him. Harris, I was further told, +might not turn up. If he did, "every moment was of importance". And now +you know as much as I do.' + +'That talk took place before he told his wife that you were taking +him for a moonlight run. Why did he conceal your errand in that way, I +wonder.' + +The young man made a gesture of helplessness. 'Why? I can guess no +better than you.' + +'Why,' muttered Trent as if to himself, gazing on the ground, 'did he +conceal it--from Mrs. Manderson?' He looked up at Marlowe. + +'And from Martin,' the other amended coolly. 'He was told the same +thing.' + +With a sudden movement of his head Trent seemed to dismiss the subject. +He drew from his breast-pocket a letter-case, and thence extracted two +small leaves of clean, fresh paper. + +'Just look at these two slips, Mr. Marlowe,' he said. 'Did you ever +see them before? Have you any idea where they come from?' he added as +Marlowe took one in each hand and examined them curiously. + +'They seem to have been cut with a knife or scissors from a small diary +for this year from the October pages,' Marlowe observed, looking them +over on both sides. 'I see no writing of any kind on them. Nobody here +has any such diary so far as I know. What about them?' + +'There may be nothing in it,' Trent said dubiously. 'Any one in the +house, of course, might have such a diary without your having seen it. +But I didn't much expect you would be able to identify the leaves--in +fact, I should have been surprised if you had.' + +He stopped speaking as Mrs. Manderson came towards them. 'My uncle thinks +we should be going now,' she said. + +'I think I will walk on with Mr. Bunner,' Mr. Cupples said as he joined +them. 'There are certain business matters that must be disposed of as +soon as possible. Will you come on with these two gentlemen, Mabel? We +will wait for you before we reach the place.' + +Trent turned to her. 'Mrs. Manderson will excuse me, I hope,' he said. +'I really came up this morning in order to look about me here for +some indications I thought I might possibly find. I had not thought of +attending the--the court just yet.' + +She looked at him with eyes of perfect candour. 'Of course, Mr. Trent. +Please do exactly as you wish. We are all relying upon you. If you will +wait a few moments, Mr. Marlowe, I shall be ready.' + +She entered the house. Her uncle and the American had already strolled +towards the gate. + +Trent looked into the eyes of his companion. 'That is a wonderful +woman,' he said in a lowered voice. + +'You say so without knowing her,' replied Marlowe in a similar tone. +'She is more than that.' + +Trent said nothing to this. He stared out over the fields towards the +sea. In the silence a noise of hobnailed haste rose on the still air. A +little distance down the road a boy appeared trotting towards them +from the direction of the hotel. In his hand was the orange envelope, +unmistakable afar off, of a telegram. Trent watched him with an +indifferent eye as he met and passed the two others. Then he turned +to Marlowe. 'A propos of nothing in particular,' he said, 'were you at +Oxford?' + +'Yes,' said the young man. 'Why do you ask?' + +'I just wondered if I was right in my guess. It's one of the things you +can very often tell about a man, isn't it?' + +'I suppose so,' Marlowe said. 'Well, each of us is marked in one way +or another, perhaps. I should have said you were an artist, if I hadn't +known it.' + +'Why? Does my hair want cutting?' + +'Oh, no! It's only that you look at things and people as I've +seen artists do, with an eye that moves steadily from detail to +detail--rather looking them over than looking at them.' + +The boy came up panting. 'Telegram for you, sir,' he said to Trent. +'Just come, sir.' + +Trent tore open the envelope with an apology, and his eyes lighted up +so visibly as he read the slip that Marlowe's tired face softened in a +smile. + +'It must be good news,' he murmured half to himself. + +Trent turned on him a glance in which nothing could be read. 'Not +exactly news,' he said. 'It only tells me that another little guess of +mine was a good one.' + + + + +CHAPTER VIII: The Inquest + +The coroner, who fully realized that for that one day of his life as +a provincial solicitor he was living in the gaze of the world, had +resolved to be worthy of the fleeting eminence. He was a large man of +jovial temper, with a strong interest in the dramatic aspects of +his work, and the news of Manderson's mysterious death within his +jurisdiction had made him the happiest coroner in England. A respectable +capacity for marshalling facts was fortified in him by a copiousness of +impressive language that made juries as clay in his hands, and sometimes +disguised a doubtful interpretation of the rules of evidence. + +The court was held in a long, unfurnished room lately built on to the +hotel, and intended to serve as a ballroom or concert-hall. A regiment +of reporters was entrenched in the front seats, and those who were to +be called on to give evidence occupied chairs to one side of the table +behind which the coroner sat, while the jury, in double row, with +plastered hair and a spurious ease of manner, flanked him on the other +side. An undistinguished public filled the rest of the space, and +listened, in an awed silence, to the opening solemnities. The newspaper +men, well used to these, muttered among themselves. Those of them who +knew Trent by sight assured the rest that he was not in the court. + +The identity of the dead man was proved by his wife, the first witness +called, from whom the coroner, after some enquiry into the health and +circumstances of the deceased, proceeded to draw an account of the last +occasion on which she had seen her husband alive. Mrs. Manderson was +taken through her evidence by the coroner with the sympathy which every +man felt for that dark figure of grief. She lifted her thick veil before +beginning to speak, and the extreme paleness and unbroken composure of +the lady produced a singular impression. This was not an impression of +hardness. Interesting femininity was the first thing to be felt in her +presence. She was not even enigmatic. It was only clear that the force +of a powerful character was at work to master the emotions of her +situation. Once or twice as she spoke she touched her eyes with her +handkerchief, but her voice was low and clear to the end. + +Her husband, she said, had come up to his bedroom about his usual +hour for retiring on Sunday night. His room was really a dressing-room +attached to her own bedroom, communicating with it by a door which was +usually kept open during the night. Both dressing-room and bedroom were +entered by other doors giving on the passage. Her husband had always had +a preference for the greatest simplicity in his bedroom arrangements, +and liked to sleep in a small room. She had not been awake when he came +up, but had been half-aroused, as usually happened, when the light was +switched on in her husband's room. She had spoken to him. She had no +clear recollection of what she had said, as she had been very drowsy at +the time; but she had remembered that he had been out for a moonlight +run in the car, and she believed she had asked whether he had had a good +run, and what time it was. She had asked what the time was because +she felt as if she had only been a very short time asleep, and she had +expected her husband to be out very late. In answer to her question he +had told her it was half-past eleven, and had gone on to say that he had +changed his mind about going for a run. + +'Did he say why?' the coroner asked. + +'Yes,' replied the lady, 'he did explain why. I remember very well what +he said, because--' she stopped with a little appearance of confusion. + +'Because--' the coroner insisted gently. + +'Because my husband was not as a rule communicative about his business +affairs,' answered the witness, raising her chin with a faint touch of +defiance. 'He did not--did not think they would interest me, and as a +rule referred to them as little as possible. That was why I was rather +surprised when he told me that he had sent Mr. Marlowe to Southampton +to bring back some important information from a man who was leaving for +Paris by the next day's boat. He said that Mr. Marlowe could do it quite +easily if he had no accident. He said that he had started in the car, +and then walked back home a mile or so, and felt all the better for it.' + +'Did he say any more?' + +'Nothing, as well as I remember,' the witness said. 'I was very sleepy, +and I dropped off again in a few moments. I just remember my husband +turning his light out, and that is all. I never saw him again alive.' + +'And you heard nothing in the night?' + +'No: I never woke until my maid brought my tea in the morning at seven +o'clock. She closed the door leading to my husband's room, as she always +did, and I supposed him to be still there. He always needed a great +deal of sleep. He sometimes slept until quite late in the morning. I +had breakfast in my sitting-room. It was about ten when I heard that +my husband's body had been found.' The witness dropped her head and +silently waited for her dismissal. + +But it was not to be yet. + +'Mrs. Manderson.' The coroner's voice was sympathetic, but it had a hint +of firmness in it now. 'The question I am going to put to you must, in +these sad circumstances, be a painful one; but it is my duty to ask it. +Is it the fact that your relations with your late husband had not been, +for some time past, relations of mutual affection and confidence? Is it +the fact that there was an estrangement between you?' + +The lady drew herself up again and faced her questioner, the colour +rising in her cheeks. 'If that question is necessary,' she said +with cold distinctness, 'I will answer it so that there shall be no +misunderstanding. During the last few months of my husband's life +his attitude towards me had given me great anxiety and sorrow. He had +changed towards me; he had become very reserved, and seemed mistrustful. +I saw much less of him than before; he seemed to prefer to be alone. I +can give no explanation at all of the change. I tried to work against +it; I did all I could with justice to my own dignity, as I thought. +Something was between us, I did not know what, and he never told me. +My own obstinate pride prevented me from asking what it was in so many +words; I only made a point of being to him exactly as I had always been, +so far as he would allow me. I suppose I shall never know now what it +was.' The witness, whose voice had trembled in spite of her self-control +over the last few sentences, drew down her veil when she had said this, +and stood erect and quiet. + +One of the jury asked a question, not without obvious hesitation. 'Then +was there never anything of the nature of what they call Words between +you and your husband, ma'am?' + +'Never.' The word was colourlessly spoken; but every one felt that a +crass misunderstanding of the possibilities of conduct in the case of a +person like Mrs. Manderson had been visited with some severity. + +Did she know, the coroner asked, of any other matter which might have +been preying upon her husband's mind recently? + +Mrs. Manderson knew of none whatever. The coroner intimated that her +ordeal was at an end, and the veiled lady made her way to the door. The +general attention, which followed her for a few moments, was now eagerly +directed upon Martin, whom the coroner had proceeded to call. + +It was at this moment that Trent appeared at the doorway and edged his +way into the great room. But he did not look at Martin. He was observing +the well-balanced figure that came quickly toward him along an opening +path in the crowd, and his eye was gloomy. He started, as he stood aside +from the door with a slight bow, to hear Mrs. Manderson address him by +name in a low voice. He followed her a pace or two into the hall. + +'I wanted to ask you,' she said in a voice now weak and oddly broken, +'if you would give me your arm a part of the way to the house. I could +not see my uncle near the door, and I suddenly felt rather faint.... I +shall be better in the air.... No, no; I cannot stay here--please, Mr +Trent!' she said, as he began to make an obvious suggestion. 'I must go +to the house.' Her hand tightened momentarily on his arm as if, for all +her weakness, she could drag him from the place; then again she leaned +heavily upon it, and with that support, and with bent head, she walked +slowly from the hotel and along the oak-shaded path toward White Gables. + +Trent went in silence, his thoughts whirling, dancing insanely to a +chorus of 'Fool! fool!' All that he alone knew, all that he guessed and +suspected of this affair, rushed through his brain in a rout; but the +touch of her unnerved hand upon his arm never for an instant left +his consciousness, filling him with an exaltation that enraged and +bewildered him. He was still cursing himself furiously behind the +mask of conventional solicitude that he turned to the lady when he +had attended her to the house and seen her sink upon a couch in the +morning-room. Raising her veil, she thanked him gravely and frankly, +with a look of sincere gratitude in her eyes. She was much better now, +she said, and a cup of tea would work a miracle upon her. She hoped +she had not taken him away from anything important. She was ashamed +of herself; she thought she could go through with it, but she had not +expected those last questions. 'I am glad you did not hear me,' she said +when he explained. 'But of course you will read it all in the reports. +It shook me so to have to speak of that,' she added simply; 'and to keep +from making an exhibition of myself took it out of me. And all those +staring men by the door! Thank you again for helping me when I asked +you.... I thought I might,' she ended queerly, with a little tired +smile; and Trent took himself away, his hand still quivering from the +cool touch of her fingers. + +*** + +The testimony of the servants and of the finder of the body brought +nothing new to the reporters' net. That of the police was as colourless +and cryptic as is usual at the inquest stage of affairs of the kind. +Greatly to the satisfaction of Mr. Bunner, his evidence afforded the +sensation of the day, and threw far into the background the interesting +revelation of domestic difficulty made by the dead man's wife. He +told the court in substance what he had already told Trent. The flying +pencils did not miss a word of the young American's story, and it +appeared with scarcely the omission of a sentence in every journal of +importance in Great Britain and the United States. + +Public opinion next day took no note of the faint suggestion of the +possibility of suicide which the coroner, in his final address to +the jury, had thought it right to make in connection with the lady's +evidence. The weight of evidence, as the official had indeed pointed +out, was against such a theory. He had referred with emphasis to the +fact that no weapon had been found near the body. + +'This question, of course, is all-important, gentlemen,' he had said to +the jury. 'It is, in fact, the main issue before you. You have seen the +body for yourselves. You have just heard the medical evidence; but I +think it would be well for me to read you my notes of it in so far as +they bear on this point, in order to refresh your memories. Dr Stock +told you--I am going to omit all technical medical language and repeat +to you merely the plain English of his testimony--that in his opinion +death had taken place six or eight hours previous to the finding of the +body. He said that the cause of death was a bullet wound, the bullet +having entered the left eye, which was destroyed, and made its way +to the base of the brain, which was quite shattered. The external +appearance of the wound, he said, did not support the hypothesis of its +being self-inflicted, inasmuch as there were no signs of the firearm +having been pressed against the eye, or even put very close to it; at +the same time it was not physically impossible that the weapon should +have been discharged by the deceased with his own hand, at some small +distance from the eye. Dr Stock also told us that it was impossible to +say with certainty, from the state of the body, whether any struggle had +taken place at the time of death; that when seen by him, at which time +he understood that it had not been moved since it was found, the body +was lying in a collapsed position such as might very well result from +the shot alone; but that the scratches and bruises upon the wrists and +the lower part of the arms had been very recently inflicted, and were, +in his opinion, marks of violence. + +'In connection with this same point, the remarkable evidence given by Mr +Bunner cannot be regarded, I think, as without significance. It may have +come as a surprise to some of you to hear that risks of the character +described by this witness are, in his own country, commonly run by +persons in the position of the deceased. On the other hand, it may have +been within the knowledge of some of you that in the industrial world of +America the discontent of labour often proceeds to lengths of which +we in England happily know nothing. I have interrogated the witness +somewhat fully upon this. At the same time, gentlemen, I am by no means +suggesting that Mr. Bunner's personal conjecture as to the cause of death +can fitly be adopted by you. That is emphatically not the case. What his +evidence does is to raise two questions for your consideration. First, +can it be said that the deceased was to any extent in the position of a +threatened man--of a man more exposed to the danger of murderous attack +than an ordinary person? Second, does the recent alteration in his +demeanour, as described by this witness, justify the belief that +his last days were overshadowed by a great anxiety? These points may +legitimately be considered by you in arriving at a conclusion upon the +rest of the evidence.' + +Thereupon the coroner, having indicated thus clearly his opinion that Mr +Bunner had hit the right nail on the head, desired the jury to consider +their verdict. + + + + +CHAPTER IX: A Hot Scent + + +'Come in!' called Trent. + +Mr. Cupples entered his sitting-room at the hotel. It was the early +evening of the day on which the coroner's jury, without leaving the box, +had pronounced the expected denunciation of a person or persons unknown. +Trent, with a hasty glance upward, continued his intent study of what +lay in a photographic dish of enamelled metal, which he moved slowly +about in the light of the window. He looked very pale, and his movements +were nervous. + +'Sit on the sofa,' he advised. 'The chairs are a job lot bought at the +sale after the suppression of the Holy Inquisition in Spain. This is a +pretty good negative,' he went on, holding it up to the light with his +head at the angle of discriminating judgement. 'Washed enough now, I +think. Let us leave it to dry, and get rid of all this mess.' + +Mr. Cupples, as the other busily cleared the table of a confusion of +basins, dishes, racks, boxes, and bottles, picked up first one and then +another of the objects and studied them with innocent curiosity. + +'That is called hypo-eliminator,' said Trent, as Mr. Cupples uncorked and +smelt at one of the bottles. 'Very useful when you're in a hurry with +a negative. I shouldn't drink it, though, all the same. It eliminates +sodium hypophosphite, but I shouldn't wonder if it would eliminate human +beings too.' He found a place for the last of the litter on the crowded +mantel-shelf, and came to sit before Mr. Cupples on the table. 'The great +thing about a hotel sitting-room is that its beauty does not distract +the mind from work. It is no place for the mayfly pleasures of a mind at +ease. Have you ever been in this room before, Cupples? I have, hundreds +of times. It has pursued me all over England for years. I should feel +lost without it if, in some fantastic, far-off hotel, they were to give +me some other sitting-room. Look at this table-cover; there is the ink +I spilt on it when I had this room in Halifax. I burnt that hole in the +carpet when I had it in Ipswich. But I see they have mended the glass +over the picture of "Silent Sympathy", which I threw a boot at in +Banbury. I do all my best work here. This afternoon, for instance, since +the inquest, I have finished several excellent negatives. There is a +very good dark room downstairs.' + +'The inquest--that reminds me,' said Mr. Cupples, who knew that this sort +of talk in Trent meant the excitement of action, and was wondering what +he could be about. 'I came in to thank you, my dear fellow, for looking +after Mabel this morning. I had no idea she was going to feel ill after +leaving the box; she seemed quite unmoved, and, really, she is a woman +of such extraordinary self-command, I thought I could leave her to her +own devices and hear out the evidence, which I thought it important I +should do. It was a very fortunate thing she found a friend to assist +her, and she is most grateful. She is quite herself again now.' + +Trent, with his hands in his pockets and a slight frown on his brow, +made no reply to this. 'I tell you what,' he said after a short pause, +'I was just getting to the really interesting part of the job when you +came in. Come; would you like to see a little bit of high-class police +work? It's the very same kind of work that old Murch ought to be doing +at this moment. Perhaps he is; but I hope to glory he isn't.' He sprang +off the table and disappeared into his bedroom. Presently he came out +with a large drawing-board on which a number of heterogeneous objects +was ranged. + +'First I must introduce you to these little things,' he said, setting +them out on the table. 'Here is a big ivory paper-knife; here are two +leaves cut out of a diary--my own diary; here is a bottle containing +dentifrice; here is a little case of polished walnut. Some of these +things have to be put back where they belong in somebody's bedroom at +White Gables before night. That's the sort of man I am--nothing stops +me. I borrowed them this very morning when every one was down at +the inquest, and I dare say some people would think it rather an odd +proceeding if they knew. Now there remains one object on the board. Can +you tell me, without touching it, what it is?' + +'Certainly I can,' said Mr. Cupples, peering at it with great interest. +'It is an ordinary glass bowl. It looks like a finger-bowl. I see +nothing odd about it,' he added after some moments of close scrutiny. + +'I can't see much myself,' replied Trent, 'and that is exactly where the +fun comes in. Now take this little fat bottle, Cupples, and pull out the +cork. Do you recognize that powder inside it? You have swallowed pounds +of it in your time, I expect. They give it to babies. Grey powder is its +ordinary name--mercury and chalk. It is great stuff. Now, while I hold +the basin sideways over this sheet of paper, I want you to pour a little +powder out of the bottle over this part of the bowl--just here.... +Perfect! Sir Edward Henry himself could not have handled the powder +better. You have done this before, Cupples, I can see. You are an old +hand.' + +'I really am not,' said Mr. Cupples seriously, as Trent returned the +fallen powder to the bottle. 'I assure you it is all a complete mystery +to me. What did I do then?' + +'I brush the powdered part of the bowl lightly with this camel-hair +brush. Now look at it again. You saw nothing odd about it before. Do you +see anything now?' + +Mr. Cupples peered again. 'How curious!' he said. 'Yes, there are two +large grey finger-marks on the bowl. They were not there before.' + +'I am Hawkshaw the detective,' observed Trent. 'Would it interest you to +hear a short lecture on the subject of glass finger-bowls? When you +take one up with your hand you leave traces upon it, usually practically +invisible, which may remain for days or months. You leave the marks of +your fingers. The human hand, even when quite clean, is never quite dry, +and sometimes--in moments of great anxiety, for instance, Cupples--it +is very moist. It leaves a mark on any cold smooth surface it may touch. +That bowl was moved by somebody with a rather moist hand quite lately.' +He sprinkled the powder again. 'Here on the other side, you see, is the +thumb-mark--very good impressions all of them.' He spoke without raising +his voice, but Mr. Cupples could perceive that he was ablaze with +excitement as he stared at the faint grey marks. 'This one should be the +index finger. I need not tell a man of your knowledge of the world that +the pattern of it is a single-spiral whorl, with deltas symmetrically +disposed. This, the print of the second finger, is a simple loop, with a +staple core and fifteen counts. I know there are fifteen, because I +have just the same two prints on this negative, which I have examined +in detail. Look!'--he held one of the negatives up to the light of the +declining sun and demonstrated with a pencil point. 'You can see they're +the same. You see the bifurcation of that ridge. There it is in the +other. You see that little scar near the centre. There it is in the +other. There are a score of ridge-characteristics on which an expert +would swear in the witness-box that the marks on that bowl and the marks +I have photographed on this negative were made by the same hand.' + +'And where did you photograph them? What does it all mean?' asked Mr +Cupples, wide-eyed. + +'I found them on the inside of the left-hand leaf of the front window +in Mrs. Manderson's bedroom. As I could not bring the window with me, I +photographed them, sticking a bit of black paper on the other side of +the glass for the purpose. The bowl comes from Manderson's room. It is +the bowl in which his false teeth were placed at night. I could bring +that away, so I did.' + +'But those cannot be Mabel's finger-marks.' + +'I should think not!' said Trent with decision. 'They are twice the size +of any print Mrs. Manderson could make.' + +'Then they must be her husband's.' + +'Perhaps they are. Now shall we see if we can match them once more? I +believe we can.' Whistling faintly, and very white in the face, Trent +opened another small squat bottle containing a dense black powder. +'Lamp-black,' he explained. 'Hold a bit of paper in your hand for a +second or two, and this little chap will show you the pattern of your +fingers.' He carefully took up with a pair of tweezers one of the leaves +cut from his diary, and held it out for the other to examine. No marks +appeared on the leaf. He tilted some of the powder out upon one surface +of the paper, then, turning it over, upon the other; then shook the leaf +gently to rid it of the loose powder. He held it out to Mr. Cupples in +silence. On one side of the paper appeared unmistakably, clearly printed +in black, the same two finger-prints that he had already seen on the +bowl and on the photographic plate. He took up the bowl and compared +them. Trent turned the paper over, and on the other side was a bold +black replica of the thumb-mark that was printed in grey on the glass in +his hand. + +'Same man, you see,' Trent said with a short laugh. 'I felt that it must +be so, and now I know.' He walked to the window and looked out. 'Now +I know,' he repeated in a low voice, as if to himself. His tone was +bitter. Mr. Cupples, understanding nothing, stared at his motionless back +for a few moments. + +'I am still completely in the dark,' he ventured presently. 'I have +often heard of this fingerprint business, and wondered how the police +went to work about it. It is of extraordinary interest to me, but upon +my life I cannot see how in this case Manderson's fingerprints are +going--' + +'I am very sorry, Cupples,' Trent broke in upon his meditative speech +with a swift return to the table. 'When I began this investigation I +meant to take you with me every step of the way. You mustn't think I +have any doubts about your discretion if I say now that I must hold my +tongue about the whole thing, at least for a time. I will tell you this: +I have come upon a fact that looks too much like having very painful +consequences if it is discovered by any one else.' He looked at the +other with a hard and darkened face, and struck the table with his hand. +'It is terrible for me here and now. Up to this moment I was hoping +against hope that I was wrong about the fact. I may still be wrong in +the surmise that I base upon that fact. There is only one way of finding +out that is open to me, and I must nerve myself to take it.' He smiled +suddenly at Mr. Cupples's face of consternation. 'All right--I'm not +going to be tragic any more, and I'll tell you all about it when I can. +Look here, I'm not half through my game with the powder-bottles yet.' + +He drew one of the defamed chairs to the table and sat down to test +the broad ivory blade of the paper knife. Mr. Cupples, swallowing his +amazement, bent forward in an attitude of deep interest and handed Trent +the bottle of lamp-black. + + + + +CHAPTER X: The Wife of Dives + +Mrs. Manderson stood at the window of her sitting-room at White Gables +gazing out upon a wavering landscape of fine rain and mist. The weather +had broken as it seldom does in that part in June. White wreathings +drifted up the fields from the sullen sea; the sky was an unbroken grey +deadness shedding pin-point moisture that was now and then blown against +the panes with a crepitation of despair. The lady looked out on the dim +and chilling prospect with a woeful face. It was a bad day for a woman +bereaved, alone, and without a purpose in life. + +There was a knock, and she called 'Come in,' drawing herself up with +an unconscious gesture that always came when she realized that the +weariness of the world had been gaining upon her spirit. Mr. Trent had +called, the maid said; he apologized for coming at such an early +hour, but hoped that Mrs. Manderson would see him on a matter of urgent +importance. Mrs. Manderson would see Mr. Trent. She walked to a mirror, +looked into the olive face she saw reflected there, shook her head at +herself with the flicker of a grimace, and turned to the door as Trent +was shown in. + +His appearance, she noted, was changed. He had the jaded look of +the sleepless, and a new and reserved expression, in which her quick +sensibilities felt something not propitious, took the place of his half +smile of fixed good-humour. + +'May I come to the point at once?' he said, when she had given him her +hand. 'There is a train I ought to catch at Bishopsbridge at twelve +o'clock, but I cannot go until I have settled this thing, which concerns +you only, Mrs. Manderson. I have been working half the night and thinking +the rest; and I know now what I ought to do.' + +'You look wretchedly tired,' she said kindly. 'Won't you sit down? This +is a very restful chair. Of course it is about this terrible business +and your work as correspondent. Please ask me anything you think I can +properly tell you, Mr. Trent. I know that you won't make it worse for me +than you can help in doing your duty here. If you say you must see me +about something, I know it must be because, as you say, you ought to do +it.' + +'Mrs. Manderson,' said Trent, slowly measuring his words, 'I won't make +it worse for you than I can help. But I am bound to make it bad for +you--only between ourselves, I hope. As to whether you can properly tell +me what I shall ask you, you will decide that; but I tell you this on my +word of honour: I shall ask you only as much as will decide me whether +to publish or to withhold certain grave things that I have found out +about your husband's death, things not suspected by any one else, nor, +I think, likely to be so. What I have discovered--what I believe that I +have practically proved--will be a great shock to you in any case. But +it may be worse for you than that; and if you give me reason to think +it would be so, then I shall suppress this manuscript,' he laid a long +envelope on the small table beside him, 'and nothing of what it has +to tell shall ever be printed. It consists, I may tell you, of a short +private note to my editor, followed by a long dispatch for publication +in the Record. Now you may refuse to say anything to me. If you do +refuse, my duty to my employers, as I see it, is to take this up to +London with me today and leave it with my editor to be dealt with at +his discretion. My view is, you understand, that I am not entitled to +suppress it on the strength of a mere possibility that presents itself +to my imagination. But if I gather from you--and I can gather it from +no other person--that there is substance in that imaginary possibility +I speak of, then I have only one thing to do as a gentleman and as one +who'--he hesitated for a phrase--'wishes you well. I shall not publish +that dispatch of mine. In some directions I decline to assist the +police. Have you followed me so far?' he asked with a touch of anxiety +in his careful coldness; for her face, but for its pallor, gave no sign +as she regarded him, her hands clasped before her, and her shoulders +drawn back in a pose of rigid calm. She looked precisely as she had +looked at the inquest. + +'I understand quite well,' said Mrs. Manderson in a low voice. She drew +a deep breath, and went on: 'I don't know what dreadful thing you have +found out, or what the possibility that has occurred to you can be, but +it was good, it was honourable of you to come to me about it. Now will +you please tell me?' + +'I cannot do that,' Trent replied. 'The secret is my newspaper's if it +is not yours. If I find it is yours, you shall have my manuscript to +read and destroy. Believe me,' he broke out with something of his old +warmth, 'I detest such mystery-making from the bottom of my soul; but it +is not I who have made this mystery. This is the most painful hour of my +life, and you make it worse by not treating me like a hound. The +first thing I ask you to tell me,' he reverted with an effort to his +colourless tone, 'is this: is it true, as you stated at the inquest, +that you had no idea at all of the reason why your late husband had +changed his attitude toward you, and become mistrustful and reserved, +during the last few months of his life?' + +Mrs. Manderson's dark brows lifted and her eyes flamed; she quickly rose +from her chair. Trent got up at the same moment, and took his envelope +from the table; his manner said that he perceived the interview to be at +an end. But she held up a hand, and there was colour in her cheeks and +quick breathing in her voice as she said: 'Do you know what you ask, Mr +Trent? You ask me if I perjured myself.' + +'I do,' he answered unmoved; and he added after a pause, 'you knew +already that I had not come here to preserve the polite fictions, Mrs +Manderson. The theory that no reputable person, being on oath, could +withhold a part of the truth under any circumstances is a polite +fiction.' He still stood as awaiting dismissal, but she was silent. +She walked to the window, and he stood miserably watching the slight +movement of her shoulders until it subsided. Then with face averted, +looking out on the dismal weather, she spoke at last clearly. + +'Mr. Trent,' she said, 'you inspire confidence in people, and I feel that +things which I don't want known or talked about are safe with you. And +I know you must have a very serious reason for doing what you are doing, +though I don't know what it is. I suppose it would be assisting justice +in some way if I told you the truth about what you asked just now. To +understand that truth you ought to know about what went before--I mean +about my marriage. After all, a good many people could tell you as well +as I can that it was not... a very successful union. I was only twenty. +I admired his force and courage and certainty; he was the only strong +man I had ever known. But it did not take me long to find out that he +cared for his business more than for me, and I think I found out even +sooner that I had been deceiving myself and blinding myself, promising +myself impossible things and wilfully misunderstanding my own feelings, +because I was dazzled by the idea of having more money to spend than an +English girl ever dreams of. I have been despising myself for that +for five years. My husband's feeling for me... well, I cannot speak of +that... what I want to say is that along with it there had always been +a belief of his that I was the sort of woman to take a great place in +society, and that I should throw myself into it with enjoyment, and +become a sort of personage and do him great credit--that was his idea; +and the idea remained with him after other delusions had gone. I was a +part of his ambition. That was his really bitter disappointment, that +I failed him as a social success. I think he was too shrewd not to have +known in his heart that such a man as he was, twenty years older than I, +with great business responsibilities that filled every hour of his life, +and caring for nothing else--he must have felt that there was a risk +of great unhappiness in marrying the sort of girl I was, brought up to +music and books and unpractical ideas, always enjoying myself in my own +way. But he had really reckoned on me as a wife who would do the honours +of his position in the world; and I found I couldn't.' + +Mrs. Manderson had talked herself into a more emotional mood than she had +yet shown to Trent. Her words flowed freely, and her voice had begun to +ring and give play to a natural expressiveness that must hitherto have +been dulled, he thought, by the shock and self-restraint of the past few +days. Now she turned swiftly from the window and faced him as she went +on, her beautiful face flushed and animated, her eyes gleaming, her +hands moving in slight emphatic gestures, as she surrendered herself to +the impulse of giving speech to things long pent up. + +'The people,' she said. 'Oh, those people! Can you imagine what it must +be for any one who has lived in a world where there was always creative +work in the background, work with some dignity about it, men and women +with professions or arts to follow, with ideals and things to believe +in and quarrel about, some of them wealthy, some of them quite poor; can +you think what it means to step out of that into another world where you +have to be very rich, shamefully rich, to exist at all--where money +is the only thing that counts and the first thing in everybody's +thoughts--where the men who make the millions are so jaded by the work, +that sport is the only thing they can occupy themselves with when they +have any leisure, and the men who don't have to work are even duller +than the men who do, and vicious as well; and the women live for display +and silly amusements and silly immoralities; do you know how awful that +life is? Of course I know there are clever people, and people of taste +in that set, but they're swamped and spoiled, and it's the same thing +in the end; empty, empty! Oh! I suppose I'm exaggerating, and I did make +friends and have some happy times; but that's how I feel after it +all. The seasons in New York and London--how I hated them! And our +house-parties and cruises in the yacht and the rest--the same people, +the same emptiness. + +'And you see, don't you, that my husband couldn't have an idea of all +this. His life was never empty. He did not live it in society, and when +he was in society he had always his business plans and difficulties to +occupy his mind. He hadn't a suspicion of what I felt, and I never +let him know; I couldn't, it wouldn't have been fair. I felt I must +do something to justify myself as his wife, sharing his position and +fortune; and the only thing I could do was to try, and try, to live up +to his idea about my social qualities... I did try. I acted my best. And +it became harder year by year... I never was what they call a popular +hostess, how could I be? I was a failure; but I went on trying... I used +to steal holidays now and then. I used to feel as if I was not doing my +part of a bargain--it sounds horrid to put it like that, I know, but it +was so--when I took one of my old school-friends, who couldn't afford to +travel, away to Italy for a month or two, and we went about cheaply all +by ourselves, and were quite happy; or when I went and made a long stay +in London with some quiet people who had known me all my life, and we +all lived just as in the old days, when we had to think twice about +seats at the theatre, and told each other about cheap dressmakers. Those +and a few other expeditions of the same sort were my best times after +I was married, and they helped me to go through with it the rest of the +time. But I felt my husband would have hated to know how much I enjoyed +every hour of those returns to the old life. + +'And in the end, in spite of everything I could do, he came to know.... +He could see through anything, I think, once his attention was turned to +it. He had always been able to see that I was not fulfilling his idea of +me as a figure in the social world, and I suppose he thought it was +my misfortune rather than my fault. But the moment he began to see, in +spite of my pretending, that I wasn't playing my part with any spirit, +he knew the whole story; he divined how I loathed and was weary of the +luxury and the brilliancy and the masses of money just because of the +people who lived among them--who were made so by them, I suppose.... +It happened last year. I don't know just how or when. It may have been +suggested to him by some woman--for they all understood, of course. He +said nothing to me, and I think he tried not to change in his manner to +me at first; but such things hurt--and it was working in both of us. +I knew that he knew. After a time we were just being polite and +considerate to each other. Before he found me out we had been on a +footing of--how can I express it to you?--of intelligent companionship, +I might say. We talked without restraint of many things of the kind +we could agree or disagree about without its going very deep... if you +understand. And then that came to an end. I felt that the only possible +basis of our living in each other's company was going under my feet. And +at last it was gone. + +'It had been like that,' she ended simply, 'for months before he died.' +She sank into the corner of a sofa by the window, as though relaxing +her body after an effort. For a few moments both were silent. Trent +was hastily sorting out a tangle of impressions. He was amazed at +the frankness of Mrs. Manderson's story. He was amazed at the vigorous +expressiveness in her telling of it. In this vivid being, carried away +by an impulse to speak, talking with her whole personality, he had seen +the real woman in a temper of activity, as he had already seen the real +woman by chance in a temper of reverie and unguarded emotion. In both +she was very unlike the pale, self-disciplined creature of majesty that +she had been to the world. With that amazement of his went something +like terror of her dark beauty, which excitement kindled into an +appearance scarcely mortal in his eyes. Incongruously there rushed into +his mind, occupied as it was with the affair of the moment, a little +knot of ideas... she was unique not because of her beauty but because +of its being united with intensity of nature; in England all the very +beautiful women were placid, all the fiery women seemed to have burnt up +the best of their beauty; that was why no beautiful woman had ever cast +this sort of spell on him before; when it was a question of wit in +women he had preferred the brighter flame to the duller, without much +regarding the lamp. 'All this is very disputable,' said his reason; and +instinct answered, 'Yes, except that I am under a spell'; and a deeper +instinct cried out, 'Away with it!' He forced his mind back to her +story, and found growing swiftly in him an irrepressible conviction. It +was all very fine; but it would not do. + +'I feel as if I had led you into saying more than you meant to say, +or than I wanted to learn,' he said slowly. 'But there is one brutal +question which is the whole point of my enquiry.' He braced his frame +like one preparing for a plunge into cold waters. 'Mrs. Manderson, will +you assure me that your husband's change toward you had nothing to do +with John Marlowe?' + +And what he had dreaded came. 'Oh!' she cried with a sound of anguish, +her face thrown up and open hands stretched out as if for pity; and then +the hands covered the burning face, and she flung herself aside among +the cushions at her elbow, so that he saw nothing but her heavy crown of +black hair, and her body moving with sobs that stabbed his heart, and a +foot turned inward gracelessly in an abandonment of misery. Like a +tall tower suddenly breaking apart she had fallen in ruins, helplessly +weeping. + +Trent stood up, his face white and calm. With a senseless particularity +he placed his envelope exactly in the centre of the little polished +table. He walked to the door, closed it noiselessly as he went out, and +in a few minutes was tramping through the rain out of sight of White +Gables, going nowhere, seeing nothing, his soul shaken in the fierce +effort to kill and trample the raving impulse that had seized him in the +presence of her shame, that clamoured to him to drag himself before her +feet, to pray for pardon, to pour out words--he knew not what words, +but he knew that they had been straining at his lips--to wreck his +self-respect for ever, and hopelessly defeat even the crazy purpose that +had almost possessed him, by drowning her wretchedness in disgust, by +babbling with the tongue of infatuation to a woman with a husband not +yet buried, to a woman who loved another man. + +Such was the magic of her tears, quickening in a moment the thing which, +as his heart had known, he must not let come to life. For Philip Trent +was a young man, younger in nature even than his years, and a way of +life that kept his edge keen and his spirit volcanic had prepared him +very ill for the meeting that comes once in the early manhood of most of +us, usually--as in his case, he told himself harshly--to no purpose but +the testing of virtue and the power of the will. + + + + +CHAPTER XI: Hitherto Unpublished + +My Dear Molloy:--This is in case I don't find you at your office. I +have found out who killed Manderson, as this dispatch will show. This +was my problem; yours is to decide what use to make of it. It definitely +charges an unsuspected person with having a hand in the crime, and +practically accuses him of being the murderer, so I don't suppose you +will publish it before his arrest, and I believe it is illegal to do so +afterwards until he has been tried and found guilty. You may decide to +publish it then; and you may find it possible to make some use or other +before then of the facts I have given. That is your affair. Meanwhile, +will you communicate with Scotland Yard, and let them see what I have +written? I have done with the Manderson mystery, and I wish to God I had +never touched it. Here follows my dispatch. P.T. + +Marlstone, June 16th. + +I begin this, my third and probably my final +dispatch to the Record upon the Manderson murder, with conflicting +feelings. I have a strong sense of relief, because in my two previous +dispatches I was obliged, in the interests of justice, to withhold facts +ascertained by me which would, if published then, have put a certain +person upon his guard and possibly have led to his escape; for he is +a man of no common boldness and resource. These facts I shall now set +forth. But I have, I confess, no liking for the story of treachery and +perverted cleverness which I have to tell. It leaves an evil taste +in the mouth, a savour of something revolting in the deeper puzzle of +motive underlying the puzzle of the crime itself, which I believe I have +solved. + +It will be remembered that in my first dispatch I described the +situation as I found it on reaching this place early on Tuesday morning. +I told how the body was found, and in what state; dwelt upon the +complete mystery surrounding the crime, and mentioned one or two +local theories about it; gave some account of the dead man's domestic +surroundings; and furnished a somewhat detailed description of his +movements on the evening before his death. I gave, too, a little fact +which may or may not have seemed irrelevant: that a quantity of whisky +much larger than Manderson habitually drank at night had disappeared +from his private decanter since the last time he was seen alive. On +the following day, the day of the inquest, I wired little more than an +abstract of the proceedings in the coroner's court, of which a verbatim +report was made at my request by other representatives of the Record. +That day is not yet over as I write these lines; and I have now +completed an investigation which has led me directly to the man who must +be called upon to clear himself of the guilt of the death of Manderson. + +Apart from the central mystery of Manderson's having arisen long before +his usual hour to go out and meet his death, there were two minor points +of oddity about this affair which, I suppose, must have occurred to +thousands of those who have read the accounts in the newspapers: points +apparent from the very beginning. The first of these was that, whereas +the body was found at a spot not thirty yards from the house, all the +people of the house declared that they had heard no cry or other noise +in the night. Manderson had not been gagged; the marks on his wrists +pointed to a struggle with his assailant; and there had been at least +one pistol-shot. (I say at least one, because it is the fact that in +murders with firearms, especially if there has been a struggle, the +criminal commonly misses his victim at least once.) This odd fact seemed +all the more odd to me when I learned that Martin the butler was a bad +sleeper, very keen of hearing, and that his bedroom, with the window +open, faced almost directly toward the shed by which the body was found. + +The second odd little fact that was apparent from the outset was +Manderson's leaving his dental plate by the bedside. It appeared that he +had risen and dressed himself fully, down to his necktie and watch and +chain, and had gone out of doors without remembering to put in this +plate, which he had carried in his mouth every day for years, and which +contained all the visible teeth of the upper jaw. It had evidently not +been a case of frantic hurry; and even if it had been, he would have +been more likely to forget almost anything than this denture. Any one +who wears such a removable plate will agree that the putting it in on +rising is a matter of second nature. Speaking as well as eating, to say +nothing of appearances, depend upon it. + +Neither of these queer details, however, seemed to lead to anything at +the moment. They only awakened in me a suspicion of something lurking in +the shadows, something that lent more mystery to the already mysterious +question how and why and through whom Manderson met his end. + +With this much of preamble I come at once to the discovery which, in the +first few hours of my investigation, set me upon the path which so much +ingenuity had been directed to concealing. + +I have already described Manderson's bedroom, the rigorous simplicity +of its furnishing, contrasted so strangely with the multitude of clothes +and shoes, and the manner of its communication with Mrs. Manderson's +room. On the upper of the two long shelves on which the shoes were +ranged I found, where I had been told I should find them, the pair of +patent leather shoes which Manderson had worn on the evening before his +death. I had glanced over the row, not with any idea of their giving me +a clue, but merely because it happens that I am a judge of shoes, and +all these shoes were of the very best workmanship. But my attention was +at once caught by a little peculiarity in this particular pair. They +were the lightest kind of lace-up dress shoes, very thin in the sole, +without toe-caps, and beautifully made, like all the rest. These shoes +were old and well worn; but being carefully polished, and fitted, as all +the shoes were, upon their trees, they looked neat enough. What caught +my eye was a slight splitting of the leather in that part of the upper +known as the vamp--a splitting at the point where the two laced parts of +the shoe rise from the upper. It is at this point that the strain +comes when a tight shoe of this sort is forced upon the foot, and it +is usually guarded with a strong stitching across the bottom of the +opening. In both the shoes I was examining this stitching had parted, +and the leather below had given way. The splitting was a tiny affair in +each case, not an eighth of an inch long, and the torn edges having come +together again on the removal of the strain, there was nothing that a +person who was not something of a connoisseur of shoe-leather would have +noticed. Even less noticeable, and indeed not to be seen at all unless +one were looking for it, was a slight straining of the stitches uniting +the upper to the sole. At the toe and on the outer side of each +shoe this stitching had been dragged until it was visible on a close +inspection of the join. + +These indications, of course, could mean only one thing--the shoes had +been worn by some one for whom they were too small. + +Now it was clear at a glance that Manderson was always thoroughly well +shod, and careful, perhaps a little vain, of his small and narrow feet. +Not one of the other shoes in the collection, as I soon ascertained, +bore similar marks; they had not belonged to a man who squeezed himself +into tight shoe-leather. Someone who was not Manderson had worn these +shoes, and worn them recently; the edges of the tears were quite fresh. + +The possibility of some one having worn them since Manderson's death +was not worth considering; the body had only been found about twenty-six +hours when I was examining the shoes; besides, why should any one wear +them? The possibility of some one having borrowed Manderson's shoes and +spoiled them for him while he was alive seemed about as negligible. With +others to choose from he would not have worn these. Besides, the only +men in the place were the butler and the two secretaries. But I do not +say that I gave those possibilities even as much consideration as they +deserved, for my thoughts were running away with me, and I have always +found it good policy, in cases of this sort, to let them have their +heads. Ever since I had got out of the train at Marlstone early that +morning I had been steeped in details of the Manderson affair; the thing +had not once been out of my head. Suddenly the moment had come when the +daemon wakes and begins to range. + +Let me put it less fancifully. After all, it is a detail of psychology +familiar enough to all whose business or inclination brings them in +contact with difficult affairs of any kind. Swiftly and spontaneously, +when chance or effort puts one in possession of the key-fact in any +system of baffling circumstances, one's ideas seem to rush to group +themselves anew in relation to that fact, so that they are suddenly +rearranged almost before one has consciously grasped the significance +of the key-fact itself. In the present instance, my brain had scarcely +formulated within itself the thought, 'Somebody who was not Manderson +has been wearing these shoes,' when there flew into my mind a flock of +ideas, all of the same character and all bearing upon this new notion. +It was unheard-of for Manderson to drink much whisky at night. It was +very unlike him to be untidily dressed, as the body was when found--the +cuffs dragged up inside the sleeves, the shoes unevenly laced; very +unlike him not to wash when he rose, and to put on last night's evening +shirt and collar and underclothing; very unlike him to have his watch in +the waistcoat pocket that was not lined with leather for its reception. +(In my first dispatch I mentioned all these points, but neither I nor +any one else saw anything significant in them when examining the body.) +It was very strange, in the existing domestic situation, that Manderson +should be communicative to his wife about his doings, especially at the +time of his going to bed, when he seldom spoke to her at all. It was +extraordinary that Manderson should leave his bedroom without his false +teeth. + +All these thoughts, as I say, came flocking into my mind together, +drawn from various parts of my memory of the morning's enquiries and +observations. They had all presented themselves, in far less time than +it takes to read them as set down here, as I was turning over the shoes, +confirming my own certainty on the main point. And yet when I confronted +the definite idea that had sprung up suddenly and unsupported before +me--'It was not Manderson who was in the house that night'--it seemed a +stark absurdity at the first formulating. It was certainly Manderson who +had dined at the house and gone out with Marlowe in the car. People +had seen him at close quarters. But was it he who returned at ten? That +question too seemed absurd enough. But I could not set it aside. It +seemed to me as if a faint light was beginning to creep over the whole +expanse of my mind, as it does over land at dawn, and that presently the +sun would be rising. I set myself to think over, one by one, the points +that had just occurred to me, so as to make out, if possible, why +any man masquerading as Manderson should have done these things that +Manderson would not have done. + +I had not to cast about very long for the motive a man might have in +forcing his feet into Manderson's narrow shoes. The examination of +footmarks is very well understood by the police. But not only was the +man concerned to leave no footmarks of his own: he was concerned to +leave Manderson's, if any; his whole plan, if my guess was right, must +have been directed to producing the belief that Manderson was in +the place that night. Moreover, his plan did not turn upon leaving +footmarks. He meant to leave the shoes themselves, and he did so. The +maidservant had found them outside the bedroom door, as Manderson +always left his shoes, and had polished them, replacing them on the +shoe-shelves later in the morning, after the body had been found. + +When I came to consider in this new light the leaving of the false +teeth, an explanation of what had seemed the maddest part of the affair +broke upon me at once. A dental plate is not inseparable from its owner. +If my guess was right, the unknown had brought the denture to the house +with him, and left it in the bedroom, with the same object as he had in +leaving the shoes: to make it impossible that any one should doubt that +Manderson had been in the house and had gone to bed there. This, of +course, led me to the inference that Manderson was dead before the false +Manderson came to the house, and other things confirmed this. + +For instance, the clothing, to which I now turned in my review of the +position. If my guess was right, the unknown in Manderson's shoes +had certainly had possession of Manderson's trousers, waistcoat, and +shooting jacket. They were there before my eyes in the bedroom; and +Martin had seen the jacket--which nobody could have mistaken--upon the +man who sat at the telephone in the library. It was now quite plain +(if my guess was right) that this unmistakable garment was a cardinal +feature of the unknown's plan. He knew that Martin would take him for +Manderson at the first glance. + +And there my thinking was interrupted by the realization of a thing +that had escaped me before. So strong had been the influence of the +unquestioned assumption that it was Manderson who was present that +night, that neither I nor, as far as I know, any one else had noted the +point. Martin had not seen the man's face, nor had Mrs. Manderson. + +Mrs. Manderson (judging by her evidence at the inquest, of which, as +I have said, I had a full report made by the Record stenographers in +court) had not seen the man at all. She hardly could have done, as I +shall show presently. She had merely spoken with him as she lay half +asleep, resuming a conversation which she had had with her living +husband about an hour before. Martin, I perceived, could only have +seen the man's back, as he sat crouching over the telephone; no doubt +a characteristic pose was imitated there. And the man had worn his hat, +Manderson's broad-brimmed hat! There is too much character in the back +of a head and neck. The unknown, in fact, supposing him to have been of +about Manderson's build, had had no need for any disguise, apart from +the jacket and the hat and his powers of mimicry. + +I paused there to contemplate the coolness and ingenuity of the man. +The thing, I now began to see, was so safe and easy, provided that +his mimicry was good enough, and that his nerve held. Those two points +assured, only some wholly unlikely accident could unmask him. + +To come back to my puzzling out of the matter as I sat in the dead man's +bedroom with the tell-tale shoes before me. The reason for the entrance +by the window instead of by the front door will already have occurred +to any one reading this. Entering by the door, the man would almost +certainly have been heard by the sharp-eared Martin in his pantry just +across the hall; he might have met him face to face. + +Then there was the problem of the whisky. I had not attached much +importance to it; whisky will sometimes vanish in very queer ways in a +household of eight or nine persons; but it had seemed strange that it +should go in that way on that evening. Martin had been plainly quite +dumbfounded by the fact. It seemed to me now that many a man--fresh, +as this man in all likelihood was, from a bloody business, from the +unclothing of a corpse, and with a desperate part still to play--would +turn to that decanter as to a friend. No doubt he had a drink before +sending for Martin; after making that trick with ease and success, he +probably drank more. + +But he had known when to stop. The worst part of the enterprise was +before him: the business--clearly of such vital importance to him, for +whatever reason--of shutting himself in Manderson's room and preparing +a body of convincing evidence of its having been occupied by Manderson; +and this with the risk--very slight, as no doubt he understood, but how +unnerving!--of the woman on the other side of the half-open door awaking +and somehow discovering him. True, if he kept out of her limited field +of vision from the bed, she could only see him by getting up and going +to the door. I found that to a person lying in her bed, which stood +with its head to the wall a little beyond the door, nothing was visible +through the doorway but one of the cupboards by Manderson's bed-head. +Moreover, since this man knew the ways of the household, he would think +it most likely that Mrs. Manderson was asleep. Another point with him, I +guessed, might have been the estrangement between the husband and wife, +which they had tried to cloak by keeping up, among other things, their +usual practice of sleeping in connected rooms, but which was well known +to all who had anything to do with them. He would hope from this that +if Mrs. Manderson heard him, she would take no notice of the supposed +presence of her husband. + +So, pursuing my hypothesis, I followed the unknown up to the bedroom, +and saw him setting about his work. And it was with a catch in my own +breath that I thought of the hideous shock with which he must have heard +the sound of all others he was dreading most: the drowsy voice from the +adjoining room. + +What Mrs. Manderson actually said, she was unable to recollect at the +inquest. She thinks she asked her supposed husband whether he had had a +good run in the car. And now what does the unknown do? Here, I think, we +come to a supremely significant point. Not only does he--standing rigid +there, as I picture him, before the dressing-table, listening to the +sound of his own leaping heart--not only does he answer the lady in the +voice of Manderson; he volunteers an explanatory statement. He tells +her that he has, on a sudden inspiration, sent Marlowe in the car +to Southampton; that he has sent him to bring back some important +information from a man leaving for Paris by the steamboat that morning. +Why these details from a man who had long been uncommunicative to his +wife, and that upon a point scarcely likely to interest her? Why these +details about Marlowe? + +Having taken my story so far, I now put forward the following definite +propositions: that between a time somewhere about ten, when the car +started, and a time somewhere about eleven, Manderson was shot--probably +at a considerable distance from the house, as no shot was heard; that +the body was brought back, left by the shed, and stripped of its outer +clothing; that at some time round about eleven o'clock a man who was +not Manderson, wearing Manderson's shoes, hat, and jacket, entered the +library by the garden window; that he had with him Manderson's black +trousers, waistcoat, and motor-coat, the denture taken from Manderson's +mouth, and the weapon with which he had been murdered; that he concealed +these, rang the bell for the butler, and sat down at the telephone +with his hat on and his back to the door; that he was occupied with the +telephone all the time Martin was in the room; that on going up to the +bedroom floor he quietly entered Marlowe's room and placed the revolver +with which the crime had been committed--Marlowe's revolver--in the case +on the mantelpiece from which it had been taken; and that he then went +to Manderson's room, placed Manderson's shoes outside the door, threw +Manderson's garments on a chair, placed the denture in the bowl by the +bedside, and selected a suit of clothes, a pair of shoes, and a tie from +those in the bedroom. + +Here I will pause in my statement of this man's proceedings to go into a +question for which the way is now sufficiently prepared: + +Who was the false Manderson? + +Reviewing what was known to me, or might almost with certainty be +surmised, about that person, I set down the following five conclusions: + +(1.) He had been in close relations with the dead man. In his acting +before Martin and his speaking to Mrs. Manderson he had made no mistake. + +(2.) He was of a build not unlike Manderson's, especially as to height +and breadth of shoulder, which mainly determine the character of the +back of a seated figure when the head is concealed and the body loosely +clothed. But his feet were larger, though not greatly larger, than +Manderson's. + +(3.) He had considerable aptitude for mimicry and acting--probably some +experience too. + +(4.) He had a minute acquaintance with the ways of the Manderson +household. + +(5.) He was under a vital necessity of creating the belief that +Manderson was alive and in that house until some time after midnight on +the Sunday night. + +So much I took as either certain or next door to it. It was as far as I +could see. And it was far enough. + +I proceed to give, in an order corresponding with the numbered +paragraphs above, such relevant facts as I was able to obtain about Mr +John Marlowe, from himself and other sources: + +(1.) He had been Mr. Manderson's private secretary, upon a footing of +great intimacy, for nearly four years. + +(2.) The two men were nearly of the same height, about five feet eleven +inches; both were powerfully built and heavy in the shoulder. Marlowe, +who was the younger by some twenty years, was rather slighter about the +body, though Manderson was a man in good physical condition. Marlowe's +shoes (of which I examined several pairs) were roughly about one +shoemaker's size longer and broader than Manderson's. + +(3.) In the afternoon of the first day of my investigation, after +arriving at the results already detailed, I sent a telegram to a +personal friend, a Fellow of a college at Oxford, whom I knew to be +interested in theatrical matters, in these terms: + +PLEASE WIRE JOHN MARLOWE'S RECORD IN CONNECTION WITH ACTING AT OXFORD +SOME TIME PAST DECADE VERY URGENT AND CONFIDENTIAL. + +My friend replied in the following telegram, which reached me next +morning (the morning of the inquest): + +MARLOWE WAS MEMBER O.U.D.S FOR THREE YEARS AND PRESIDENT 19-- PLAYED +BARDOLPH CLEON AND MERCUTIO EXCELLED IN CHARACTER ACTING AND IMITATIONS +IN GREAT DEMAND AT SMOKERS WAS HERO OF SOME HISTORIC HOAXES. + +I had been led to send the telegram which brought this very helpful +answer by seeing on the mantel-shelf in Marlowe's bedroom a photograph +of himself and two others in the costume of Falstaff's three followers, +with an inscription from The Merry Wives, and by noting that it bore the +imprint of an Oxford firm of photographers. + +(4.) During his connection with Manderson, Marlowe had lived as one +of the family. No other person, apart from the servants, had his +opportunities for knowing the domestic life of the Mandersons in detail. + +(5.) I ascertained beyond doubt that Marlowe arrived at a hotel in +Southampton on the Monday morning at 6.30, and there proceeded to carry +out the commission which, according to his story, and according to the +statement made to Mrs. Manderson in the bedroom by the false Manderson, +had been entrusted to him by his employer. He had then returned in the +car to Marlstone, where he had shown great amazement and horror at the +news of the murder. + +*** + +These, I say, are the relevant facts about Marlowe. We must now examine +fact number 5 (as set out above) in connection with conclusion number 5 +about the false Manderson. + +I would first draw attention to one important fact. The only person who +professed to have heard Manderson mention Southampton at all before he +started in the car was Marlowe. His story--confirmed to some extent by +what the butler overheard--was that the journey was all arranged in a +private talk before they set out, and he could not say, when I put the +question to him, why Manderson should have concealed his intentions by +giving out that he was going with Marlowe for a moonlight drive. This +point, however, attracted no attention. Marlowe had an absolutely +air-tight alibi in his presence at Southampton by 6.30; nobody thought +of him in connection with a murder which must have been committed after +12.30--the hour at which Martin the butler had gone to bed. But it was +the Manderson who came back from the drive who went out of his way to +mention Southampton openly to two persons. He even went so far as +to ring up a hotel at Southampton and ask questions which bore out +Marlowe's story of his errand. This was the call he was busy with when +Martin was in the library. + +Now let us consider the alibi. If Manderson was in the house that night, +and if he did not leave it until some time after 12.30, Marlowe could +not by any possibility have had a direct hand in the murder. It is a +question of the distance between Marlstone and Southampton. If he had +left Marlstone in the car at the hour when he is supposed to have done +so--between 10 and 10.30--with a message from Manderson, the run would +be quite an easy one to do in the time. But it would be physically +impossible for the car--a 15 h.p. four-cylinder Northumberland, an +average medium-power car--to get to Southampton by half-past six unless +it left Marlstone by midnight at latest. Motorists who will examine the +road-map and make the calculations required, as I did in Manderson's +library that day, will agree that on the facts as they appeared there +was absolutely no case against Marlowe. + +But even if they were not as they appeared; if Manderson was dead by +eleven o'clock, and if at about that time Marlowe impersonated him at +White Gables; if Marlowe retired to Manderson's bedroom--how can all +this be reconciled with his appearance next morning at Southampton? He +had to get out of the house, unseen and unheard, and away in the car by +midnight. And Martin, the sharp-eared Martin, was sitting up until 12.30 +in his pantry, with the door open, listening for the telephone bell. +Practically he was standing sentry over the foot of the staircase, the +only staircase leading down from the bedroom floor. + +With this difficulty we arrive at the last and crucial phase of my +investigation. Having the foregoing points clearly in mind, I spent the +rest of the day before the inquest in talking to various persons and in +going over my story, testing it link by link. I could only find the one +weakness which seemed to be involved in Martin's sitting up until 12.30; +and since his having been instructed to do so was certainly a part of +the plan, meant to clinch the alibi for Marlowe, I knew there must be an +explanation somewhere. If I could not find that explanation, my theory +was valueless. I must be able to show that at the time Martin went up to +bed the man who had shut himself in Manderson's bedroom might have been +many miles away on the road to Southampton. + +I had, however, a pretty good idea already--as perhaps the reader of +these lines has by this time, if I have made myself clear--of how the +escape of the false Manderson before midnight had been contrived. But I +did not want what I was now about to do to be known. If I had chanced to +be discovered at work, there would have been no concealing the direction +of my suspicions. I resolved not to test them on this point until the +next day, during the opening proceedings at the inquest. This was to be +held, I knew, at the hotel, and I reckoned upon having White Gables to +myself so far as the principal inmates were concerned. + +So in fact it happened. By the time the proceedings at the hotel had +begun I was hard at work at White Gables. I had a camera with me. I +made search, on principles well known to and commonly practised by the +police, and often enough by myself, for certain indications. Without +describing my search, I may say at once that I found and was able to +photograph two fresh fingerprints, very large and distinct, on the +polished front of the right-hand top drawer of the chest of drawers +in Manderson's bedroom; five more (among a number of smaller and less +recent impressions made by other hands) on the glasses of the French +window in Mrs. Manderson's room, a window which always stood open at +night with a curtain before it; and three more upon the glass bowl in +which Manderson's dental plate had been found lying. + +I took the bowl with me from White Gables. I took also a few articles +which I selected from Marlowe's bedroom, as bearing the most distinct +of the innumerable fingerprints which are always to be found upon toilet +articles in daily use. I already had in my possession, made upon leaves +cut from my pocket diary, some excellent fingerprints of Marlowe's +which he had made in my presence without knowing it. I had shown him the +leaves, asking if he recognized them; and the few seconds during which +he had held them in his fingers had sufficed to leave impressions which +I was afterwards able to bring out. + +By six o'clock in the evening, two hours after the jury had brought in +their verdict against a person or persons unknown, I had completed my +work, and was in a position to state that two of the five large prints +made on the window-glasses, and the three on the bowl, were made by the +left hand of Marlowe; that the remaining three on the window and the two +on the drawer were made by his right hand. + +By eight o'clock I had made at the establishment of Mr. H. T. Copper, +photographer, of Bishopsbridge, and with his assistance, a dozen +enlarged prints of the finger-marks of Marlowe, clearly showing the +identity of those which he unknowingly made in my presence and those +left upon articles in his bedroom, with those found by me as I have +described, and thus establishing the facts that Marlowe was recently in +Manderson's bedroom, where he had in the ordinary way no business, +and in Mrs. Manderson's room, where he had still less. I hope it may be +possible to reproduce these prints for publication with this dispatch. + +At nine o'clock I was back in my room at the hotel and sitting down to +begin this manuscript. I had my story complete. I bring it to a close +by advancing these further propositions: that on the night of the murder +the impersonator of Manderson, being in Manderson's bedroom, told Mrs +Manderson, as he had already told Martin, that Marlowe was at that +moment on his way to Southampton; that having made his dispositions in +the room, he switched off the light, and lay in the bed in his clothes; +that he waited until he was assured that Mrs. Manderson was asleep; that +he then arose and stealthily crossed Mrs. Manderson's bedroom in his +stocking feet, having under his arm the bundle of clothing and shoes for +the body; that he stepped behind the curtain, pushing the doors of +the window a little further open with his hands, strode over the iron +railing of the balcony, and let himself down until only a drop of a few +feet separated him from the soft turf of the lawn. + +All this might very well have been accomplished within half an hour of +his entering Manderson's bedroom, which, according to Martin, he did at +about half-past eleven. + +What followed your readers and the authorities may conjecture for +themselves. The corpse was found next morning clothed--rather untidily. +Marlowe in the car appeared at Southampton by half-past six. + +I bring this manuscript to an end in my sitting-room at the hotel at +Marlstone. It is four o'clock in the morning. I leave for London by the +noon train from Bishopsbridge, and immediately after arriving I shall +place these pages in your hands. I ask you to communicate the substance +of them to the Criminal Investigation Department. + +PHILIP TRENT. + + + + +CHAPTER XII: Evil Days + +'I am returning the cheque you sent for what I did on the Manderson +case,' Trent wrote to Sir James Molloy from Munich, whither he had +gone immediately after handing in at the Record office a brief dispatch +bringing his work on the case to an unexciting close. 'What I sent you +wasn't worth one-tenth of the amount; but I should have no scruple about +pocketing it if I hadn't taken a fancy--never mind why--not to touch +any money at all for this business. I should like you, if there is no +objection, to pay for the stuff at your ordinary space-rate, and hand +the money to some charity which does not devote itself to bullying +people, if you know of any such. I have come to this place to see some +old friends and arrange my ideas, and the idea that comes out uppermost +is that for a little while I want some employment with activity in it. I +find I can't paint at all: I couldn't paint a fence. Will you try me as +your Own Correspondent somewhere? If you can find me a good adventure I +will send you good accounts. After that I could settle down and work.' + +Sir James sent him instructions by telegram to proceed at once to +Kurland and Livonia, where Citizen Browning was abroad again, and town +and countryside blazed in revolt. It was a roving commission, and for +two months Trent followed his luck. It served him not less well than +usual. He was the only correspondent who saw General Dragilew killed in +the street at Volmar by a girl of eighteen. He saw burnings, lynchings, +fusillades, hangings; each day his soul sickened afresh at the +imbecilities born of misrule. Many nights he lay down in danger. Many +days he went fasting. But there was never an evening or a morning when +he did not see the face of the woman whom he hopelessly loved. + +He discovered in himself an unhappy pride at the lasting force of +this infatuation. It interested him as a phenomenon; it amazed and +enlightened him. Such a thing had not visited him before. It confirmed +so much that he had found dubious in the recorded experience of men. + +It was not that, at thirty-two, he could pretend to ignorance of this +world of emotion. About his knowledge let it be enough to say that +what he had learned had come unpursued and unpurchased, and was without +intolerable memories; broken to the realities of sex, he was still +troubled by its inscrutable history. He went through life full of a +strange respect for certain feminine weakness and a very simple terror +of certain feminine strength. He had held to a rather lukewarm faith +that something remained in him to be called forth, and that the voice +that should call would be heard in its own time, if ever, and not +through any seeking. + +But he had not thought of the possibility that, if this proved true some +day, the truth might come in a sinister shape. The two things that had +taken him utterly by surprise in the matter of his feeling towards Mabel +Manderson were the insane suddenness of its uprising in full strength +and its extravagant hopelessness. Before it came, he had been much +disposed to laugh at the permanence of unrequited passion as a generous +boyish delusion. He knew now that he had been wrong, and he was living +bitterly in the knowledge. + +Before the eye of his fancy the woman always came just as she was when +he had first had sight of her, with the gesture which he had surprised +as he walked past unseen on the edge of the cliff; that great gesture of +passionate joy in her new liberty which had told him more plainly than +speech that her widowhood was a release from torment, and had confirmed +with terrible force the suspicion, active in his mind before, that it +was her passport to happiness with a man whom she loved. He could not +with certainty name to himself the moment when he had first suspected +that it might be so. The seed of the thought must have been sown, he +believed, at his first meeting with Marlowe; his mind would have noted +automatically that such evident strength and grace, with the sort of +looks and manners that the tall young man possessed, might go far with +any woman of unfixed affections. And the connection of this with what +Mr. Cupples had told him of the Mandersons' married life must have formed +itself in the unconscious depths of his mind. Certainly it had presented +itself as an already established thing when he began, after satisfying +himself of the identity of the murderer, to cast about for the motive +of the crime. Motive, motive! How desperately he had sought for another, +turning his back upon that grim thought, that Marlowe--obsessed by +passion like himself, and privy perhaps to maddening truths about the +wife's unhappiness--had taken a leaf, the guiltiest, from the book +of Bothwell. But in all his investigations at the time, in all his +broodings on the matter afterwards, he had been able to discover nothing +that could prompt Marlowe to such a deed--nothing but that temptation, +the whole strength of which he could not know, but which if it had +existed must have pressed urgently upon a bold spirit in which scruple +had been somehow paralysed. If he could trust his senses at all, the +young man was neither insane nor by nature evil. But that could not +clear him. Murder for a woman's sake, he thought, was not a rare crime, +Heaven knew! If the modern feebleness of impulse in the comfortable +classes, and their respect for the modern apparatus of detection, had +made it rare among them, it was yet far from impossible. It only needed +a man of equal daring and intelligence, his soul drugged with the +vapours of an intoxicating intrigue, to plan and perform such a deed. + +A thousand times, with a heart full of anguish, he had sought to reason +away the dread that Mabel Manderson had known too much of what had been +intended against her husband's life. That she knew all the truth after +the thing was done he could not doubt; her unforgettable collapse in his +presence when the question about Marlowe was suddenly and bluntly put, +had swept away his last hope that there was no love between the pair, +and had seemed to him, moreover, to speak of dread of discovery. In any +case, she knew the truth after reading what he had left with her; and it +was certain that no public suspicion had been cast upon Marlowe since. +She had destroyed his manuscript, then, and taken him at his word to +keep the secret that threatened her lover's life. + +But it was the monstrous thought that she might have known murder was +brewing, and guiltily kept silence, that haunted Trent's mind. She might +have suspected, have guessed something; was it conceivable that she was +aware of the whole plot, that she connived? He could never forget that +his first suspicion of Marlowe's motive in the crime had been roused by +the fact that his escape was made through the lady's room. At that time, +when he had not yet seen her, he had been ready enough to entertain the +idea of her equal guilt and her co-operation. He had figured to himself +some passionate hysterique, merciless as a cat in her hate and her love, +a zealous abettor, perhaps even the ruling spirit in the crime. + +Then he had seen her, had spoken with her, had helped her in her +weakness; and such suspicions, since their first meeting, had seemed the +vilest of infamy. He had seen her eyes and her mouth; he had breathed +the woman's atmosphere. Trent was one of those who fancy they can +scent true wickedness in the air. In her presence he had felt an inward +certainty of her ultimate goodness of heart; and it was nothing against +this that she had abandoned herself a moment, that day on the cliff, to +the sentiment of relief at the ending of her bondage, of her years of +starved sympathy and unquickened motherhood. That she had turned to +Marlowe in her destitution he believed; that she had any knowledge of +his deadly purpose he did not believe. + +And yet, morning and evening the sickening doubts returned, and he +recalled again that it was almost in her presence that Marlowe had made +his preparations in the bedroom of the murdered man, that it was by the +window of her own chamber that he had escaped from the house. Had he +forgotten his cunning and taken the risk of telling her then? Or had he, +as Trent thought more likely, still played his part with her then, +and stolen off while she slept? He did not think she had known of the +masquerade when she gave evidence at the inquest; it read like honest +evidence. Or--the question would never be silenced, though he scorned +it--had she lain expecting the footsteps in the room and the whisper +that should tell her that it was done? Among the foul possibilities of +human nature, was it possible that black ruthlessness and black deceit +as well were hidden behind that good and straight and gentle seeming? + +These thoughts would scarcely leave him when he was alone. + +*** + +Trent served Sir James, well earning his pay for six months, and then +returned to Paris where he went to work again with a better heart. His +powers had returned to him, and he began to live more happily than +he had expected among a tribe of strangely assorted friends, French, +English, and American, artists, poets, journalists, policemen, +hotel-keepers, soldiers, lawyers, business men, and others. His old +faculty of sympathetic interest in his fellows won for him, just as in +his student days, privileges seldom extended to the Briton. He enjoyed +again the rare experience of being taken into the bosom of a Frenchman's +family. He was admitted to the momentous confidence of les jeunes, and +found them as sure that they had surprised the secrets of art and life +as the departed jeunes of ten years before had been. + +The bosom of the Frenchman's family was the same as those he had known +in the past, even to the patterns of the wallpaper and movables. But +the jeunes, he perceived with regret, were totally different from their +forerunners. They were much more shallow and puerile, much less really +clever. The secrets they wrested from the Universe were not such +important and interesting secrets as had been wrested by the old jeunes. +This he believed and deplored until one day he found himself seated at +a restaurant next to a too well-fed man whom, in spite of the ravages +of comfortable living, he recognized as one of the jeunes of his own +period. This one had been wont to describe himself and three or four +others as the Hermits of the New Parnassus. He and his school had talked +outside cafes and elsewhere more than solitaries do as a rule; but, +then, rules were what they had vowed themselves to destroy. They +proclaimed that verse, in particular, was free. The Hermit of the +New Parnassus was now in the Ministry of the Interior, and already +decorated: he expressed to Trent the opinion that what France needed +most was a hand of iron. He was able to quote the exact price paid for +certain betrayals of the country, of which Trent had not previously +heard. + +Thus he was brought to make the old discovery that it was he who had +changed, like his friend of the Administration, and that les jeunes were +still the same. Yet he found it hard to say what precisely he had lost +that so greatly mattered; unless indeed it were so simple a thing as his +high spirits. + +One morning in June, as he descended the slope of the Rue des Martyrs, +he saw approaching a figure that he remembered. He glanced quickly +round, for the thought of meeting Mr. Bunner again was unacceptable. For +some time he had recognized that his wound was healing under the spell +of creative work; he thought less often of the woman he loved, and with +less pain. He would not have the memory of those three days reopened. + +But the straight and narrow thoroughfare offered no refuge, and the +American saw him almost at once. + +His unforced geniality made Trent ashamed, for he had liked the man. +They sat long over a meal, and Mr. Bunner talked. Trent listened to +him, now that he was in for it, with genuine pleasure, now and then +contributing a question or remark. Besides liking his companion, he +enjoyed his conversation, with its unending verbal surprises, for its +own sake. + +Bunner was, it appeared, resident in Paris as the chief Continental +agent of the Manderson firm, and fully satisfied with his position and +prospects. He discoursed on these for some twenty minutes. This subject +at length exhausted, he went on to tell Trent, who confessed that he had +been away from England for a year, that Marlowe had shortly after the +death of Manderson entered his father's business, which was now again in +a flourishing state, and had already come to be practically in control +of it. They had kept up their intimacy, and were even now planning a +holiday for the summer. Mr. Bunner spoke with generous admiration of his +friend's talent for affairs. 'Jack Marlowe has a natural big head,' he +declared, 'and if he had more experience, I wouldn't want to have him up +against me. He would put a crimp in me every time.' + +As the American's talk flowed on, Trent listened with a slowly growing +perplexity. It became more and more plain that something was very wrong +in his theory of the situation; there was no mention of its central +figure. Presently Mr. Bunner mentioned that Marlowe was engaged to +be married to an Irish girl, whose charms he celebrated with native +enthusiasm. + +Trent clasped his hands savagely together beneath the table. What could +have happened? His ideas were sliding and shifting. At last he forced +himself to put a direct question. + +Mr. Bunner was not very fully informed. He knew that Mrs. Manderson had +left England immediately after the settlement of her husband's affairs, +and had lived for some time in Italy. She had returned not long ago to +London, where she had decided not to live in the house in Mayfair, +and had bought a smaller one in the Hampstead neighbourhood; also, he +understood, one somewhere in the country. She was said to go but little +into society. 'And all the good hard dollars just waiting for some one +to spraddle them around,' said Mr. Bunner, with a note of pathos in his +voice. 'Why, she has money to burn--money to feed to the birds--and +nothing doing. The old man left her more than half his wad. And think of +the figure she might make in the world. She is beautiful, and she is the +best woman I ever met, too. But she couldn't ever seem to get the habit +of spending money the way it ought to be spent.' + +His words now became a soliloquy: Trent's thoughts were occupying all +his attention. He pleaded business soon, and the two men parted with +cordiality. + +Half an hour later Trent was in his studio, swiftly and mechanically +'cleaning up'. He wanted to know what had happened; somehow he must find +out. He could never approach herself, he knew; he would never bring back +to her the shame of that last encounter with him; it was scarcely likely +that he would even set eyes on her. But he must get to know!... Cupples +was in London, Marlowe was there.... And, anyhow, he was sick of Paris. + +Such thoughts came and went; and below them all strained the fibres of +an unseen cord that dragged mercilessly at his heart, and that he cursed +bitterly in the moments when he could not deny to himself that it was +there. The folly, the useless, pitiable folly of it! + +In twenty-four hours his feeble roots in Paris had been torn out. He +was looking over a leaden sea at the shining fortress-wall of the Dover +cliffs. + +*** + +But though he had instinctively picked out the lines of a set purpose +from among the welter of promptings in his mind, he found it delayed at +the very outset. + +He had decided that he must first see Mr. Cupples, who would be in a +position to tell him much more than the American knew. But Mr. Cupples +was away on his travels, not expected to return for a month; and Trent +had no reasonable excuse for hastening his return. Marlowe he would not +confront until he had tried at least to reconnoitre the position. He +constrained himself not to commit the crowning folly of seeking out Mrs +Manderson's house in Hampstead; he could not enter it, and the thought +of the possibility of being seen by her lurking in its neighbourhood +brought the blood to his face. + +He stayed at an hotel, took a studio, and while he awaited Mr. Cupples's +return attempted vainly to lose himself in work. + +At the end of a week he had an idea that he acted upon with eager +precipitancy. She had let fall some word at their last meeting, of a +taste for music. Trent went that evening, and thenceforward regularly, +to the opera. He might see her; and if, in spite of his caution, +she caught sight of him, they could be blind to each other's +presence--anybody might happen to go to the opera. + +So he went alone each evening, passing as quickly as he might through +the people in the vestibule; and each evening he came away knowing that +she had not been in the house. It was a habit that yielded him a sort of +satisfaction along with the guilty excitement of his search; for he too +loved music, and nothing gave him so much peace while its magic endured. + +One night as he entered, hurrying through the brilliant crowd, he felt a +touch on his arm. Flooded with an incredible certainty at the touch, he +turned. + +It was she: so much more radiant in the absence of grief and anxiety, in +the fact that she was smiling, and in the allurement of evening dress, +that he could not speak. She, too, breathed a little quickly, and there +was a light of daring in her eyes and cheeks as she greeted him. + +Her words were few. 'I wouldn't miss a note of Tristan,' she said, 'nor +must you. Come and see me in the interval.' She gave him the number of +the box. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII: Eruption + +The following two months were a period in Trent's life that he has never +since remembered without shuddering. He met Mrs. Manderson half a dozen +times, and each time her cool friendliness, a nicely calculated mean +between mere acquaintance and the first stage of intimacy, baffled and +maddened him. At the opera he had found her, to his further amazement, +with a certain Mrs. Wallace, a frisky matron whom he had known from +childhood. Mrs. Manderson, it appeared, on her return from Italy, had +somehow wandered into circles to which he belonged by nurture and +disposition. It came, she said, of her having pitched her tent in their +hunting-grounds; several of his friends were near neighbours. He had +a dim but horrid recollection of having been on that occasion unlike +himself, ill at ease, burning in the face, talking with idiot loquacity +of his adventures in the Baltic provinces, and finding from time to time +that he was addressing himself exclusively to Mrs. Wallace. The other +lady, when he joined them, had completely lost the slight appearance +of agitation with which she had stopped him in the vestibule. She had +spoken pleasantly to him of her travels, of her settlement in London, +and of people whom they both knew. + +During the last half of the opera, which he had stayed in the box to +hear, he had been conscious of nothing, as he sat behind them, but the +angle of her cheek and the mass of her hair, the lines of her shoulder +and arm, her hand upon the cushion. The black hair had seemed at last +a forest, immeasurable, pathless and enchanted, luring him to a fatal +adventure.... At the end he had been pale and subdued, parting with them +rather formally. + +The next time he saw her--it was at a country house where both were +guests--and the subsequent times, he had had himself in hand. He had +matched her manner and had acquitted himself, he thought, decently, +considering-- + +Considering that he lived in an agony of bewilderment and remorse and +longing. He could make nothing, absolutely nothing, of her attitude. +That she had read his manuscript and understood the suspicion indicated +in his last question to her at White Gables was beyond the possibility +of doubt. Then how could she treat him thus and frankly, as she treated +all the world of men who had done no injury? + +For it had become clear to his intuitive sense, for all the absence of +any shade of differentiation in her outward manner, that an injury had +been done, and that she had felt it. Several times, on the rare and +brief occasions when they had talked apart, he had warning from the same +sense that she was approaching this subject; and each time he had turned +the conversation with the ingenuity born of fear. Two resolutions he +made. The first was that when he had completed a commissioned work which +tied him to London he would go away and stay away. The strain was too +great. He no longer burned to know the truth; he wanted nothing to +confirm his fixed internal conviction by faith, that he had blundered, +that he had misread the situation, misinterpreted her tears, written +himself down a slanderous fool. He speculated no more on Marlowe's +motive in the killing of Manderson. Mr. Cupples returned to London, and +Trent asked him nothing. He knew now that he had been right in those +words--Trent remembered them for the emphasis with which they were +spoken--'So long as she considered herself bound to him... no power on +earth could have persuaded her.' He met Mrs. Manderson at dinner at her +uncle's large and tomb-like house in Bloomsbury, and there he conversed +most of the evening with a professor of archaeology from Berlin. + +His other resolution was that he would not be with her alone. + +But when, a few days after, she wrote asking him to come and see her on +the following afternoon, he made no attempt to excuse himself. This was +a formal challenge. + +*** + +While she celebrated the rites of tea, and for some little time +thereafter, she joined with such natural ease in his slightly fevered +conversation on matters of the day that he began to hope she had changed +what he could not doubt had been her resolve, to corner him and speak to +him gravely. She was to all appearance careless now, smiling so that he +recalled, not for the first time since that night at the opera, what was +written long ago of a Princess of Brunswick: 'Her mouth has ten thousand +charms that touch the soul.' She made a tour of the beautiful room where +she had received him, singling out this treasure or that from the spoils +of a hundred bric-a-brac shops, laughing over her quests, discoveries, +and bargainings. And when he asked if she would delight him again with a +favourite piece of his which he had heard her play at another house, she +consented at once. + +She played with a perfection of execution and feeling that moved him now +as it had moved him before. 'You are a musician born,' he said quietly +when she had finished, and the last tremor of the music had passed away. +'I knew that before I first heard you.' + +'I have played a great deal ever since I can remember. It has been a +great comfort to me,' she said simply, and half-turned to him smiling. +'When did you first detect music in me? Oh, of course: I was at the +opera. But that wouldn't prove much, would it?' + +'No,' he said abstractedly, his sense still busy with the music that +had just ended. 'I think I knew it the first time I saw you.' Then +understanding of his own words came to him, and turned him rigid. For +the first time the past had been invoked. + +There was a short silence. Mrs. Manderson looked at Trent, then hastily +looked away. Colour began to rise in her cheeks, and she pursed her lips +as if for whistling. Then with a defiant gesture of the shoulders which +he remembered she rose suddenly from the piano and placed herself in a +chair opposite to him. + +'That speech of yours will do as well as anything,' she began slowly, +looking at the point of her shoe, 'to bring us to what I wanted to say. +I asked you here today on purpose, Mr. Trent, because I couldn't bear it +any longer. Ever since the day you left me at White Gables I have been +saying to myself that it didn't matter what you thought of me in that +affair; that you were certainly not the kind of man to speak to others +of what you believed about me, after what you had told me of your +reasons for suppressing your manuscript. I asked myself how it could +matter. But all the time, of course, I knew it did matter. It mattered +horribly. Because what you thought was not true.' She raised her eyes +and met his gaze calmly. Trent, with a completely expressionless face, +returned her look. + +'Since I began to know you,' he said, 'I have ceased to think it.' +'Thank you,' said Mrs. Manderson; and blushed suddenly and deeply. Then, +playing with a glove, she added, 'But I want you to know what was true. + +'I did not know if I should ever see you again,' she went on in a lower +voice, 'but I felt that if I did I must speak to you about this. I +thought it would not be hard to do so, because you seemed to me an +understanding person; and besides, a woman who has been married isn't +expected to have the same sort of difficulty as a young girl in speaking +about such things when it is necessary. And then we did meet again, and +I discovered that it was very difficult indeed. You made it difficult.' + +'How?' he asked quietly. + +'I don't know,' said the lady. 'But yes--I do know. It was just because +you treated me exactly as if you had never thought or imagined anything +of that sort about me. I had always supposed that if I saw you again you +would turn on me that hard, horrible sort of look you had when you asked +me that last question--do you remember?--at White Gables. Instead of +that you were just like any other acquaintance. You were just'--she +hesitated and spread out her hands--'nice. You know. After that first +time at the opera when I spoke to you I went home positively wondering +if you had really recognized me. I mean, I thought you might have +recognized my face without remembering who it was.' + +A short laugh broke from Trent in spite of himself, but he said nothing. + +She smiled deprecatingly. 'Well, I couldn't remember if you had spoken +my name; and I thought it might be so. But the next time, at the +Iretons', you did speak it, so I knew; and a dozen times during those +few days I almost brought myself to tell you, but never quite. I began +to feel that you wouldn't let me, that you would slip away from the +subject if I approached it. Wasn't I right? Tell me, please.' He nodded. +'But why?' He remained silent. + +'Well,' she said, 'I will finish what I had to say, and then you +will tell me, I hope, why you had to make it so hard. When I began to +understand that you wouldn't let me talk of the matter to you, it made +me more determined than ever. I suppose you didn't realize that I would +insist on speaking even if you were quite discouraging. I dare say I +couldn't have done it if I had been guilty, as you thought. You walked +into my parlour today, never thinking I should dare. Well, now you see.' + +Mrs. Manderson had lost all her air of hesitancy. She had, as she was +wont to say, talked herself enthusiastic, and in the ardour of her +purpose to annihilate the misunderstanding that had troubled her so long +she felt herself mistress of the situation. + +'I am going to tell you the story of the mistake you made,' she +continued, as Trent, his hands clasped between his knees, still looked +at her enigmatically. 'You will have to believe it, Mr. Trent; it +is utterly true to life, with its confusions and hidden things and +cross-purposes and perfectly natural mistakes that nobody thinks twice +about taking for facts. Please understand that I don't blame you in the +least, and never did, for jumping to the conclusion you did. You knew +that I was estranged from my husband, and you knew what that so often +means. You knew before I told you, I expect, that he had taken up an +injured attitude towards me; and I was silly enough to try and explain +it away. I gave you the explanation of it that I had given myself +at first, before I realized the wretched truth; I told you he was +disappointed in me because I couldn't take a brilliant lead in society. +Well, that was true; he was so. But I could see you weren't convinced. +You had guessed what it took me much longer to see, because I knew how +irrational it was. Yes; my husband was jealous of John Marlowe; you +divined that. + +'Then I behaved like a fool when you let me see you had divined it; it +was such a blow, you understand, when I had supposed all the humiliation +and strain was at an end, and that his delusion had died with him. You +practically asked me if my husband's secretary was not my lover, Mr +Trent--I have to say it, because I want you to understand why I broke +down and made a scene. You took that for a confession; you thought I was +guilty of that, and I think you even thought I might be a party to +the crime, that I had consented.... That did hurt me; but perhaps you +couldn't have thought anything else--I don't know.' + +Trent, who had not hitherto taken his eyes from her face, hung his head +at the words. He did not raise it again as she continued. 'But really it +was simple shock and distress that made me give way, and the memory of +all the misery that mad suspicion had meant to me. And when I pulled +myself together again you had gone.' + +She rose and went to an escritoire beside the window, unlocked a drawer, +and drew out a long, sealed envelope. + +'This is the manuscript you left with me,' she said. 'I have read it +through again and again. I have always wondered, as everybody does, at +your cleverness in things of this kind.' A faintly mischievous smile +flashed upon her face, and was gone. 'I thought it was splendid, Mr +Trent--I almost forgot that the story was my own, I was so interested. +And I want to say now, while I have this in my hand, how much I thank +you for your generous, chivalrous act in sacrificing this triumph of +yours rather than put a woman's reputation in peril. If all had been as +you supposed, the facts must have come out when the police took up the +case you put in their hands. Believe me, I understood just what you had +done, and I never ceased to be grateful even when I felt most crushed by +your suspicion.' + +As she spoke her thanks her voice shook a little, and her eyes were +bright. Trent perceived nothing of this. His head was still bent. He +did not seem to hear. She put the envelope into his hand as it lay open, +palm upwards, on his knee. There was a touch of gentleness about the act +which made him look up. + +'Can you--' he began slowly. + +She raised her hand as she stood before him. 'No, Mr. Trent; let me +finish before you say anything. It is such an unspeakable relief to me +to have broken the ice at last, and I want to end the story while I am +still feeling the triumph of beginning it.' She sank down into the sofa +from which she had first risen. 'I am telling you a thing that nobody +else knows. Everybody knew, I suppose, that something had come between +us, though I did everything in my power to hide it. But I don't think +any one in the world ever guessed what my husband's notion was. People +who know me don't think that sort of thing about me, I believe. And his +fancy was so ridiculously opposed to the facts. I will tell you what the +situation was. Mr. Marlowe and I had been friendly enough since he came +to us. For all his cleverness--my husband said he had a keener brain +than any man he knew--I looked upon him as practically a boy. You know +I am a little older than he is, and he had a sort of amiable lack of +ambition that made me feel it the more. One day my husband asked me what +I thought was the best thing about Marlowe, and not thinking much about +it I said, "His manners." He surprised me very much by looking black at +that, and after a silence he said, "Yes, Marlowe is a gentleman; that's +so", not looking at me. + +'Nothing was ever said about that again until about a year ago, when +I found that Mr. Marlowe had done what I always expected he would +do--fallen desperately in love with an American girl. But to my disgust +he had picked out the most worthless girl, I do believe, of all those +whom we used to meet. She was the daughter of wealthy parents, and she +did as she liked with them; very beautiful, well educated, very good at +games--what they call a woman-athlete--and caring for nothing on earth +but her own amusement. She was one of the most unprincipled flirts I +ever knew, and quite the cleverest. Every one knew it, and Mr. Marlowe +must have heard it; but she made a complete fool of him, brain and all. +I don't know how she managed it, but I can imagine. She liked him, of +course; but it was quite plain to me that she was playing with him. The +whole affair was so idiotic, I got perfectly furious. One day I asked +him to row me in a boat on the lake--all this happened at our house by +Lake George. We had never been alone together for any length of time +before. In the boat I talked to him. I was very kind about it, I think, +and he took it admirably, but he didn't believe me a bit. He had the +impudence to tell me that I misunderstood Alice's nature. When I hinted +at his prospects--I knew he had scarcely anything of his own--he said +that if she loved him he could make himself a position in the world. I +dare say that was true, with his abilities and his friends--he is rather +well connected, you know, as well as popular. But his enlightenment came +very soon after that. + +'My husband helped me out of the boat when we got back. He joked with +Mr. Marlowe about something, I remember; for through all that followed he +never once changed in his manner to him, and that was one reason why I +took so long to realize what he thought about him and myself. But to +me he was reserved and silent that evening--not angry. He was always +perfectly cold and expressionless to me after he took this idea into his +head. After dinner he only spoke to me once. Mr. Marlowe was telling him +about some horse he had bought for the farm in Kentucky, and my husband +looked at me and said, "Marlowe may be a gentleman, but he seldom quits +loser in a horse-trade." I was surprised at that, but at that time--and +even on the next occasion when he found us together--I didn't understand +what was in his mind. That next time was the morning when Mr +Marlowe received a sweet little note from the girl asking for his +congratulations on her engagement. It was in our New York house. +He looked so wretched at breakfast that I thought he was ill, and +afterwards I went to the room where he worked, and asked what was the +matter. He didn't say anything, but just handed me the note, and turned +away to the window. I was very glad that was all over, but terribly +sorry for him too, of course. I don't remember what I said, but I +remember putting my hand on his arm as he stood there staring out on +the garden and just then my husband appeared at the open door with some +papers. He just glanced at us, and then turned and walked quietly back +to his study. I thought that he might have heard what I was saying to +comfort Mr. Marlowe, and that it was rather nice of him to slip away. +Mr. Marlowe neither saw nor heard him. My husband left the house that +morning for the West while I was out. Even then I did not understand. He +used often to go off suddenly like that, if some business project called +him. + +'It was not until he returned a week later that I grasped the situation. +He was looking white and strange, and as soon as he saw me he asked +me where Mr. Marlowe was. Somehow the tone of his question told me +everything in a flash. + +'I almost gasped; I was wild with indignation. You know, Mr. Trent, +I don't think I should have minded at all if any one had thought me +capable of openly breaking with my husband and leaving him for somebody +else. I dare say I might have done that. But that coarse suspicion... +a man whom he trusted... and the notion of concealment. It made me see +scarlet. Every shred of pride in me was strung up till I quivered, and I +swore to myself on the spot that I would never show by any word or sign +that I was conscious of his having such a thought about me. I would +behave exactly as I always had behaved, I determined--and that I did, up +to the very last. Though I knew that a wall had been made between us now +that could never be broken down--even if he asked my pardon and obtained +it--I never once showed that I noticed any change. + +'And so it went on. I never could go through such a time again. My +husband showed silent and cold politeness to me always when we were +alone--and that was only when it was unavoidable. He never once alluded +to what was in his mind; but I felt it, and he knew that I felt it. Both +of us were stubborn in our different attitudes. To Mr. Marlowe he was +more friendly, if anything, than before--Heaven only knows why. I +fancied he was planning some sort of revenge; but that was only a fancy. +Certainly Mr. Marlowe never knew what was suspected of him. He and I +remained good friends, though we never spoke of anything intimate after +that disappointment of his; but I made a point of seeing no less of him +than I had always done. Then we came to England and to White Gables, and +after that followed--my husband's dreadful end.' + +She threw out her right hand in a gesture of finality. 'You know about +the rest--so much more than any other man,' she added, and glanced up at +him with a quaint expression. + +Trent wondered at that look, but the wonder was only a passing shadow on +his thought. Inwardly his whole being was possessed by thankfulness. All +the vivacity had returned to his face. Long before the lady had ended +her story he had recognized the certainty of its truth, as from the +first days of their renewed acquaintance he had doubted the story that +his imagination had built up at White Gables, upon foundations that +seemed so good to him. + +He said, 'I don't know how to begin the apologies I have to make. There +are no words to tell you how ashamed and disgraced I feel when I realize +what a crude, cock-sure blundering at a conclusion my suspicion was. +Yes, I suspected--you! I had almost forgotten that I was ever such +a fool. Almost--not quite. Sometimes when I have been alone I have +remembered that folly, and poured contempt on it. I have tried to +imagine what the facts were. I have tried to excuse myself.' + +She interrupted him quickly. 'What nonsense! Do be sensible, Mr. Trent. +You had only seen me on two occasions in your life before you came to me +with your solution of the mystery.' Again the quaint expression came and +was gone. 'If you talk of folly, it really is folly for a man like you +to pretend to a woman like me that I had innocence written all over +me in large letters--so large that you couldn't believe very strong +evidence against me after seeing me twice.' + +'What do you mean by "a man like me"?' he demanded with a sort of +fierceness. 'Do you take me for a person without any normal instincts? +I don't say you impress people as a simple, transparent sort of +character--what Mr. Calvin Bunner calls a case of open-work; I don't say +a stranger might not think you capable of wickedness, if there was good +evidence for it: but I say that a man who, after seeing you and being +in your atmosphere, could associate you with the particular kind of +abomination I imagined, is a fool--the kind of fool who is afraid to +trust his senses.... As for my making it hard for you to approach +the subject, as you say, it is true. It was simply moral cowardice. I +understood that you wished to clear the matter up; and I was revolted at +the notion of my injurious blunder being discussed. I tried to show you +by my actions that it was as if it had never been. I hoped you would +pardon me without any words. I can't forgive myself, and I never shall. +And yet if you could know--' He stopped short, and then added quietly, +'Well, will you accept all that as an apology? The very scrubbiest +sackcloth made, and the grittiest ashes on the heap.... I didn't mean to +get worked up,' he ended lamely. + +Mrs. Manderson laughed, and her laugh carried him away with it. He knew +well by this time that sudden rush of cascading notes of mirth, the +perfect expression of enjoyment; he had many times tried to amuse her +merely for his delight in the sound of it. + +'But I love to see you worked up,' she said. 'The bump with which you +always come down as soon as you realize that you are up in the air +at all is quite delightful. Oh, we're actually both laughing. What a +triumphant end to our explanations, after all my dread of the time when +I should have it out with you. And now it's all over, and you know; and +we'll never speak of it any more.' + +'I hope not,' Trent said in sincere relief. 'If you're resolved to be so +kind as this about it, I am not high-principled enough to insist on your +blasting me with your lightnings. And now, Mrs. Manderson, I had +better go. Changing the subject after this would be like playing +puss-in-the-corner after an earthquake.' He rose to his feet. + +'You are right,' she said. 'But no! Wait. There is another thing--part +of the same subject; and we ought to pick up all the pieces now while we +are about it. Please sit down.' She took the envelope containing Trent's +manuscript dispatch from the table where he had laid it. 'I want to +speak about this.' + +His brows bent, and he looked at her questioningly. 'So do I, if you +do,' he said slowly. 'I want very much to know one thing.' + +'Tell me.' + +'Since my reason for suppressing that information was all a fantasy, +why did you never make any use of it? When I began to realize that I had +been wrong about you, I explained your silence to myself by saying that +you could not bring yourself to do a thing that would put a rope round +a man's neck, whatever he might have done. I can quite understand that +feeling. Was that what it was? Another possibility I thought of was +that you knew of something that was by way of justifying or excusing +Marlowe's act. Or I thought you might have a simple horror, quite apart +from humanitarian scruples, of appearing publicly in connection with +a murder trial. Many important witnesses in such cases have to be +practically forced into giving their evidence. They feel there is +defilement even in the shadow of the scaffold.' + +Mrs. Manderson tapped her lips with the envelope without quite concealing +a smile. 'You didn't think of another possibility, I suppose, Mr. Trent,' +she said. + +'No.' He looked puzzled. + +'I mean the possibility of your having been wrong about Mr. Marlowe as +well as about me. No, no; you needn't tell me that the chain of evidence +is complete. I know it is. But evidence of what? Of Mr. Marlowe having +impersonated my husband that night, and having escaped by way of my +window, and built up an alibi. I have read your dispatch again and +again, Mr. Trent, and I don't see that those things can be doubted.' + +Trent gazed at her with narrowed eyes. He said nothing to fill the brief +pause that followed. Mrs. Manderson smoothed her skirt with a preoccupied +air, as one collecting her ideas. + +'I did not make any use of the facts found out by you,' she slowly said +at last, 'because it seemed to me very likely that they would be fatal +to Mr. Marlowe.' + +'I agree with you,' Trent remarked in a colourless tone. + +'And,' pursued the lady, looking up at him with a mild reasonableness in +her eyes, 'as I knew that he was innocent I was not going to expose him +to that risk.' + +There was another little pause. Trent rubbed his chin, with an +affectation of turning over the idea. Inwardly he was telling himself, +somewhat feebly, that this was very right and proper; that it was quite +feminine, and that he liked her to be feminine. It was permitted to +her--more than permitted--to set her loyal belief in the character of a +friend above the clearest demonstrations of the intellect. Nevertheless, +it chafed him. He would have had her declaration of faith a little less +positive in form. It was too irrational to say she 'knew'. In fact +(he put it to himself bluntly), it was quite unlike her. If to be +unreasonable when reason led to the unpleasant was a specially feminine +trait, and if Mrs. Manderson had it, she was accustomed to wrap it up +better than any woman he had known. + +'You suggest,' he said at length, 'that Marlowe constructed an alibi for +himself, by means which only a desperate man would have attempted, +to clear himself of a crime he did not commit. Did he tell you he was +innocent?' + +She uttered a little laugh of impatience. 'So you think he has been +talking me round. No, that is not so. I am merely sure he did not do it. +Ah! I see you think that absurd. But see how unreasonable you are, Mr +Trent! Just now you were explaining to me quite sincerely that it was +foolishness in you to have a certain suspicion of me after seeing me and +being in my atmosphere, as you said.' Trent started in his chair. She +glanced at him, and went on: 'Now, I and my atmosphere are much obliged +to you, but we must stand up for the rights of other atmospheres. I know +a great deal more about Mr. Marlowe's atmosphere than you know about mine +even now. I saw him constantly for several years. I don't pretend to +know all about him; but I do know that he is incapable of a crime of +bloodshed. The idea of his planning a murder is as unthinkable to me as +the idea of your picking a poor woman's pocket, Mr. Trent. I can imagine +you killing a man, you know... if the man deserved it and had an +equal chance of killing you. I could kill a person myself in some +circumstances. But Mr. Marlowe was incapable of doing it, I don't care +what the provocation might be. He had a temper that nothing could shake, +and he looked upon human nature with a sort of cold magnanimity that +would find excuses for absolutely anything. It wasn't a pose; you could +see it was a part of him. He never put it forward, but it was there +always. It was quite irritating at times.... Now and then in America, I +remember, I have heard people talking about lynching, for instance, when +he was there. He would sit quite silent and expressionless, appearing +not to listen; but you could feel disgust coming from him in waves. He +really loathed and hated physical violence. He was a very strange man in +some ways, Mr. Trent. He gave one a feeling that he might do unexpected +things--do you know that feeling one has about some people? What part +he really played in the events of that night I have never been able to +guess. But nobody who knew anything about him could possibly believe in +his deliberately taking a man's life.' Again the movement of her head +expressed finality, and she leaned back in the sofa, calmly regarding +him. + +'Then,' said Trent, who had followed this with earnest attention, 'we +are forced back on two other possibilities, which I had not thought +worth much consideration until this moment. Accepting what you say, he +might still conceivably have killed in self-defence; or he might have +done so by accident.' + +The lady nodded. 'Of course I thought of those two explanations when I +read your manuscript.' + +'And I suppose you felt, as I did myself, that in either of those cases +the natural thing, and obviously the safest thing, for him to do was to +make a public statement of the truth, instead of setting up a series of +deceptions which would certainly stamp him as guilty in the eyes of the +law, if anything went wrong with them.' + +'Yes,' she said wearily, 'I thought over all that until my head ached. +And I thought somebody else might have done it, and that he was somehow +screening the guilty person. But that seemed wild. I could see no light +in the mystery, and after a while I simply let it alone. All I was clear +about was that Mr. Marlowe was not a murderer, and that if I told what +you had found out, the judge and jury would probably think he was. I +promised myself that I would speak to you about it if we should meet +again; and now I've kept my promise.' + +Trent, his chin resting on his hand, was staring at the carpet. The +excitement of the hunt for the truth was steadily rising in him. He +had not in his own mind accepted Mrs. Manderson's account of Marlowe's +character as unquestionable. But she had spoken forcibly; he could by no +means set it aside, and his theory was much shaken. + +'There is only one thing for it,' he said, looking up. 'I must see +Marlowe. It worries me too much to have the thing left like this. I will +get at the truth. Can you tell me,' he broke off, 'how he behaved after +the day I left White Gables?' + +'I never saw him after that,' said Mrs. Manderson simply. 'For some days +after you went away I was ill, and didn't go out of my room. When I got +down he had left and was in London, settling things with the lawyers. He +did not come down to the funeral. Immediately after that I went abroad. +After some weeks a letter from him reached me, saying he had concluded +his business and given the solicitors all the assistance in his power. +He thanked me very nicely for what he called all my kindness, and said +goodbye. There was nothing in it about his plans for the future, and +I thought it particularly strange that he said not a word about my +husband's death. I didn't answer. Knowing what I knew, I couldn't. In +those days I shuddered whenever I thought of that masquerade in the +night. I never wanted to see or hear of him again.' + +'Then you don't know what has become of him?' + +'No, but I dare say Uncle Burton--Mr. Cupples, you know--could tell you. +Some time ago he told me that he had met Mr. Marlowe in London, and had +some talk with him. I changed the conversation.' She paused and smiled +with a trace of mischief. 'I rather wonder what you supposed had +happened to Mr. Marlowe after you withdrew from the scene of the drama +that you had put together so much to your satisfaction.' + +Trent flushed. 'Do you really want to know?' he said. + +'I ask you,' she retorted quietly. + +'You ask me to humiliate myself again, Mrs. Manderson. Very well. I will +tell you what I thought I should most likely find when I returned to +London after my travels: that you had married Marlowe to live abroad.' + +She heard him with unmoved composure. 'We certainly couldn't have +lived very comfortably in England on his money and mine,' she observed +thoughtfully. 'He had practically nothing then.' + +He stared at her--'gaped', she told him some time afterwards. At the +moment she laughed with a little embarrassment. + +'Dear me, Mr. Trent! Have I said anything dreadful? You surely must +know.... I thought everybody understood by now.... I'm sure I've had to +explain it often enough... if I marry again I lose everything that my +husband left me.' + +The effect of this speech upon Trent was curious. For an instant his +face was flooded with the emotion of surprise. As this passed away he +gradually drew himself together, as he sat, into a tense attitude. He +looked, she thought as she saw his knuckles grow white on the arms of +the chair, like a man prepared for pain under the hand of the surgeon. +But all he said, in a voice lower than his usual tone, was, 'I had no +idea of it.' + +'It is so,' she said calmly, trifling with a ring on her finger. +'Really, Mr. Trent, it is not such a very unusual thing. I think I am +glad of it. For one thing, it has secured me--at least since it became +generally known--from a good many attentions of a kind that a woman in +my position has to put up with as a rule.' + +'No doubt,' he said gravely. 'And... the other kind?' + +She looked at him questioningly. 'Ah!' she laughed. 'The other kind +trouble me even less. I have not yet met a man silly enough to want +to marry a widow with a selfish disposition, and luxurious habits and +tastes, and nothing but the little my father left me.' + +She shook her head, and something in the gesture shattered the last +remnants of Trent's self-possession. + +'Haven't you, by Heaven!' he exclaimed, rising with a violent movement +and advancing a step towards her. 'Then I am going to show you that +human passion is not always stifled by the smell of money. I am going +to end the business--my business. I am going to tell you what I dare +say scores of better men have wanted to tell you, but couldn't summon up +what I have summoned up--the infernal cheek to do it. They were afraid +of making fools of themselves. I am not. You have accustomed me to the +feeling this afternoon.' He laughed aloud in his rush of words, and +spread out his hands. 'Look at me! It is the sight of the century! It +is one who says he loves you, and would ask you to give up very great +wealth to stand at his side.' + +She was hiding her face in her hands. He heard her say brokenly, +'Please... don't speak in that way.' + +He answered: 'It will make a great difference to me if you will allow me +to say all I have to say before I leave you. Perhaps it is in bad +taste, but I will risk that; I want to relieve my soul; it needs open +confession. This is the truth. You have troubled me ever since the first +time I saw you--and you did not know it--as you sat under the edge of +the cliff at Marlstone, and held out your arms to the sea. It was only +your beauty that filled my mind then. As I passed by you it seemed as if +all the life in the place were crying out a song about you in the wind +and the sunshine. And the song stayed in my ears; but even your beauty +would be no more than an empty memory to me by now if that had been all. +It was when I led you from the hotel there to your house, with your +hand on my arm, that--what was it that happened? I only knew that your +stronger magic had struck home, and that I never should forget that day, +whatever the love of my life should be. Till that day I had admired as +I should admire the loveliness of a still lake; but that day I felt +the spell of the divinity of the lake. And next morning the waters +were troubled, and she rose--the morning when I came to you with my +questions, tired out with doubts that were as bitter as pain, and when I +saw you without your pale, sweet mask of composure--when I saw you moved +and glowing, with your eyes and your hands alive, and when you made me +understand that for such a creature as you there had been emptiness and +the mere waste of yourself for so long. Madness rose in me then, and +my spirit was clamouring to say what I say at last now: that life would +never seem a full thing again because you could not love me, that I was +taken for ever in the nets of your black hair and by the incantation of +your voice--' + +'Oh, stop!' she cried, suddenly throwing back her head, her face flaming +and her hands clutching the cushions beside her. She spoke fast and +disjointedly, her breath coming quick. 'You shall not talk me into +forgetting common sense. What does all this mean? Oh, I do not recognize +you at all--you seem another man. We are not children; have you +forgotten that? You speak like a boy in love for the first time. It is +foolish, unreal--I know that if you do not. I will not hear it. What has +happened to you?' She was half sobbing. 'How can these sentimentalities +come from a man like you? Where is your self-restraint?' + +'Gone!' exclaimed Trent, with an abrupt laugh. 'It has got right away. I +am going after it in a minute.' He looked gravely down into her eyes. +'I don't care so much now. I never could declare myself to you under +the cloud of your great fortune. It was too heavy. There's nothing +creditable in that feeling, as I look at it; as a matter of simple +fact it was a form of cowardice--fear of what you would think, and very +likely say--fear of the world's comment too, I suppose. But the cloud +being rolled away, I have spoken, and I don't care so much. I can face +things with a quiet mind now that I have told you the truth in its own +terms. You may call it sentimentality or any other nickname you like. It +is quite true that it was not intended for a scientific statement. Since +it annoys you, let it be extinguished. But please believe that it was +serious to me if it was comedy to you. I have said that I love you, and +honour you, and would hold you dearest of all the world. Now give me +leave to go.' + +But she held out her hands to him. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV: Writing a Letter + +'If you insist,' Trent said, 'I suppose you will have your way. But I +had much rather write it when I am not with you. However, if I must, +bring me a tablet whiter than a star, or hand of hymning angel; I mean +a sheet of note-paper not stamped with your address. Don't underestimate +the sacrifice I am making. I never felt less like correspondence in my +life.' + +She rewarded him. + +'What shall I say?' he enquired, his pen hovering over the paper. 'Shall +I compare him to a summer's day? What shall I say?' + +'Say what you want to say,' she suggested helpfully. + +He shook his head. 'What I want to say--what I have been wanting for the +past twenty-four hours to say to every man, woman, and child I met--is +"Mabel and I are betrothed, and all is gas and gaiters." But that +wouldn't be a very good opening for a letter of strictly formal, not to +say sinister, character. I have got as far as "Dear Mr. Marlowe." What +comes next?' + +'I am sending you a manuscript,' she prompted, 'which I thought you +might like to see.' + +'Do you realize,' he said, 'that in that sentence there are only two +words of more than one syllable? This letter is meant to impress, not to +put him at his ease. We must have long words.' + +'I don't see why,' she answered. 'I know it is usual, but why is it? I +have had a great many letters from lawyers and business people, and +they always begin, "with reference to our communication", or some such +mouthful, and go on like that all the way through. Yet when I see them +they don't talk like that. It seems ridiculous to me.' + +'It is not at all ridiculous to them.' Trent laid aside the pen with +an appearance of relief and rose to his feet. 'Let me explain. A people +like our own, not very fond of using its mind, gets on in the ordinary +way with a very small and simple vocabulary. Long words are abnormal, +and like everything else that is abnormal, they are either very funny +or tremendously solemn. Take the phrase "intelligent anticipation", for +instance. If such a phrase had been used in any other country in Europe, +it would not have attracted the slightest attention. With us it has +become a proverb; we all grin when we hear it in a speech or read it in +a leading article; it is considered to be one of the best things +ever said. Why? Just because it consists of two long words. The idea +expressed is as commonplace as cold mutton. Then there's "terminological +inexactitude". How we all roared, and are still roaring, at that! And +the whole of the joke is that the words are long. It's just the same +when we want to be very serious; we mark it by turning to long +words. When a solicitor can begin a sentence with, "pursuant to the +instructions communicated to our representative," or some such gibberish, +he feels that he is earning his six-and-eightpence. Don't laugh! It +is perfectly true. Now Continentals haven't got that feeling. They are +always bothering about ideas, and the result is that every shopkeeper or +peasant has a vocabulary in daily use that is simply Greek to the vast +majority of Britons. I remember some time ago I was dining with a +friend of mine who is a Paris cabman. We had dinner at a dirty little +restaurant opposite the central post office, a place where all the +clients were cabmen or porters. Conversation was general, and it struck +me that a London cabman would have felt a little out of his depth. +Words like "functionary" and "unforgettable" and "exterminate" and +"independence" hurtled across the table every instant. And these were +just ordinary, vulgar, jolly, red-faced cabmen. Mind you,' he went on +hurriedly, as the lady crossed the room and took up his pen, 'I merely +mention this to illustrate my point. I'm not saying that cab-men ought +to be intellectuals. I don't think so; I agree with Keats--happy is +England, sweet her artless cabmen, enough their simple loveliness +for me. But when you come to the people who make up the collective +industrial brain-power of the country.... Why, do you know--' + +'Oh no, no, no!' cried Mrs. Manderson. 'I don't know anything at the +moment, except that your talking must be stopped somehow, if we are to +get any further with that letter to Mr. Marlowe. You shall not get out of +it. Come!' She put the pen into his hand. + +Trent looked at it with distaste. 'I warn you not to discourage my +talking,' he said dejectedly. 'Believe me, men who don't talk are even +worse to live with than men who do. O have a care of natures that +are mute. I confess I'm shirking writing this thing. It is almost an +indecency. It's mixing two moods to write the sort of letter I mean to +write, and at the same time to be sitting in the same room with you.' + +She led him to his abandoned chair before the escritoire and pushed him +gently into it. 'Well, but please try. I want to see what you write, and +I want it to go to him at once. You see, I would be contented enough to +leave things as they are; but you say you must get at the truth, and if +you must, I want it to be as soon as possible. Do it now--you know you +can if you will--and I'll send it off the moment it's ready. Don't you +ever feel that--the longing to get the worrying letter into the post and +off your hands, so that you can't recall it if you would, and it's no +use fussing any more about it?' + +'I will do as you wish,' he said, and turned to the paper, which he +dated as from his hotel. Mrs. Manderson looked down at his bent head with +a gentle light in her eyes, and made as if to place a smoothing hand +upon his rather untidy crop of hair. But she did not touch it. Going in +silence to the piano, she began to play very softly. It was ten minutes +before Trent spoke. + +'If he chooses to reply that he will say nothing?' + +Mrs. Manderson looked over her shoulder. 'Of course he dare not take that +line. He will speak to prevent you from denouncing him.' + +'But I'm not going to do that anyhow. You wouldn't allow it--you said +so; besides, I won't if you would. The thing's too doubtful now.' + +'But,' she laughed, 'poor Mr. Marlowe doesn't know you won't, does he?' + +Trent sighed. 'What extraordinary things codes of honour are!' he +remarked abstractedly. 'I know that there are things I should do, and +never think twice about, which would make you feel disgraced if you did +them--such as giving any one who grossly insulted me a black eye, or +swearing violently when I barked my shin in a dark room. And now you are +calmly recommending me to bluff Marlowe by means of a tacit threat which +I don't mean; a thing which hell's most abandoned fiend did never, in +the drunkenness of guilt--well, anyhow, I won't do it.' He resumed his +writing, and the lady, with an indulgent smile, returned to playing very +softly. + +In a few minutes more, Trent said: 'At last I am his faithfully. Do +you want to see it?' She ran across the twilight room, and turned on a +reading lamp beside the escritoire. Then, leaning on his shoulder, she +read what follows: + +DEAR MR MARLOWE,--YOU WILL PERHAPS REMEMBER THAT WE MET, UNDER UNHAPPY +CIRCUMSTANCES, IN JUNE OF LAST YEAR AT MARLSTONE. + +ON THAT OCCASION IT WAS MY DUTY, AS REPRESENTING A NEWSPAPER, TO MAKE AN +INDEPENDENT INVESTIGATION OF THE CIRCUMSTANCES OF THE DEATH OF THE LATE +SIGSBEE MANDERSON. I DID SO, AND I ARRIVED AT CERTAIN CONCLUSIONS. YOU +MAY LEARN FROM THE ENCLOSED MANUSCRIPT, WHICH WAS ORIGINALLY WRITTEN AS +A DISPATCH FOR MY NEWSPAPER, WHAT THOSE CONCLUSIONS WERE. FOR REASONS +WHICH IT IS NOT NECESSARY TO STATE I DECIDED AT THE LAST MOMENT NOT TO +MAKE THEM PUBLIC, OR TO COMMUNICATE THEM TO YOU, AND THEY ARE KNOWN TO +ONLY TWO PERSONS BESIDE MYSELF. + +At this point Mrs. Manderson raised her eyes quickly from the letter. Her +dark brows were drawn together. 'Two persons?' she said with a note of +enquiry. + +'Your uncle is the other. I sought him out last night and told him +the whole story. Have you anything against it? I always felt uneasy at +keeping it from him as I did, because I had led him to expect I should +tell him all I discovered, and my silence looked like mystery-making. +Now it is to be cleared up finally, and there is no question of +shielding you, I wanted him to know everything. He is a very shrewd +adviser, too, in a way of his own; and I should like to have him with me +when I see Marlowe. I have a feeling that two heads will be better than +one on my side of the interview.' + +She sighed. 'Yes, of course, uncle ought to know the truth. I hope there +is nobody else at all.' She pressed his hand. 'I so much want all that +horror buried--buried deep. I am very happy now, dear, but I shall be +happier still when you have satisfied that curious mind of yours and +found out everything, and stamped down the earth upon it all.' She +continued her reading. + +QUITE RECENTLY, HOWEVER [the letter went on], FACTS HAVE COME TO MY +KNOWLEDGE WHICH HAVE LED ME TO CHANGE MY DECISION. I DO NOT MEAN THAT I +SHALL PUBLISH WHAT I DISCOVERED, BUT THAT I HAVE DETERMINED TO APPROACH +YOU AND ASK YOU FOR A PRIVATE STATEMENT. IF YOU HAVE ANYTHING TO SAY +WHICH WOULD PLACE THE MATTER IN ANOTHER LIGHT, I CAN IMAGINE NO REASON +WHY YOU SHOULD WITHHOLD IT. + +I EXPECT, THEN, TO HEAR FROM YOU WHEN AND WHERE I MAY CALL UPON YOU; +UNLESS YOU PREFER THE INTERVIEW TO TAKE PLACE AT MY HOTEL. IN EITHER +CASE I DESIRE THAT MR. CUPPLES, WHOM YOU WILL REMEMBER, AND WHO HAS READ +THE ENCLOSED DOCUMENT, SHOULD BE PRESENT ALSO.--FAITHFULLY YOURS, PHILIP +TRENT. + +What a very stiff letter!' she said. 'Now I am sure you couldn't have +made it any stiffer in your own rooms.' + +Trent slipped the letter and enclosure into a long envelope. 'Yes,' he +said, 'I think it will make him sit up suddenly. Now this thing +mustn't run any risk of going wrong. It would be best to send a special +messenger with orders to deliver it into his own hands. If he's away it +oughtn't to be left.' + +She nodded. 'I can arrange that. Wait here for a little.' + +*** + +When Mrs. Manderson returned, he was hunting through the music cabinet. +She sank on the carpet beside him in a wave of dark brown skirts. 'Tell +me something, Philip,' she said. + +'If it is among the few things that I know.' + +'When you saw uncle last night, did you tell him about--about us?' + +'I did not,' he answered. 'I remembered you had said nothing about +telling any one. It is for you--isn't it?--to decide whether we take the +world into our confidence at once or later on.' + +'Then will you tell him?' She looked down at her clasped hands. 'I wish +you to tell him. Perhaps if you think you will guess why.... There! that +is settled.' She lifted her eyes again to his, and for a time there was +silence between them. + +*** + +He leaned back at length in the deep chair. 'What a world!' he said. +'Mabel, will you play something on the piano that expresses mere joy, +the genuine article, nothing feverish or like thorns under a pot, but +joy that has decided in favour of the universe? It's a mood that can't +last altogether, so we had better get all we can out of it.' + +She went to the instrument and struck a few chords while she thought. +Then she began to work with all her soul at the theme in the last +movement of the Ninth Symphony which is like the sound of the opening of +the gates of Paradise. + + + + +CHAPTER XV: Double Cunning + +An old oaken desk with a deep body stood by the window in a room that +overlooked St. James's Park from a height. The room was large, furnished +and decorated by some one who had brought taste to the work; but the +hand of the bachelor lay heavy upon it. John Marlowe unlocked the desk +and drew a long, stout envelope from the back of the well. + +'I understand,' he said to Mr. Cupples, 'that you have read this.' + +'I read it for the first time two days ago,' replied Mr. Cupples, who, +seated on a sofa, was peering about the room with a benignant face. 'We +have discussed it fully.' + +Marlowe turned to Trent. 'There is your manuscript,' he said, laying +the envelope on the table. 'I have gone over it three times. I do not +believe there is another man who could have got at as much of the truth +as you have set down there.' + +Trent ignored the compliment. He sat by the table gazing stonily at the +fire, his long legs twisted beneath his chair. 'You mean, of course, he +said, drawing the envelope towards him, 'that there is more of the truth +to be disclosed now. We are ready to hear you as soon as you like. I +expect it will be a long story, and the longer the better, so far as I +am concerned; I want to understand thoroughly. What we should both like, +I think, is some preliminary account of Manderson and your relations +with him. It seemed to me from the first that the character of the dead +man must be somehow an element in the business.' + +'You were right, Marlowe answered grimly. He crossed the room and seated +himself on a corner of the tall cushion-topped fender. 'I will begin as +you suggest.' + +'I ought to tell you beforehand, said Trent, looking him in the eyes, +'that although I am here to listen to you, I have not as yet any reason +to doubt the conclusions I have stated here.' He tapped the envelope. +'It is a defence that you will be putting forward--you understand that?' + +'Perfectly.' Marlowe was cool and in complete possession of himself, a +man different indeed from the worn-out, nervous being Trent remembered +at Marlstone a year and a half ago. His tall, lithe figure was held with +the perfection of muscular tone. His brow was candid, his blue eyes were +clear, though they still had, as he paused collecting his ideas, the +look that had troubled Trent at their first meeting. Only the lines of +his mouth showed that he knew himself in a position of difficulty, and +meant to face it. + +'Sigsbee Manderson was not a man of normal mind,' Marlowe began in his +quiet voice. 'Most of the very rich men I met with in America had +become so by virtue of abnormal greed, or abnormal industry, or +abnormal personal force, or abnormal luck. None of them had remarkable +intellects. Manderson delighted too in heaping up wealth; he worked +incessantly at it; he was a man of dominant will; he had quite his +share of luck; but what made him singular was his brainpower. In his +own country they would perhaps tell you that it was his ruthlessness in +pursuit of his aims that was his most striking characteristic; but there +are hundreds of them who would have carried out his plans with just as +little consideration for others if they could have formed the plans. + +'I'm not saying Americans aren't clever; they are ten times cleverer +than we are, as a nation; but I never met another who showed such +a degree of sagacity and foresight, such gifts of memory and mental +tenacity, such sheer force of intelligence, as there was behind +everything Manderson did in his money-making career. They called him +the "Napoleon of Wall Street" often enough in the papers; but few people +knew so well as I did how much truth there was in the phrase. He seemed +never to forget a fact that might be of use to him, in the first place; +and he did systematically with the business facts that concerned him +what Napoleon did, as I have read, with military facts. He studied them +in special digests which were prepared for him at short intervals, and +which he always had at hand, so that he could take up his report on coal +or wheat or railways, or whatever it might be, in any unoccupied moment. +Then he could make a bolder and cleverer plan than any man of them all. +People got to know that Manderson would never do the obvious thing, but +they got no further; the thing he did do was almost always a surprise, +and much of his success flowed from that. The Street got rattled, as +they used to put it, when it was known that the old man was out with his +gun, and often his opponents seemed to surrender as easily as Colonel +Crockett's coon in the story. The scheme I am going to describe to you +would have occupied most men long enough. Manderson could have plotted +the thing, down to the last detail, while he shaved himself. + +'I used to think that his strain of Indian blood, remote as it was, +might have something to do with the cunning and ruthlessness of the man. +Strangely enough, its existence was unknown to any one but himself and +me. It was when he asked me to apply my taste for genealogical work to +his own obscure family history that I made the discovery that he had in +him a share of the blood of the Iroquois chief Montour and his French +wife, a terrible woman who ruled the savage politics of the tribes of +the Wilderness two hundred years ago. The Mandersons were active in the +fur trade on the Pennsylvanian border in those days, and more than one +of them married Indian women. Other Indian blood than Montour's may +have descended to Manderson, for all I can say, through previous +and subsequent unions; some of the wives' antecedents were quite +untraceable, and there were so many generations of pioneering before the +whole country was brought under civilization. My researches left me with +the idea that there is a very great deal of the aboriginal blood present +in the genealogical make-up of the people of America, and that it is +very widely spread. The newer families have constantly intermarried with +the older, and so many of them had a strain of the native in them--and +were often rather proud of it, too, in those days. But Manderson had the +idea about the disgracefulness of mixed blood, which grew much stronger, +I fancy, with the rise of the negro question after the war. He was +thunderstruck at what I told him, and was anxious to conceal it from +every soul. Of course I never gave it away while he lived, and I don't +think he supposed I would; but I have thought since that his mind took +a turn against me from that time onward. It happened about a year before +his death.' + +'Had Manderson,' asked Mr. Cupples, so unexpectedly that the others +started, 'any definable religious attitude?' + +Marlowe considered a moment. 'None that ever I heard of,' he said. +'Worship and prayer were quite unknown to him, so far as I could see, +and I never heard him mention religion. I should doubt if he had any +real sense of God at all, or if he was capable of knowing God through +the emotions. But I understood that as a child he had had a religious +upbringing with a strong moral side to it. His private life was, in the +usual limited sense, blameless. He was almost ascetic in his habits, +except as to smoking. I lived with him four years without ever knowing +him to tell a direct verbal falsehood, constantly as he used to practise +deceit in other forms. Can you understand the soul of a man who never +hesitated to take steps that would have the effect of hoodwinking +people, who would use every trick of the markets to mislead, and who +was at the same time scrupulous never to utter a direct lie on the most +insignificant matter? Manderson was like that, and he was not the only +one. I suppose you might compare the state of mind to that of a soldier +who is personally a truthful man, but who will stick at nothing to +deceive the enemy. The rules of the game allow it; and the same may be +said of business as many business men regard it. Only with them it is +always wartime.' + +'It is a sad world,' observed Mr. Cupples. + +'As you say,' Marlowe agreed. 'Now I was saying that one could always +take Manderson's word if he gave it in a definite form. The first time +I ever heard him utter a downright lie was on the night he died; and +hearing it, I believe, saved me from being hanged as his murderer.' + +Marlowe stared at the light above his head and Trent moved impatiently +in his chair. 'Before we come to that,' he said, 'will you tell us +exactly on what footing you were with Manderson during the years you +were with him?' + +'We were on very good terms from beginning to end,' answered Marlowe. +'Nothing like friendship--he was not a man for making friends--but the +best of terms as between a trusted employee and his chief. I went to him +as private secretary just after getting my degree at Oxford. I was +to have gone into my father's business, where I am now, but my father +suggested that I should see the world for a year or two. So I took this +secretaryship, which seemed to promise a good deal of varied experience, +and I had let the year or two run on to four years before the end came. +The offer came to me through the last thing in the world I should have +put forward as a qualification for a salaried post, and that was chess.' + +At the word Trent struck his hands together with a muttered exclamation. +The others looked at him in surprise. + +'Chess!' repeated Trent. 'Do you know,' he said, rising and approaching +Marlowe, 'what was the first thing I noted about you at our first +meeting? It was your eye, Mr. Marlowe. I couldn't place it then, but I +know now where I had seen your eyes before. They were in the head of no +less a man than the great Nikolay Korchagin, with whom I once sat in the +same railway carriage for two days. I thought I should never forget the +chess eye after that, but I could not put a name to it when I saw it in +you. I beg your pardon,' he ended suddenly, resuming marmoreal attitude +in his chair. + +'I have played the game from my childhood, and with good players,' said +Marlowe simply. 'It is an hereditary gift, if you can call it a gift. At +the University I was nearly as good as anybody there, and I gave most of +my brains to that and the OUDS and playing about generally. At Oxford, +as I dare say you know, inducements to amuse oneself at the expense of +one's education are endless, and encouraged by the authorities. Well, +one day toward the end of my last term, Dr Munro of Queen's, whom I had +never defeated, sent for me. He told me that I played a fairish game +of chess. I said it was very good of him to say so. Then he said, "They +tell me you hunt, too." I said, "Now and then." He asked, "Is there +anything else you can do?" "No," I said, not much liking the tone of the +conversation--the old man generally succeeded in putting people's backs +up. He grunted fiercely, and then told me that enquiries were being made +on behalf of a wealthy American man of business who wanted an English +secretary. Manderson was the name, he said. He seemed never to have +heard it before, which was quite possible, as he never opened a +newspaper and had not slept a night outside the college for thirty +years. If I could rub up my spelling--as the old gentleman put it--I +might have a good chance for the post, as chess and riding and an Oxford +education were the only indispensable points. + +'Well, I became Manderson's secretary. For a long time I liked the +position greatly. When one is attached to an active American plutocrat +in the prime of life one need not have many dull moments. Besides, it +made me independent. My father had some serious business reverses about +that time, and I was glad to be able to do without an allowance from +him. At the end of the first year Manderson doubled my salary. "It's big +money," he said, "but I guess I don't lose." You see, by that time I was +doing a great deal more than accompany him on horseback in the morning +and play chess in the evening, which was mainly what he had required. +I was attending to his houses, his farm in Ohio, his shooting in +Maine, his horses, his cars, and his yacht. I had become a walking +railway-guide and an expert cigar-buyer. I was always learning +something. + +'Well, now you understand what my position was in regard to Manderson +during the last two or three years of my connection with him. It was +a happy life for me on the whole. I was busy, my work was varied and +interesting; I had time to amuse myself too, and money to spend. At +one time I made a fool of myself about a girl, and that was not a +happy time; but it taught me to understand the great goodness of Mrs +Manderson.' Marlowe inclined his head to Mr. Cupples as he said this. +'She may choose to tell you about it. As for her husband, he had never +varied in his attitude towards me, in spite of the change that came over +him in the last months of his life, as you know. He treated me well and +generously in his unsympathetic way, and I never had a feeling that he +was less than satisfied with his bargain--that was the sort of footing +we lived upon. And it was that continuance of his attitude right up to +the end that made the revelation so shocking when I was suddenly shown, +on the night on which he met his end, the depth of crazy hatred of +myself that was in Manderson's soul.' + +The eyes of Trent and Mr. Cupples met for an instant. + +'You never suspected that he hated you before that time?' asked Trent; +and Mr. Cupples asked at the same moment, 'To what did you attribute it?' + +'I never guessed until that night,' answered Marlowe, 'that he had the +smallest ill-feeling toward me. How long it had existed I do not know. +I cannot imagine why it was there. I was forced to think, when I +considered the thing in those awful days after his death, that it was a +case of a madman's delusion, that he believed me to be plotting against +him, as they so often do. Some such insane conviction must have been at +the root of it. But who can sound the abysses of a lunatic's fancy? Can +you imagine the state of mind in which a man dooms himself to death with +the object of delivering some one he hates to the hangman?' + +Mr. Cupples moved sharply in his chair. 'You say Manderson was +responsible for his own death?' he asked. + +Trent glanced at him with an eye of impatience, and resumed his intent +watch upon the face of Marlowe. In the relief of speech it was now less +pale and drawn. + +'I do say so,' Marlowe answered concisely, and looked his questioner in +the face. Mr. Cupples nodded. + +'Before we proceed to the elucidation of your statement,' observed the +old gentleman, in a tone of one discussing a point of abstract science, +'it may be remarked that the state of mind which you attribute to +Manderson--' + +'Suppose we have the story first,' Trent interrupted, gently laying a +hand on Mr. Cupples's arm. 'You were telling us,' he went on, turning to +Marlowe, 'how things stood between you and Manderson. Now will you tell us +the facts of what happened that night?' + +Marlowe flushed at the barely perceptible emphasis which Trent laid upon +the word 'facts'. He drew himself up. + +'Bunner and myself dined with Mr. and Mrs. Manderson that Sunday evening,' +he began, speaking carefully. 'It was just like other dinners at which +the four of us had been together. Manderson was taciturn and gloomy, +as we had latterly been accustomed to see him. We others kept a +conversation going. We rose from the table, I suppose, about nine. Mrs +Manderson went to the drawing-room, and Bunner went up to the hotel to +see an acquaintance. Manderson asked me to come into the orchard behind +the house, saying he wished to have a talk. We paced up and down the +pathway there, out of earshot from the house, and Manderson, as he +smoked his cigar, spoke to me in his cool, deliberate way. He had never +seemed more sane, or more well-disposed to me. He said he wanted me to +do him an important service. There was a big thing on. It was a secret +affair. Bunner knew nothing of it, and the less I knew the better. He +wanted me to do exactly as he directed, and not bother my head about +reasons. + +'This, I may say, was quite characteristic of Manderson's method of +going to work. If at times he required a man to be a mere tool in his +hand, he would tell him so. He had used me in the same kind of way a +dozen times. I assured him he could rely on me, and said I was ready. +"Right now?" he asked. I said of course I was. + +'He nodded, and said--I tell you his words as well as I can recollect +them--attend to this. "There is a man in England now who is in this thing +with me. He was to have left tomorrow for Paris by the noon boat from +Southampton to Havre. His name is George Harris--at least that's the +name he is going by. Do you remember that name?" "Yes," I said, "when I +went up to London a week ago you asked me to book a cabin in that name +on the boat that goes tomorrow. I gave you the ticket." "Here it is," he +said, producing it from his pocket. + +'"Now," Manderson said to me, poking his cigar-butt at me with each +sentence in a way he used to have, "George Harris cannot leave England +tomorrow. I find I shall want him where he is. And I want Bunner where +he is. But somebody has got to go by that boat and take certain papers +to Paris. Or else my plan is going to fall to pieces. Will you go?" I +said, "Certainly. I am here to obey orders." + +'He bit his cigar, and said, "That's all right; but these are not just +ordinary orders. Not the kind of thing one can ask of a man in the +ordinary way of his duty to an employer. The point is this. The deal +I am busy with is one in which neither myself nor any one known to be +connected with me must appear as yet. That is vital. But these people I +am up against know your face as well as they know mine. If my secretary +is known in certain quarters to have crossed to Paris at this time and +to have interviewed certain people--and that would be known as soon +as it happened--then the game is up." He threw away his cigar-end and +looked at me questioningly. + +'I didn't like it much, but I liked failing Manderson at a pinch still +less. I spoke lightly. I said I supposed I should have to conceal my +identity, and I would do my best. I told him I used to be pretty good at +make-up. + +'He nodded in approval. He said, "That's good. I judged you would not +let me down." Then he gave me my instructions. "You take the car right +now," he said, "and start for Southampton--there's no train that will +fit in. You'll be driving all night. Barring accidents, you ought to get +there by six in the morning. But whenever you arrive, drive straight to +the Bedford Hotel and ask for George Harris. If he's there, tell him you +are to go over instead of him, and ask him to telephone me here. It is +very important he should know that at the earliest moment possible. But +if he isn't there, that means he has got the instructions I wired today, +and hasn't gone to Southampton. In that case you don't want to trouble +about him any more, but just wait for the boat. You can leave the car at +a garage under a fancy name--mine must not be given. See about changing +your appearance--I don't care how, so you do it well. Travel by the boat +as George Harris. Let on to be anything you like, but be careful, and +don't talk much to anybody. When you arrive, take a room at the Hotel +St Petersbourg. You will receive a note or message there, addressed to +George Harris, telling you where to take the wallet I shall give you. +The wallet is locked, and you want to take good care of it. Have you got +that all clear?" + +'I repeated the instructions. I asked if I should return from Paris +after handing over the wallet. "As soon as you like," he said. "And mind +this--whatever happens, don't communicate with me at any stage of the +journey. If you don't get the message in Paris at once, just wait +until you do--days, if necessary. But not a line of any sort to me. +Understand? Now get ready as quick as you can. I'll go with you in the +car a little way. Hurry." + +'That is, as far as I can remember, the exact substance of what +Manderson said to me that night. I went to my room, changed into day +clothes, and hastily threw a few necessaries into a kit-bag. My mind +was in a whirl, not so much at the nature of the business as at the +suddenness of it. I think I remember telling you the last time we +met'--he turned to Trent--'that Manderson shared the national fondness +for doings things in a story-book style. Other things being equal, he +delighted in a bit of mystification and melodrama, and I told myself +that this was Manderson all over. I hurried downstairs with my bag and +rejoined him in the library. He handed me a stout leather letter-case, +about eight inches by six, fastened with a strap with a lock on it. I +could just squeeze it into my side-pocket. Then I went to get the car +from the garage behind the house. + +'As I was bringing it round to the front a disconcerting thought struck +me. I remembered that I had only a few shillings in my pocket. + +'For some time past I had been keeping myself very short of cash, and +for this reason--which I tell you because it is a vital point, as you +shall see in a minute. I was living temporarily on borrowed money. I had +always been careless about money while I was with Manderson, and being +a gregarious animal I had made many friends, some of them belonging to +a New York set that had little to do but get rid of the large incomes +given them by their parents. Still, I was very well paid, and I was +too busy even to attempt to go very far with them in that amusing +occupation. I was still well on the right side of the ledger until I +began, merely out of curiosity, to play at speculation. It's a very old +story--particularly in Wall Street. I thought it was easy; I was lucky +at first; I would always be prudent--and so on. Then came the day when +I went out of my depth. In one week I was separated from my toll, as +Bunner expressed it when I told him; and I owed money too. I had had +my lesson. Now in this pass I went to Manderson and told him what I had +done and how I stood. He heard me with a very grim smile, and then, with +the nearest approach to sympathy I had ever found in him, he advanced +me a sum on account of my salary that would clear me. "Don't play the +markets any more," was all he said. + +'Now on that Sunday night Manderson knew that I was practically without +any money in the world. He knew that Bunner knew it too. He may +have known that I had even borrowed a little more from Bunner +for pocket-money until my next cheque was due, which, owing to my +anticipation of my salary, would not have been a large one. Bear this +knowledge of Manderson's in mind. + +'As soon as I had brought the car round I went into the library and +stated the difficulty to Manderson. + +'What followed gave me, slight as it was, my first impression of +something odd being afoot. As soon as I mentioned the word "expenses" +his hand went mechanically to his left hip-pocket, where he always kept +a little case containing notes to the value of about a hundred pounds in +our money. This was such a rooted habit in him that I was astonished to +see him check the movement suddenly. Then, to my greater amazement, he +swore under his breath. I had never heard him do this before; but Bunner +had told me that of late he had often shown irritation in this way when +they were alone. "Has he mislaid his note-case?" was the question that +flashed through my mind. But it seemed to me that it could not affect +his plan at all, and I will tell you why. The week before, when I +had gone up to London to carry out various commissions, including the +booking of a berth for Mr. George Harris, I had drawn a thousand pounds +for Manderson from his bankers, and all, at his request, in notes of +small amounts. I did not know what this unusually large sum in cash was +for, but I did know that the packets of notes were in his locked desk +in the library, or had been earlier in the day, when I had seen him +fingering them as he sat at the desk. + +'But instead of turning to the desk, Manderson stood looking at me. +There was fury in his face, and it was a strange sight to see him +gradually master it until his eyes grew cold again. "Wait in the car," +he said slowly. "I will get some money." We both went out, and as I was +getting into my overcoat in the hall I saw him enter the drawing-room, which, +you remember, was on the other side of the entrance hall. + +'I stepped out on to the lawn before the house and smoked a cigarette, +pacing up and down. I was asking myself again and again where that +thousand pounds was; whether it was in the drawing-room, and if so, why. +Presently, as I passed one of the drawing-room windows, I noticed Mrs +Manderson's shadow on the thin silk curtain. She was standing at her +escritoire. The window was open, and as I passed I heard her say, "I +have not quite thirty pounds here. Will that be enough?" I did not hear +the answer, but next moment Manderson's shadow was mingled with hers, +and I heard the chink of money. Then, as he stood by the window, and +as I was moving away, these words of his came to my ears--and these +at least I can repeat exactly, for astonishment stamped them on my +memory--"I'm going out now. Marlowe has persuaded me to go for a +moonlight run in the car. He is very urgent about it. He says it will +help me to sleep, and I guess he is right." + +I have told you that in the course of four years I had never once heard +Manderson utter a direct lie about anything, great or small. I believed +that I understood the man's queer, skin-deep morality, and I could have +sworn that if he was firmly pressed with a question that could not be +evaded he would either refuse to answer or tell the truth. But what had +I just heard? No answer to any question. A voluntary statement, precise +in terms, that was utterly false. The unimaginable had happened. It was +almost as if some one I knew well, in a moment of closest sympathy, had +suddenly struck me in the face. The blood rushed to my head, and I stood +still on the grass. I stood there until I heard his step at the front +door, and then I pulled myself together and stepped quickly to the car. +He handed me a banker's paper bag with gold and notes in it. "There's +more than you'll want there," he said, and I pocketed it mechanically. + +'For a minute or so I stood discussing with Manderson--it was by one +of those tours de force of which one's mind is capable under great +excitement--points about the route of the long drive before me. I had +made the run several times by day, and I believe I spoke quite calmly +and naturally about it. But while I spoke my mind was seething in a +flood of suddenly born suspicion and fear. I did not know what I +feared. I simply felt fear, somehow--I did not know how--connected with +Manderson. My soul once opened to it, fear rushed in like an assaulting +army. I felt--I knew--that something was altogether wrong and sinister, +and I felt myself to be the object of it. Yet Manderson was surely no +enemy of mine. Then my thoughts reached out wildly for an answer to the +question why he had told that lie. And all the time the blood hammered +in my ears, "Where is that money?" Reason struggled hard to set up +the suggestion that the two things were not necessarily connected. The +instinct of a man in danger would not listen to it. As we started, and +the car took the curve into the road, it was merely the unconscious part +of me that steered and controlled it, and that made occasional empty +remarks as we slid along in the moonlight. Within me was a confusion and +vague alarm that was far worse than any definite terror I ever felt. + +'About a mile from the house, you remember, one passed on one's left a +gate, on the other side of which was the golf-course. There Manderson +said he would get down, and I stopped the car. "You've got it all +clear?" he asked. With a sort of wrench I forced myself to remember and +repeat the directions given me. "That's OK," he said. "Goodbye, then. +Stay with that wallet." Those were the last words I heard him speak, as +the car moved gently away from him.' + +Marlowe rose from his chair and pressed his hands to his eyes. He was +flushed with the excitement of his own narrative, and there was in his +look a horror of recollection that held both the listeners silent. He +shook himself with a movement like a dog's, and then, his hands behind +him, stood erect before the fire as he continued his tale. + +'I expect you both know what the back-reflector of a motor car is.' + +Trent nodded quickly, his face alive with anticipation; but Mr. Cupples, +who cherished a mild but obstinate prejudice against motor cars, readily +confessed to ignorance. + +'It is a small round or more often rectangular mirror,' Marlowe +explained, 'rigged out from the right side of the screen in front of +the driver, and adjusted in such a way that he can see, without turning +round, if anything is coming up behind to pass him. It is quite an +ordinary appliance, and there was one on this car. As the car moved on, +and Manderson ceased speaking behind me, I saw in that mirror a thing +that I wish I could forget.' + +Marlowe was silent for a moment, staring at the wall before him. + +'Manderson's face,' he said in a low tone. 'He was standing in the road, +looking after me, only a few yards behind, and the moonlight was full on +his face. The mirror happened to catch it for an instant. + +'Physical habit is a wonderful thing. I did not shift hand or foot on +the controlling mechanism of the car. Indeed, I dare say it steadied me +against the shock to have myself braced to the business of driving. You +have read in books, no doubt, of hell looking out of a man's eyes, but +perhaps you don't know what a good metaphor that is. If I had not known +Manderson was there, I should not have recognized the face. It was that +of a madman, distorted, hideous in the imbecility of hate, the teeth +bared in a simian grin of ferocity and triumph; the eyes.... In the +little mirror I had this glimpse of the face alone. I saw nothing of +whatever gesture there may have been as that writhing white mask glared +after me. And I saw it only for a flash. The car went on, gathering +speed, and as it went, my brain, suddenly purged of the vapours of doubt +and perplexity, was as busy as the throbbing engine before my feet. I +knew. + +'You say something in that manuscript of yours, Mr. Trent, about the +swift automatic way in which one's ideas arrange themselves about some +new illuminating thought. It is quite true. The awful intensity of +ill-will that had flamed after me from those straining eyeballs poured +over my mind like a searchlight. I was thinking quite clearly now, and +almost coldly, for I knew what--at least I knew whom--I had to fear, and +instinct warned me that it was not a time to give room to the emotions +that were fighting to possess me. The man hated me insanely. That +incredible fact I suddenly knew. But the face had told me, it would +have told anybody, more than that. It was a face of hatred gratified, it +proclaimed some damnable triumph. It had gloated over me driving away to +my fate. This too was plain to me. And to what fate? + +'I stopped the car. It had gone about two hundred and fifty yards, and +a sharp bend of the road hid the spot where I had set Manderson down. I +lay back in the seat and thought it out. Something was to happen to me. +In Paris? Probably--why else should I be sent there, with money and a +ticket? But why Paris? That puzzled me, for I had no melodramatic ideas +about Paris. I put the point aside for a moment. I turned to the other +things that had roused my attention that evening. The lie about my +"persuading him to go for a moonlight run". What was the intention of +that? Manderson, I said to myself, will be returning without me while +I am on my way to Southampton. What will he tell them about me? How +account for his returning alone, and without the car? As I asked +myself that sinister question there rushed into my mind the last of my +difficulties: "Where are the thousand pounds?" And in the same instant +came the answer: "The thousand pounds are in my pocket." + +'I got up and stepped from the car. My knees trembled and I felt very +sick. I saw the plot now, as I thought. The whole of the story about the +papers and the necessity of their being taken to Paris was a blind. With +Manderson's money about me, of which he would declare I had robbed him, +I was, to all appearance, attempting to escape from England, with every +precaution that guilt could suggest. He would communicate with the +police at once, and would know how to put them on my track. I should +be arrested in Paris, if I got so far, living under a false name, after +having left the car under a false name, disguised myself, and travelled +in a cabin which I had booked in advance, also under a false name. It +would be plainly the crime of a man without money, and for some reason +desperately in want of it. As for my account of the affair, it would be +too preposterous. + +'As this ghastly array of incriminating circumstances rose up before me, +I dragged the stout letter-case from my pocket. In the intensity of the +moment, I never entertained the faintest doubt that I was right, and +that the money was there. It would easily hold the packets of notes. But +as I felt it and weighed it in my hands it seemed to me there must be +more than this. It was too bulky. What more was to be laid to my charge? +After all, a thousand pounds was not much to tempt a man like myself to +run the risk of penal servitude. In this new agitation, scarcely knowing +what I did, I caught the surrounding strap in my fingers just above the +fastening and tore the staple out of the lock. Those locks, you know, +are pretty flimsy as a rule.' + +Here Marlowe paused and walked to the oaken desk before the window. +Opening a drawer full of miscellaneous objects, he took out a box of odd +keys, and selected a small one distinguished by a piece of pink tape. + +He handed it to Trent. 'I keep that by me as a sort of morbid memento. +It is the key to the lock I smashed. I might have saved myself the +trouble, if I had known that this key was at that moment in the +left-hand side-pocket of my overcoat. Manderson must have slipped it in, +either while the coat was hanging in the hall or while he sat at my side +in the car. I might not have found the tiny thing there for weeks: as +a matter of fact I did find it two days after Manderson was dead, but +a police search would have found it in five minutes. And then I--I +with the case and its contents in my pocket, my false name and my sham +spectacles and the rest of it--I should have had no explanation to offer +but the highly convincing one that I didn't know the key was there.' + +Trent dangled the key by its tape idly. Then: 'How do you know this is +the key of that case?' he asked quickly. + +'I tried it. As soon as I found it I went up and fitted it to the lock. +I knew where I had left the thing. So do you, I think, Mr. Trent. Don't +you?' There was a faint shade of mockery in Marlowe's voice. + +'Touche,' Trent said, with a dry smile. 'I found a large empty +letter-case with a burst lock lying with other odds and ends on the +dressing-table in Manderson's room. Your statement is that you put it +there. I could make nothing of it.' He closed his lips. + +'There was no reason for hiding it,' said Marlowe. 'But to get back to +my story. I burst the lock of the strap. I opened the case before one +of the lamps of the car. The first thing I found in it I ought to have +expected, of course, but I hadn't.' He paused and glanced at Trent. + +'It was--' began Trent mechanically, and then stopped himself. 'Try +not to bring me in any more, if you don't mind,' he said, meeting the +other's eye. 'I have complimented you already in that document on your +cleverness. You need not prove it by making the judge help you out with +your evidence.' + +'All right,' agreed Marlowe. 'I couldn't resist just that much. If you +had been in my place you would have known before I did that Manderson's +little pocket-case was there. As soon as I saw it, of course, I +remembered his not having had it about him when I asked for money, and +his surprising anger. He had made a false step. He had already fastened +his note-case up with the rest of what was to figure as my plunder, and +placed it in my hands. I opened it. It contained a few notes as usual, I +didn't count them. + +'Tucked into the flaps of the big case in packets were the other notes, +just as I had brought them from London. And with them were two small +wash-leather bags, the look of which I knew well. My heart jumped +sickeningly again, for this, too, was utterly unexpected. In those bags +Manderson kept the diamonds in which he had been investing for some time +past. I didn't open them; I could feel the tiny stones shifting under +the pressure of my fingers. How many thousands of pounds' worth there +were there I have no idea. We had regarded Manderson's diamond-buying +as merely a speculative fad. I believe now that it was the earliest +movement in the scheme for my ruin. For any one like myself to be +represented as having robbed him, there ought to be a strong inducement +shown. That had been provided with a vengeance. + +'Now, I thought, I have the whole thing plain, and I must act. I saw +instantly what I must do. I had left Manderson about a mile from the +house. It would take him twenty minutes, fifteen if he walked fast, to +get back to the house, where he would, of course, immediately tell +his story of robbery, and probably telephone at once to the police in +Bishopsbridge. I had left him only five or six minutes ago; for all that +I have just told you was as quick thinking as I ever did. It would be +easy to overtake him in the car before he neared the house. There would +be an awkward interview. I set my teeth as I thought of it, and all my +fears vanished as I began to savour the gratification of telling him my +opinion of him. There are probably few people who ever positively looked +forward to an awkward interview with Manderson; but I was mad with +rage. My honour and my liberty had been plotted against with detestable +treachery. I did not consider what would follow the interview. That +would arrange itself. + +'I had started and turned the car, I was already going fast toward White +Gables, when I heard the sound of a shot in front of me, to the right. + +'Instantly I stopped the car. My first wild thought was that Manderson +was shooting at me. Then I realized that the noise had not been close at +hand. I could see nobody on the road, though the moonlight flooded it. I +had left Manderson at a spot just round the corner that was now about a +hundred yards ahead of me. After half a minute or so, I started again, +and turned the corner at a slow pace. Then I stopped again with a jar, +and for a moment I sat perfectly still. + +'Manderson lay dead a few steps from me on the turf within the gate, +clearly visible to me in the moonlight.' + +Marlowe made another pause, and Trent, with a puckered brow, enquired, +'On the golf-course?' + +'Obviously,' remarked Mr. Cupples. 'The eighth green is just there.' +He had grown more and more interested as Marlowe went on, and was now +playing feverishly with his thin beard. + +'On the green, quite close to the flag,' said Marlowe. 'He lay on his +back, his arms were stretched abroad, his jacket and heavy overcoat were +open; the light shone hideously on his white face and his shirt-front; +it glistened on his bared teeth and one of the eyes. The other... you +saw it. The man was certainly dead. As I sat there stunned, unable for +the moment to think at all, I could even see a thin dark line of blood +running down from the shattered socket to the ear. Close by lay his soft +black hat, and at his feet a pistol. + +'I suppose it was only a few seconds that I sat helplessly staring at +the body. Then I rose and moved to it with dragging feet; for now +the truth had come to me at last, and I realized the fullness of my +appalling danger. It was not only my liberty or my honour that the +maniac had undermined. It was death that he had planned for me; death +with the degradation of the scaffold. To strike me down with certainty, +he had not hesitated to end his life; a life which was, no doubt, +already threatened by a melancholic impulse to self-destruction; and the +last agony of the suicide had been turned, perhaps, to a devilish joy by +the thought that he dragged down my life with his. For as far as I could +see at the moment my situation was utterly hopeless. If it had been +desperate on the assumption that Manderson meant to denounce me as a +thief, what was it now that his corpse denounced me as a murderer? + +'I picked up the revolver and saw, almost without emotion, that it was +my own. Manderson had taken it from my room, I suppose, while I was +getting out the car. At the same moment I remembered that it was by +Manderson's suggestion that I had had it engraved with my initials, to +distinguish it from a precisely similar weapon which he had of his own. + +'I bent over the body and satisfied myself that there was no life left +in it. I must tell you here that I did not notice, then or afterwards, +the scratches and marks on the wrists, which were taken as evidence of +a struggle with an assailant. But I have no doubt that Manderson +deliberately injured himself in this way before firing the shot; it was +a part of his plan. + +'Though I never perceived that detail, however, it was evident enough as +I looked at the body that Manderson had not forgotten, in his last act +on earth, to tie me tighter by putting out of court the question of +suicide. He had clearly been at pains to hold the pistol at arm's +length, and there was not a trace of smoke or of burning on the face. +The wound was absolutely clean, and was already ceasing to bleed +outwardly. I rose and paced the green, reckoning up the points in the +crushing case against me. + +'I was the last to be seen with Manderson. I had persuaded him--so he +had lied to his wife and, as I afterwards knew, to the butler--to go +with me for the drive from which he never returned. My pistol had killed +him. It was true that by discovering his plot I had saved myself +from heaping up further incriminating facts--flight, concealment, the +possession of the treasure. But what need of them, after all? As I +stood, what hope was there? What could I do?' + +Marlowe came to the table and leaned forward with his hands upon it. 'I +want,' he said very earnestly, 'to try to make you understand what was +in my mind when I decided to do what I did. I hope you won't be bored, +because I must do it. You may both have thought I acted like a fool. +But after all the police never suspected me. I walked that green for +a quarter of an hour, I suppose, thinking the thing out like a game of +chess. I had to think ahead and think coolly; for my safety depended on +upsetting the plans of one of the longest-headed men who ever lived. And +remember that, for all I knew, there were details of the scheme still +hidden from me, waiting to crush me. + +'Two plain courses presented themselves at once. Either of them, I +thought, would certainly prove fatal. I could, in the first place, do +the completely straightforward thing: take back the dead man, tell my +story, hand over the notes and diamonds, and trust to the saving power +of truth and innocence. I could have laughed as I thought of it. I +saw myself bringing home the corpse and giving an account of myself, +boggling with sheer shame over the absurdity of my wholly unsupported +tale, as I brought a charge of mad hatred and fiendish treachery against +a man who had never, as far as I knew, had a word to say against me. +At every turn the cunning of Manderson had forestalled me. His careful +concealment of such a hatred was a characteristic feature of the +stratagem; only a man of his iron self-restraint could have done it. You +can see for yourselves how every fact in my statement would appear, in +the shadow of Manderson's death, a clumsy lie. I tried to imagine myself +telling such a story to the counsel for my defence. I could see the face +with which he would listen to it; I could read in the lines of it his +thought, that to put forward such an impudent farrago would mean merely +the disappearance of any chance there might be of a commutation of the +capital sentence. + +'True, I had not fled. I had brought back the body; I had handed over +the property. But how did that help me? It would only suggest that I had +yielded to a sudden funk after killing my man, and had no nerve left to +clutch at the fruits of the crime; it would suggest, perhaps, that I had +not set out to kill but only to threaten, and that when I found that I +had done murder the heart went out of me. Turn it which way I would, I +could see no hope of escape by this plan of action. + +'The second of the obvious things that I might do was to take the hint +offered by the situation, and to fly at once. That too must prove fatal. +There was the body. I had no time to hide it in such a way that it would +not be found at the first systematic search. But whatever I should +do with the body, Manderson's not returning to the house would cause +uneasiness in two or three hours at most. Martin would suspect an +accident to the car, and would telephone to the police. At daybreak the +roads would be scoured and enquiries telegraphed in every direction. The +police would act on the possibility of there being foul play. They +would spread their nets with energy in such a big business as the +disappearance of Manderson. Ports and railway termini would be watched. +Within twenty-four hours the body would be found, and the whole country +would be on the alert for me--all Europe, scarcely less; I did not +believe there was a spot in Christendom where the man accused of +Manderson's murder could pass unchallenged, with every newspaper crying +the fact of his death into the ears of all the world. Every stranger +would be suspect; every man, woman, and child would be a detective. The +car, wherever I should abandon it, would put people on my track. If I +had to choose between two utterly hopeless courses, I decided, I would +take that of telling the preposterous truth. + +'But now I cast about desperately for some tale that would seem more +plausible than the truth. Could I save my neck by a lie? One after +another came into my mind; I need not trouble to remember them now. Each +had its own futilities and perils; but every one split upon the fact--or +what would be taken for fact--that I had induced Manderson to go out +with me, and the fact that he had never returned alive. Notion after +notion I swiftly rejected as I paced there by the dead man, and doom +seemed to settle down upon me more heavily as the moments passed. Then a +strange thought came to me. + +'Several times I had repeated to myself half-consciously, as a sort of +refrain, the words in which I had heard Manderson tell his wife that +I had induced him to go out. "Marlowe has persuaded me to go for a +moonlight run in the car. He is very urgent about it." All at once +it struck me that, without meaning to do so, I was saying this in +Manderson's voice. + +'As you found out for yourself, Mr. Trent, I have a natural gift of +mimicry. I had imitated Manderson's voice many times so successfully as +to deceive even Bunner, who had been much more in his company than +his own wife. It was, you remember'--Marlowe turned to Mr. Cupples--'a +strong, metallic voice, of great carrying power, so unusual as to make +it a very fascinating voice to imitate, and at the same time very easy. +I said the words carefully to myself again, like this--' he uttered +them, and Mr. Cupples opened his eyes in amazement--'and then I struck +my hand upon the low wall beside me. "Manderson never returned alive?" I +said aloud. "But Manderson shall return alive!"' + +'In thirty seconds the bare outline of the plan was complete in my mind. +I did not wait to think over details. Every instant was precious now. I +lifted the body and laid it on the floor of the car, covered with a rug. +I took the hat and the revolver. Not one trace remained on the green, I +believe, of that night's work. As I drove back to White Gables my design +took shape before me with a rapidity and ease that filled me with a wild +excitement. I should escape yet! It was all so easy if I kept my pluck. +Putting aside the unusual and unlikely, I should not fail. I wanted to +shout, to scream! + +'Nearing the house I slackened speed, and carefully reconnoitred the +road. Nothing was moving. I turned the car into the open field on the +other side of the road, about twenty paces short of the little door at +the extreme corner of the grounds. I brought it to rest behind a stack. +When, with Manderson's hat on my head and the pistol in my pocket, I had +staggered with the body across the moonlit road and through that door, +I left much of my apprehension behind me. With swift action and an +unbroken nerve I thought I ought to succeed.' + +With a long sigh Marlowe threw himself into one of the deep chairs at +the fireside and passed his handkerchief over his damp forehead. Each of +his hearers, too, drew a deep breath, but not audibly. + +'Everything else you know,' he said. He took a cigarette from a box +beside him and lighted it. Trent watched the very slight quiver of the +hand that held the match, and privately noted that his own was at the +moment not so steady. + +'The shoes that betrayed me to you,' pursued Marlowe after a short +silence, 'were painful all the time I wore them, but I never dreamed +that they had given anywhere. I knew that no footstep of mine must +appear by any accident in the soft ground about the hut where I laid +the body, or between the hut and the house, so I took the shoes off and +crammed my feet into them as soon as I was inside the little door. I +left my own shoes, with my own jacket and overcoat, near the body, ready +to be resumed later. I made a clear footmark on the soft gravel outside +the French window, and several on the drugget round the carpet. The +stripping off of the outer clothing of the body, and the dressing of it +afterwards in the brown suit and shoes, and putting the things into the +pockets, was a horrible business; and getting the teeth out of the mouth +was worse. The head--but you don't want to hear about it. I didn't feel +it much at the time. I was wriggling my own head out of a noose, you +see. I wish I had thought of pulling down the cuffs, and had tied the +shoes more neatly. And putting the watch in the wrong pocket was a bad +mistake. It had all to be done so hurriedly. + +'You were wrong, by the way, about the whisky. After one stiffish drink +I had no more; but I filled up a flask that was in the cupboard, and +pocketed it. I had a night of peculiar anxiety and effort in front of +me and I didn't know how I should stand it. I had to take some once or +twice during the drive. Speaking of that, you give rather a generous +allowance of time in your document for doing that run by night. You +say that to get to Southampton by half-past six in that car, under +the conditions, a man must, even if he drove like a demon, have left +Marlstone by twelve at latest. I had not got the body dressed in the +other suit, with tie and watch-chain and so forth, until nearly ten +minutes past; and then I had to get to the car and start it going. But +then I don't suppose any other man would have taken the risks I did in +that car at night, without a headlight. It turns me cold to think of it +now. + +'There's nothing much to say about what I did in the house. I spent the +time after Martin had left me in carefully thinking over the remaining +steps in my plan, while I unloaded and thoroughly cleaned the revolver +using my handkerchief and a penholder from the desk. I also placed the +packets of notes, the note-case, and the diamonds in the roll-top desk, +which I opened and relocked with Manderson's key. When I went upstairs +it was a trying moment, for though I was safe from the eyes of Martin, +as he sat in his pantry, there was a faint possibility of somebody +being about on the bedroom floor. I had sometimes found the French maid +wandering about there when the other servants were in bed. Bunner, I +knew, was a deep sleeper. Mrs. Manderson, I had gathered from things +I had heard her say, was usually asleep by eleven; I had thought it +possible that her gift of sleep had helped her to retain all her beauty +and vitality in spite of a marriage which we all knew was an unhappy +one. Still it was uneasy work mounting the stairs, and holding myself +ready to retreat to the library again at the least sound from above. But +nothing happened. + +'The first thing I did on reaching the corridor was to enter my room and +put the revolver and cartridges back in the case. Then I turned off the +light and went quietly into Manderson's room. + +'What I had to do there you know. I had to take off the shoes and put +them outside the door, leave Manderson's jacket, waistcoat, trousers, +and black tie, after taking everything out of the pockets, select a suit +and tie and shoes for the body, and place the dental plate in the bowl, +which I moved from the washing-stand to the bedside, leaving those +ruinous finger-marks as I did so. The marks on the drawer must have been +made when I shut it after taking out the tie. Then I had to lie down +in the bed and tumble it. You know all about it--all except my state of +mind, which you couldn't imagine and I couldn't describe. + +'The worst came when I had hardly begun my operations: the moment when +Mrs. Manderson spoke from the room where I supposed her asleep. I was +prepared for it happening; it was a possibility; but I nearly lost my +nerve all the same. However.... + +'By the way, I may tell you this: in the extremely unlikely contingency +of Mrs. Manderson remaining awake, and so putting out of the question my +escape by way of her window, I had planned simply to remain where I was +a few hours, and then, not speaking to her, to leave the house quickly +and quietly by the ordinary way. Martin would have been in bed by that +time. I might have been heard to leave, but not seen. I should have done +just as I had planned with the body, and then made the best time I +could in the car to Southampton. The difference would have been that +I couldn't have furnished an unquestionable alibi by turning up at the +hotel at 6.30. I should have made the best of it by driving straight to +the docks, and making my ostentatious enquiries there. I could in any +case have got there long before the boat left at noon. I couldn't see +that anybody could suspect me of the supposed murder in any case; but if +any one had, and if I hadn't arrived until ten o'clock, say, I shouldn't +have been able to answer, "It is impossible for me to have got to +Southampton so soon after shooting him." I should simply have had to say +I was delayed by a breakdown after leaving Manderson at half-past ten, +and challenged any one to produce any fact connecting me with the crime. +They couldn't have done it. The pistol, left openly in my room, +might have been used by anybody, even if it could be proved that that +particular pistol was used. Nobody could reasonably connect me with +the shooting so long as it was believed that it was Manderson who had +returned to the house. The suspicion could not, I was confident, enter +any one's mind. All the same, I wanted to introduce the element of +absolute physical impossibility; I knew I should feel ten times as +safe with that. So when I knew from the sound of her breathing that +Mrs. Manderson was asleep again, I walked quickly across her room in my +stocking feet, and was on the grass with my bundle in ten seconds. I +don't think I made the least noise. The curtain before the window was of +soft, thick stuff and didn't rustle, and when I pushed the glass doors +further open there was not a sound.' + +'Tell me,' said Trent, as the other stopped to light a new cigarette, +'why you took the risk of going through Mrs. Manderson's room to escape +from the house. I could see when I looked into the thing on the spot why +it had to be on that side of the house; there was a danger of being seen +by Martin, or by some servant at a bedroom window, if you got out by a +window on one of the other sides. But there were three unoccupied rooms +on that side; two spare bedrooms and Mrs. Manderson's sitting-room. I should have +thought it would have been safer, after you had done what was necessary +to your plan in Manderson's room, to leave it quietly and escape through +one of those three rooms.... The fact that you went through her window, +you know,' he added coldly, 'would have suggested, if it became known, +various suspicions in regard to the lady herself. I think you understand +me.' + +Marlowe turned upon him with a glowing face. 'And I think you will +understand me, Mr. Trent,' he said in a voice that shook a little, 'when +I say that if such a possibility had occurred to me then, I would have +taken any risk rather than make my escape by that way.... Oh well!' he +went on more coolly, 'I suppose that to any one who didn't know her, +the idea of her being privy to her husband's murder might not seem so +indescribably fatuous. Forgive the expression.' He looked attentively at +the burning end of his cigarette, studiously unconscious of the red flag +that flew in Trent's eyes for an instant at his words and the tone of +them. + +That emotion, however, was conquered at once. 'Your remark is perfectly +just,' Trent said with answering coolness. 'I can quite believe, too, +that at the time you didn't think of the possibility I mentioned. But +surely, apart from that, it would have been safer to do as I said; go by +the window of an unoccupied room.' + +'Do you think so?' said Marlowe. 'All I can say is, I hadn't the nerve +to do it. I tell you, when I entered Manderson's room I shut the door of +it on more than half my terrors. I had the problem confined before me in +a closed space, with only one danger in it, and that a known danger: the +danger of Mrs. Manderson. The thing was almost done; I had only to wait +until she was certainly asleep after her few moments of waking up, +for which, as I told you, I was prepared as a possibility. Barring +accidents, the way was clear. But now suppose that I, carrying +Manderson's clothes and shoes, had opened that door again and gone in my +shirt-sleeves and socks to enter one of the empty rooms. The moonlight +was flooding the corridor through the end window. Even if my face was +concealed, nobody could mistake my standing figure for Manderson's. +Martin might be going about the house in his silent way. Bunner might +come out of his bedroom. One of the servants who were supposed to be +in bed might come round the corner from the other passage--I had found +Celestine prowling about quite as late as it was then. None of these +things was very likely; but they were all too likely for me. They were +uncertainties. Shut off from the household in Manderson's room I knew +exactly what I had to face. As I lay in my clothes in Manderson's bed +and listened for the almost inaudible breathing through the open door, I +felt far more ease of mind, terrible as my anxiety was, than I had felt +since I saw the dead body on the turf. I even congratulated myself +that I had had the chance, through Mrs. Manderson's speaking to me, of +tightening one of the screws in my scheme by repeating the statement +about my having been sent to Southampton.' + +Marlowe looked at Trent, who nodded as who should say that his point was +met. + +'As for Southampton,' pursued Marlowe, 'you know what I did when I got +there, I have no doubt. I had decided to take Manderson's story about +the mysterious Harris and act it out on my own lines. It was a carefully +prepared lie, better than anything I could improvise. I even went so +far as to get through a trunk call to the hotel at Southampton from the +library before starting, and ask if Harris was there. As I expected, he +wasn't.' + +'Was that why you telephoned?' Trent enquired quickly. + +'The reason for telephoning was to get myself into an attitude in which +Martin couldn't see my face or anything but the jacket and hat, yet +which was a natural and familiar attitude. But while I was about it, it +was obviously better to make a genuine call. If I had simply pretended +to be telephoning, the people at the exchange could have told at once +that there hadn't been a call from White Gables that night.' + +'One of the first things I did was to make that enquiry,' said Trent. +'That telephone call, and the wire you sent from Southampton to the +dead man to say Harris hadn't turned up, and you were returning--I +particularly appreciated both those.' + +A constrained smile lighted Marlowe's face for a moment. 'I don't know +that there's anything more to tell. I returned to Marlstone, and faced +your friend the detective with such nerve as I had left. The worst was +when I heard you had been put on the case--no, that wasn't the worst. +The worst was when I saw you walk out of the shrubbery the next day, +coming away from the shed where I had laid the body. For one ghastly +moment I thought you were going to give me in charge on the spot. Now +I've told you everything, you don't look so terrible.' + +He closed his eyes, and there was a short silence. Then Trent got +suddenly to his feet. + +'Cross-examination?' enquired Marlowe, looking at him gravely. + +'Not at all,' said Trent, stretching his long limbs. 'Only stiffness +of the legs. I don't want to ask any questions. I believe what you have +told us. I don't believe it simply because I always liked your face, +or because it saves awkwardness, which are the most usual reasons for +believing a person, but because my vanity will have it that no man could +lie to me steadily for an hour without my perceiving it. Your story is +an extraordinary one; but Manderson was an extraordinary man, and so are +you. You acted like a lunatic in doing what you did; but I quite agree +with you that if you had acted like a sane man you wouldn't have had +the hundredth part of a dog's chance with a judge and jury. One thing is +beyond dispute on any reading of the affair: you are a man of courage.' + +The colour rushed into Marlowe's face, and he hesitated for words. +Before he could speak Mr. Cupples arose with a dry cough. + +'For my part,' he said, 'I never supposed you guilty for a moment.' +Marlowe turned to him in grateful amazement, Trent with an incredulous +stare. 'But,' pursued Mr. Cupples, holding up his hand, 'there is one +question which I should like to put.' + +Marlowe bowed, saying nothing. + +'Suppose,' said Mr. Cupples, 'that some one else had been suspected of +the crime and put upon trial. What would you have done?' + +'I think my duty was clear. I should have gone with my story to the +lawyers for the defence, and put myself in their hands.' + +Trent laughed aloud. Now that the thing was over, his spirits were +rapidly becoming ungovernable. 'I can see their faces!' he said. 'As a +matter of fact, though, nobody else was ever in danger. There wasn't a +shred of evidence against any one. I looked up Murch at the Yard this +morning, and he told me he had come round to Bunner's view, that it +was a case of revenge on the part of some American black-hand gang. So +there's the end of the Manderson case. Holy, suffering Moses! What an +ass a man can make of himself when he thinks he's being preternaturally +clever!' He seized the bulky envelope from the table and stuffed it into +the heart of the fire. 'There's for you, old friend! For want of you the +world's course will not fail. But look here! It's getting late--nearly +seven, and Cupples and I have an appointment at half-past. We must go. +Mr. Marlowe, goodbye.' He looked into the other's eyes. 'I am a man +who has worked hard to put a rope round your neck. Considering the +circumstances, I don't know whether you will blame me. Will you shake +hands?' + + + + +CHAPTER XVI: The Last Straw + +'What was that you said about our having an appointment at half-past +seven?' asked Mr. Cupples as the two came out of the great gateway of the +pile of flats. 'Have we such an appointment?' + +'Certainly we have,' replied Trent. 'You are dining with me. Only one +thing can properly celebrate this occasion, and that is a dinner for +which I pay. No, no! I asked you first. I have got right down to the +bottom of a case that must be unique--a case that has troubled even my +mind for over a year--and if that isn't a good reason for standing a +dinner, I don't know what is. Cupples, we will not go to my club. This +is to be a festival, and to be seen in a London club in a state of +pleasurable emotion is more than enough to shatter any man's career. +Besides that, the dinner there is always the same, or, at least, they +always make it taste the same, I know not how. The eternal dinner at my +club hath bored millions of members like me, and shall bore; but tonight +let the feast be spread in vain, so far as we are concerned. We will not +go where the satraps throng the hall. We will go to Sheppard's.' + +'Who is Sheppard?' asked Mr. Cupples mildly, as they proceeded up +Victoria Street. His companion went with an unnatural lightness, and a +policeman, observing his face, smiled indulgently at a look of happiness +which he could only attribute to alcohol. + +'Who is Sheppard?' echoed Trent with bitter emphasis. 'That question, if +you will pardon me for saying so, Cupples, is thoroughly characteristic +of the spirit of aimless enquiry prevailing in this restless day. I +suggest our dining at Sheppard's, and instantly you fold your arms +and demand, in a frenzy of intellectual pride, to know who Sheppard is +before you will cross the threshold of Sheppard's. I am not going to +pander to the vices of the modern mind. Sheppard's is a place where one +can dine. I do not know Sheppard. It never occurred to me that Sheppard +existed. Probably he is a myth of totemistic origin. All I know is that +you can get a bit of saddle of mutton at Sheppard's that has made many +an American visitor curse the day that Christopher Columbus was born.... +Taxi!' + +A cab rolled smoothly to the kerb, and the driver received his +instructions with a majestic nod. + +'Another reason I have for suggesting Sheppard's,' continued Trent, +feverishly lighting a cigarette, 'is that I am going to be married to +the most wonderful woman in the world. I trust the connection of ideas +is clear.' + +'You are going to marry Mabel!' cried Mr. Cupples. 'My dear friend, what +good news this is! Shake hands, Trent; this is glorious! I congratulate +you both from the bottom of my heart. And may I say--I don't want to +interrupt your flow of high spirits, which is very natural indeed, and I +remember being just the same in similar circumstances long ago--but +may I say how earnestly I have hoped for this? Mabel has seen so much +unhappiness, yet she is surely a woman formed in the great purpose of +humanity to be the best influence in the life of a good man. But I did +not know her mind as regarded yourself. Your mind I have known for some +time,' Mr. Cupples went on, with a twinkle in his eye that would have +done credit to the worldliest of creatures. 'I saw it at once when +you were both dining at my house, and you sat listening to Professor +Peppmuller and looking at her. Some of us older fellows have our wits +about us still, my dear boy.' + +'Mabel says she knew it before that,' replied Trent, with a slightly +crestfallen air. 'And I thought I was acting the part of a person +who was not mad about her to the life. Well, I never was any good at +dissembling. I shouldn't wonder if even old Peppmuller noticed something +through his double convex lenses. But however crazy I may have been as +an undeclared suitor,' he went on with a return to vivacity, 'I am going +to be much worse now. As for your congratulations, thank you a thousand +times, because I know you mean them. You are the sort of uncomfortable +brute who would pull a face three feet long if you thought we were +making a mistake. By the way, I can't help being an ass tonight; I'm +obliged to go on blithering. You must try to bear it. Perhaps it would +be easier if I sang you a song--one of your old favourites. What was +that song you used always to be singing? Like this, wasn't it?' He +accompanied the following stave with a dexterous clog-step on the floor +of the cab: + +'There was an old nigger, and he had a wooden leg. He had no tobacco, no +tobacco could he beg. Another old nigger was as cunning as a fox, And he +always had tobacco in his old tobacco-box. + +'Now for the chorus! + +'Yes, he always had tobacco in his old tobacco-box. + +'But you're not singing. I thought you would be making the welkin ring.' + +'I never sang that song in my life,' protested Mr. Cupples. 'I never +heard it before.' + +'Are you sure?' enquired Trent doubtfully. 'Well, I suppose I must take +your word for it. It is a beautiful song, anyhow: not the whole warbling +grove in concert heard can beat it. Somehow it seems to express my +feelings at the present moment as nothing else could; it rises unbidden +to the lips. Out of the fullness of the heart the mouth speaketh, as +the Bishop of Bath and Wells said when listening to a speech of Mr +Balfour's.' + +'When was that?' asked Mr. Cupples. + +'On the occasion,' replied Trent, 'of the introduction of the Compulsory +Notification of Diseases of Poultry Bill, which ill-fated measure you +of course remember. Hullo!' he broke off, as the cab rushed down a side +street and swung round a corner into a broad and populous thoroughfare, +'we're there already'. The cab drew up. + +'Here we are,' said Trent, as he paid the man, and led Mr. Cupples into a +long, panelled room set with many tables and filled with a hum of talk. +'This is the house of fulfilment of craving, this is the bower with +the roses around it. I see there are three bookmakers eating pork at my +favourite table. We will have that one in the opposite corner.' + +He conferred earnestly with a waiter, while Mr. Cupples, in a pleasant +meditation, warmed himself before the great fire. 'The wine here,' Trent +resumed, as they seated themselves, 'is almost certainly made out of +grapes. What shall we drink?' + +Mr. Cupples came out of his reverie. 'I think,' he said, 'I will have +milk and soda water.' + +'Speak lower!' urged Trent. 'The head-waiter has a weak heart, and might +hear you. Milk and soda water! Cupples, you may think you have a strong +constitution, and I don't say you have not, but I warn you that this +habit of mixing drinks has been the death of many a robuster man than +you. Be wise in time. Fill high the bowl with Samian wine, leave soda to +the Turkish hordes. Here comes our food.' He gave another order to the +waiter, who ranged the dishes before them and darted away. Trent was, it +seemed, a respected customer. 'I have sent,' he said, 'for wine that I +know, and I hope you will try it. If you have taken a vow, then in the +name of all the teetotal saints drink water, which stands at your elbow, +but don't seek a cheap notoriety by demanding milk and soda.' + +'I have never taken any pledge,' said Mr. Cupples, examining his mutton +with a favourable eye. 'I simply don't care about wine. I bought a +bottle once and drank it to see what it was like, and it made me ill. +But very likely it was bad wine. I will taste some of yours, as it is +your dinner, and I do assure you, my dear Trent, I should like to do +something unusual to show how strongly I feel on the present occasion. I +have not been so delighted for many years. To think,' he reflected aloud +as the waiter filled his glass, 'of the Manderson mystery disposed of, +the innocent exculpated, and your own and Mabel's happiness crowned--all +coming upon me together! I drink to you, my dear friend.' And Mr. Cupples +took a very small sip of the wine. + +'You have a great nature,' said Trent, much moved. 'Your outward +semblance doth belie your soul's immensity. I should have expected +as soon to see an elephant conducting at the opera as you drinking +my health. Dear Cupples! May his beak retain ever that delicate +rose-stain!--No, curse it all!' he broke out, surprising a shade of +discomfort that flitted over his companion's face as he tasted the wine +again. 'I have no business to meddle with your tastes. I apologize. You +shall have what you want, even if it causes the head-waiter to perish in +his pride.' + +When Mr. Cupples had been supplied with his monastic drink, and the +waiter had retired, Trent looked across the table with significance. 'In +this babble of many conversations,' he said, 'we can speak as freely as +if we were on a bare hillside. The waiter is whispering soft nothings +into the ear of the young woman at the pay-desk. We are alone. What do +you think of that interview of this afternoon?' He began to dine with an +appetite. + +Without pausing in the task of cutting his mutton into very small pieces +Mr. Cupples replied: 'The most curious feature of it, in my judgement, +was the irony of the situation. We both held the clue to that mad hatred +of Manderson's which Marlowe found so mysterious. We knew of his jealous +obsession; which knowledge we withheld, as was very proper, if only in +consideration of Mabel's feelings. Marlowe will never know of what he +was suspected by that person. Strange! Nearly all of us, I venture +to think, move unconsciously among a network of opinions, often quite +erroneous, which other people entertain about us. I remember, for +instance, discovering quite by accident some years ago that a number +of people of my acquaintance believed me to have been secretly received +into the Church of Rome. This absurd fiction was based upon the fact, +which in the eyes of many appeared conclusive, that I had expressed +myself in talk as favouring the plan of a weekly abstinence from meat. +Manderson's belief in regard to his secretary probably rested upon a +much slighter ground. It was Mr. Bunner, I think you said, who told +you of his rooted and apparently hereditary temper of suspicious +jealousy.... With regard to Marlowe's story, it appeared to me entirely +straightforward, and not, in its essential features, especially +remarkable, once we have admitted, as we surely must, that in the case +of Manderson we have to deal with a more or less disordered mind.' + +Trent laughed loudly. 'I confess,' he said, 'that the affair struck me +as a little unusual. + +'Only in the development of the details,' argued Mr. Cupples. 'What +is there abnormal in the essential facts? A madman conceives a crazy +suspicion; he hatches a cunning plot against his fancied injurer; it +involves his own destruction. Put thus, what is there that any man with +the least knowledge of the ways of lunatics would call remarkable? Turn +now to Marlowe's proceedings. He finds himself in a perilous position +from which, though he is innocent, telling the truth will not save +him. Is that an unheard-of situation? He escapes by means of a bold and +ingenious piece of deception. That seems to me a thing that might happen +every day, and probably does so.' He attacked his now unrecognizable +mutton. + +'I should like to know,' said Trent, after an alimentary pause in the +conversation, 'whether there is anything that ever happened on the +face of the earth that you could not represent as quite ordinary and +commonplace by such a line of argument as that.' + +A gentle smile illuminated Mr. Cupples's face. 'You must not suspect me +of empty paradox,' he said. 'My meaning will become clearer, perhaps, if +I mention some things which do appear to me essentially remarkable. +Let me see .... Well, I would call the life history of the liver-fluke, +which we owe to the researches of Poulton, an essentially remarkable +thing.' + +'I am unable to argue the point,' replied Trent. 'Fair science may have +smiled upon the liver-fluke's humble birth, but I never even heard it +mentioned.' + +'It is not, perhaps, an appetizing subject,' said Mr. Cupples +thoughtfully, 'and I will not pursue it. All I mean is, my dear Trent, +that there are really remarkable things going on all round us if we +will only see them; and we do our perceptions no credit in regarding as +remarkable only those affairs which are surrounded with an accumulation +of sensational detail.' + +Trent applauded heartily with his knife-handle on the table, as Mr +Cupples ceased and refreshed himself with milk and soda water. 'I have +not heard you go on like this for years,' he said. 'I believe you must +be almost as much above yourself as I am. It is a bad case of the unrest +which men miscall delight. But much as I enjoy it, I am not going to sit +still and hear the Manderson affair dismissed as commonplace. You may +say what you like, but the idea of impersonating Manderson in those +circumstances was an extraordinarily ingenious idea.' + +'Ingenious--certainly!' replied Mr. Cupples. 'Extraordinarily so--no! In +those circumstances (your own words) it was really not strange that +it should occur to a clever man. It lay almost on the surface of the +situation. Marlowe was famous for his imitation of Manderson's voice; he +had a talent for acting; he had a chess-player's mind; he knew the +ways of the establishment intimately. I grant you that the idea +was brilliantly carried out; but everything favoured it. As for the +essential idea, I do not place it, as regards ingenuity, in the same +class with, for example, the idea of utilizing the force of recoil in a +discharged firearm to actuate the mechanism of ejecting and reloading. +I do, however, admit, as I did at the outset, that in respect of +details the case had unusual features. It developed a high degree of +complexity.' + +'Did it really strike you in that way?' enquired Trent with desperate +sarcasm. + +'The affair became complicated,' went on Mr. Cupples unmoved, 'because +after Marlowe's suspicions were awakened, a second subtle mind came +in to interfere with the plans of the first. That sort of duel often +happens in business and politics, but less frequently, I imagine, in the +world of crime.' + +'I should say never,' Trent replied; 'and the reason is, that even the +cleverest criminals seldom run to strategic subtlety. When they do, they +don't get caught, since clever policemen have if possible less strategic +subtlety than the ordinary clever criminal. But that rather deep quality +seems very rarely to go with the criminal make-up. Look at Crippen. He +was a very clever criminal as they go. He solved the central problem +of every clandestine murder, the disposal of the body, with extreme +neatness. But how far did he see through the game? The criminal and the +policeman are often swift and bold tacticians, but neither of them is +good for more than a quite simple plan. After all, it's a rare faculty +in any walk of life.' + +'One disturbing reflection was left on my mind,' said Mr. Cupples, who +seemed to have had enough of abstractions for the moment, 'by what we +learned today. If Marlowe had suspected nothing and walked into the +trap, he would almost certainly have been hanged. Now how often may +not a plan to throw the guilt of murder on an innocent person have been +practised successfully? There are, I imagine, numbers of cases in which +the accused, being found guilty on circumstantial evidence, have +died protesting their innocence. I shall never approve again of a +death-sentence imposed in a case decided upon such evidence.' + +'I never have done so, for my part,' said Trent. 'To hang in such +cases seems to me flying in the face of the perfectly obvious and sound +principle expressed in the saying that "you never can tell". I agree +with the American jurist who lays it down that we should not hang a +yellow dog for stealing jam on circumstantial evidence, not even if +he has jam all over his nose. As for attempts being made by malevolent +persons to fix crimes upon innocent men, of course it is constantly +happening. It's a marked feature, for instance, of all systems of rule +by coercion, whether in Ireland or Russia or India or Korea; if the +police cannot get hold of a man they think dangerous by fair means, +they do it by foul. But there's one case in the State Trials that is +peculiarly to the point, because not only was it a case of fastening a +murder on innocent people, but the plotter did in effect what Manderson +did; he gave up his own life in order to secure the death of his +victims. Probably you have heard of the Campden Case.' + +Mr. Cupples confessed his ignorance and took another potato. + +'John Masefield has written a very remarkable play about it,' said +Trent, 'and if it ever comes on again in London, you should go and see +it, if you like having the fan-tods. I have often seen women weeping in +an undemonstrative manner at some slab of oleo-margarine sentiment in +the theatre. By George! what everlasting smelling-bottle hysterics they +ought to have if they saw that play decently acted! Well, the facts were +that John Perry accused his mother and brother of murdering a man, and +swore he had helped them to do it. He told a story full of elaborate +detail, and had an answer to everything, except the curious fact that +the body couldn't be found; but the judge, who was probably drunk at the +time--this was in Restoration days--made nothing of that. The mother and +brother denied the accusation. All three prisoners were found guilty and +hanged, purely on John's evidence. Two years after, the man whom they +were hanged for murdering came back to Campden. He had been kidnapped by +pirates and taken to sea. His disappearance had given John his idea. The +point about John is, that his including himself in the accusation, +which amounted to suicide, was the thing in his evidence which convinced +everybody of its truth. It was so obvious that no man would do himself +to death to get somebody else hanged. Now that is exactly the answer +which the prosecution would have made if Marlowe had told the truth. Not +one juryman in a million would have believed in the Manderson plot.' + +Mr. Cupples mused upon this a few moments. 'I have not your acquaintance +with that branch of history,' he said at length; 'in fact, I have none +at all. But certain recollections of my own childhood return to me in +connection with this affair. We know from the things Mabel told you what +may be termed the spiritual truth underlying this matter; the insane +depth of jealous hatred which Manderson concealed. We can understand +that he was capable of such a scheme. But as a rule it is in the task +of penetrating to the spiritual truth that the administration of justice +breaks down. Sometimes that truth is deliberately concealed, as in +Manderson's case. Sometimes, I think, it is concealed because simple +people are actually unable to express it, and nobody else divines it. +When I was a lad in Edinburgh the whole country went mad about the +Sandyford Place murder.' + +Trent nodded. 'Mrs. M'Lachlan's case. She was innocent right enough.' + +'My parents thought so,' said Mr. Cupples. 'I thought so myself when I +became old enough to read and understand that excessively sordid story. +But the mystery of the affair was so dark, and the task of getting +at the truth behind the lies told by everybody concerned proved so +hopeless, that others were just as fully convinced of the innocence of +old James Fleming. All Scotland took sides on the question. It was the +subject of debates in Parliament. The press divided into two camps, and +raged with a fury I have never seen equalled. Yet it is obvious, is it +not? for I see you have read of the case--that if the spiritual truth +about that old man could have been known there would have been very +little room for doubt in the matter. If what some surmised about his +disposition was true, he was quite capable of murdering Jessie M'Pherson +and then casting the blame on the poor feeble-minded creature who came +so near to suffering the last penalty of the law.' + +'Even a commonplace old dotard like Fleming can be an unfathomable +mystery to all the rest of the human race,' said Trent, 'and most of all +in a court of justice. The law certainly does not shine when it comes +to a case requiring much delicacy of perception. It goes wrong +easily enough over the Flemings of this world. As for the people with +temperaments who get mixed up in legal proceedings, they must feel as +if they were in a forest of apes, whether they win or lose. Well, I dare +say it's good for their sort to have their noses rubbed in reality now +and again. But what would twelve red-faced realities in a jury-box have +done to Marlowe? His story would, as he says, have been a great deal +worse than no defence at all. It's not as if there were a single +piece of evidence in support of his tale. Can't you imagine how the +prosecution would tear it to rags? Can't you see the judge simply taking +it in his stride when it came to the summing up? And the jury--you've +served on juries, I expect--in their room, snorting with indignation +over the feebleness of the lie, telling each other it was the clearest +case they ever heard of, and that they'd have thought better of him if +he hadn't lost his nerve at the crisis, and had cleared off with the +swag as he intended. Imagine yourself on that jury, not knowing +Marlowe, and trembling with indignation at the record unrolled before +you--cupidity, murder, robbery, sudden cowardice, shameless, impenitent, +desperate lying! Why, you and I believed him to be guilty until--' + +'I beg your pardon! I beg your pardon!' interjected Mr. Cupples, laying +down his knife and fork. 'I was most careful, when we talked it all over +the other night, to say nothing indicating such a belief. I was always +certain that he was innocent.' + +'You said something of the sort at Marlowe's just now. I wondered what +on earth you could mean. Certain that he was innocent! How can you be +certain? You are generally more careful about terms than that, Cupples.' + +'I said "certain",' Mr. Cupples repeated firmly. + +Trent shrugged his shoulders. 'If you really were, after reading my +manuscript and discussing the whole thing as we did,' he rejoined, 'then +I can only say that you must have totally renounced all trust in the +operations of the human reason; an attitude which, while it is bad +Christianity and also infernal nonsense, is oddly enough bad Positivism +too, unless I misunderstand that system. Why, man--' + +'Let me say a word,' Mr. Cupples interposed again, folding his hands +above his plate. 'I assure you I am far from abandoning reason. I am +certain he is innocent, and I always was certain of it, because of +something that I know, and knew from the very beginning. You asked me +just now to imagine myself on the jury at Marlowe's trial. That would +be an unprofitable exercise of the mental powers, because I know that I +should be present in another capacity. I should be in the witness-box, +giving evidence for the defence. You said just now, "If there were a +single piece of evidence in support of his tale." There is, and it is +my evidence. And,' he added quietly, 'it is conclusive.' He took up his +knife and fork and went contentedly on with his dinner. + +The pallor of sudden excitement had turned Trent to marble while Mr +Cupples led laboriously up to this statement. At the last word the blood +rushed to his face again, and he struck the table with an unnatural +laugh. 'It can't be!' he exploded. 'It's something you fancied, +something you dreamed after one of those debauches of soda and milk. You +can't really mean that all the time I was working on the case down there +you knew Marlowe was innocent.' + +Mr. Cupples, busy with his last mouthful, nodded brightly. He made an end +of eating, wiped his sparse moustache, and then leaned forward over the +table. 'It's very simple,' he said. 'I shot Manderson myself.' + +*** + +'I am afraid I startled you,' Trent heard the voice of Mr. Cupples say. +He forced himself out of his stupefaction like a diver striking upward +for the surface, and with a rigid movement raised his glass. But half +of the wine splashed upon the cloth, and he put it carefully down again +untasted. He drew a deep breath, which was exhaled in a laugh wholly +without merriment. 'Go on,' he said. + +'It was not murder,' began Mr. Cupples, slowly measuring off inches with +a fork on the edge of the table. 'I will tell you the whole story. On +that Sunday night I was taking my before-bedtime constitutional, having +set out from the hotel about a quarter past ten. I went along the field +path that runs behind White Gables, cutting off the great curve of the +road, and came out on the road nearly opposite that gate that is just by +the eighth hole on the golf-course. Then I turned in there, meaning to +walk along the turf to the edge of the cliff, and go back that way. I +had only gone a few steps when I heard the car coming, and then I heard +it stop near the gate. I saw Manderson at once. Do you remember my +telling you I had seen him once alive after our quarrel in front of the +hotel? Well, this was the time. You asked me if I had, and I did not +care to tell a falsehood.' + +A slight groan came from Trent. He drank a little wine, and said +stonily, 'Go on, please.' + +'It was, as you know,' pursued Mr. Cupples, 'a moonlight night, but I was +in shadow under the trees by the stone wall, and anyhow they could not +suppose there was any one near them. I heard all that passed just +as Marlowe has narrated it to us, and I saw the car go off towards +Bishopsbridge. I did not see Manderson's face as it went, because his +back was to me, but he shook the back of his left hand at the car with +extraordinary violence, greatly to my amazement. Then I waited for him +to go back to White Gables, as I did not want to meet him again. But he +did not go. He opened the gate through which I had just passed, and he +stood there on the turf of the green, quite still. His head was bent, +his arms hung at his sides, and he looked some-how--rigid. For a few +moments he remained in this tense attitude, then all of a sudden his +right arm moved swiftly, and his hand was at the pocket of his overcoat. +I saw his face raised in the moonlight, the teeth bared, and the eyes +glittering, and all at once I knew that the man was not sane. Almost as +quickly as that flashed across my mind, something else flashed in the +moonlight. He held the pistol before him, pointing at his breast. + +'Now I may say here I shall always be doubtful whether Manderson really +meant to kill himself then. Marlowe naturally thinks so, knowing nothing +of my intervention. But I think it quite likely he only meant to wound +himself, and to charge Marlowe with attempted murder and robbery. + +'At that moment, however, I assumed it was suicide. Before I knew what I +was doing I had leapt out of the shadows and seized his arm. He shook +me off with a furious snarling noise, giving me a terrific blow in the +chest, and presenting the revolver at my head. But I seized his wrists +before he could fire, and clung with all my strength--you remember how +bruised and scratched they were. I knew I was fighting for my own life +now, for murder was in his eyes. We struggled like two beasts, without +an articulate word, I holding his pistol-hand down and keeping a grip +on the other. I never dreamed that I had the strength for such an +encounter. Then, with a perfectly instinctive movement--I never knew I +meant to do it--I flung away his free hand and clutched like lightning +at the weapon, tearing it from his fingers. By a miracle it did not go +off. I darted back a few steps, he sprang at my throat like a wild cat, +and I fired blindly in his face. He would have been about a yard away, +I suppose. His knees gave way instantly, and he fell in a heap on the +turf. + +'I flung the pistol down and bent over him. The heart's action ceased +under my hand. I knelt there staring, struck motionless; and I don't +know how long it was before I heard the noise of the car returning. + +'Trent, all the time that Marlowe paced that green, with the moonlight +on his white and working face, I was within a few yards of him, +crouching in the shadow of the furze by the ninth tee. I dared not +show myself. I was thinking. My public quarrel with Manderson the same +morning was, I suspected, the talk of the hotel. I assure you that every +horrible possibility of the situation for me had rushed across my mind +the moment I saw Manderson fall. I became cunning. I knew what I must +do. I must get back to the hotel as fast as I could, get in somehow +unperceived, and play a part to save myself. I must never tell a word to +any one. Of course I was assuming that Marlowe would tell every one how +he had found the body. I knew he would suppose it was suicide; I thought +every one would suppose so. + +'When Marlowe began at last to lift the body, I stole away down the wall +and got out into the road by the clubhouse, where he could not see me. +I felt perfectly cool and collected. I crossed the road, climbed the +fence, and ran across the meadow to pick up the field path I had come by +that runs to the hotel behind White Gables. I got back to the hotel very +much out of breath.' + +'Out of breath,' repeated Trent mechanically, still staring at his +companion as if hypnotized. + +'I had had a sharp run,' Mr. Cupples reminded him. 'Well, approaching the +hotel from the back I could see into the writing-room through the open +window. There was nobody in there, so I climbed over the sill, walked to +the bell and rang it, and then sat down to write a letter I had meant to +write the next day. I saw by the clock that it was a little past eleven. +When the waiter answered the bell I asked for a glass of milk and a +postage stamp. Soon afterwards I went up to bed. But I could not sleep.' + +Mr. Cupples, having nothing more to say, ceased speaking. He looked in +mild surprise at Trent, who now sat silent, supporting his bent head in +his hands. + +'He could not sleep,' murmured Trent at last in a hollow tone. 'A +frequent result of over-exertion during the day. Nothing to be alarmed +about.' He was silent again, then looked up with a pale face. 'Cupples, +I am cured. I will never touch a crime-mystery again. The Manderson +affair shall be Philip Trent's last case. His high-blown pride at length +breaks under him.' Trent's smile suddenly returned. 'I could have borne +everything but that last revelation of the impotence of human reason. +Cupples, I have absolutely nothing left to say, except this: you have +beaten me. I drink your health in a spirit of self-abasement. And you +shall pay for the dinner.' + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Trent's Last Case, by +E.C. (Edmund Clerihew) Bentley + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TRENT'S LAST CASE *** + +***** This file should be named 2568.txt or 2568.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/5/6/2568/ + +Produced by Stuart E. Thiel + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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Bentley + + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! + +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. + + +Title: Trent's Last Case +Title: The Woman in Black + +Author: E.C. (Edmund Clerihew) Bentley + +Published: in UK as Trent's Last Case; in USA as The Woman in Black. + +The Project Gutenberg Etext Trent's Last Case, by E. C. 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(Edmund Clerihew) Bentley + + + + +CHAPTER I: Bad News + +Between what matters and what seems to matter, how should the world we know +judge wisely? + +When the scheming, indomitable brain of Sigsbee Manderson was scattered by a +shot from an unknown hand, that world lost nothing worth a single tear; it +gained something memorable in a harsh reminder of the vanity of such wealth as +this dead man had piled up--without making one loyal friend to mourn him, +without doing an act that could help his memory to the least honour. But when +the news of his end came, it seemed to those living in the great vortices of +business as if the earth too shuddered under a blow. + +In all the lurid commercial history of his country there had been no figure +that had so imposed itself upon the mind of the trading world. He had a niche +apart in its temples. Financial giants, strong to direct and augment the +forces of capital, and taking an approved toll in millions for their labour, +had existed before; but in the case of Manderson there had been this +singularity, that a pale halo of piratical romance, a thing especially dear to +the hearts of his countrymen, had remained incongruously about his head +through the years when he stood in every eye as the unquestioned guardian of +stability, the stamper-out of manipulated crises, the foe of the raiding +chieftains that infest the borders of Wall Street. + +The fortune left by his grandfather, who had been one of those chieftains on +the smaller scale of his day, had descended to him with accretion through his +father, who during a long life had quietly continued to lend money and never +had margined a stock. Manderson, who had at no time known what it was to be +without large sums to his hand, should have been altogether of that newer +American plutocracy which is steadied by the tradition and habit of great +wealth. But it was not so. While his nurture and education had taught him +European ideas of a rich man's proper external circumstance; while they had +rooted in him an instinct for quiet magnificence, the larger costliness which +does not shriek of itself with a thousand tongues; there had been handed on to +him nevertheless much of the Forty-Niner and financial buccaneer, his forbear. +During that first period of his business career which had been called his +early bad manner, he had been little more than a gambler of genius, his hand +against every man's--an infant prodigy- who brought to the enthralling pursuit +of speculation a brain better endowed than any opposed to it. At St Helena it +was laid down that war is une belle occupation; and so the young Manderson had +found the multitudinous and complicated dog-fight of the Stock Exchange of New +York. + +Then came his change. At his father's death, when Manderson was thirty years +old, some new revelation of the power and the glory of the god he served +seemed to have come upon him. With the sudden, elastic adaptability of his +nation he turned to steady labour in his father's banking business, closing +his ears to the sound of the battles of the Street. In a few years he came to +control all the activity of the great firm whose unimpeached conservatism, +safety, and financial weight lifted it like a cliff above the angry sea of the +markets. All mistrust founded on the performances of his youth had vanished. +He was quite plainly a different man. How the change came about none could +with authority say, but there was a story of certain last words spoken by his +father, whom alone he had respected and perhaps loved. + +He began to tower above the financial situation. Soon his name was current in +the bourses of the world. One who spoke the name of Manderson called up a +vision of all that was broad-based and firm in the vast wealth of the United +States. He planned great combinations of capital, drew together and +centralized industries of continental scope, financed with unerring judgement +the large designs of state or of private enterprise. Many a time when he 'took +hold' to smash a strike, or to federate the ownership of some great field of +labour, he sent ruin upon a multitude of tiny homes; and if miners or +steelworkers or cattlemen defied him and invoked disorder, he could be more +lawless and ruthless than they. But this was done in the pursuit of legitimate +business ends. Tens of thousands of the poor might curse his name, but the +financier and the speculator execrated him no more. He stretched a hand to +protect or to manipulate the power of wealth in every corner of the country. +Forcible, cold, and unerring, in all he did he ministered to the national lust +for magnitude; and a grateful country surnamed him the Colossus. + +But there was an aspect of Manderson in this later period that lay long +unknown and unsuspected save by a few, his secretaries and lieutenants and +certain of the associates of his bygone hurling time. This little circle knew +that Manderson, the pillar of sound business and stability in the markets, had +his hours of nostalgia for the lively times when the Street had trembled at +his name. It was, said one of them, as if Blackbeard had settled down as a +decent merchant in Bristol on the spoils of the Main. Now and then the pirate +would glare suddenly out, the knife in his teeth and the sulphur matches +sputtering in his hatband. During such spasms of reversion to type a score of +tempestuous raids upon the market had been planned on paper in the inner room +of the offices of Manderson, Colefax and Company. But they were never carried +out. Blackbeard would quell the mutiny of his old self within him and go +soberly down to his counting-house--humming a stave or two of 'Spanish +Ladies', perhaps, under his breath. Manderson would allow himself the harmless +satisfaction, as soon as the time for action had gone by, of pointing out to +some Rupert of the markets a coup worth a million to the depredator might +have been made. 'Seems to me,' he would say almost wistfully, 'the Street is +getting to be a mighty dull place since I quit.' By slow degrees this amiable +weakness of the Colossus became known to the business world, which exulted +greatly in the knowledge. + +At the news of his death panic went through the markets like a hurricane; for +it came at a luckless time. Prices tottered and crashed like towers in an +earthquake. For two days Wall Street was a clamorous inferno of pale despair. +All over the United States, wherever speculation had its devotees, went a waft +of ruin, a plague of suicide. In Europe also not a few took with their own +hands lives that had become pitiably linked to the destiny of a financier whom +most of them had never seen. In Paris a well-known banker walked quietly out +of the Bourse and fell dead upon the broad steps among the raving crowd of +Jews, a phial crushed in his hand. In Frankfort one leapt from the Cathedral +top, leaving a redder stain where he struck the red tower. Men stabbed and +shot and strangled themselves, drank death or breathed it as the air, because +in a lonely corner of England the life had departed from one cold heart vowed +to the service of greed. + +The blow could not have fallen at a more disastrous moment. It came when Wall +Street was in a condition of suppressed 'scare'-suppressed, because for a week +past the great interests known to act with or to be actually controlled by the +Colossus had been desperately combating the effects of the sudden arrest of +Lucas Hahn, and the exposure of his plundering of the Hahn banks. This +bombshell, in its turn, had fallen at a time when the market had been +'boosted' beyond its real strength. In the language of the place, a slump was +due. Reports from the corn-lands had not been good, and there had been two or +three railway statements which had been expected to be much better than they +were. But at whatever point in the vast area of speculation the shudder of the +threatened break had been felt, 'the Manderson crowd' had stepped in and held +the market up. All through the week the speculator's mind, as shallow as it is +quick- witted, as sentimental as greedy, had seen in this the hand of the +giant stretched out in protection from afar. Manderson, said the newspapers in +chorus, was in hourly communication with his lieutenants in the Street. One +journal was able to give in round figures the sum spent on cabling between New +York and Marlstone in the past twenty-four hours; it told how a small staff of +expert operators had been sent down by the Post Office authorities to +Marlstone to deal with the flood of messages. Another revealed that Manderson, +on the first news of the Hahn crash, had arranged to abandon his holiday and +return home by the Lusitania; but that he soon had the situation so well in +hand that he had determined to remain where he was. + +All this was falsehood, more or less consciously elaborated by the 'finance +editors', consciously initiated and encouraged by the shrewd business men of +the Manderson group, who knew that nothing could better help their plans than +this illusion of hero-worship--knew also that no word had come from Manderson +in answer to their messages, and that Howard B. Jeffrey, of Steel and Iron +fame, was the true organizer of victory. So they fought down apprehension +through four feverish days, and minds grew calmer. On Saturday, though the +ground beneath the feet of Mr. Jeffrey yet rumbled now and then with +Etna-mutterings of disquiet, he deemed his task almost done. The market was +firm, and slowly advancing. Wall Street turned to its sleep of Sunday, worn +out but thankfully at peace. + +In the first trading hour of Monday a hideous rumour flew round the sixty +acres of the financial district. It came into being as the lightning comes--a +blink that seems to begin nowhere; though it is to be suspected that it was +first whispered over the telephone--together with an urgent selling order by +some employee in the cable service. A sharp spasm convulsed the convalescent +share- list. In five minutes the dull noise of the kerbstone market in Broad +Street had leapt to a high note of frantic interrogation. From within the hive +of the Exchange itself could be heard a droning hubbub of fear, and men rushed +hatless in and out. Was it true? asked every man; and every man replied, with +trembling lips, that it was a lie put out by some unscrupulous 'short' +interest seeking to cover itself. In another quarter of an hour news came of a +sudden and ruinous collapse of 'Yankees' in London at the close of the Stock +Exchange day. It was enough. New York had still four hours' trading in front +of her. The strategy of pointing to Manderson as the saviour and warden of the +markets had recoiled upon its authors with annihilating force, and Jeffrey, +his ear at his private telephone, listened to the tale of disaster with a set +jaw. The new Napoleon had lost his Marengo. He saw the whole financial +landscape sliding and falling into chaos before him. In half an hour the news +of the finding of Manderson's body, with the inevitable rumour that it was +suicide, was printing in a dozen newspaper offices; but before a copy reached +Wall Street the tornado of the panic was in full fury, and Howard B. Jeffrey +and his collaborators were whirled away like leaves before its breath. + +All this sprang out of nothing. + +Nothing in the texture of the general life had changed. The corn had not +ceased to ripen in the sun. The rivers bore their barges and gave power to a +myriad engines. The flocks fattened on the pastures, the herds were +unnumbered. Men laboured everywhere in the various servitudes to which they +were born, and chafed not more than usual in their bonds. Bellona tossed and +murmured as ever, yet still slept her uneasy sleep. To all mankind save a +million or two of half- crazed gamblers, blind to all reality, the death of +Manderson meant nothing; the life and work of the world went on. Weeks before +he died strong hands had been in control of every wire in the huge network of +commerce and industry that he had supervised. Before his corpse was buried his +countrymen had made a strange discovery--that the existence of the potent +engine of monopoly that went by the name of Sigsbee Manderson had not been a +condition of even material prosperity. The panic blew itself out in two days, +the pieces were picked up, the bankrupts withdrew out of sight; the market +'recovered a normal tone'. + +While the brief delirium was yet subsiding there broke out a domestic scandal +in England that suddenly fixed the attention of two continents. Next morning +the Chicago Limited was wrecked, and the same day a notable politician was +shot down in cold blood by his wife's brother in the streets of New Orleans. +Within a week of its rising, 'the Manderson story', to the trained sense of +editors throughout the Union, was 'cold'. The tide of American visitors +pouring through Europe made eddies round the memorial or statue of many a man +who had died in poverty; and never thought of their most famous plutocrat. +Like the poet who died in Rome, so young and poor, a hundred years ago, he was +buried far away from his own land; but for all the men and women of +Manderson's people who flock round the tomb of Keats in the cemetery under the +Monte Testaccio, there is not one, nor ever Will be, to stand in reverence by +the rich man's grave beside the little church of Marlstone. + +CHAPTER II: Knocking the Town Endways + +In the only comfortably furnished room in the offices of the Record, the +telephone on Sir James Molloy's table buzzed. Sir James made a motion with his +pen, and Mr. Silver, his secretary, left his work and came over to the +instrument. + +'Who is that?' he said. 'Who?... I can't hear you .... Oh, it's Mr. Bunner, is +it?... Yes, but... I know, but he's fearfully busy this afternoon. Can't +you... Oh, really? Well, in that case--just hold on, will you?' + +He placed the receiver before Sir James. 'It's Calvin Bunner, Sigsbee +Manderson's right-hand man,' he said concisely. 'He insists on speaking to you +personally. Says it is the gravest piece of news. He is talking from the house +down by Bishopsbridge, so it will be necessary to speak clearly.' + +Sir James looked at the telephone, not affectionately, and took up the +receiver. 'Well?' he said in his strong voice, and listened. 'Yes,' he said. +The next moment Mr. Silver, eagerly watching him, saw a look of amazement and +horror. 'Good God!' murmured Sir James. Clutching the instrument, he slowly +rose to his feet, still bending ear intently. At intervals he repeated 'Yes.' +Presently, as he listened, he glanced at the clock, and spoke quickly to Mr. +Silver over the top of the transmitter. 'Go and hunt up Figgis and young +Williams. Hurry.' Mr. Silver darted from the room. + +The great journalist was a tall, strong, clever Irishman of fifty, swart and +black-moustached, a man of untiring business energy, well known in the world, +which he understood very thoroughly, and played upon with the half-cynical +competence of his race. Yet was he without a touch of the charlatan: he made +no mysteries, and no pretences of knowledge, and he saw instantly through +these in others. In his handsome, well-bred, well-dressed appearance there was +something a little sinister when anger or intense occupation put its imprint +about his eyes and brow; but when his generous nature was under no restraint +he was the most cordial of men. He was managing director of the company which +owned that most powerful morning paper, the Record, and also that most +indispensable evening paper, the Sun, which had its offices on the other side +of the street. He was, moreover, editor-in-chief of the Record, to which he +had in the course of years attached the most variously capable personnel in +the country. It was a maxim of his that where you could not get gifts, you +must do the best you could with solid merit; and he employed a great deal of +both. He was respected by his staff as few are respected in a profession not +favourable to the growth of the sentiment of reverence. + +'You're sure that's all?' asked Sir James, after a few minutes of earnest +listening and questioning. 'And how long has this been known?... Yes, of +course, the police are; but the servants? Surely it's all over the place down +there by now .... Well, we'll have a try .... Look here, Bunner, I'm +infinitely obliged to you about this. I owe you a good turn. You know I mean +what I say. Come and see me the first day you get to town .... All right, +that's understood. Now I must act on your news. Goodbye.' + +Sir James hung up the receiver, and seized a railway timetable from the rack +before him. After a rapid consultation of this oracle, he flung it down with a +forcible word as Mr. Silver hurried into the room, followed by a hard-featured +man with spectacles, and a youth with an alert eye. + +'I want you to jot down some facts, Figgis,' said Sir James, banishing all +signs of agitation and speaking with a rapid calmness. 'When you have them, +put them into shape just as quick as you can for a special edition of the +Sun.' The hard- featured man nodded and glanced at the clock, which pointed to +a few minutes past three; he pulled out a notebook and drew a chair up to the +big writing- table. 'Silver,' Sir James went on, 'go and tell Jones to wire +our local correspondent very urgently, to drop everything and get down to +Marlstone at once. He is not to say why in the telegram. There must not be an +unnecessary word about this news until the Sun is on the streets with it--you +all understand. Williams, cut across the way and tell Mr. Anthony to hold +himself ready for a two-column opening that will knock the town endways. Just +tell him that he must take all measures and precautions for a scoop. Say that +Figgis will be over in five minutes with the facts, and that he had better let +him write up the story in his private room. As you go, ask Miss Morgan to see +me here at once, and tell the telephone people to see if they can get Mr. +Trent on the wire for me. After seeing Mr. Anthony, return here and stand by.' +The alert-eyed young man vanished like a spirit. + +Sir James turned instantly to Mr. Figgis, whose pencil was poised over the +paper. 'Sigsbee Manderson has been murdered,' he began quickly and clearly, +pacing the floor with his hands behind him. Mr. Figgis scratched down a line +of shorthand with as much emotion as if he had been told that the day was +fine--the pose of his craft. 'He and his wife and two secretaries have been +for the past fortnight at the house called White Gables, at Marlstone, near +Bishopsbridge. He bought it four years ago. He and Mrs. Manderson have since +spent a part of each summer there. Last night he went to bed about half-past +eleven, just as usual. No one knows when he got up and left the house. He was +not missed until this morning. About ten o'clock his body was found by a +gardener. It was lying by a shed in the grounds. He was shot in the head, +through the left eye. Death must have been instantaneous. The body was not +robbed, but there were marks on the wrists which pointed to a straggle having +taken place. Dr Stock, of Marlstone, was at once sent for, and will conduct +the post-mortem examination. The police from Bishopsbridge, who were soon on +the spot, are reticent, but it is believed that they are quite without a clue +to the identity of the murderer. There you are, Figgis. Mr. Anthony is +expecting you. Now I must telephone him and arrange things.' + +Mr. Figgis looked up. 'One of the ablest detectives at Scotland Yard,' he +suggested, 'has been put in charge of the case. It's a safe statement.' + +'If you like,' said Sir James. + +'And Mrs. Manderson? Was she there?' + +'Yes. What about her?' + +'Prostrated by the shock,' hinted the reporter, 'and sees nobody. Human +interest.' + +'I wouldn't put that in, Mr. Figgis,' said a quiet voice. It belonged to Miss +Morgan, a pale, graceful woman, who had silently made her appearance while the +dictation was going on. 'I have seen Mrs. Manderson,' she proceeded, turning +to Sir James. 'She looks quite healthy and intelligent. Has her husband been +murdered? I don't think the shock would prostrate her. She is more likely to +be doing all she can to help the police.' + +'Something in your own style, then, Miss Morgan,' he said with a momentary +smile. Her imperturbable efficiency was an office proverb. 'Cut it out, +Figgis. Off you go! Now, madam, I expect you know what I want.' + +'Our Manderson biography happens to be well up to date,' replied Miss Morgan, +drooping her dark eyelashes as she considered the position. 'I was looking +over it only a few months ago. It is practically ready for tomorrow's paper. I +should think the Sun had better use the sketch of his life they had about two +years ago, when he went to Berlin and settled the potash difficulty. I +remember it was a very good sketch, and they won't be able to carry much more +than that. As for our paper, of course we have a great quantity of cuttings, +mostly rubbish. The sub-editors shall have them as soon as they come in. Then +we have two very good portraits that are our own property; the best is a +drawing Mr. Trent made when they were both on the same ship somewhere. It is +better than any of the photographs; but you say the public prefers a bad +photograph to a good drawing. I will send them down to you at once, and you +can choose. As far as I can see, the Record is well ahead of the situation, +except that you will not be able to get a special man down there in time to be +of any use for tomorrow's paper.' + +Sir James sighed deeply. 'What are we good for, anyhow?' he enquired +dejectedly of Mr. Silver, who had returned to his desk. 'She even knows +Bradshaw by heart.' + +Miss Morgan adjusted her cuffs with an air of patience. 'Is there anything +else?' she asked, as the telephone bell rang. + +'Yes, one thing,' replied Sir James, as he took up the receiver. 'I want you +to make a bad mistake some time, Miss Morgan--an everlasting bloomer--just to +put us in countenance.' She permitted herself the fraction of what would have +been a charming smile as she went out. + +'Anthony?' asked Sir James, and was at once deep in consultation with the +editor on the other side of the road. He seldom entered the Sun building in +person; the atmosphere of an evening paper, he would say, was all very well if +you liked that kind of thing. Mr. Anthony, the Murat of Fleet Street, who +delighted in riding the whirlwind and fighting a tumultuous battle against +time, would say the same of a morning paper. + +It was some five minutes later that a uniformed boy came in to say that Mr. +Trent was on the wire. Sir James abruptly closed his talk with Mr. Anthony. + +'They can put him through at once,' he said to the boy. + +'Hullo!' he cried into the telephone after a few moments. + +A voice in the instrument replied, 'Hullo be blowed! What do you want?' + +'This is Molloy,' said Sir James. + +'I know it is,' the voice said. 'This is Trent. He is in the middle of +painting a picture, and he has been interrupted at a critical moment. Well, I +hope it's something important, that's all!' + +'Trent,' said Sir James impressively, 'it is important. I want you to do some +work for us.' + +'Some play, you mean,' replied the voice. 'Believe me, I don't want a holiday. +The working fit is very strong. I am doing some really decent things. Why +can't you leave a man alone?' 'Something very serious has happened.' 'What?' + +'Sigsbee Manderson has been murdered--shot through the brain--and they don't +know who has done it. They found the body this morning. It happened at his +place near Bishopsbridge.' Sir James proceeded to tell his hearer, briefly and +clearly, the facts that he had communicated to Mr. Figgis. 'What do you think +of it?' he ended. A considering grunt was the only answer. 'Come now,' urged +Sir James. 'Tempter!' + +'You will go down?' + +There was a brief pause. + +'Are you there?' said Sir James. + +'Look here, Molloy,' the voice broke out querulously, 'the thing may be a case +for me, or it may not. We can't possibly tell. It may be a mystery; it may be +as simple as bread and cheese. The body not being robbed looks interesting, +but he may have been outed by some wretched tramp whom he found sleeping in +the grounds and tried to kick out. It's the sort of thing he would do. Such a +murderer might easily have sense enough to know that to leave the money and +valuables was the safest thing. I tell you frankly, I wouldn't have a hand in +hanging a poor devil who had let daylight into a man like Sig Manderson as a +measure of social protest.' + +Sir James smiled at the telephone--a smile of success. 'Come, my boy, you're +getting feeble. Admit you want to go and have a look at the case. You know you +do. If it's anything you don't want to handle, you're free to drop it. By the +by, where are you?' + +'I am blown along a wandering wind,' replied the voice irresolutely, 'and +hollow, hollow, hollow all delight.' + +'Can you get here within an hour?' persisted Sir James. + +'I suppose I can,' the voice grumbled. 'How much time have I?' + +'Good man! Well, there's time enough--that's just the worst of it. I've got to +depend on our local correspondent for tonight. The only good train of the day +went half an hour ago. The next is a slow one, leaving Paddington at midnight. +You could have the Buster, if you like'--Sir James referred to a very fast +motor car of his--'but you wouldn't get down in time to do anything tonight.' + +'And I'd miss my sleep. No, thanks. The train for me. I am quite fond of +railway travelling, you know; I have a gift for it. I am the stoker and the +stoked. I am the song the porter sings.' + +'What's that you say?' + +'It doesn't matter,' said the voice sadly. 'I say,' it continued, 'will your +people look out a hotel near the scene of action, and telegraph for a room?' + +'At once,' said Sir James. 'Come here as soon as you can.' + +He replaced the receiver. As he turned to his papers again a shrill outcry +burst forth in the street below. He walked to the open window. A band of +excited boys was rushing down the steps of the Sun building and up the narrow +thoroughfare toward Fleet Street. Each carried a bundle of newspapers and a +large broadsheet with the simple legend: + + MURDER OF SIGSBEE MANDERSON + +Sir James smiled and rattled the money in his pockets cheerfully. 'It makes a +good bill,' he observed to Mr. Silver, who stood at his elbow. + +Such was Manderson's epitaph. + +CHAPTER III: Breakfast + +At about eight o'clock in the morning of the following day Mr. Nathaniel +Burton Cupples stood on the veranda of the hotel at Marlstone. He was thinking +about breakfast. In his case the colloquialism must be taken literally: he +really was thinking about breakfast, as he thought about every conscious act +of his life when time allowed deliberation. He reflected that on the preceding +day the excitement and activity following upon the discovery of the dead man +had disorganized his appetite, and led to his taking considerably less +nourishment than usual. This morning he was very hungry, having already been +up and about for an hour; and he decided to allow himself a third piece of +toast and an additional egg; the rest as usual. The remaining deficit must be +made up at luncheon, but that could be gone into later. + +So much being determined, Mr. Cupples applied himself to the enjoyment of the +view for a few minutes before ordering his meal. With a connoisseur's eye he +explored the beauty of the rugged coast, where a great pierced rock rose from +a glassy sea, and the ordered loveliness of the vast tilted levels of pasture +and tillage and woodland that sloped gently up from the cliffs toward the +distant moor. Mr. Cupples delighted in landscape. + +He was a man of middle height and spare figure, nearly sixty years old, by +constitution rather delicate in health, but wiry and active for his age. A +sparse and straggling beard and moustache did not conceal a thin but kindly +mouth; his eyes were keen and pleasant; his sharp nose and narrow jaw gave him +very much of a clerical air, and this impression was helped by his commonplace +dark clothes and soft black hat. The whole effect of him, indeed, was +priestly. He was a man of unusually conscientious, industrious, and orderly +mind, with little imagination. His father's household had been used to recruit +its domestic establishment by means of advertisements in which it was +truthfully described as a serious family. From that fortress of gloom he had +escaped with two saintly gifts somehow unspoiled: an inexhaustible kindness of +heart, and a capacity for innocent gaiety which owed nothing to humour. In an +earlier day and with a clerical training he might have risen to the scarlet +hat. He was, in fact, a highly regarded member of the London Positivist +Society, a retired banker, a widower without children. His austere but not +unhappy life was spent largely among books and in museums; his profound and +patiently accumulated knowledge of a number of curiously disconnected subjects +which had stirred his interest at different times had given him a place in the +quiet, half-lit world of professors and curators and devotees of research; at +their amiable, unconvivial dinner parties he was most himself. His favourite +author was Montaigne. + +Just as Mr. Cupples was finishing his meal at a little table on the veranda, a +big motor car turned into the drive before the hotel. 'Who is this?' he +enquired of the waiter. 'Id is der manager,' said the young man listlessly. +'He have been to meed a gendleman by der train.' + +The car drew up and the porter hurried from the entrance. Mr. Cupples uttered +an exclamation of pleasure as a long, loosely built man, much younger than +himself, stepped from the car and mounted the veranda, flinging his hat on a +chair. His high-boned, quixotic face wore a pleasant smile; his rough tweed +clothes, his hair and short moustache were tolerably untidy. + +'Cupples, by all that's miraculous!' cried the man, pouncing upon Mr. Cupples +before he could rise, and seizing his outstretched hand in a hard grip. 'My +luck is serving me today,' the newcomer went on spasmodically. 'This is the +second slice within an hour. How are you, my best of friends? And why are you +here? Why sit'st thou by that ruined breakfast? Dost thou its former pride +recall, or ponder how it passed away? I am glad to see you!' + +'I was half expecting you, Trent,' Mr. Cupples replied, his face wreathed in +smiles. 'You are looking splendid, my dear fellow. I will tell you all about +it. But you cannot have had your own breakfast yet. Will you have it at my +table here?' + +'Rather!' said the man. 'An enormous great breakfast, too--with refined +conversation and tears of recognition never dry. Will you get young Siegfried +to lay a place for me while I go and wash? I shan't be three minutes.' He +disappeared into the hotel, and Mr. Cupples, after a moment's thought, went to +the telephone in the porter's office. + +He returned to find his friend already seated, pouring out tea, and showing an +unaffected interest in the choice of food. 'I expect this to be a hard day for +me,' he said, with the curious jerky utterance which seemed to be his habit. +'I shan't eat again till the evening, very likely. You guess why I'm here, +don't you?' + +'Undoubtedly,' said Mr. Cupples. 'You have come down to write about the +murder.' + +'That is rather a colourless way of stating it,' the man called Trent replied, +as he dissected a sole. 'I should prefer to put it that I have come down in +the character of avenger of blood, to hunt down the guilty, and vindicate the +honour of society. That is my line of business. Families waited on at their +private residences. I say, Cupples, I have made a good beginning already. Wait +a bit, and I'll tell you.' There was a silence, during which the newcomer ate +swiftly and abstractedly, while Mr. Cupples looked on happily. + +'Your manager here,' said the tall man at last, 'is a fellow of remarkable +judgement. He is an admirer of mine. He knows more about my best cases than I +do myself. The Record wired last night to say I was coming, and when I got out +of the train at seven o'clock this morning, there he was waiting for me with a +motor car the size of a haystack. He is beside himself with joy at having me +here. It is fame.' He drank a cup of tea and continued: 'Almost his first +words were to ask me if I would like to see the body of the murdered man if +so, he thought he could manage it for me. He is as keen as a razor. The body +lies in Dr Stock's surgery, you know, down in the village, exactly as it was +when found. It's to be post-mortem'd this morning, by the way, so I was only +just in time. Well, he ran me down here to the doctor's, giving me full +particulars about the case all the way. I was pretty well au fait by the time +we arrived. I suppose the manager of a place like this has some sort of a pull +with the doctor. Anyhow, he made no difficulties, nor did the constable on +duty, though he was careful to insist on my not giving him away in the paper.' + +'I saw the body before it was removed,' remarked Mr. Cupples. 'I should not +have said there was anything remarkable about it, except that the shot in the +eye had scarcely disfigured the face at all, and caused scarcely any effusion +of blood, apparently. The wrists were scratched and bruised. I expect that, +with your trained faculties, you were able to remark other details of a +suggestive nature.' + +'Other details, certainly; but I don't know that they suggest anything. They +are merely odd. Take the wrists, for instance. How was it you could see +bruises and scratches on them? I dare say you saw something of Manderson down +here before the murder.' 'Certainly,' Mr. Cupples said. + +'Well, did you ever see his wrists?' + +Mr. Cupples reflected. 'No. Now you raise the point, I am reminded that when I +interviewed Manderson here he was wearing stiff cuffs, coming well down over +his hands.' + +'He always did,' said Trent. 'My friend the manager says so. I pointed out to +him the fact you didn't observe, that there were no cuffs visible, and that +they had, indeed, been dragged up inside the coat-sleeves, as yours would be +if you hurried into a coat without pulling your cuffs down. That was why you +saw his wrists.' + +'Well, I call that suggestive,' observed Mr. Cupples mildly. 'You might infer, +perhaps, that when he got up he hurried over his dressing.' + +'Yes, but did he? The manager said just what you say. "He was always a bit of +a swell in his dress," he told me, and he drew the inference that when +Manderson got up in that mysterious way, before the house was stirring, and +went out into the grounds, he was in a great hurry. "Look at his shoes," he +said to me: "Mr. Manderson was always specially neat about his footwear. But +those shoe-laces were tied in a hurry." I agreed. "And he left his false teeth +in his room," said the manager. "Doesn't that prove he was flustered and +hurried?" I allowed that it looked like it. But I said, "Look here: if he was +so very much pressed, why did he part his hair so carefully? That parting is a +work of art. Why did he put on so much? for he had on a complete outfit of +underclothing, studs in his shirt, sock-suspenders, a watch and chain, money +and keys and things in his pockets." That's what I said to the manager. He +couldn't find an explanation. Can you?" + +Mr. Cupples considered. 'Those facts might suggest that he was hurried only at +the end of his dressing. Coat and shoes would come last.' + +'But not false teeth. You ask anybody who wears them. And besides, I'm told he +hadn't washed at all on getting up, which in a neat man looks like his being +in a violent hurry from the beginning. And here's another thing. One of his +waistcoat pockets was lined with wash-leather for the reception of his gold +watch. But he had put his watch into the pocket on the other side. Anybody who +has settled habits can see how odd that is. The fact is, there are signs of +great agitation and haste, and there are signs of exactly the opposite. For +the present I am not guessing. I must reconnoitre the ground first, if I can +manage to get the right side of the people of the house.' Trent applied +himself again to his breakfast. + +Mr. Cupples smiled at him benevolently. 'That is precisely the point,' he +said, 'on which I can be of some assistance to you.' Trent glanced up in +surprise. 'I told you I half expected you. I will explain the situation. Mrs. +Manderson, who is my niece--' + +'What!' Trent laid down his knife and fork with a clash. 'Cupples, you are +jesting with me.' + +'I am perfectly serious, Trent, really,' returned Mr. Cupples earnestly. 'Her +father, John Peter Domecq, was my wife's brother. I never mentioned my niece +or her marriage to you before, I suppose. To tell the truth, it has always +been a painful subject to me, and I have avoided discussing it with anybody. +To return to what I was about to say: last night, when I was over at the +house--by the way, you can see it from here. You passed it in the car.' He +indicated a red roof among poplars some three hundred yards away, the only +building in sight that stood separate from the tiny village in the gap below +them. + +'Certainly I did,' said Trent. 'The manager told me all about it, among other +things, as he drove me in from Bishopsbridge.' + +'Other people here have heard of you and your performances,' Mr. Cupples went +on. 'As I was saying, when I was over there last night, Mr. Bunner, who is one +of Manderson's two secretaries, expressed a hope that the Record would send +you down to deal with the case, as the police seemed quite at a loss. He +mentioned one or two of your past successes, and Mabel--my niece--was +interested when I told her afterwards. She is bearing up wonderfully well, +Trent; she has remarkable fortitude of character. She said she remembered +reading your articles about the Abinger case. She has a great horror of the +newspaper side of this sad business, and she had entreated me to do anything I +could to keep journalists away from the place--I'm sure you can understand her +feeling, Trent; it isn't really any reflection on that profession. But she +said you appeared to have great powers as a detective, and she would not stand +in the way of anything that might clear up the crime. Then I told her you were +a personal friend of mine, and gave you a good character for tact and +consideration of others' feelings; and it ended in her saying that, if you +should come, she would like you to be helped in every way.' + +Trent leaned across the table and shook Mr. Cupples by the hand in silence. +Mr. Cupples, much delighted with the way things were turning out, resumed: + +'I spoke to my niece on the telephone only just now, and she is glad you are +here. She asks me to say that you may make any enquiries you like, and she +puts the house and grounds at your disposal. She had rather not see you +herself; she is keeping to her own sitting-room. She has already been +interviewed by a detective officer who is there, and she feels unequal to any +more. She adds that she does not believe she could say anything that would be +of the smallest use. The two secretaries and Martin, the butler (who is a most +intelligent man), could tell you all you want to know, she thinks.' + +Trent finished his breakfast with a thoughtful brow. He filled a pipe slowly, +and seated himself on the rail of the veranda. 'Cupples,' he said quietly, 'is +there anything about this business that you know and would rather not tell +me?' + +Mr. Cupples gave a slight start, and turned an astonished gaze on the +questioner. 'What do you mean?' he said. + +'I mean about the Mandersons. Look here! Shall I tell you a thing that strikes +me about this affair at the very beginning? Here's a man suddenly and +violently killed, and nobody's heart seems to be broken about it, to say the +least. The manager of this hotel spoke to me about him as coolly as if he'd +never set eyes on him, though I understand they've been neighbours every +summer for some years. Then you talk about the thing in the coldest of blood. +And Mrs. Manderson--well, you won't mind my saying that I have heard of women +being more cut up about their husbands being murdered than she seems to be. Is +there something in this, Cupples, or is it my fancy? Was there something queer +about Manderson? I travelled on the same boat with him once, but never spoke +to him. I only know his public character, which was repulsive enough. You see, +this may have a bearing on the case; that's the only reason why I ask.' + +Mr. Cupples took time for thought. He fingered his sparse beard and looked out +over the sea. At last he turned to Trent. 'I see no reason,' he said, 'why I +shouldn't tell you as between ourselves, my dear fellow. I need not say that +this must not be referred to, however distantly. The truth is that nobody +really liked Manderson; and I think those who were nearest to him liked him +least.' + +'Why?' the other interjected. + +'Most people found a difficulty in explaining why. In trying to account to +myself for my own sensations, I could only put it that one felt in the man a +complete absence of the sympathetic faculty. There was nothing outwardly +repellent about him. He was not ill-mannered, or vicious, or dull--indeed, he +could be remarkably interesting. But I received the impression that there +could be no human creature whom he would not sacrifice in the pursuit of his +schemes, in his task of imposing himself and his will upon the world. Perhaps +that was fanciful, but I think not altogether so. However, the point is that +Mabel, I am sorry to say, was very unhappy. I am nearly twice your age, my +dear boy, though you always so kindly try to make me feel as if we were +contemporaries--I am getting to be an old man, and a great many people have +been good enough to confide their matrimonial troubles to me; but I never knew +another case like my niece's and her husband's. I have known her since she was +a baby, Trent, and I know--you understand, I think, that I do not employ that +word lightly--I know that she is as amiable and honourable a woman, to say +nothing of her other good gifts, as any man could wish. But Manderson, for +some time past, had made her miserable.' + +'What did he do?' asked Trent, as Mr. Cupples paused. + +'When I put that question to Mabel, her words were that he seemed to nurse a +perpetual grievance. He maintained a distance between them, and he would say +nothing. I don't know how it began or what was behind it; and all she would +tell me on that point was that he had no cause in the world for his attitude. +I think she knew what was in his mind, whatever it was; but she is full of +pride. This seems to have gone on for months. At last, a week ago, she wrote +to me. I am the only near relative she has. Her mother died when she was a +child; and after John Peter died I was something like a father to her until +she married--that was five years ago. She asked me to come and help her, and I +came at once. That is why I am here now.' + +Mr. Cupples paused and drank some tea. Trent smoked and stared out at the hot +June landscape. + +'I would not go to White Gables,' Mr. Cupples resumed. 'You know my views, I +think, upon the economic constitution of society, and the proper relationship +of the capitalist to the employee, and you know, no doubt, what use that +person made of his vast industrial power upon several very notorious +occasions. I refer especially to the trouble in the Pennsylvania coal-fields, +three years ago. I regarded him, apart from an all personal dislike, in the +light of a criminal and a disgrace to society. I came to this hotel, and I saw +my niece here. She told me What I have more briefly told you. She said that +the worry and the humiliation of it, and the strain of trying to keep up +appearances before the world, were telling upon her, and she asked for my +advice. I said I thought she should face him and demand an explanation of his +way of treating her. But she would not do that. She had always taken the line +of affecting not to notice the change in his demeanour, and nothing, I knew, +would persuade her to admit to him that she was injured, once pride had led +her into that course. Life is quite full, my dear Trent,' said Mr. Cupples +with a sigh, 'of these obstinate silences and cultivated misunderstandings.' + +'Did she love him?' Trent enquired abruptly. Mr. Cupples did not reply at +once. 'Had she any love left for him?' Trent amended. + +Mr. Cupples played with his teaspoon. 'I am bound to say,' he answered slowly, +'that I think not. But you must not misunderstand the woman, Trent. No power +on earth would have persuaded her to admit that to any one--even to herself, +perhaps--so long as she considered herself bound to him. And I gather that, +apart from this mysterious sulking of late, he had always been considerate and +generous.' + +'You were saying that she refused to have it out with him.' + +'She did,' replied Mr. Cupples. 'And I knew by experience that it was quite +useless to attempt to move a Domecq where the sense of dignity was involved. +So I thought it over carefully, and next day I watched my opportunity and met +Manderson as he passed by this hotel. I asked him to favour me with a few +minutes' conversation, and he stepped inside the gate down there. We had held +no communication of any kind since my niece's marriage, but he remembered me, +of course. I put the matter to him at once and quite definitely. I told him +what Mabel had confided to me. I said that I would neither approve nor condemn +her action in bringing me into the business, but that she was suffering, and I +considered it my right to ask how he could justify himself in placing her in +such a position.' + +'And how did he take that?' said Trent, smiling secretly at the landscape. The +picture of this mildest of men calling the formidable Manderson to account +pleased him. + +'Not very well,' Mr. Cupples replied sadly. 'In fact, far from well. I can +tell you almost exactly what he said--it wasn't much. He said, "See here, +Cupples, you don't want to butt in. My wife can look after herself. I've found +that out, along with other things." He was perfectly quiet--you know he was +said never to lose control of himself--though there was a light in his eyes +that would have frightened a man who was in the wrong, I dare say. But I had +been thoroughly roused by his last remark, and the tone of it, which I cannot +reproduce. You see,' said Mr. Cupples simply, 'I love my niece. She is the +only child that there has been in our--in my house. Moreover, my wife brought +her up as a girl, and any reflection on Mabel I could not help feeling, in the +heat of the moment, as an indirect reflection upon one who is gone.' + +'You turned upon him,' suggested Trent in a low tone. 'You asked him to +explain his words.' + +'That is precisely what I did,' said Mr. Cupples. 'For a moment he only stared +at me, and I could see a vein on his forehead swelling--an unpleasant sight. +Then he said quite quietly, "This thing has gone far enough, I guess," and +turned to go.' + +'Did he mean your interview?' Trent asked thoughtfully. + +'From the words alone you would think so,' Mr. Cupples answered. 'But the way +in which he uttered them gave me a strange and very apprehensive feeling. I +received the impression that the man had formed some sinister resolve. But I +regret to say I had lost the power of dispassionate thought. I fell into a +great rage'--Mr. Cupples's tone was mildly apologetic--'and said a number of +foolish things. I reminded him that the law allowed a measure of freedom to +wives who received intolerable treatment. I made some utterly irrelevant +references to his public record, and expressed the view that such men as he +were unfit to live. I said these things, and others as ill-considered, under +the eyes, and very possibly within earshot, of half a dozen persons sitting on +this veranda. I noticed them, in spite of my agitation, looking at me as I +walked up to the hotel again after relieving my mind for it undoubtedly did +relieve it,' sighed Mr. Cupples, lying back in his chair. + +'And Manderson? Did he say no more?' + +'Not a word. He listened to me with his eyes on my face, as quiet as before. +When I stopped he smiled very slightly, and at once turned away and strolled +through the gate, making for White Gables.' 'And this happened--?' 'On the +Sunday morning.' + +'Then I suppose you never saw him alive again?' + +'No,' said Mr. Cupples. 'Or rather yes--once. It was later in the day, on the +golf-course. But I did not speak to him. And next morning he was found dead.' + +The two regarded each other in silence for a few moments. A party of guests +who had been bathing came up the steps and seated themselves, with much +chattering, at a table near them. The waiter approached. Mr. Cupples rose, +and, taking Trent's arm, led him to a long tennis-lawn at the side of the +hotel. + +'I have a reason for telling you all this,' began Mr. Cupples as they paced +slowly up and down. + +'Trust you for that,' rejoined Trent, carefully filling his pipe again. He lit +it, smoked a little, and then said, 'I'll try and guess what your reason is, +if you like.' + +Mr. Cupples's face of solemnity relaxed into a slight smile. He said nothing. + +'You thought it possible,' said Trent meditatively--'may I say you thought it +practically certain?--that I should find out for myself that there had been +something deeper than a mere conjugal tiff between the Mandersons. You thought +that my unwholesome imagination would begin at once to play with the idea of +Mrs. Manderson having something to do with the crime. Rather than that I +should lose myself in barren speculations about this, you decided to tell me +exactly how matters stood, and incidentally to impress upon me, who know how +excellent your judgement is, your opinion of your niece. Is that about right?' + +'It is perfectly right. Listen to me, my dear fellow,' said Mr. Cupples +earnestly, laying his hand on the other's arm. 'I am going to be very frank. I +am extremely glad that Manderson is dead. I believe him to have done nothing +but harm in the world as an economic factor. I know that he was making a +desert of the life of one who was like my own child to me. But I am under an +intolerable dread of Mabel being involved in suspicion with regard to the +murder. It is horrible to me to think of her delicacy and goodness being in +contact, if only for a time, with the brutalities of the law. She is not +fitted for it. It would mark her deeply. Many young women of twenty-six in +these days could face such an ordeal, I suppose. I have observed a sort of +imitative hardness about the products of the higher education of women today +which would carry them through anything, perhaps. + +I am not prepared to say it is a bad thing in the conditions of feminine life +prevailing at present. Mabel, however, is not like that. She is as unlike that +as she is unlike the simpering misses that used to surround me as a child. She +has plenty of brains; she is full of character; her mind and her tastes are +cultivated; but it is all mixed up'-Mr. Cupples waved his hands in a vague +gesture--'with ideals of refinement and reservation and womanly mystery. I +fear she is not a child of the age. You never knew my wife, Trent. Mabel is my +wife's child.' + +The younger man bowed his head. They paced the length of the lawn before he +asked gently, 'Why did she marry him?' + +'I don't know,' said Mr. Cupples briefly. + +'Admired him, I suppose,' suggested Trent. + +Mr. Cupples shrugged his shoulders. 'I have been told that a woman will +usually be more or less attracted by the most successful man in her circle. Of +course we cannot realize how a wilful, dominating personality like his would +influence a girl whose affections were not bestowed elsewhere; especially if +he laid himself out to win her. It is probably an overwhelming thing to be +courted by a man whose name is known all over the world. She had heard of him, +of course, as a financial great power, and she had no idea--she had lived +mostly among people of artistic or literary propensities--how much soulless +inhumanity that might involve. For all I know, she has no adequate idea of it +to this day. When I first heard of the affair the mischief was done, and I +knew better than to interpose my unsought opinions. She was of age, and there +was absolutely nothing against him from the conventional point of view. Then I +dare say his immense wealth would cast a spell over almost any woman. Mabel +had some hundreds a year of her own; just enough, perhaps, to let her realize +what millions really meant. But all this is conjecture. She certainly had not +wanted to marry some scores of young fellows who to my knowledge had asked +her; and though I don't believe, and never did believe, that she really loved +this man of forty-five, she certainly did want to marry him. But if you ask me +why, I can only say I don't know.' + +Trent nodded, and after a few more paces looked at his watch. 'You've +interested me so much,' he said, 'that I had quite forgotten my main business. +I mustn't waste my morning. I am going down the road to White Gables at once, +and I dare say I shall be poking about there until midday. If you can meet me +then, Cupples, I should like to talk over anything I find out with you, unless +something detains me.' + +'I am going for a walk this morning,' Mr. Cupples replied. 'I meant to have +luncheon at a little inn near the golf-course, The Three Tuns. You had better +join me there. It's further along the road, about a quarter of a mile beyond +White Gables. You can just see the roof between those two trees. The food they +give one there is very plain, but good.' + +'So long as they have a cask of beer,' said Trent, 'they are all right. We +will have bread and cheese, and oh, may Heaven our simple lives prevent from +luxury's contagion, weak and vile! Till then, goodbye.' He strode off to +recover his hat from the veranda, waved it to Mr. Cupples, and was gone. + +The old gentleman, seating himself in a deck-chair on the lawn, clasped his +hands behind his head and gazed up into the speckless blue sky. 'He is a dear +fellow,' he murmured. 'The best of fellows. And a terribly acute fellow. Dear +me! How curious it all is!' + +CHAPTER IV: Handcuffs in the Air + +A painter and the son of a painter, Philip Trent had while yet in his twenties +achieved some reputation within the world of English art. Moreover, his +pictures sold. An original, forcible talent and a habit of leisurely but +continuous working, broken by fits of strong creative enthusiasm, were at the +bottom of it. His father's name had helped; a patrimony large enough to +relieve him of the perilous imputation of being a struggling man had certainly +not hindered. But his best aid to success had been an unconscious power of +getting himself liked. Good spirits and a lively, humorous fancy will always +be popular. Trent joined to these a genuine interest in others that gained him +something deeper than popularity. His judgement of persons was penetrating, +but its process was internal; no one felt on good behaviour with a man who +seemed always to be enjoying himself. Whether he was in a mood for floods of +nonsense or applying himself vigorously to a task, his face seldom lost its +expression of contained vivacity. Apart from a sound knowledge of his art and +its history, his culture was large and loose, dominated by a love of poetry. +At thirty-two he had not yet passed the age of laughter and adventure. + +His rise to a celebrity a hundred times greater than his proper work had won +for him came of a momentary impulse. One day he had taken up a newspaper to +find it chiefly concerned with a crime of a sort curiously rare in our +country--a murder done in a railway train. The circumstances were puzzling; +two persons were under arrest upon suspicion. Trent, to whom an interest in +such affairs was a new sensation, heard the thing discussed among his friends, +and set himself in a purposeless mood to read up the accounts given in several +journals. He became intrigued; his imagination began to work, in a manner +strange to him, upon facts; an excitement took hold of him such as he had only +known before in his bursts of art-inspiration or of personal adventure. At the +end of the day he wrote and dispatched a long letter to the editor of the +Record, which he chose only because it had contained the fullest and most +intelligent version of the facts. + +In this letter he did very much what Poe had done in the case of the murder of +Mary Rogers. With nothing but the newspapers to guide him, he drew attention +to the significance of certain apparently negligible facts, and ranged the +evidence in such a manner as to throw grave suspicion upon a man who had +presented himself as a witness. Sir James Molloy had printed this letter in +leaded type. The same evening he was able to announce in the Sun the arrest +and full confession of the incriminated man. + +Sir James, who knew all the worlds of London, had lost no time in making +Trent's acquaintance. The two men got on well, for Trent possessed some secret +of native tact which had the effect of almost abolishing differences of age +between himself and others. The great rotary presses in the basement of the +Record building had filled him with a new enthusiasm. He had painted there, +and Sir James had bought at sight, what he called a machinery-scape in the +manner of Heinrich Kley. + +Then a few months later came the affair known as the Ilkley mystery. Sir James +had invited Trent to an emollient dinner, and thereafter offered him what +seemed to the young man a fantastically large sum for his temporary services +as special representative of the Record at Ilkley. + +'You could do it,' the editor had urged. 'You can write good stuff, and you +know how to talk to people, and I can teach you all the technicalities of a +reporter's job in half an hour. And you have a head for a mystery; you have +imagination and cool judgement along with it. Think how it would feel if you +pulled it off!' + +Trent had admitted that it would be rather a lark. He had smoked, frowned, and +at last convinced himself that the only thing that held him back was fear of +an unfamiliar task. To react against fear had become a fixed moral habit with +him, and he had accepted Sir James's offer. + +He had pulled it off. For the second time he had given the authorities a start +and a beating, and his name was on all tongues. He withdrew and painted +pictures. He felt no leaning towards journalism, and Sir James, who knew a +good deal about art, honourably refrained--as other editors did not--from +tempting him with a good salary. But in the course of a few years he had +applied to him perhaps thirty times for his services in the unravelling of +similar problems at home and abroad. Sometimes Trent, busy with work that held +him, had refused; sometimes he had been forestalled in the discovery of the +truth. But the result of his irregular connection with the Record had been to +make his name one of the best known in England. It was characteristic of him +that his name was almost the only detail of his personality known to the +public. He had imposed absolute silence about himself upon the Molloy papers; +and the others were not going to advertise one of Sir James's men. + +The Manderson case, he told himself as he walked rapidly up the sloping road +to White Gables, might turn out to be terribly simple. Cupples was a wise old +boy, but it was probably impossible for him to have an impartial opinion about +his niece. But it was true that the manager of the hotel, who had spoken of +her beauty in terms that aroused his attention, had spoken even more +emphatically of her goodness. Not an artist in words, the manager had yet +conveyed a very definite idea to Trent's mind. 'There isn't a child about here +that don't brighten up at the sound of her voice,' he had said, 'nor yet a +grown-up, for the matter of that. Everybody used to look forward to her coming +over in the summer. I don't mean that she's one of those women that are all +kind heart and nothing else. There's backbone with it, if you know what I +mean--pluck any amount of go. There's nobody in Marlstone that isn't sorry for +the lady in her trouble--not but what some of us may think she's lucky at the +last of it.' Trent wanted very much to meet Mrs. Manderson. + +He could see now, beyond a spacious lawn and shrubbery, the front of the two- +storied house of dull-red brick, with the pair of great gables from which it +had its name. He had had but a glimpse of it from the car that morning. A +modern house, he saw; perhaps ten years old. The place was beautifully kept, +with that air of opulent peace that clothes even the smallest houses of the +well-to-do in an English countryside. Before it, beyond the road, the rich +meadow-land ran down to the edge of the cliffs; behind it a woody landscape +stretched away across a broad vale to the moors. That such a place could be +the scene of a crime of violence seemed fantastic; it lay so quiet and well +ordered, so eloquent of disciplined service and gentle living. Yet there +beyond the house, and near the hedge that rose between the garden and the hot, +white road, stood the gardener's toolshed, by which the body had been found, +lying tumbled against the wooden wall, Trent walked past the gate of the drive +and along the road until he was opposite this shed. Some forty yards further +along the road turned sharply away from the house, to run between thick +plantations; and just before the turn the grounds of the house ended, with a +small white gate at the angle of the boundary hedge. He approached the gate, +which was plainly for the use of gardeners and the service of the +establishment. It swung easily on its hinges, and he passed slowly up a path +that led towards the back of the house, between the outer hedge and a tall +wall of rhododendrons. Through a gap in this wall a track led him to the +little neatly built erection of wood, which stood among trees that faced a +corner of the front. The body had lain on the side away from the house; a +servant, he thought, looking out of the nearer windows in the earlier hours of +the day before, might have glanced unseeing at the hut, as she wondered what +it could be like to be as rich as the master. + +He examined the place carefully and ransacked the hut within, but he could +note no more than the trodden appearance of the uncut grass where the body had +lain. Crouching low, with keen eyes and feeling fingers, he searched the +ground minutely over a wide area; but the search was fruitless. + +It was interrupted by the sound--the first he had heard from the house--of the +closing of the front door. Trent unbent his long legs and stepped to the edge +of the drive. A man was walking quickly away from the house in the direction +of the great gate. + +At the noise of a footstep on the gravel, the man wheeled with nervous +swiftness and looked earnestly at Trent. The sudden sight of his face was +almost terrible, so white and worn it was. Yet it was a young man's face. +There was not a wrinkle about the haggard blue eyes, for all their tale of +strain and desperate fatigue. As the two approached each other, Trent noted +with admiration the man's breadth of shoulder and lithe, strong figure. In his +carriage, inelastic as weariness had made it; in his handsome, regular +features; in his short, smooth, yellow hair; and in his voice as he addressed +Trent, the influence of a special sort of training was confessed. 'Oxford was +your playground, I think, my young friend,' said Trent to himself. + +'If you are Mr. Trent,' said the young man pleasantly, 'you are expected. Mr. +Cupples telephoned from the hotel. My name is Marlowe.' + +'You were secretary to Mr. Manderson, I believe,' said Trent. He was much +inclined to like young Mr. Marlowe. Though he seemed so near a physical +breakdown, he gave out none the less that air of clean living and inward +health that is the peculiar glory of his social type at his years. But there +was something in the tired eyes that was a challenge to Trent's penetration; +an habitual expression, as he took it tobe, of meditating and weighing things +not present to their sight. It was a look too intelligent, too steady and +purposeful, to be called dreamy. Trent thought he had seen such a look before +somewhere. He went on to say: 'It is a terrible business for all of you. I +fear it has upset you completely, Mr. Marlowe.' + +'A little limp, that's all,' replied the young man wearily. 'I was driving the +car all Sunday night and most of yesterday, and I didn't sleep last night +after hearing the news--who would? But I have an appointment now, Mr. Trent, +down at the doctor's--arranging about the inquest. I expect it'll be tomorrow. +If you will go up to the house and ask for Mr. Bunner, you'll find him +expecting you; he will tell you all about things and show you round. He's the +other secretary; an American, and the best of fellows; he'll look after you. +There's a detective here, by the way--Inspector Murch, from Scotland Yard. He +came yesterday.' + +'Murch!' Trent exclaimed. 'But he and I are old friends. How under the sun did +he get here so soon?' + +'I have no idea,' Mr. Marlowe answered. 'But he was here last evening, before +I got back from Southampton, interviewing everybody, and he's been about here +since eight this morning. He's in the library now--that's where the open +French window is that you see at the end of the house there. Perhaps you would +like to step down there and talk about things.' + +'I think I will,' said Trent. Marlowe nodded and went on his way. The thick +turf of the lawn round which the drive took its circular sweep made Trent's +footsteps as noiseless as a cat's. In a few moments he was looking in through +the open leaves of the window at the southward end of the house, considering +with a smile a very broad back and a bent head covered with short grizzled +hair. The man within was stooping over a number of papers laid out on the +table. + +' 'Twas ever thus,' said Trent in a melancholy tone, at the first sound of +which the man within turned round with startling swiftness. 'From childhood's +hour I've seen my fondest hopes decay. I did think I was ahead of Scotland +Yard this time, and now here is the hugest officer in the entire Metropolitan +force already occupying the position.' + +The detective smiled grimly and came to the window. 'I was expecting you, Mr. +Trent,' he said. 'This is the sort of case that you like.' + +'Since my tastes were being considered,' Trent replied, stepping into the +room, 'I wish they had followed up the idea by keeping my hated rival out of +the business. You have got a long start, too--I know all about it.' His eyes +began to wander round the room. 'How did you manage it? You are a quick mover, +I know; the dun deer's hide on fleeter foot was never tied; but I don't see +how you got here in time to be at work yesterday evening. Has Scotland Yard +secretly started an aviation corps? Or is it in league with the infernal +powers? In either case the Home Secretary should be called upon to make a +statement.' + +'It's simpler than that,' said Mr. Murch with professional stolidity. 'I +happened to be on leave with the missus at Haley, which is only twelve miles +or so along the coast. As soon as our people there heard of the murder they +told me. I wired to the Chief, and was put in charge of the case at once. I +bicycled over yesterday evening, and have been at it since then.' + +'Arising out of that reply,' said Trent inattentively, 'how is Mrs. Inspector +Murch?' + +'Never better, thank you,' answered the inspector, 'and frequently speaks of +you and the games you used to have with our kids. But you'll excuse me saying, +Mr. Trent, that you needn't trouble to talk your nonsense to me while you're +using your eyes. I know your ways by now. I understand you've fallen on your +feet as usual, and have the lady's permission to go over the place and make +enquiries.' + +'Such is the fact,' said Trent. 'I am going to cut you out again, inspector. I +owe you one for beating me over the Abinger case, you old fox. But if you +really mean that you're not inclined for the social amenities just now, let us +leave compliments and talk business.' He stepped to the table, glanced through +the papers arranged there in order, and then turned to the open roll-top desk. +He looked into the drawers swiftly. 'I see this has been cleared out. Well +now, inspector, I suppose we play the game as before.' + +Trent had found himself on a number of occasions in the past thrown into the +company of Inspector Murch, who stood high in the councils of the Criminal +Investigation Department. He was a quiet, tactful, and very shrewd officer, a +man of great courage, with a vivid history in connection with the more +dangerous class of criminals. His humanity was as broad as his frame, which +was large even for a policeman. Trent and he, through some obscure working of +sympathy, had appreciated one another from the beginning, and had formed one +of those curious friendships with which it was the younger man's delight to +adorn his experience. The inspector would talk more freely to him than to any +one, under the rose, and they would discuss details and possibilities of every +case, to their mutual enlightenment. There were necessarily rules and limits. +It was understood between them that Trent made no journalistic use of any +point that could only have come to him from an official source. Each of them, +moreover, for the honour and prestige of the institution he represented, +openly reserved the right to withhold from the other any discovery or +inspiration that might come to him which he considered vital to the solution +of the difficulty. Trent had insisted on carefully formulating these +principles of what he called detective sportsmanship. Mr. Murch, who loved a +contest, and who only stood to gain by his association with the keen +intelligence of the other, entered very heartily into 'the game'. In these +strivings for the credit of the press and of the police, victory sometimes +attended the experience and method of the officer, sometimes the quicker brain +and livelier imagination of Trent, his gift of instinctively recognizing the +significant through all disguises. + +The inspector then replied to Trent's last words with cordial agreement. +Leaning on either side of the French window, with the deep peace and hazy +splendor of the summer landscape before them, they reviewed the case. + +Trent had taken out a thin notebook, and as they talked he began to make, with +light, secure touches, a rough sketch plan of the room. It was a thing he did +habitually on such occasions, and often quite idly, but now and then the habit +had served him to good purpose. + +This was a large, light apartment at the corner of the house, with generous +window-space in two walls. A broad table stood in the middle. As one entered +by the window the roll-top desk stood just to the left of it against the wall. +The inner door was in the wall to the left, at the farther end of the room; +and was faced by a broad window divided into openings of the casement type. A +beautifully carved old corner-cupboard rose high against the wall beyond the +door, and another cupboard filled a recess beside the fireplace. Some coloured +prints of Harunobu, with which Trent promised himself a better acquaintance, +hung on what little wall-space was unoccupied by books. These had a very +uninspiring appearance of having been bought by the yard and never taken from +their shelves. Bound with a sober luxury, the great English novelists, +essayists, historians, and poets stood ranged like an army struck dead in its +ranks. There were a few chairs made, like the cupboard and table, of old +carved oak; a modern armchair and a swivel office-chair before the desk. The +room looked costly but very bare. Almost the only portable objects were a +great porcelain bowl of a wonderful blue on the table, a clock and some cigar +boxes on the mantelshelf, and a movable telephone standard on the top of the +desk. + +'Seen the body?' enquired the inspector. + +Trent nodded. 'And the place where it lay,' he said. + +'First impressions of this case rather puzzle me,' said the inspector. 'From +what I heard at Halvey I guessed it might be common robbery and murder by some +tramp, though such a thing is very far from common in these parts. But as soon +as I began my enquiries I came on some curious points, which by this time I +dare say you've noted for yourself. The man is shot in his own grounds, quite +near the house, to begin with. Yet there's not the slightest trace of any +attempt at burglary. And the body wasn't robbed. In fact, it would be as plain +a ease of suicide as you could wish to see, if it wasn't for certain facts. +Here's another thing: for a month or so past, they tell me, Manderson had been +in a queer state of mind. I expect you know already that he and his wife had +some trouble between them. The servants had noticed a change in his manner to +her for a long time, and for the past week he had scarcely spoken to her. They +say he was a changed man, moody and silent--whether on account of that or +something else. The lady's maid says he looked as if something was going to +arrive. It's always easy to remember that people looked like that, after +something has happened to them. Still, that's what they say. There you are +again, then: suicide! Now, why wasn't it suicide, Mr. Trent?' + +'The facts so far as I know them are really all against it,' Trent replied, +sitting on the threshold of the window and clasping his knees. 'First, of +course, no weapon is to be found. I've searched, and you've searched, and +there's no trace of any firearm anywhere within a stone's throw of where the +body lay. Second, the marks on the wrists, fresh scratches and bruises, which +we can only assume to have been done in a struggle with somebody. Third, who +ever heard of anybody shooting himself in the eye? Then I heard from the +manager of the hotel here another fact, which strikes me as the most curious +detail in this affair. Manderson had dressed himself fully before going out +there, but he forgot his false teeth. Now how could a suicide who dressed +himself to make a decent appearance as a corpse forget his teeth?' + +'That last argument hadn't struck me,' admitted Mr. Murch. 'There's something +in it. But on the strength of the other points, which had occurred to me, I am +not considering suicide. I have been looking about for ideas in this house, +this morning. I expect you were thinking of doing the same.' + +'That is so. It is a case for ideas, it seems to me. Come, Murch, let us make +an effort; let us bend our spirits to a temper of general suspicion. Let us +suspect everybody in the house, to begin with. Listen: I will tell you whom I +suspect. I suspect Mrs. Manderson, of course. I also suspect both the +secretaries--I hear there are two, and I hardly know which of them I regard as +more thoroughly open to suspicion. I suspect the butler and the lady's maid. I +suspect the other domestics, and especially do I suspect the boot-boy. By the +way, what domestics are there? I have more than enough suspicion to go round, +whatever the size of the establishment; but as a matter of curiosity I should +like to know.' + +'All very well to laugh,' replied the inspector, 'but at the first stage of +affairs it's the only safe principle, and you know that as well as I do, Mr. +Trent. However, I've seen enough of the people here, last night and today, to +put a few of them out of my mind for the present at least. You will form your +own conclusions. As for the establishment, there's the butler and lady's maid, +cook, and three other maids, one a young girl. One chauffeur, who's away with +a broken wrist. No boy.' + +'What about the gardener? You say nothing about that shadowy and sinister +figure, the gardener. You are keeping him in the background, Murch. Play the +game. Out with him--or I report you to the Rules Committee.' + +'The garden is attended to by a man in the village, who comes twice a week. +I've talked to him. He was here last on Friday.' + +'Then I suspect him all the more,' said Trent. 'And now as to the house +itself. What I propose to do, to begin with, is to sniff about a little in +this room, where I am told Manderson spent a great deal of his time, and in +his bedroom; especially the bedroom. But since we're in this room, let's start +here. You seem to be at the same stage of the inquiry. Perhaps you've done the +bedrooms already?' + +The inspector nodded. 'I've been over Manderson's and his wife's. Nothing to +be got there, I think. His room is very simple and bare, no signs of any +sort--that I could see. Seems to have insisted on the simple life, does +Manderson. Never employed a valet. The room's almost like a cell, except for +the clothes and shoes. You'll find it all exactly as I found it; and they tell +me that's exactly as Manderson left it, at we don't know what o'clock +yesterday morning. Opens into Mrs. Manderson's bedroom--not much of the cell +about that, I can tell you. I should say the lady was as fond of pretty things +as most. But she cleared out of it on the morning of the discovery--told the +maid she could never sleep in a room opening into her murdered husband's room. +Very natural feeling in a woman, Mr. Trent. She's camping out, so to say, in +one of the spare bedrooms now.' + +'Come, my friend,' Trent was saying to himself, as he made a few notes in his +little book. 'Have you got your eye on Mrs. Manderson? Or haven't you? I know +that colourless tone of the inspectorial voice. I wish I had seen her. Either +you've got something against her and you don't want me to get hold of it; or +else you've made up your mind she's innocent, but have no objection to my +wasting my time over her. Well, it's all in the game; which begins to look +extremely interesting as we go on.' To Mr. Murch he said aloud: 'Well, I'll +draw the bedroom later on. What about this?' + +'They call it the library,' said the inspector. 'Manderson used to do his +writing and that in here; passed most of the time he spent indoors here. Since +he and his wife ceased to hit it off together, he had taken to spending his +evenings alone, and when at this house he always spent 'em in here. He was +last seen alive, as far as the servants are concerned, in this room.' + +Trent rose and glanced again through the papers set out on the table. +'Business letters and documents, mostly,' said Mr. Murch. 'Reports, +prospectuses, and that. A few letters on private matters, noth-in4g in them +that I can see. The American secretary--Bunner his name is, and a queerer card +I never saw turned-- he's been through this desk with me this morning. He had +got it into his head that Manderson had been receiving threatening letters, +and that the murder was the outcome of that. But there's no trace of any such +thing; and we looked at every blessed paper. The only unusual things we found +were some packets of banknotes to a considerable amount, and a couple of +little bags of unset diamonds. I asked Mr. Bunner to put them in a safer +place. It appears that Manderson had begun buying diamonds lately as a +speculation--it was a new game to him, the secretary said, and it seemed to +amuse him.' + +'What about these secretaries?' Trent enquired. 'I met one called Marlowe just +now outside; a nice-looking chap with singular eyes, unquestionably English. +The other, it seems, is an American. What did Manderson want with an English +secretary?' + +'Mr. Marlowe explained to me how that was. The American was his right-hand +business man, one of his office staff, who never left him. Mr. Marlowe had +nothing to do with Manderson's business as a financier, knew nothing of it. +His job was to look after Manderson's horses and motors and yacht and sporting +arrangements and that--make himself generally useful, as you might say. He had +the spending of a lot of money, I should think. The other was confined +entirely to the office affairs, and I dare say he had his hands full. As for +his being English, it was just a fad of Manderson's to have an English +secretary. He'd had several before Mr. Marlowe.' + +'He showed his taste,' observed Trent. 'It might be more than interesting, +don't you think, to be minister to the pleasures of a modern plutocrat with a +large P. Only they say that Manderson's were exclusively of an innocent kind. +Certainly Marlowe gives me the impression that he would be weak in the part of +Petronius. But to return to the matter in hand.' He looked at his notes. 'You +said just ' now that he was last seen alive here, "so far as the servants were +concerned". That meant--?' + +'He had a conversation with his wife on going to bed. But for that, the +manservant, Martin by name, last saw him in this room. I had his story last +night, and very glad he was to tell it. An affair like this is meat and drink +to the servants of the house.' + +Trent considered for some moments, gazing through the open window over the +sun- flooded slopes. 'Would it bore you to hear what he has to say again?' he +asked at length. For reply, Mr. Murch rang the bell. A spare, clean-shaven, +middle- aged man, having the servant's manner in its most distinguished form, +answered it. + +'This is Mr. Trent, who is authorized by Mrs. Manderson to go over the house +and make enquiries,' explained the detective. 'He would like to hear your +story.' Martin bowed distantly. He recognized Trent for a gentleman. Time +would show whether he was what Martin called a gentleman in every sense of the +word. + +'I observed you approaching the house, sir,' said Martin with impassive +courtesy. He spoke with a slow and measured utterance. 'My instructions are to +assist you in every possible way. Should you wish me to recall the +circumstances of Sunday night?' + +'Please,' said Trent with ponderous gravity. Martin's style was making +clamorous appeal to his sense of comedy. He banished with an effort all +vivacity of expression from his face. + +'I last saw Mr. Manderson--' + +'No, not that yet,' Trent checked him quietly. 'Tell me all you saw of him +that evening--after dinner, say. Try to recollect every little detail.' + +'After dinner, sir?--yes. I remember that after dinner Mr. Manderson and Mr. +Marlowe walked up and down the path through the orchard, talking. If you ask +me for details, it struck me they were talking about something important, +because I heard Mr. Manderson say something when they came in through the back +entrance. He said, as near as I can remember, "If Harris is there, every +minute is of importance. You want to start right away. And not a word to a +soul." Mr. Marlowe answered, "Very well. I will just change out of these +clothes and then I am ready"--or words to that effect. I heard this plainly as +they passed the window of my pantry. Then Mr. Marlowe went up to his bedroom, +and Mr. Manderson entered the library and rang for me. He handed me some +letters for the postman in the morning and directed me to sit up, as Mr. +Marlowe had persuaded him to go for a drive in the car by moonlight.' + +'That was curious,' remarked Trent. + +'I thought so, sir. But I recollected what I had heard about "not a word to a +soul", and I concluded that this about a moonlight drive was intended to +mislead.' + +'What time was this?' + +'It would be about ten, sir, I should say. After speaking to me, Mr. Manderson +waited until Mr. Marlowe had come down and brought round the car. He then went +into the drawing-room, where Mrs. Manderson was.' + +'Did that strike you as curious?' + +Martin looked down his nose. 'If you ask me the question, sir,' he said with +reserve, 'I had not known him enter that room since we came here this year. He +preferred to sit in the library in the evenings. That evening he only remained +with Mrs. Manderson for a few minutes. Then he and Mr. Marlowe started +immediately.' + +'You saw them start?' + +'Yes, sir. They took the direction of Bishopsbridge.' + +'And you saw Mr. Manderson again later?' + +'After an hour or thereabouts, sir, in the library. That would have been about +a quarter past eleven, I should say; I had noticed eleven striking from the +church. I may say I am peculiarly quick of hearing, sir.' + +'Mr. Manderson had rung the bell for you, I suppose. Yes? And what passed when +you answered it?' + +'Mr. Manderson had put out the decanter of whisky and a syphon and glass, sir, +from the cupboard where he kept them--' + +Trent held up his hand. 'While we are on that point, Martin, I want to ask you +plainly, did Mr. Manderson drink very much? You understand this is not +impertinent curiosity on my part. I want you to tell me, because it may +possibly help in the clearing up of this case.' + +'Perfectly, sir,' replied Martin gravely. 'I have no hesitation in telling you +what I have already told the inspector. Mr. Manderson was, considering his +position in life, a remarkably abstemious man. In my four years of service +with him I never knew anything of an alcoholic nature pass his lips, except a +glass or two of wine at dinner, very rarely a little at luncheon, and from +time to time a whisky and soda before going to bed. He never seemed to form a +habit of it. Often I used to find his glass in the morning with only a little +soda water in it; sometimes he would have been having whisky with it, but +never much. He never was particular about his drinks; ordinary soda was what +he preferred, though I had ventured to suggest some of the natural minerals, +having personally acquired a taste for them in my previous service. He used to +keep them in the cupboard here, because he had a great dislike of being waited +on more than was necessary. It was an understood thing that I never came near +him after dinner unless sent for. And when he sent for anything, he liked it +brought quick, and to be left alone again at once. He hated to be asked if he +required anything more. Amazingly simple in his tastes, sir, Mr. Manderson +was.' + +'Very well; and he rang for you that night about a quarter past eleven. Now +can you remember exactly what he said?' + +I think I can tell you with some approach to accuracy, sir. It was not much. +Zzz First he asked me if Mr. Bunner had gone to bed, and I replied that he had +been gone up some time. He then said that he wanted some one to sit up until +12.30, in case an important message should come by telephone, and that Mr. +Marlowe having gone to Southampton for him in the motor, he wished me to do +this, and that + +I was to take down the message if it came, and not disturb him. He also +ordered a fresh syphon of soda water. I believe that was all, sir.' + +'You noticed nothing unusual about him, I suppose?' + +'No, sir, nothing unusual. When I answered the ring, he was seated at the desk +listening at the telephone, waiting for a number, as I supposed. He gave his +orders and went on listening at the same time. 'When I returned with the +syphon he was engaged in conversation over the wire.' + +'Do you remember anything of what he was saying?' + +'Very little, sir; it was something about somebody being at some hotel--of no +interest to me. I was only in the room just time enough to place the syphon on +the table and withdraw. As I closed the door he was saying, "You're sure he +isn't in the hotel?" or words to that effect.' + +'And that was the last you saw and heard of him alive?' + +'No, sir. A little later, at half-past eleven, when I had settled down in my +pantry with the door ajar, and a book to pass the time, I heard Mr. Manderson +go upstairs to bed. I immediately went to close the library window, and +slipped the lock of the front door. I did not hear anything more.' + +Trent considered. 'I suppose you didn't doze at all,' he said tentatively, +'while you were sitting up waiting for the telephone message?' + +'Oh no, sir. I am always very wakeful about that time. I'm a bad sleeper, +especially in the neighbourhood of the sea, and I generally read in bed until +somewhere about midnight.' + + + +'And did any message come?' + +'No, sir.' + +'No. And I suppose you sleep with your window open, these warm nights?' + +'It is never closed at night, sir.' + +Trent added a last note; then he looked thoughtfully through those he had +taken. He rose and paced up and down the room for some moments with a downcast +eye. At length he paused opposite Martin. + +'It all seems perfectly ordinary and simple,' he said. 'I just want to get a +few details clear. You went to shut the windows in the library before going to +bed. Which windows?' + +'The French window, sir. It had been open all day. The windows opposite the +door were seldom opened.' + +'And what about the curtains? I am wondering whether any one outside the house +could have seen into the room.' + +'Easily, sir, I should say, if he had got into the grounds on that side. The +curtains were never drawn in the hot weather. Mr. Manderson would often sit +right in the doorway at nights, smoking and looking out into the darkness. But +nobody could have seen him who had any business to be there.' + +'I see. And now tell me this. Your hearing is very acute, you say, and you +heard Mr. Manderson enter the house when he came in after dinner from the +garden. Did you hear him re-enter it after returning from the motor drive?' + +Martin paused. 'Now you mention it, sir, I remember that I did not. His +ringing the bell in this room was the first I knew of his being back. I should +have heard him come in, if he had come in by the front. I should have heard +the door go. But he must have come in by the window.' The man reflected for a +moment, then added, 'As a general rule, Mr. Manderson would come in by the +front, hang up his hat and coat in the hall, and pass down the hall into the +study. It seems likely to me that he was in a great hurry to use the +telephone, and so went straight across the lawn to the window he was like +that, sir, when there was anything important to be done. He had his hat on, +now I remember, and had thrown his greatcoat over the end of the table. He +gave his order very sharp, too, as he always did when busy. A very precipitate +man indeed was Mr. Manderson; a hustler, as they say.' + +'Ah! he appeared to be busy. But didn't you say just now that you noticed +nothing unusual about him?' + +A melancholy smile flitted momentarily over Martin's face. 'That observation +shows that you did not know Mr. Manderson, sir, if you will pardon my saying +so. His being like that was nothing unusual; quite the contrary. It took me +long enough to get used to it. Either he would be sitting quite still and +smoking a cigar, thinking or reading, or else he would be writing, dictating, +and sending off wires all at the same time, till it almost made one dizzy to +see it, sometimes for an hour or more at a stretch. As for being in a hurry +over a telephone message, I may say it wasn't in him to be anything else.' + +Trent turned to the inspector, who met his eye with a look of answering +intelligence. Not sorry to show his understanding of the line of inquiry +opened by Trent, Mr. Murch for the first time put a question. + +'Then you left him telephoning by the open window, with the lights on, and the +drinks on the table; is that it?' 'That is so, Mr. Murch.' The delicacy of +the change in Martin's manner when called upon to answer the detective +momentarily distracted Trent's appreciative mind. But the big man's next +question brought it back to the problem at once. + +'About those drinks. You say Mr. Manderson often took no whisky before going +to bed. Did he have any that night?' + +'I could not say. The room was put to rights in the morning by one of the +maids, and the glass washed, I presume, as usual. I know that the decanter was +nearly full that evening. I had refilled it a few days before, and I glanced +at it when I brought the fresh syphon, just out of habit, to make sure there +was a decent- looking amount.' + +The inspector went to the tall corner-cupboard and opened it. He took out a +decanter of cut glass and set it on the table before Martin. 'Was it fuller +than that?' he asked quietly. 'That's how I found it this morning.' The +decanter was more than half empty. + +For the first time Martin's self-possession wavered. He took up the decanter +quickly, tilted it before his eyes, and then stared amazedly at the others. He +said slowly: 'There's not much short of half a bottle gone out of this since I +last set eyes on it--and that was that Sunday night.' + +'Nobody in the house, I suppose?' suggested Trent discreetly. 'Out of the +question!' replied Martin briefly; then he added, 'I beg pardon, sir, but this +is a most extraordinary thing to me. Such a thing never happened in all my +experience of Mr. Manderson. As for the women-servants, they never touch +anything, I can answer for it; and as for me, when I want a drink I can help +myself without going to the decanters.' He took up the decanter again and +aimlessly renewed his observation of the contents, while the inspector eyed +him with a look of serene satisfaction, as a master contemplates his +handiwork. + +Trent turned to a fresh page of his notebook, and tapped it thoughtfully with +his pencil. Then he looked up and said, 'I suppose Mr. Manderson had dressed +for dinner that night?' + +'Certainly, sir. He had on a suit with a dress-jacket, what he used to refer +to as a Tuxedo, which he usually wore when dining at home.' + +'And he was dressed like that when you saw him last?' + +'All but the jacket, sir. When he spent the evening in the library, as usually +happened, he would change it for an old shooting-jacket after dinner, a light- +coloured tweed, a little too loud in pattern for English tastes, perhaps. He +had it on when I saw him last. It used to hang in this cupboard here'--Martin +opened the door of it as he spoke--along with Mr. Manderson's fishing-rods and +such things, so that he could slip it on after dinner without going upstairs.' + +'Leaving the dinner-jacket in the cupboard?' + +'Yes, sir. The housemaid used to take it upstairs in the morning.' + +'In the morning,' Trent repeated slowly. 'And now that we are speaking of the +morning, will you tell me exactly what you know about that? I understand that +Mr. Manderson was not missed until the body was found about ten o'clock.' + +'That is so, sir. Mr. Manderson would never be called, or have anything +brought to him in the morning. He occupied a separate bedroom. Usually he +would get up about eight and go round to the bathroom, and he would come down +some time before nine. But often he would sleep till nine or ten o'clock. Mrs. +Manderson was always called at seven. The maid would take in tea to her. +Yesterday morning Mrs. Manderson took breakfast about eight in her +sitting-room as usual, and every one supposed that Mr. Manderson was still in +bed and asleep, when Evans came rushing up to the house with the shocking +intelligence.' + +'I see,' said Trent. 'And now another thing. You say you slipped the lock of +the front door before going to bed. Was that all the locking-up you did?' + +'To the front door, sir, yes; I slipped the lock. No more is considered +necessary in these parts. But I had locked both the doors at the back, and +seen to the fastenings of all the windows on the ground floor. In the morning +everything was as I had left it.' + +'As you had left it. Now here is another point--the last, I think. Were the +clothes in which the body was found the clothes that Mr. Manderson would +naturally have worn that day?' + +Martin rubbed his chin. 'You remind me how surprised I was when I first set +eyes on the body, sir. At first I couldn't make out what was unusual about the +clothes, and then I saw what it was. The collar was a shape of collar Mr. +Manderson never wore except with evening dress. Then I found that he had put +on all the same things that he had worn the night before--large fronted shirt +and all--except just the coat and waistcoat and trousers, and the brown shoes, +and blue tie. As for the suit, it was one of half a dozen he might have worn. +But for him to have simply put on all the rest just because they were there, +instead of getting out the kind of shirt and things he always wore by day; +well, sir, it was unprecedented. It shows, like some other things, what a +hurry he must have been in when getting up.' + +'Of course,' said Trent. 'Well, I think that's all I wanted to know. You have +put everything with admirable clearness, Martin. If we want to ask any more +questions later on, I suppose you will be somewhere about.' + +'I shall be at your disposal, sir.' Martin bowed, and went out quietly. + +Trent flung himself into the armchair and exhaled a long breath. 'Martin is a +great creature,' he said. 'He is far, far better than a play. There is none +like him, none, nor will be when our summers have deceased. Straight, too; not +an atom of harm in dear old Martin. Do you know, Murch, you are wrong in +suspecting that man.' + +'I never said a word about suspecting him.' The inspector was taken aback. +'You know, Mr. Trent, he would never have told his story like that if he +thought I suspected him.' + +'I dare say he doesn't think so. He is a wonderful creature, a great artist; +but, in spite of that, he is not at all a sensitive type. It has never +occurred to his mind that you, Murch, could suspect him, Martin, the complete, +the accomplished. But I know it. You must understand, inspector, that I have +made a special study of the psychology of officers of the law. It is a grossly +neglected branch of knowledge. They are far more interesting than criminals, +and not nearly so easy. All the time I was questioning him I saw handcuffs in +your eye. Your lips were mutely framing the syllables of those tremendous +words: "It is my duty to tell you that anything you now say will be taken down +and used in evidence against you." Your manner would have deceived most men, +but it could not deceive me.' + +Mr. Murch laughed heartily. Trent's nonsense never made any sort of impression +on his mind, but he took it as a mark of esteem, which indeed it was; so it +never failed to please him. 'Well, Mr. Trent,' he said, 'you're perfectly +right. There's no point in denying it, I have got my eye on him. Not that +there's anything definite; but you know as well as I do how often servants are +mixed up in affairs of this kind, and this man is such a very quiet customer. +You remember the case of Lord William Russell's valet, who went in as usual, +in the morning, to draw up the blinds in his master's bedroom, as quiet and +starchy as you please, a few hours after he had murdered him in his bed. I've +talked to all the women of the house, and I don't believe there's a morsel of +harm in one of them. But Martin's not so easy set aside. I don't like his +manner; I believe he's hiding something. If so, I shall find it out.' + +'Cease!' said Trent. 'Drain not to its dregs the urn of bitter prophecy. Let +us get back to facts. Have you, as a matter of evidence, anything at all to +bring against Martin's story as he has told it to us?' + +'Nothing whatever at present. As for his suggestion that Manderson came in by +way of the window after leaving Marlowe and the car, that's right enough, I +should say. I questioned the servant who swept the room next morning, and she +tells me there were gravelly marks near the window, on this plain drugget that +goes round the carpet. And there's a footprint in this soft new gravel just +outside.' The inspector took a folding rule from his pocket and with it +pointed out the traces. 'One of the patent shoes Manderson was wearing that +night exactly fits that print; you'll find them,' he added, 'on the top shelf +in the bedroom, near the window end, the only patents in the row. The girl who +polished them in the morning picked them out for me.' + +Trent bent down and studied the faint marks keenly. 'Good!' he said. 'You have +covered a lot of ground, Murch, I must say. That was excellent about the +whisky; you made your point finely. I felt inclined to shout "Encore!" It's a +thing that I shall have to think over.' + +'I thought you might have fitted it in already,' said Mr. Murch. 'Come, Mr. +Trent, we're only at the beginning of our enquiries, but what do you say to +this for a preliminary theory? There's a plan of burglary, say a couple of men +in it and Martin squared. They know where the plate is, and all about the +handy little bits of stuff in the drawing-room and elsewhere. They watch the +house; see Manderson off to bed; Martin comes to shut the window, and leaves +it ajar, accidentally on purpose. They wait till Martin goes to bed at +twelve-thirty; then they just walk into the library, and begin to sample the +whisky first thing. Now suppose Manderson isn't asleep, and suppose they make +a noise opening the window, or however it might be. He hears it; thinks of +burglars; gets up very quietly to see if anything's wrong; creeps down on +them, perhaps, just as they're getting ready for work. They cut and run; he +chases them down to the shed, and collars one; there's a fight; one of them +loses his temper and his head, and makes a swinging job of it. Now, Mr. Trent, +pick that to pieces.' + +'Very well,' said Trent; 'just to oblige you, Murch, especially as I know you +don't believe a word of it. First: no traces of any kind left by your burglar +or burglars, and the window found fastened in the morning, according to +Martin. Not much force in that, I allow. Next: nobody in the house hears +anything of this stampede through the library, nor hears any shout from +Manderson either inside the house or outside. Next: Manderson goes down +without a word to anybody, though Bunner and Martin are both at hand. Next: +did you ever hear, in your long experience, of a householder getting up in the +night to pounce on burglars, who dressed himself fully, with underclothing, +shirt; collar and tie, trousers, waistcoat and coat, socks and hard leather +shoes; and who gave the finishing touches to a somewhat dandified toilet by +doing his hair, and putting on his watch and chain? Personally, I call that +over-dressing the part. The only decorative detail he seems to have forgotten +is his teeth.' + +The inspector leaned forward thinking, his large hands clasped before him. +'No,' he said at last. 'Of course there's no help in that theory. I rather +expect we have some way to go before we find out why a man gets up before the +servants are awake, dresses himself awry, and is murdered within sight of his +house early enough to be 'cold and stiff by ten in the morning.' + +Trent shook his head. 'We can't build anything on that last consideration. +I've gone into the subject with people who know. I shouldn't wonder,' he +added, 'if the traditional notions about loss of temperature and rigour after +death had occasionally brought an innocent man to the gallows, or near it. Dr. +Stock has them all, I feel sure; most general practitioners of the older +generation have. That Dr. Stock will make an ass of himself at the inquest, is +almost as certain as that tomorrow's sun will rise. I've seen him. He will say +the body must have been dead about so long, because of the degree of coldness +and rigor mortis. I can see him nosing it all out in some textbook that was +out of date when he was a student. Listen, Murch, and I will tell you some +facts which will be a great hindrance to you in your professional career. +There are many things that may hasten or retard the cooling of the body. This +one was lying in the long dewy grass on the shady side of the shed. As for +rigidity, if Manderson died in a struggle, or labouring under sudden emotion, +his corpse might stiffen practically instantaneously; there are dozens of +cases noted, particularly in cases of injury to the skull, like this one. On +the other hand, the stiffening might not have begun until eight or ten hours +after death. You can't hang anybody on rigor mortis nowadays, inspector, much +as you may resent the limitation. No, what we can say is this. If he had been +shot after the hour at which the world begins to get up and go about its +business, it would have been heard, and very likely seen too. In fact, we must +reason, to begin with, at any rate, on the assumption that he wasn't shot at a +time when people might be awake; it isn't done in these parts. Put that time +at 6.30 a.m. Manderson went up to bed at 11 p.m., and Martin sat up till +12.30. Assuming that he went to sleep at once on turning in, that leaves us +something like six hours for the crime to be committed in; and that is a long +time. But whenever it took place, I wish you would suggest a reason why +Manderson, who was a fairly late riser, was up and dressed at or before 6.30; +and why neither Martin, who sleeps lightly, nor Bunner, nor his wife heard him +moving about, or letting himself out of the house. He must have been careful. +He must have crept about like a cat. Do you feel as I do, Murch, about all +this; that it is very, very strange and baffling?' 'That's how it looks,' +agreed the inspector. + +'And now,' said Trent, rising to his feet, 'I'll leave you to your +meditations, and take a look at the bedrooms. Perhaps the explanation of all +this will suddenly burst upon you while I am poking about up there. But,' +concluded Trent in a voice of sudden exasperation, turning round in the +doorway, 'if you can tell me at any time, how under the sun a man who put on +all those clothes could forget to put in his teeth, you may kick me from here +to the nearest lunatic asylum, and hand me over as an incipient dement.' + +CHAPTER V: Poking About + +There are moments in life, as one might think, when that which is within us, +busy about its secret affair, lets escape into consciousness some hint of a +fortunate thing ordained. Who does not know what it is to feel at times a wave +of unaccountable persuasion that it is about to go well with him?--not the +feverish confidence of men in danger of a blow from fate, not the persistent +illusion of the optimist, but an unsought conviction, springing up like a bird +from the heather, that success is at hand in some great or fine thing. The +general suddenly knows at dawn that the day will bring him victory; the man on +the green suddenly knows that he will put down the long putt. As Trent mounted +the stairway outside the library door he seemed to rise into certainty of +achievement. A host of guesses and inferences swarmed apparently unsorted +through his mind; a few secret observations that he had made, and which he +felt must have significance, still stood unrelated to any plausible theory of +the crime; yet as he went up he seemed to know indubitably that light was +going to appear. + +The bedrooms lay on either side of a broad carpeted passage, lighted by a tall +end window. It went the length of the house until it ran at right angles into +a narrower passage, out of which the servants' rooms opened. Martin's room was +the exception: it opened out of a small landing half-way to the upper floor. +As Trent passed it he glanced within. A little square room, clean and +commonplace. In going up the rest of the stairway he stepped with elaborate +precaution against noise, hugging the wall closely and placing each foot with +care; but a series of very audible creaks marked his passage. + +He knew that Manderson's room was the first on the right hand when the bedroom +floor was reached, and he went to it at once. He tried the latch and the lock, +which worked normally, and examined the wards of the key. Then he turned to +the room. + +It was a small apartment, strangely bare. The plutocrat's toilet appointments +were of the simplest. All remained just as it had been on the morning of the +ghastly discovery in the grounds. The sheets and blankets of the unmade bed +lay tumbled over a narrow wooden bedstead, and the sun shone brightly through +the window upon them. It gleamed, too, upon the gold parts of the delicate +work of dentistry that lay in water in a shallow bowl of glass placed on a +small, plain table by the bedside. On this also stood a wrought-iron +candlestick. Some clothing lay untidily over one of the two rush-bottomed +chairs. Various objects on the top of a chest of drawers, which had been used +as a dressing-table, lay in such disorder as a hurried man might make. Trent +looked them over with a questing eye. He noted also that the occupant of the +room had neither washed nor shaved. With his finger he turned over the dental +plate in the bowl, and frowned again at its incomprehensible presence. + +The emptiness and disarray of the little room, flooded by the sunbeams, were +producing in Trent a sense of gruesomeness. His fancy called up a picture of a +haggard man dressing himself in careful silence by the first light of dawn, +glancing constantly at the inner door behind which his wife slept, his eyes +full of some terror. + +Trent shivered, and to fix his mind again on actualities, opened two tall +cupboards in the wall on either side of the bed. They contained clothing, a +large choice of which had evidently been one of the very few conditions of +comfort for the man who had slept there. + +In the matter of shoes, also, Manderson had allowed himself the advantage of +wealth. An extraordinary number of these, treed and carefully kept, was ranged +on two long low shelves against the wall. No boots were among them. Trent, +himself an amateur of good shoe-leather, now turned to these, and glanced over +the collection with an appreciative eye. It was to be seen that Manderson had +been inclined to pride himself on a rather small and well-formed foot. The +shoes were of a distinctive shape, narrow and round-toed, beautifully made; +all were evidently from the same last. + +Suddenly his eyes narrowed themselves over a pair of patent-leather shoes on +the upper shelf. + +These were the shoes of which the inspector had already described the position +to him; the shoes worn by Manderson the night before his death. They were a +well-worn pair, he saw at once; he saw, too, that they had been very recently +polished. Something about the uppers of these shoes had seized his attention. +He bent lower and frowned over them, comparing what he saw with the appearance +of the neighbouring shoes. Then he took them up and examined the line of +junction of the uppers with the soles. + +As he did this, Trent began unconsciously to whistle faintly, and with great +precision, an air which Inspector Murch, if he had been present, would have +recognized. + +Most men who have the habit of self-control have also some involuntary trick +which tells those who know them that they are suppressing excitement. The +inspector had noted that when Trent had picked up a strong scent he whistled +faintly a certain melodious passage; though the inspector could not have told +you that it was in fact the opening movement of Mendelssohn's Lied ohne Worter +in A Major. + +He turned the shoes over, made some measurements with a marked tape, and +looked minutely at the bottoms. On each, in the angle between the heel and the +instep, he detected a faint trace of red gravel. + +Trent placed the shoes on the floor, and walked with his hands behind him to +the window, out of which, still faintly whistling, he gazed with eyes that saw +nothing. Once his lips opened to emit mechanically the Englishman's expletive +of sudden enlightenment. At length he turned to the shelves again, and swiftly +but carefully examined every one of the shoes there. + +This done, he took up the garments from the chair, looked them over closely +and replaced them. He turned to the wardrobe cupboards again, and hunted +through them carefully. The litter on the dressing-table now engaged his +attention for the second time. Then he sat down on the empty chair, took his +head in his hands, and remained in that attitude, staring at the carpet, for +some minutes. He rose at last and opened the inner door leading to Mrs +Manderson's room. + +It was evident at a glance that the big room had been hurriedly put down from +its place as the lady's bower. All the array of objects that belong to a +woman's dressing-table had been removed; on bed and chairs and smaller tables +there were no garments or hats, bags or boxes; no trace remained of the +obstinate conspiracy of gloves and veils, handkerchiefs and ribbons, to break +the captivity of the drawer. The room was like an unoccupied guest-chamber. +Yet in every detail of furniture and decoration it spoke of an unconventional +but exacting taste. Trent, as his expert eye noted the various perfection of +colour and form amid which the ill-mated lady dreamed her dreams and thought +her loneliest thoughts, knew that she had at least the resources of an +artistic nature. His interest in this unknown personality grew stronger; and +his brows came down heavily as he thought of the burdens laid upon it, and of +the deed of which the history was now shaping itself with more and more of +substance before his busy mind. + +He went first to the tall French window in the middle of the wall that faced +the door, and opening it, stepped out upon a small balcony with an iron +railing. He looked down on a broad stretch of lawn that began immediately +beneath him, separated from the house-wall only by a narrow flower-bed, and +stretched away, with an abrupt dip at the farther end, toward the orchard. The +other window opened with a sash above the garden-entrance of the library. In +the farther inside corner of the room was a second door giving upon the +passage; the door by which the maid was wont to come in, and her mistress to +go out, in the morning. + +Trent, seated on the bed, quickly sketched in his notebook a plan of the room +and its neighbour. The bed stood in the angle between the communicating-door +and the sash-window, its head against the wall dividing the room from +Manderson's. Trent stared at the pillows; then he lay down with deliberation +on the bed and looked through the open door into the adjoining room. + +This observation taken, he rose again and proceeded to note on his plan that +on either side of the bed was a small table with a cover. Upon that furthest +from the door was a graceful electric-lamp standard of copper connected by a +free wire with the wall. Trent looked at it thoughtfully, then at the switches +connected with the other lights in the room. They were, as usual, on the wall +just within the door, and some way out of his reach as he sat on the bed. He +rose, and satisfied himself that the lights were all in order. Then he turned +on his heel, walked quickly into Manderson's room, and rang the bell. + +'I want your help again, Martin,' he said, as the butler presented himself, +upright and impassive, in the doorway. 'I want you to prevail upon Mrs +Manderson's maid to grant me an interview.' + +'Certainly, sir,' said Martin. + +'What sort of a woman is she? Has she her wits about her?' + +'She's French, sir,' replied Martin succinctly; adding after a pause: 'She has +not been with us long, sir, but I have formed the impression that the young +woman knows as much of the world as is good for her--since you ask me.' + +'You think butter might possibly melt in her mouth, do you?' said Trent. +'Well, I am not afraid. I want to put some questions to her.' + +'I will send her up immediately, sir.' The butler withdrew, and Trent wandered +round the little room with his hands at his back. Sooner than he had expected, +a small neat figure in black appeared quietly before him. + +The lady's maid, with her large brown eyes, had taken favourable notice of +Trent from a window when he had crossed the lawn, and had been hoping +desperately that the resolver of mysteries (whose reputation was as great +below-stairs as elsewhere) would send for her. For one thing, she felt the +need to make a scene; her nerves were overwrought. But her scenes were at a +discount with the other domestics, and as for Mr Murch, he had chilled her +into self-control with his official manner. Trent, her glimpse of him had told +her, had not the air of a policeman, and at a distance he had appeared +sympathique. + +As she entered the room, however, instinct decided for her that any approach +to coquetry would be a mistake, if she sought to make a good impression at the +beginning. It was with an air of amiable candour, then, that she said, +'Monsieur desire to speak with me.' She added helpfully, 'I am called +Celestine.' + +'Naturally,' said Trent with businesslike calm. 'Now what I want you to tell +me, Celestine, is this. When you took tea to your mistress yesterday morning +at seven o'clock, was the door between the two bedrooms--this door +here--open?' + +Celestine became intensely animated in an instant. 'Oh yes!' she said, using +her favourite English idiom. 'The door was open as always, monsieur, and I +shut it as always. But it is necessary to explain. Listen! When I enter the +room of madame from the other door in there--ah! but if monsieur will give +himself the pain to enter the other room, all explains itself.' She tripped +across to the door, and urged Trent before her into the larger bedroom with a +hand on his arm. 'See! I enter the room with the tea like this. I approach the +bed. Before I come quite near the bed, here is the door to my right hand--open +always--so! But monsieur can perceive that I see nothing in the room of +Monsieur Manderson. The door opens to the bed, not to me who approach from +down there. I shut it without seeing in. It is the order. Yesterday it was as +ordinary. I see nothing of the next room. Madame sleep like an angel--she see +nothing. I shut the door. I place the plateau--I open the curtains--I prepare +the toilette--I retire--voila!' Celestine paused for breath and spread her +hands abroad. + +Trent, who had followed her movements and gesticulations with deepening +gravity, nodded his head. 'I see exactly how it was now,' he said. 'Thank you, +Celestine. So Mr Manderson was supposed to be still in his room while your +mistress was getting up, and dressing, and having breakfast in her boudoir?' + +'Oui, monsieur.' + +'Nobody missed him, in fact,' remarked Trent. 'Well, Celestine, I am very much +obliged to you.' He reopened the door to the outer bedroom. + +'It is nothing, monsieur,' said Celestine, as she crossed the small room. 'I +hope that monsieur will catch the assassin of Monsieur Manderson. But I not +regret him too much,' she added with sudden and amazing violence, turning +round with her hand on the knob of the outer door. She set her teeth with an +audible sound, and the colour rose in her small dark face. English departed +from her. 'Je ne le regrette pas du tout, du tout!' she cried with a flood of +words. 'Madame--ah! je me jetterais au leu pour madame--une femme si +charmante, si adorable! Mais un homme comme monsieur--maussade, boudeur, +impassible! Ah, non!- -de ma vie! J'en avais par-dessus la tete, de monsieur! +Ah! vrai! Est-ce insupportable, tout de meme, qu'il existe des types comme ca? +Je vous jure que-- ' + +'Finissez ce chahut, Celestine!' Trent broke in sharply. Celestine's tirade +had brought back the memory of his student days with a rush. 'En voila une +scene! C'est rasant, vous savez. Faut rentret ca, mademoiselle. Du reste, +c'est bien imprudent, croyez-moi. Hang it! Have some common sense! If the +inspector downstairs heard you saying that kind of thing, you would get into +trouble. And don't wave your fists about so much; you might hit something. You +seem,' he went on more pleasantly, as Celestine grew calmer under his +authoritative eye, 'to be even more glad than other people that Mr Manderson +is out of the way. I could almost suspect, Celestine, that Mr Manderson did +not take as much notice of you as you thought necessary and right.' + +'A peine s'il m'avait regarde!' Celestine answered simply. + +'Ca, c'est un comble!' observed Trent. 'You are a nice young woman for a small +tea-party, I don't think. A star upon your birthday burned, whose fierce, +serene, red, pulseless planet never yearned in heaven, Celestine. +Mademoiselle, I am busy. Bon jour. You certainly are a beauty!' + +Celestine took this as a scarcely expected compliment. The surprise restored +her balance. With a sudden flash of her eyes and teeth at Trent over her +shoulder, the lady's maid opened the door and swiftly disappeared. + +Trent, left alone in the little bedroom, relieved his mind with two forcible +descriptive terms in Celestine's language, and turned to his problem. He took +the pair of shoes which he had already examined, and placed them on one of the +two chairs in the room, then seated himself on the other opposite to this. +With his hands in his pockets he sat with eyes fixed upon those two dumb +witnesses. Now and then he whistled, almost inaudibly, a few bars. It was very +still in the room. A subdued twittering came from the trees through the open +window. From time to time a breeze rustled in the leaves of the thick creeper +about the sill. But the man in the room, his face grown hard and sombre now +with his thoughts, never moved. + +So he sat for the space of half an hour. Then he rose quickly to his feet. He +replaced the shoes on their shelf with care, and stepped out upon the landing. + +Two bedroom doors faced him on the other side of the passage. He opened that +which was immediately opposite, and entered a bedroom by no means austerely +tidy. Some sticks and fishing-rods stood confusedly in one corner, a pile of +books in another. The housemaid's hand had failed to give a look of order to +the jumble of heterogeneous objects left on the dressing-table and on the +mantelshelf--pipes, penknives, pencils, keys, golf-balls, old letters, +photographs, small boxes, tins, and bottles. Two fine etchings and some water- +colour sketches hung on the walls; leaning against the end of the wardrobe, +unhung, were a few framed engravings. A row of shoes and boots was ranged +beneath the window. Trent crossed the room and studied them intently; then he +measured some of them with his tape, whistling very softly. This done, he sat +on the side of the bed, and his eyes roamed gloomily about the room. + +The photographs on the mantelshelf attracted him presently. He rose and +examined one representing Marlowe and Manderson on horseback. Two others were +views of famous peaks in the Alps. There was a faded print of three +youths--one of them unmistakably his acquaintance of the haggard blue +eyes--clothed in tatterdemalion soldier's gear of the sixteenth century. +Another was a portrait of a majestic old lady, slightly resembling Marlowe. +Trent, mechanically taking a cigarette from an open box on the mantel-shelf, +lit it and stared at the photographs. Next he turned his attention to a flat +leathern case that lay by the cigarette-box. + +It opened easily. A small and light revolver, of beautiful workmanship, was +disclosed, with a score or so of loose cartridges. On the stock were engraved +the initials 'J. M.' + +A step was heard on the stairs, and as Trent opened the breech and peered into +the barrel of the weapon, Inspector Murch appeared at the open door of the +room. 'I was wondering--' he began; then stopped as he saw what the other was +about. His intelligent eyes opened slightly. 'Whose is the revolver, Mr +Trent?' he asked in a conversational tone. + +'Evidently it belongs to the occupant of the room, Mr Marlowe,' replied Trent +with similar lightness, pointing to the initials. 'I found this lying about on +the mantelpiece. It seems a handy little pistol to me, and it has been very +carefully cleaned, I should say, since the last time it was used. But I know +little about firearms.' + +'Well, I know a good deal,' rejoined the inspector quietly, taking the +revolver from Trent's outstretched hand. 'It's a bit of a speciality with me, +is firearms, as I think you know, Mr Trent. But it don't require an expert to +tell one thing.' He replaced the revolver in its case on the mantel-shelf, +took out one of the cartridges, and laid it on the spacious palm of one hand; +then, taking a small object from his waistcoat pocket, he laid it beside the +cartridge. It was a little leaden bullet, slightly battered about the nose, +and having upon it some bright new scratches. + +'Is that the one?' Trent murmured as he bent over the inspector's hand. + +'That's him,' replied Mr Murch. 'Lodged in the bone at the back of the skull. +Dr Stock got it out within the last hour, and handed it to the local officer, +who has just sent it on to me. These bright scratches you see were made by the +doctor's instruments. These other marks were made by the rifling of the barrel +a barrel like this one.' He tapped the revolver. 'Same make, same calibre. +There is no other that marks the bullet just like this.' + +With the pistol in its case between them, Trent and the inspector looked into +each other's eyes for some moments. Trent was the first to speak. 'This +mystery is all wrong,' he observed. 'It is insanity. The symptoms of mania are +very marked. Let us see how we stand. We were not in any doubt, I believe, +about Manderson having dispatched Marlowe in the car to Southampton, or about +Marlowe having gone, returning late last night, many hours after the murder +was committed.' + +'There is no doubt whatever about all that,' said Mr Murch, with a slight +emphasis on the verb. + +'And now,' pursued Trent, 'we are invited by this polished and insinuating +firearm to believe the following line of propositions: that Marlowe never went +to Southampton; that he returned to the house in the night; that he somehow, +without waking Mrs Manderson or anybody else, got Manderson to get up, dress +himself, and go out into the grounds; that he then and there shot the said +Manderson with his incriminating pistol; that he carefully cleaned the said +pistol, returned to the house and, again without disturbing any one, replaced +it in its case in a favourable position to be found by the officers of the +law; that he then withdrew and spent the rest of the day in hiding--with a +large motor car; and that he turned up, feigning ignorance of the whole +affair, at-- what time was it?' + +'A little after 9 p.m.' The inspector still stared moodily at Trent. 'As you +say, Mr Trent, that is the first theory suggested by this find, and it seems +wild enough--at least it would do if it didn't fall to pieces at the very +start. When the murder was done Marlowe must have been fifty to a hundred +miles away. He did go to Southampton.' + +'How do you know?' + +'I questioned him last night, and took down his story. He arrived in +Southampton about 6.30 on the Monday morning.' + +'Come off' exclaimed Trent bitterly. 'What do I care about his story? What do +you care about his story? I want to know how you know he went to Southampton.' + +Mr Murch chuckled. 'I thought I should take a rise out of you, Mr Trent,' he +said. 'Well, there's no harm in telling you. After I arrived yesterday +evening, as soon as I had got the outlines of the story from Mrs Manderson and +the servants, the first thing I did was to go to the telegraph office and wire +to our people in Southampton. Manderson had told his wife when he went to bed +that he had changed his mind, and sent Marlowe to Southampton to get some +important information from some one who was crossing by the next day's boat. +It seemed right enough, but, you see, Marlowe was the only one of the +household who wasn't under my hand, so to speak. He didn't return in the car +until later in the evening; so before thinking the matter out any further, I +wired to Southampton making certain enquiries. Early this morning I got this +reply.' He handed a series of telegraph slips to Trent, who read: + +PERSON ANSWERING DESCRIPTION IN MOTOR ANSWERING DESCRIPTION ARRIVED BEDFORD +HOTEL HERE 6.30 THIS MORNING GAVE NAME MARLOWE LEFT CAR HOTEL GARAGE TOLD +ATTENDANT CAR BELONGED MANDERSON HAD BATH AND BREAKFAST WENT OUT HEARD OF +LATER AT DOCKS ENQUIRING FOR PASSENGER NAME HARRIS ON HAVRE BOAT ENQUIRED +REPEATEDLY UNTIL BOAT LEFT AT NOON NEXT HEARD OF AT HOTEL WHERE HE LUNCHED +ABOUT 1.15 LEFT SOON AFTERWARDS IN CAR COMPANY'S AGENTS INFORM BERTH WAS +BOOKED NAME HARRIS LAST WEEK BUT HARRIS DID NOT TRAVEL BY BOAT BURKE +INSPECTOR. + +'Simple and satisfactory,' observed Mr Murch as Trent, after twice reading the +message, returned it to him. 'His own story corroborated in every particular. +He told me he hung about the dock for half an hour or so on the chance of +Harris turning up late, then strolled back, lunched, and decided to return at +once. He sent a wire to Manderson--"Harris not turned up missed boat returning +Marlowe," which was duly delivered here in the afternoon, and placed among the +dead man's letters. He motored back at a good rate, and arrived dog-tired. +When he heard of Manderson's death from Martin, he nearly fainted. What with +that and the being without sleep for so long, he was rather a wreck when I +came to interview him last night; but he was perfectly coherent.' + +Trent picked up the revolver and twirled the cylinder idly for a few moments. +'It was unlucky for Manderson that Marlowe left his pistol and cartridges +about so carelessly,' he remarked at length, as he put it back in the case. +'It was throwing temptation in somebody's way, don't you think?' + +Mr Murch shook his head. 'There isn't really much to lay hold of about the +revolver, when you come to think. That particular make of revolver is common +enough in England. It was introduced from the States. Half the people who buy +a revolver today for self-defence or mischief provide themselves with that +make, of that calibre. It is very reliable, and easily carried in the +hip-pocket. There must be thousands of them in the possession of crooks and +honest men. For instance,' continued the inspector with an air of unconcern, +'Manderson himself had one, the double of this. I found it in one of the top +drawers of the desk downstairs, and it's in my overcoat pocket now.' + +'Aha! so you were going to keep that little detail to yourself.' + +'I was,' said the inspector; 'but as you've found one revolver, you may as +well know about the other. As I say, neither of them may do us any good. The +people in the house--' + +Both men started, and the inspector checked his speech abruptly, as the half- +closed door of the bedroom was slowly pushed open, and a man stood in the +doorway. His eyes turned from the pistol in its open case to the faces of +Trent and the inspector. They, who had not heard a sound to herald this +entrance, simultaneously looked at his long, narrow feet. He wore rubber-soled +tennis shoes. + +'You must be Mr Bunner,' said Trent. + +CHAPTER VI: Mr Bunner on the Case + +'Calvin C. Bunner, at your service,' amended the newcomer, with a touch of +punctilio, as he removed an unlighted cigar from his mouth. He was used to +finding Englishmen slow and ceremonious with strangers, and Trent's quick +remark plainly disconcerted him a little. 'You are Mr Trent, I expect,' he +went on. 'Mrs Manderson was telling me a while ago. Captain, good-morning.' Mr +Murch acknowledged the outlandish greeting with a nod. 'I was coming up to my +room, and I heard a strange voice in here, so I thought I would take a look +in.' Mr Bunner laughed easily. 'You thought I might have been eavesdropping, +perhaps,' he said. 'No, sir; I heard a word or two about a pistol--this one, I +guess--and that's all.' + +Mr Bunner was a thin, rather short young man with a shaven, pale, bony, almost +girlish face, and large, dark, intelligent eyes. His waving dark hair was +parted in the middle. His lips, usually occupied with a cigar, in its absence +were always half open with a curious expression as of permanent eagerness. By +smoking or chewing a cigar this expression was banished, and Mr Bunner then +looked the consummately cool and sagacious Yankee that he was. + +Born in Connecticut, he had gone into a broker's office on leaving college, +and had attracted the notice of Manderson, whose business with his firm he had +often handled. The Colossus had watched him for some time, and at length +offered him the post of private secretary. Mr Bunner was a pattern business +man, trustworthy, long-headed, methodical, and accurate. Manderson could have +found many men with those virtues; but he engaged Mr Bunner because he was +also swift and secret, and had besides a singular natural instinct in regard +to the movements of the stock market. + +Trent and the American measured one another coolly with their eyes. Both +appeared satisfied with what they saw. 'I was having it explained to me,' said +Trent pleasantly, 'that my discovery of a pistol that might have shot +Manderson does not amount to very much. I am told it is a favourite weapon +among your people, and has become quite popular over here.' + +Mr Bunner stretched out a bony hand and took the pistol from its case. 'Yes, +sir,' he said, handling it with an air of familiarity; 'the captain is right. +This is what we call out home a Little Arthur, and I dare say there are +duplicates of it in a hundred thousand hip-pockets this minute. I consider it +too light in the hand myself,' Mr Bunner went on, mechanically feeling under +the tail of his jacket, and producing an ugly looking weapon. 'Feel of that, +now, Mr Trent--it's loaded, by the way. Now this Little Arthur--Marlowe bought +it just before we came over this year to please the old man. Manderson said it +was ridiculous for a man to be without a pistol in the twentieth century. So +he went out and bought what they offered him, I guess--never consulted me. Not +but what it's a good gun,' Mr Bunner conceded, squinting along the sights. +'Marlowe was poor with it at first, but I've coached him some in the last +month or so, and he's practised until he is pretty good. But he never could +get the habit of carrying it around. Why, it's as natural to me as wearing my +pants. I have carried one for some years now, because there was always likely +to be somebody laying for Manderson. And now,' Mr Bunner concluded sadly, +'they got him when I wasn't around. Well, gentlemen, you must excuse me. I am +going into Bishopsbridge. There is a lot to do these days, and I have to send +off a bunch of cables big enough to choke a cow.' + +'I must be off too,' said Trent. 'I have an appointment at the "Three Tuns" +inn.' + +Let me give you a lift in the automobile,' said Mr Bunner cordially. 'I go +right by that joint. Say, cap., are you coming my way too? No? Then come +along, Mr Trent, and help me get out the car. The chauffeur is out of action, +and we have to do 'most everything ourselves except clean the dirt off her.' + +Still tirelessly talking in his measured drawl, Mr Bunner led Trent downstairs +and through the house to the garage at the back. It stood at a little distance +from the house, and made a cool retreat from the blaze of the midday sun. + +Mr Bunner seemed to be in no hurry to get out the car. He offered Trent a +cigar, which was accepted, and for the first time lit his own. Then he seated +himself on the footboard of the car, his thin hands clasped between his knees, +and looked keenly at the other. + +'See here, Mr Trent,' he said, after a few moments. 'There are some things I +can tell you that may be useful to you. I know your record. You are a smart +man, and I like dealing with smart men. I don't know if I have that detective +sized up right, but he strikes me as a mutt. I would answer any questions he +had the gumption to ask me--I have done so, in fact--but I don't feel +encouraged to give him any notions of mine without his asking. See?' + +Trent nodded. 'That is a feeling many people have in the presence of our +police,' he said. 'It's the official manner, I suppose. But let me tell you, +Murch is anything but what you think. He is one of the shrewdest officers in +Europe. He is not very quick with his mind, but he is very sure. And his +experience is immense. My forte is imagination, but I assure you in police +work experience outweighs it by a great deal.' + +'Outweigh nothing!' replied Mr Bunner crisply. 'This is no ordinary case, Mr +Trent. I will tell you one reason why. I believe the old man knew there was +something coming to him. Another thing: I believe it was something he thought +he couldn't dodge.' + +Trent pulled a crate opposite to Mr Bunner's place on the footboard and seated +himself. 'This sounds like business,' he said. 'Tell me your ideas.' + +'I say what I do because of the change in the old man's manner this last few +weeks. I dare say you have heard, Mr Trent, that he was a man who always kept +himself well in hand. That was so. I have always considered him the coolest +and hardest head in business. That man's calm was just deadly--I never saw +anything to beat it. And I knew Manderson as nobody else did. I was with him +in the work he really lived for. I guess I knew him a heap better than his +wife did, poor woman. I knew him better than Marlowe could--he never saw +Manderson in his office when there was a big thing on. I knew him better than +any of his friends.' + +'Had he any friends?' interjected Trent. + +Mr Bunner glanced at him sharply. 'Somebody has been putting you next, I see +that,' he remarked. 'No: properly speaking, I should say not. He had many +acquaintances among the big men, people he saw, most every day; they would +even go yachting or hunting together. But I don't believe there ever was a man +that Manderson opened a corner of his heart to. But what I was going to say +was this. Some months ago the old man began to get like I never knew him +before--gloomy and sullen, just as if he was everlastingly brooding over +something bad, something that he couldn't fix. This went on without any break; +it was the same down town as it was up home, he acted just as if there was +something lying heavy on his mind. But it wasn't until a few weeks back that +his self-restraint began to go; and let me tell you this, Mr Trent'--the +American laid his bony claw on the other's knee--'I'm the only man that knows +it. With every one else he would be just morose and dull; but when he was +alone with me in his office, or anywhere where we would be working together, +if the least little thing went wrong, by George! he would fly off the handle +to beat the Dutch. In this library here I have seen him open a letter with +something that didn't just suit him in it, and he would rip around and carry +on like an Indian, saying he wished he had the man that wrote it here, he +wouldn't do a thing to him, and so on, till it was just pitiful. I never saw +such a change. And here's another thing. For a week before he died Manderson +neglected his work, for the first time in my experience. He wouldn't answer a +letter or a cable, though things looked like going all to pieces over there. I +supposed that this anxiety of his, whatever it was, had got on to his nerves +till they were worn out. Once I advised him to see a doctor, and he told me to +go to hell. But nobody saw this side of him but me. If he was having one of +these rages in the library here, for example, and Mrs Manderson would come +into the room, he would be all calm and cold again in an instant.' + +'And you put this down to some secret anxiety, a fear that somebody had +designs on his life?' asked Trent. + +The American nodded. + +'I suppose,' Trent resumed, 'you had considered the idea of there being +something wrong with his mind--a break-down from overstrain, say. That is the +first thought that your account suggests to me. Besides, it is what is always +happening to your big business men in America, isn't it? That is the +impression one gets from the newspapers.' + +'Don't let them slip you any of that bunk,' said Mr Bunner earnestly. 'It's +only the ones who have got rich too quick, and can't make good, who go crazy. +Think of all our really big men--the men anywhere near Manderson's size: did +you ever hear of any one of them losing his senses? They don't do it--believe +me. I know they say every man has his loco point,' Mr Bunner added +reflectively, 'but that doesn't mean genuine, sure-enough craziness; it just +means some personal eccentricity in a man...like hating cats...or my own +weakness of not being able to touch any kind of fish-food.' + +'Well, what was Manderson's?' + +'He was full of them--the old man. There was his objection to all the +unnecessary fuss and luxury that wealthy people don't kick at much, as a +general rule. He didn't have any use for expensive trifles and ornaments. He +wouldn't have anybody do little things for him; he hated to have servants tag +around after him unless he wanted them. And although Manderson was as careful +about his clothes as any man I ever knew, and his shoes--well, sir, the amount +of money he spent on shoes was sinful--in spite of that, I tell you, he never +had a valet. He never liked to have anybody touch him. All his life nobody +ever shaved him.' + +'I've heard something of that,' Trent remarked. 'Why was it, do you think?' + +'Well,' Mr Bunner answered slowly, 'it was the Manderson habit of mind, I +guess; a sort of temper of general suspicion and jealousy. + +They say his father and grandfather were just the same ....Like a dog with a +bone, you know, acting as if all the rest of creation was laying for a chance +to steal it. He didn't really think the barber would start in to saw his head +off; he just felt there was a possibility that he might, and he was taking no +risks. Then again in business he was always convinced that somebody else was +after his bone--which was true enough a good deal of the time; but not all the +time. The consequence of that was that the old man was the most cautious and +secret worker in the world of finance; and that had a lot to do with his +success, too .... But that doesn't amount to being a lunatic, Mr Trent; not by +a long way. You ask me if Manderson was losing his mind before he died. I say +I believe he was just worn out with worrying over something, and was losing +his nerve.' + +Trent smoked thoughtfully. He wondered how much Mr Bunner knew of the domestic +difficulty in his chief's household, and decided to put out a feeler. 'I +understood that he had trouble with his wife.' + +'Sure,' replied Mr Bunner. 'But do you suppose a thing like that was going to +upset Sig Manderson that way? No, sir! He was a sight too big a man to be all +broken up by any worry of that kind.' + +Trent looked half-incredulously into the eyes of the young man. But behind all +their shrewdness and intensity he saw a massive innocence. Mr Bunner really +believed a serious breach between husband and wife to be a minor source of +trouble for a big man. + +'What was the trouble between them, anyhow?' Trent enquired. + +'You can search me,' Mr Bunner replied briefly. He puffed at his cigar. +'Marlowe and I have often talked about it, and we could never make out a +solution. I had a notion at first,' said Mr Bunner in a lower voice, leaning +forward, 'that the old man was disappointed and vexed because he had expected +a child; but Marlowe told me that the disappointment on that score was the +other way around, likely as not. His idea was all right, I guess; he gathered +it from something said by Mrs Manderson's French maid.' + +Trent looked up at him quickly. 'Celestine!' he said; and his thought was, 'So +that was what she was getting at!' + +Mr Bunner misunderstood his glance. 'Don't you think I'm giving a man away, Mr +Trent,' he said. 'Marlowe isn't that kind. Celestine just took a fancy to him +because he talks French like a native, and she would always be holding him up +for a gossip. French servants are quite unlike English that way. And servant +or no servant,' added Mr Bunner with emphasis, 'I don't see how a woman could +mention such a subject to a man. But the French beat me.' He shook his head +slowly. + +'But to come back to what you were telling me just now,' Trent said. 'You +believe that Manderson was going in terror of his life for some time. Who +should threaten it? I am quite in the dark.' + +'Terror--I don't know,' replied Mr Bunner meditatively. 'Anxiety, if you like. +Or suspense--that's rather my idea of it. The old man was hard to terrify, +anyway; and more than that, he wasn't taking any precautions--he was actually +avoiding them. It looked more like he was asking for a quick finish--supposing +there's any truth in my idea. Why, he would sit in that library window, +nights, looking out into the dark, with his white shirt just a target for +anybody's gun. As for who should threaten his life well, sir,' said Mr Bunner +with a faint smile, 'it's certain you have not lived in the States. To take +the Pennsylvania coal hold-up alone, there were thirty thousand men, with +women and children to keep, who would have jumped at the chance of drilling a +hole through the man who fixed it so that they must starve or give in to his +terms. Thirty thousand of the toughest aliens in the country, Mr Trent. +There's a type of desperado you find in that kind of push who has been known +to lay for a man for years, and kill him when he had forgotten what he did. +They have been known to dynamite a man in Idaho who had done them dirt in New +Jersey ten years before. Do you suppose the Atlantic is going to stop them?... +It takes some sand, I tell you, to be a big business man in our country. No, +sir: the old man knew--had always known--that there was a whole crowd of +dangerous men scattered up and down the States who had it in for him. My +belief is that he had somehow got to know that some of them were definitely +after him at last. What licks me altogether is why he should have just laid +himself open to them the way he did--why he never tried to dodge, but walked +right down into the garden yesterday morning to be shot at.' + +Mr Bunner ceased to speak, and for a little while both men sat with wrinkled +brows, faint blue vapours rising from their cigars. Then Trent rose. 'Your +theory is quite fresh to me,' he said. 'It's perfectly rational, and it's only +a question of whether it fits all the facts, I mustn't give away what I'm +doing for my newspaper, Mr Bunner, but I will say this: I have already +satisfied myself that this was a premeditated crime, and an extraordinarily +cunning one at that. I'm deeply obliged to you. We must talk it over again.' +He looked at his watch. 'I have been expected for some time by my friend. +Shall we make a move?' + +'Two o'clock,' said Mr Bunner, consulting his own, as he got up from the foot- +board. 'Ten a.m. in little old New York. You don't know Wall Street, Mr Trent. +Let's you and I hope we never see anything nearer hell than what's loose in +the Street this minute.' + +CHAPTER VII: The Lady in Black + +The sea broke raging upon the foot of the cliff under a good breeze; the sun +flooded the land with life from a dappled blue sky. In this perfection of +English weather Trent, who had slept ill, went down before eight o'clock to a +pool among the rocks, the direction of which had been given him, and dived +deep into clear water. Between vast grey boulders he swam out to the tossing +open, forced himself some little way against a coast-wise current, and then +returned to his refuge battered and refreshed. Ten minutes later he was +scaling the cliff again, and his mind, cleared for the moment of a heavy +disgust for the affair he had in hand, was turning over his plans for the +morning. + +It was the day of the inquest, the day after his arrival in the place. He had +carried matters not much further after parting with the American on the road +to Bishopsbridge. In the afternoon he had walked from the inn into the town, +accompanied by Mr Cupples, and had there made certain purchases at a chemist's +shop, conferred privately for some time with a photographer, sent off a reply- +paid telegram, and made an enquiry at the telephone exchange. He had said but +little about the case to Mr Cupples, who seemed incurious on his side, and +nothing at all about the results of his investigation or the steps he was +about to take. After their return from Bishopsbridge, Trent had written a long +dispatch for the Record and sent it to be telegraphed by the proud hands of +the paper's local representative. He had afterwards dined with Mr Cupples, and +had spent the rest of the evening in meditative solitude on the veranda. + +This morning as he scaled the cliff he told himself that he had never taken up +a case he liked so little, or which absorbed him so much. The more he +contemplated it in the golden sunshine of this new day, the more evil and the +more challenging it appeared. All that he suspected and all that he almost +knew had occupied his questing brain for hours to the exclusion of sleep; and +in this glorious light and air, though washed in body and spirit by the fierce +purity of the sea, he only saw the more clearly the darkness of the guilt in +which he believed, and was more bitterly repelled by the motive at which he +guessed. But now at least his zeal was awake again, and the sense of the hunt +quickened. He would neither slacken nor spare; here need be no compunction. In +the course of the day, he hoped, his net would be complete. He had work to do +in the morning; and with very vivid expectancy, though not much serious hope, +he awaited the answer to the telegram which he had shot into the sky, as it +were, the day before. + +The path back to the hotel wound for some way along the top of the cliff, and +on nearing a spot he had marked from the sea level, where the face had fallen +away long ago, he approached the edge and looked down, hoping to follow with +his eyes the most delicately beautiful of all the movements of water--the wash +of a light sea over broken rock. But no rock was there. A few feet below him a +broad ledge stood out, a rough platform as large as a great room, thickly +grown with wiry grass and walled in steeply on three sides. There, close to +the verge where the cliff at last dropped sheer, a woman was sitting, her arms +about her drawn-up knees, her eyes fixed on the trailing smoke of a distant +liner, her face full of some dream. + +This woman seemed to Trent, whose training had taught him to live in his eyes, +to make the most beautiful picture he had ever seen. Her face of southern +pallor, touched by the kiss of the wind with colour on the cheek, presented to +him a profile of delicate regularity in which there was nothing hard; +nevertheless the black brows bending down toward the point where they almost +met gave her in repose a look of something like severity, strangely redeemed +by the open curves of the mouth. Trent said to himself that the absurdity or +otherwise of a lover writing sonnets to his mistress's eyebrow depended after +all on the quality of the eyebrow. Her nose was of the straight and fine sort, +exquisitely escaping the perdition of too much length, which makes a +conscientious mind ashamed that it cannot help, on occasion, admiring the +tip-tilted. Her hat lay pinned to the grass beside her, and the lively breeze +played with her thick dark hair, blowing backward the two broad bandeaux that +should have covered much of her forehead, and agitating a hundred tiny curls +from the mass gathered at her nape. Everything about this lady was black, from +her shoes of suede to the hat that she had discarded; lustreless black covered +her to her bare throat. All she wore was fine and well put on. Dreamy and +delicate of spirit as her looks declared her, it was very plain that she was +long-practised as only a woman grown can be in dressing well, the oldest of +the arts, and had her touch of primal joy in the excellence of the body that +was so admirably curved now in the attitude of embraced knees. With the +suggestion of French taste in her clothes, she made a very modern figure +seated there, until one looked at her face and saw the glow and triumph of all +vigorous beings that ever faced sun and wind and sea together in the prime of +the year. One saw, too, a womanhood so unmixed and vigorous, so unconsciously +sure of itself, as scarcely to be English, still less American. + +Trent, who had halted only for a moment in the surprise of seeing the woman in +black, had passed by on the cliff above her, perceiving and feeling as he went +the things set down. At all times his keen vision and active brain took in and +tasted details with an easy swiftness that was marvellous to men of slower +chemistry; the need to stare, he held, was evidence of blindness. Now the +feeling of beauty was awakened and exultant, and doubled the power of his +sense. In these instants a picture was printed on his memory that would never +pass away. + +As he went by unheard on the turf the woman, still alone with her thoughts, +suddenly moved. She unclasped her long hands from about her knees, stretched +her limbs and body with feline grace, then slowly raised her head and extended +her arms with open, curving fingers, as if to gather to her all the glory and +overwhelming sanity of the morning. This was a gesture not to be mistaken: it +was a gesture of freedom, the movement of a soul's resolution to be, to +possess, to go forward, perhaps to enjoy. + +So he saw her for an instant as he passed, and he did not turn. He knew +suddenly who the woman must be, and it was as if a curtain of gloom were drawn +between him and the splendour of the day. + +During breakfast at the hotel Mr Cupples found Trent little inclined to talk. +He excused himself on the plea of a restless night. Mr Cupples, on the other +hand, was in a state of bird-like alertness. The prospect of the inquest +seemed to enliven him. He entertained Trent with a disquisition upon the +history of that most ancient and once busy tribunal, the coroner's court, and +remarked upon the enviable freedom of its procedure from the shackles of rule +and precedent. From this he passed to the case that was to come before it that +morning. + +'Young Bunner mentioned to me last night,' he said, 'when I went up there +after dinner, the hypothesis which he puts forward in regard to the crime. A +very remarkable young man, Trent. His meaning is occasionally obscure, but in +my opinion he is gifted with a clearheaded knowledge of the world quite +unusual in one of his apparent age. Indeed, his promotion by Manderson to the +position of his principal lieutenant speaks for itself. He seems to have +assumed with perfect confidence the control at this end of the wire, as he +expresses it, of the complicated business situation caused by the death of his +principal, and he has advised very wisely as to the steps I should take on +Mabel's behalf, and the best course for her to pursue until effect has been +given to the provisions of the will. I was accordingly less disposed than I +might otherwise have been to regard his suggestion of an industrial vendetta +as far-fetched. When I questioned him he was able to describe a number of +cases in which attacks of one sort or another--too often successful--had been +made upon the lives of persons who had incurred the hostility of powerful +labour organizations. This is a terrible time in which we live, my dear boy. +There is none recorded in history, I think, in which the disproportion between +the material and the moral constituents of society has been so great or so +menacing to the permanence of the fabric. But nowhere, in my judgement, is the +prospect so dark as it is in the United States.' + +'I thought,' said Trent listlessly, 'that Puritanism was about as strong there +as the money-getting craze.' + +'Your remark,' answered Mr Cupples, with as near an approach to humour as was +possible to him, 'is not in the nature of a testimonial to what you call +Puritanism--a convenient rather than an accurate term; for I need not remind +you that it was invented to describe an Anglican party which aimed at the +purging of the services and ritual of their Church from certain elements +repugnant to them. The sense of your observation, however, is none the less +sound, and its truth is extremely well illustrated by the case of Manderson +himself, who had, I believe, the virtues of purity, abstinence, and +self-restraint in their strongest form. No, Trent, there are other and more +worthy things among the moral constituents of which I spoke; and in our finite +nature, the more we preoccupy ourselves with the bewildering complexity of +external apparatus which science places in our hands, the less vigour have we +left for the development of the holier purposes of humanity within us. +Agricultural machinery has abolished the festival of the Harvest Home. +Mechanical travel has abolished the inn, or all that was best in it. I need +not multiply instances. The view I am expressing to you,' pursued Mr Cupples, +placidly buttering a piece of toast, 'is regarded as fundamentally erroneous +by many of those who think generally as I do about the deeper concerns of +life, but I am nevertheless firmly persuaded of its truth.' + +'It needs epigrammatic expression,' said Trent, rising from the table. 'If +only it could be crystallized into some handy formula, like "No Popery", or +"Tax the Foreigner", you would find multitudes to go to the stake for it. But +you were planning to go to White Gables before the inquest, I think. You ought +to be off if you are to get back to the court in time. I have something to +attend to there myself, so we might walk up together. I will just go and get +my camera.' + +'By all means,' Mr Cupples answered; and they set off at once in the ever- +growing warmth of the morning. The roof of White Gables, a surly patch of dull +red against the dark trees, seemed to harmonize with Trent's mood; he felt +heavy, sinister, and troubled. If a blow must fall that might strike down that +creature radiant of beauty and life whom he had seen that morning, he did not +wish it to come from his hand. An exaggerated chivalry had lived in Trent +since the first teachings of his mother; but at this moment the horror of +bruising anything so lovely was almost as much the artist's revulsion as the +gentleman's. On the other hand, was the hunt to end in nothing? The quality of +the affair was such that the thought of forbearance was an agony. There never +was such a case; and he alone, he was confident, held the truth of it under +his hand. At least, he determined, that day should show whether what he +believed was a delusion. He would trample his compunction underfoot until he +was quite sure that there was any call for it. That same morning he would +know. + +As they entered at the gate of the drive they saw Marlowe and the American +standing in talk before the front door. In the shadow of the porch was the +lady in black. + +She saw them, and came gravely forward over the lawn, moving as Trent had +known that she would move, erect and balanced, stepping lightly. When she +welcomed him on Mr Cupples's presentation her eyes of golden-flecked brown +observed him kindly. In her pale composure, worn as the mask of distress, +there was no trace of the emotion that had seemed a halo about her head on the +ledge of the cliff. She spoke the appropriate commonplace in a low and even +voice. After a few words to Mr Cupples she turned her eyes on Trent again. + +'I hope you will succeed,' she said earnestly. 'Do you think you will +succeed?' + +He made his mind up as the words left her lips. He said, 'I believe I shall do +so, Mrs Manderson. When I have the case sufficiently complete I shall ask you +to let me see you and tell you about it. It may be necessary to consult you +before the facts are published.' + +She looked puzzled, and distress showed for an instant in her eyes. 'If it is +necessary, of course you shall do so,' she said. + +On the brink of his next speech Trent hesitated. He remembered that the lady +had not wished to repeat to him the story already given to the inspector--or +to be questioned at all. He was not unconscious that he desired to hear her +voice and watch her face a little longer, if it might be; but the matter he +had to mention really troubled his mind, it was a queer thing that fitted +nowhere into the pattern within whose corners he had by this time brought the +other queer things in the case. It was very possible that she could explain it +away in a breath; it was unlikely that any one else could. He summoned his +resolution. + +'You have been so kind,' he said, 'in allowing me access to the house and +every opportunity of studying the case, that I am going to ask leave to put a +question or two to yourself--nothing that you would rather not answer, I +think. May I?' + +She glanced at him wearily. 'It would be stupid of me to refuse, Ask your +questions, Mr Trent.' 'It's only this,' said Trent hurriedly. 'We know that +your husband lately drew an unusually large sum of ready money from his London +bankers, and was keeping it here. It is here now, in fact. Have you any idea +why he should have done that?' + +She opened her eyes in astonishment. 'I cannot imagine,' she said. 'I did not +know he had done so. I am very much surprised to hear it.' + +'Why is it surprising?' + +'I thought my husband had very little money in the house. On Sunday night, +just before he went out in the motor, he came into the drawing-room where I +was sitting. He seemed to be irritated about something, and asked me at once +if I had any notes or gold I could let him have until next day. I was +surprised at that, because he was never without money; he made it a rule to +carry a hundred pounds or so about him always in a note-case. I unlocked my +escritoire, and gave him all I had by me. It was nearly thirty pounds.' + +'And he did not tell you why he wanted it?' + +'No. He put it in his pocket, and then said that Mr Marlowe had persuaded him +to go for a run in the motor by moonlight, and he thought it might help him to +sleep. He had been sleeping badly, as perhaps you know. Then he went off with +Mr Marlowe. I thought it odd he should need money on Sunday night, but I soon +forgot about it. I never remembered it again until now.' + +'It was curious, certainly,' said Trent, staring into the distance. Mr Cupples +began to speak to his niece of the arrangements for the inquest, and Trent +moved away to where Marlowe was pacing slowly upon the lawn. The young man +seemed relieved to talk about the coming business of the day. Though he still +seemed tired out and nervous, he showed himself not without a quiet humour in +describing the pomposities of the local police and the portentous airs of Dr +Stock. Trent turned the conversation gradually toward the problem of the +crime, and all Marlowe's gravity returned. + +'Bunner has told me what he thinks,' he said when Trent referred to the +American's theory. 'I don't find myself convinced by it, because it doesn't +really explain some of the oddest facts. But I have lived long enough in the +United States to know that such a stroke of revenge, done in a secret, +melodramatic way, is not an unlikely thing. It is quite a characteristic +feature of certain sections of the labour movement there. Americans have a +taste and a talent for that sort of business. Do you know Huckleberry Finn?' + +'Do I know my own name?' exclaimed Trent. + +'Well, I think the most American thing in that great American epic is Tom +Sawyer's elaboration of an extremely difficult and romantic scheme, taking +days to carry out, for securing the escape of the nigger Jim, which could have +been managed quite easily in twenty minutes. You know how fond they are of +lodges and brotherhoods. Every college club has its secret signs and +handgrips. You've heard of the Know-Nothing movement in politics, I dare say, +and the Ku Klux Klan. Then look at Brigham Young's penny-dreadful tyranny in +Utah, with real blood. The founders of the Mormon State were of the purest +Yankee stock in America; and you know what they did. It's all part of the same +mental tendency. Americans make fun of it among themselves. For my part, I +take it very seriously.' + +'It can have a very hideous side to it, certainly,' said Trent, 'when you get +it in connection with crime--or with vice--or even mere luxury. But I have a +sort of sneaking respect for the determination to make life interesting and +lively in spite of civilization. To return to the matter in hand, however; has +it struck you as a possibility that Manderson's mind was affected to some +extent by this menace that Bunner believes in? For instance, it was rather an +extraordinary thing to send you posting off like that in the middle of the +night.' + +'About ten o'clock, to be exact,' replied Marlowe. 'Though, mind you, if he'd +actually roused me out of my bed at midnight I shouldn't have been very much +surprised. It all chimes in with what we've just been saying. Manderson had a +strong streak of the national taste for dramatic proceedings. He was rather +fond of his well-earned reputation for unexpected strokes and for going for +his object with ruthless directness through every opposing consideration. He +had decided suddenly that he wanted to have word from this man Harris--' + +'Who is Harris?' interjected Trent. + +'Nobody knows. Even Bunner never heard of him, and can't imagine what the +business in hand was. All I know is that when I went up to London last week to +attend to various things I booked a deck-cabin, at Manderson's request, for a +Mr George Harris on the boat that sailed on Monday. It seems that Manderson +suddenly found he wanted news from Harris which presumably was of a character +too secret for the telegraph; and there was no train that served; so I was +sent off as you know.' + +Trent looked round to make sure that they were not overheard, then faced the +other gravely, 'There is one thing I may tell you,' he said quietly, 'that I +don't think you know. Martin the butler caught a few words at the end of your +conversation with Manderson in the orchard before you started with him in the +car, He heard him say, "If Harris is there, every moment is of importance." +Now, Mr Marlowe, you know my business here. I am sent to make enquiries, and +you mustn't take offence. I want to ask you if, in the face of that sentence, +you will repeat that you know nothing of what the business was.' + +Marlowe shook his head. 'I know nothing, indeed. I'm not easily offended, and +your question is quite fair. What passed during that conversation I have +already told the detective. Manderson plainly said to me that he could not +tell me what it was all about. He simply wanted me to find Harris, tell him +that he desired to know how matters stood, and bring back a letter or message +from him. Harris, I was further told, might not turn up. If he did, "every +moment was of importance". And now you know as much as I do.' + +'That talk took place before he told his wife that you were taking him for a +moonlight run. Why did he conceal your errand in that way, I wonder.' + +The young man made a gesture of helplessness. 'Why? I can guess no better than +you.' + +'Why,' muttered Trent as if to himself, gazing on the ground, 'did he conceal +it--from Mrs Manderson?' He looked up at Marlowe. + +'And from Martin,' the other amended coolly. 'He was told the same thing.' + +With a sudden movement of his head Trent seemed to dismiss the subject. He +drew from his breast-pocket a letter-case, and thence extracted two small +leaves of clean, fresh paper. + +'Just look at these two slips, Mr Marlowe,' he said. 'Did you ever see them +before? Have you any idea where they come from?' he added as Marlowe-took one +in each hand and examined them curiously. + +'They seem to have been cut with a knife or scissors from a small diary for +this year from the October pages,' Marlowe observed, looking them over on both +sides. 'I see no writing of any kind on them. Nobody here has any such diary +so far as I know. What about them?' + +'There may be nothing in it,' Trent said dubiously. 'Any one in the house, of +course, might have such a diary without your having seen it. But I didn't much +expect you would be able to identify the leaves--in fact, I should have been +surprised if you had.' + +He stopped speaking as Mrs Manderson came towards them. 'My uncle thinks we +should be going now,' she said. + +'I think I will walk on with Mr Bunner,' Mr Cupples said as he joined them. +'There are certain business matters that must be disposed of as soon as +possible. Will you come on with these two gentlemen, Mabel? We will wait for +you before we reach the place.' + +Trent turned to her. 'Mrs Manderson will excuse me, I hope,' he said. 'I +really came up this morning in order to look about me here for some +indications I thought I might possibly find. I had not thought of attending +the--the court just yet.' + +She looked at him with eyes of perfect candour. 'Of course, Mr Trent. Please +do exactly as you wish. We are all relying upon you. If you will wait a few +moments, Mr Marlowe, I shall be ready.' + +She entered the house. Her uncle and the American had already strolled towards +the gate. + +Trent looked into the eyes of his companion. 'That is a wonderful woman,' he +said in a lowered voice. + +'You say so without knowing her,' replied Marlowe in a similar tone. 'She is +more than that.' + +Trent said nothing to this. He stared out over the fields towards the sea. In +the silence a noise of hobnailed haste rose on the still air. A little +distance down the road a boy appeared trotting towards them from the direction +of the hotel. In his hand was the orange envelope, unmistakable afar off, of a +telegram. Trent watched him with an indifferent eye as he met and passed the +two others. Then he turned to Marlowe. 'A propos of nothing in particular,' he +said, 'were you at Oxford?' + +'Yes,' said the young man. 'Why do you ask?' + +'I just wondered if I was right in my guess. It's one of the things you can +very often tell about a man, isn't it?' + +'I suppose so,' Marlowe said. 'Well, each of us is marked in one way or +another, perhaps. I should have said you were an artist, if I hadn't known +it.' + +'Why? Does my hair want cutting?' + +'Oh, no! It's only that you look at things and people as I've seen artists do, +with an eye that moves steadily from detail to detail--rather looking them +over than looking at them.' + +The boy came up panting. 'Telegram for you, sir,' he said to Trent. 'Just +come, sir.' + +Trent tore open the envelope with an apology, and his eyes lighted up so +visibly as he read the slip that Marlowe's tired face softened in a smile. + +'It must be good news,' he murmured half to himself. + +Trent turned on him a glance in which nothing could be read. 'Not exactly +news,' he said. 'It only tells me that another little guess of mine was a good +one.' + +CHAPTER VIII: The Inquest + +The coroner, who fully realized that for that one day of his life as a +provincial solicitor he was living in the gaze of the world, had resolved to +be worthy of the fleeting eminence. He was a large man of jovial temper, with +a strong interest in the dramatic aspects of his work, and the news of +Manderson's mysterious death within his jurisdiction had made him the happiest +coroner in England. A respectable capacity for marshalling facts was fortified +in him by a copiousness of impressive language that made juries as clay in his +hands, and sometimes disguised a doubtful interpretation of the rules of +evidence. + +The court was held in a long, unfurnished room lately built on to the hotel, +and intended to serve as a ballroom or concert-hall. A regiment of reporters +was entrenched in the front seats, and those who were to be called on to give +evidence occupied chairs to one side of the table behind which the coroner +sat, while the jury, in double row, with plastered hair and a spurious ease of +manner, flanked him on the other side. An undistinguished public filled the +rest of the space, and listened, in an awed silence, to the opening +solemnities. The newspaper men, well used to these, muttered among themselves. +Those of them who knew Trent by sight assured the rest that he was not in the +court. + +The identity of the dead man was proved by his wife, the first witness called, +from whom the coroner, after some enquiry into the health and circumstances of +the deceased, proceeded to draw an account of the last occasion on which she +had seen her husband alive. Mrs Manderson was taken through her evidence by +the coroner with the sympathy which every man felt for that dark figure of +grief. She lifted her thick veil before beginning to speak, and the extreme +paleness and unbroken composure of the lady produced a singular impression. +This was not an impression of hardness. Interesting femininity was the first +thing to be felt in her presence. She was not even enigmatic. It was only +clear that the force of a powerful character was at work to master the +emotions of her situation. Once or twice as she spoke she touched her eyes +with her handkerchief, but her voice was low and clear to the end. + +Her husband, she said, had come up to his bedroom about his usual hour for +retiring on Sunday night. His room was really a dressing-room attached to her +own bedroom, communicating with it by a door which was usually kept open +during the night. Both dressing-room and bedroom were entered by other doors +giving on the passage. Her husband had always had a preference for the +greatest simplicity in his bedroom arrangements, and liked to sleep in a small +room. She had not been awake when he came up, but had been half-aroused, as +usually happened, when the light was switched on in her husband's room. She +had spoken to him. She had no clear recollection of what she had said, as she +had been very drowsy at the time; but she had remembered that he had been out +for a moonlight run in the car, and she believed she had asked whether he had +had a good run, and what time it was. She had asked what the time was because +she felt as if she had only been a very short time asleep, and she had +expected her husband to be out very late. In answer to her question he had +told her it was half-past eleven, and had gone on to say that he had changed +his mind about going for a run. + +'Did he say why?' the coroner asked. + +'Yes,' replied the lady, 'he did explain why. I remember very well what he +said, because--' she stopped with a little appearance of confusion. + +'Because--' the coroner insisted gently. + +'Because my husband was not as a rule communicative about his business +affairs,' answered the witness, raising her chin with a faint touch of +defiance. 'He did not--did not think they would interest me, and as a rule +referred to them as little as possible. That was why I was rather surprised +when he told me that he had sent Mr Marlowe to Southampton to bring back some +important information from a man who was leaving for Paris by the next day's +boat. He said that Mr Marlowe could do it quite easily if he had no accident. +He said that he had started in the car, and then walked back home a mile or +so, and felt all the better for it.' + +'Did he say any more?' + +'Nothing, as well as I remember,' the witness said. 'I was very sleepy, and I +dropped off again in a few moments. I just remember my husband turning his +light out, and that is all. I never saw him again alive.' + +'And you heard nothing in the night?' + +'No: I never woke until my maid brought my tea in the morning at seven +o'clock. She closed the door leading to my husband's room, as she always did, +and I supposed him to be still there. He always needed a great deal of sleep. +He sometimes slept until quite late in the morning. I had breakfast in my +sitting- room. It was about ten when I heard that my husband's body had been +found.' The witness dropped her head and silently waited for her dismissal. + +But it was not to be yet. + +'Mrs Manderson.' The coroner's voice was sympathetic, but it had a hint of +firmness in it now. 'The question I am going to put to you must, in these sad +circumstances, be a painful one; but it is my duty to ask it. Is it the fact +that your relations with your late husband had not been, for some time past, +relations of mutual affection and confidence? Is it the fact that there was an +estrangement between you?' + +The lady drew herself up again and faced her questioner, the colour rising in +her cheeks. 'If that question is necessary,' she said with cold distinctness, +'I will answer it so that there shall be no misunderstanding. During the last +few months of my husband's life his attitude towards me had given me great +anxiety and sorrow. He had changed towards me; he had become very reserved, +and seemed mistrustful. I saw much less of him than before; he seemed to +prefer to be alone. I can give no explanation at all of the change. I tried to +work against it; I did all I could with justice to my own dignity, as I +thought. Something was between us, I did not know what, and he never told me. +My own obstinate pride prevented me from asking what it was in so many words; +I only made a point of being to him exactly as I had always been, so far as he +would allow me. I suppose I shall never know now what it was.' The witness, +whose voice had trembled in spite of her self-control over the last few +sentences, drew down her veil when she had said this, and stood erect and +quiet. + +One of the jury asked a question, not without obvious hesitation. 'Then was +there never anything of the nature of what they call Words between you and +your husband, ma'am?' + +'Never.' The word was colourlessly spoken; but every one felt that a crass +misunderstanding of the possibilities of conduct in the case of a person like +Mrs Manderson had been visited with some severity. + +Did she know, the coroner asked, of any other matter which might have been +preying upon her husband's mind recently? + +Mrs Manderson knew of none whatever. The coroner intimated that her ordeal was +at an end, and the veiled lady made her way to the door. The general +attention, which followed her for a few moments, was now eagerly directed upon +Martin, whom the coroner had proceeded to call. + +It was at this moment that Trent appeared at the doorway and edged his way +into the great room. But he did not look at Martin. He was observing the well- +balanced figure that came quickly toward him along an opening path in the +crowd, and his eye was gloomy. He started, as he stood aside from the door +with a slight bow, to hear Mrs Manderson address him by name in a low voice. +He followed her a pace or two into the hall. + +'I wanted to ask you,' she said in a voice now weak and oddly broken, 'if you +would give me your arm a part of the way to the house. I could not see my +uncle near the door, and I suddenly felt rather faint .... I shall be better +in the air .... No, no; I cannot stay here--please, Mr Trent!' she said, as he +began to make an obvious suggestion. 'I must go to the house.' Her hand +tightened momentarily on his arm as if, for all her weakness, she could drag +him from the place; then again she leaned heavily upon it, and with that +support, and with bent head, she walked slowly from the hotel and along the +oak-shaded path toward White Gables. + +Trent went in silence, his thoughts whirling, dancing insanely to a chorus of +'Fool! fool!' All that he alone knew, all that he guessed and suspected of +this affair, rushed through his brain in a rout; but the touch of her unnerved +hand upon his arm never for an instant left his consciousness, filling him +with an exaltation that enraged and bewildered him. He was still cursing +himself furiously behind the mask of conventional solicitude that he turned to +the lady when he had attended her to the house and seen her sink upon a couch +in the morning-room. Raising her veil, she thanked him gravely and frankly, +with a look of sincere gratitude in her eyes. She was much better now, she +said, and a cup of tea would work a miracle upon her. She hoped she had not +taken him away from anything important. She was ashamed of herself; she +thought she could go through with it, but she had not expected those last +questions. 'I am glad you did not hear me,' she said when he explained. 'But +of course you will read it all in the reports. It shook me so to have to speak +of that,' she added simply; 'and to keep from making an exhibition of myself +took it out of me. And all those staring men by the door! Thank you again for +helping me when I asked you .... I thought I might,' she ended queerly, with a +little tired smile; and Trent took himself away, his hand still quivering from +the cool touch of her fingers. + +The testimony of the servants and of the finder of the body brought nothing +new to the reporters' net. That of the police was as colourless and cryptic as +is usual at the inquest stage of affairs of the kind. Greatly to the +satisfaction of Mr Bunner, his evidence afforded the sensation of the day, and +threw far into the background the interesting revelation of domestic +difficulty made by the dead man's wife. He told the court in substance what he +had already told Trent. The flying pencils did not miss a word of the young +American's story, and it appeared with scarcely the omission of a sentence in +every journal of importance in Great Britain and the United States. + +Public opinion next day took no note of the faint suggestion of the +possibility of suicide which the coroner, in his final address to the jury, +had thought it right to make in connection with the lady's evidence. The +weight of evidence, as the official had indeed pointed out, was against such a +theory. He had referred with emphasis to the fact that no weapon had been +found near the body. + +'This question, of course, is all-important, gentlemen,' he had said to the +jury. 'It is, in fact, the main issue before you. You have seen the body for +yourselves. You have just heard the medical evidence; but I think it would be +well for me to read you my notes of it in so far as they bear on this point, +in order to refresh your memories. Dr Stock told you--I am going to omit all +technical medical language and repeat to you merely the plain English of his +testimony--that in his opinion death had taken place six or eight hours +previous to the finding of the body. He said that the cause of death was a +bullet wound, the bullet having entered the left eye, which was destroyed, and +made its way to the base of the brain, which was quite shattered. The external +appearance of the wound, he said, did not support the hypothesis of its being +self-inflicted, inasmuch as there were no signs of the firearm having been +pressed against the eye, or even put very close to it; at the same time it was +not physically impossible that the weapon should have been discharged by the +deceased with his own hand, at some small distance from the eye. Dr Stock also +told us that it was impossible to say with certainty, from the state of the +body, whether any struggle had taken place at the time of death; that when +seen by him, at which time he understood that it had not been moved since it +was found, the body was lying in a collapsed position such as might very well +result from the shot alone; but that the scratches and bruises upon the wrists +and the lower part of the arms had been very recently inflicted, and were, in +his opinion, marks of violence. + +'In connection with this same point, the remarkable evidence given by Mr +Bunner cannot be regarded, I think, as without significance. It may have come +as a surprise to some of you to hear that risks of the character described by +this witness are, in his own country, commonly run by persons in the position +of the deceased. On the other hand, it may have been within the knowledge of +some of you that in the industrial world of America the discontent of labour +often proceeds to lengths of which we in England happily know nothing. I have +interrogated the witness somewhat fully upon this. At the same time, +gentlemen, I am by no means suggesting that Mr Bunner's personal conjecture as +to the cause of death can fitly be adopted by you. That is emphatically not +the case. What his evidence does is to raise two questions for your +consideration. First, can it be said that the deceased was to any extent in +the position of a threatened man--of a man more exposed to the danger of +murderous attack than an ordinary person? Second, does the recent alteration +in his demeanour, as described by this witness, justify the belief that his +last days were overshadowed by a great anxiety? These points may legitimately +be considered by you in arriving at a conclusion upon the rest of the +evidence.' + +Thereupon the coroner, having indicated thus clearly his opinion that Mr +Bunner had hit the right nail on the head, desired the jury to consider their +verdict. + +CHAPTER IX: A Hot Scent + +'Come in!' called Trent. + +Mr Cupples entered his sitting-room at the hotel. It was the early evening of +the day on which the coroner's jury, without leaving the box, had pronounced +the expected denunciation of a person or persons unknown. Trent, with a hasty +glance upward, continued his intent study of what lay in a photographic dish +of enamelled metal, which he moved slowly about in the light of the window. He +looked very pale, and his movements were nervous. + +'Sit on the sofa,' he advised. 'The chairs are a job lot bought at the sale +after the suppression of the Holy Inquisition in Spain. This is a pretty good +negative,' he went on, holding it up to the light with his head at the angle +of discriminating judgement. 'Washed enough now, I think. Let us leave it to +dry, and get rid of all this mess.' + +Mr Cupples, as the other busily cleared the table of a confusion of basins, +dishes, racks, boxes, and bottles, picked up first one and then another of the +objects and studied them with innocent curiosity. + +'That is called hypo-eliminator,' said Trent, as Mr Cupples uncorked and smelt +at one of the bottles. 'Very useful when you're in a hurry with a negative. I +shouldn't drink it, though, all the same. It eliminates sodium hypophosphite, +but I shouldn't wonder if it would eliminate human beings too.' He found a +place for the last of the litter on the crowded mantel-shelf, and came to sit +before Mr Cupples on the table. 'The great thing about a hotel sitting-room is +that its beauty does not distract the mind from work. It is no place for the +mayfly pleasures of a mind at ease. Have you ever been in this room before, +Cupples? I have, hundreds of times. It has pursued me all over England for +years. I should feel lost without it if, in some fantastic, far-off hotel, +they were to give me some other sitting-room. Look at this table-cover; there +is the ink I spilt on it when I had this room in Halifax. I burnt that hole in +the carpet when I had it in Ipswich. But I see they have mended the glass over +the picture of "Silent Sympathy", which I threw a boot at in Banbury. I do all +my best work here. This afternoon, for instance, since the inquest, I have +finished several excellent negatives. There is a very good dark room +downstairs.' + +'The inquest--that reminds me,' said Mr Cupples, who knew that this sort of +talk in Trent meant the excitement of action, and was wondering what he could +be about. 'I came in to thank you, my dear fellow, for looking after Mabel +this morning. I had no idea she was going to feel ill after leaving the box; +she seemed quite unmoved, and, really, she is a woman of such extraordinary +self- command, I thought I could leave her to her own devices and hear out the +evidence, which I thought it important I should do. It was a very fortunate +thing she found a friend to assist her, and she is most grateful. She is quite +herself again now.' + +Trent, with his hands in his pockets and a slight frown on his brow, made no +reply to this. 'I tell you what,' he said after a short pause, 'I was just +getting to the really interesting part of the job when you came in. Come; +would you like to see a little bit of high-class police work? It's the very +same kind of work that old Murch ought to be doing at this moment. Perhaps he +is; but I hope to glory he isn't.' He sprang off the table and disappeared +into his bedroom. Presently he came out with a large drawing-board on which a +number of heterogeneous objects was ranged. + +'First I must introduce you to these little things,' he said, setting them out +on the table. 'Here is a big ivory paper-knife; here are two leaves cut out of +a diary--my own diary; here is a bottle containing dentifrice; here is a +little case of polished walnut. Some of these things have to be put back where +they belong in somebody's bedroom at White Gables before night. That's the +sort of man I am--nothing stops me. I borrowed them this very morning when +every one was down at the inquest, and I dare say some people would think it +rather an odd proceeding if they knew. Now there remains one object on the +board. Can you tell me, without touching it, what it is?' + +'Certainly I can,' said Mr Cupples, peering at it with great interest. 'It is +an ordinary glass bowl. It looks like a finger-bowl. I see nothing odd about +it,' he added after some moments of close scrutiny. + +'I can't see much myself,' replied Trent, 'and that is exactly where the fun +comes in. Now take this little fat bottle, Cupples, and pull out the cork. Do +you recognize that powder inside it? You have swallowed pounds of it in your +time, I expect. They give it to babies. Grey powder is its ordinary name-- +mercury and chalk. It is great stuff. Now, while I hold the basin sideways +over this sheet of paper, I want you to pour a little powder out of the bottle +over this part of the bowl--just here .... Perfect! Sir Edward Henry himself +could not have handled the powder better. You have done this before, Cupples, +I can see. You are an old hand.' + +'I really am not,' said Mr Cupples seriously, as Trent returned the fallen +powder to the bottle. 'I assure you it is all a complete mystery to me. What +did I do then?' + +'I brush the powdered part of the bowl lightly with this camel-hair brush. Now +look at it again. You saw nothing odd about it before. Do you see anything +now?' + +Mr Cupples peered again. 'How curious!' he said. 'Yes, there are two large +grey finger-marks on the bowl. They were not there before.' + +'I am Hawkshaw the detective,' observed Trent. 'Would it interest you to hear +a short lecture on the subject of glass finger-bowls? When you take one up +with your hand you leave traces upon it, usually practically invisible, which +may remain for days or months. You leave the marks of your fingers. The human +hand, even when quite clean, is never quite dry, and sometimes--in moments of +great anxiety, for instance, Cupples--it is very moist. It leaves a mark on +any cold smooth surface it may touch. That bowl was moved by somebody with a +rather moist hand quite lately.' He sprinkled the powder again. 'Here on the +other side, you see, is the thumb-mark very good impressions all of them.' He +spoke without raising his voice, but Mr Cupples could perceive that he was +ablaze with excitement as he stared at the faint grey marks. 'This one should +be the index finger. I need not tell a man of your knowledge of the world that +the pattern of it is a single-spiral whorl, with deltas symmetrically +disposed. This, the print of the second finger, is a simple loop, with a +staple core and fifteen counts. I know there are fifteen, because I have just +the same two prints on this negative, which I have examined in detail. +Look!'--he held one of the negatives up to the light of the declining sun and +demonstrated with a pencil point. 'You can see they're the same. You see the +bifurcation of that ridge. There it is in the other. You see that little scar +near the centre. There it is in the other. There are a score of +ridge-characteristics on which an expert would swear in the witness-box that +the marks on that bowl and the marks I have photographed on this negative were +made by the same hand.' + +'And where did you photograph them? What does it all mean?' asked Mr Cupples, +wide-eyed. + +'I found them on the inside of the left-hand leaf of the front window in Mrs +Manderson's bedroom. As I could not bring the window with me, I photographed +them, sticking a bit of black paper on the other side of the glass for the +purpose. The bowl comes from Manderson's room. It is the bowl in which his +false teeth were placed at night. I could bring that away, so I did.' + +'But those cannot be Mabel's finger-marks.' + +'I should think not!' said Trent with decision. 'They are twice the size of +any print Mrs Manderson could make.' + +'Then they must be her husband's.' + +'Perhaps they are. Now shall we see if we can match them once more? I believe +we can.' Whistling faintly, and very white in the face, Trent opened another +small squat bottle containing a dense black powder. 'Lamp-black,' he +explained. 'Hold a bit of paper in your hand for a second or two, and this +little chap will show you the pattern of your fingers.' He carefully took up +with a pair of tweezers one of the leaves cut from his diary, and held it out +for the other to examine. No marks appeared on the leaf. He tilted some of the +powder out upon one surface of the paper, then, turning it over, upon the +other; then shook the leaf gently to rid it of the loose powder. He held it +out to Mr Cupples in silence. On one side of the paper appeared unmistakably, +clearly printed in black, the same two finger-prints that he had already seen +on the bowl and on the photographic plate. He took up the bowl and compared +them. Trent turned the paper over, and on the other side was a bold black +replica of the thumb-mark that was printed in grey on the glass in his hand. + +'Same man, you see,' Trent said with a short laugh. 'I felt that it must be +so, and now I know.' He walked to the window and looked out. 'Now I know,' he +repeated in a low voice, as if to himself. His tone was bitter. Mr Cupples, +understanding nothing, stared at his motionless back for a few moments. + +'I am still completely in the dark,' he ventured presently. 'I have often +heard of this fingerprint business, and wondered how the police went to work +about it. It is of extraordinary interest to me, but upon my life I cannot see +how in this case Manderson's fingerprints are going--' + +'I am very sorry, Cupples,' Trent broke in upon his meditative speech with a +swift return to the table. 'When I began this investigation I meant to take +you with me every step of the way. You mustn't think I have any doubts about +your discretion if I say now that I must hold my tongue about the whole thing, +at least for a time. I will tell you this: I have come upon a fact that looks +too much like having very painful consequences if it is discovered by any one +else.' He looked at the other with a hard and darkened face, and struck the +table with his hand. 'It is terrible for me here and now. Up to this moment I +was hoping against hope that I was wrong about the fact. I may still be wrong +in the surmise that I base upon that fact. There is only one way of finding +out that is open to me, and I must nerve myself to take it.' He smiled +suddenly at Mr Cupples's face of consternation. 'All right--I'm not going to +be tragic any more, and I'll tell you all about it when I can. Look here, I'm +not half through my game with the powder-bottles yet.' + +He drew one of the defamed chairs to the table and sat down to test the broad +ivory blade of the paper knife. Mr Cupples, swallowing his amazement, bent +forward in an attitude of deep interest and handed Trent the bottle of lamp- +black. + +CHAPTER X: The Wife of Dives + +Mrs Manderson stood at the window of her sitting-room at White Gables gazing +out upon a wavering landscape of fine rain and mist. The weather had broken as +it seldom does in that part in June. White wreathings drifted up the fields +from the sullen sea; the sky was an unbroken grey deadness shedding pin-point +moisture that was now and then blown against the panes with a crepitation of +despair. The lady looked out on the dim and chilling prospect with a woeful +face. It was a bad day for a woman bereaved, alone, and without a purpose in +life. + +There was a knock, and she called 'Come in,' drawing herself up with an +unconscious gesture that always came when she realized that the weariness of +the world had been gaining upon her spirit. Mr Trent had called, the maid +said; he apologized for coming at such an early hour, but hoped that Mrs +Manderson would see him on a matter of urgent importance. Mrs Manderson would +see Mr Trent. She walked to a mirror, looked into the olive face she saw +reflected there, shook her head at herself with the flicker of a grimace, and +turned to the door as Trent was shown in. + +His appearance, she noted, was changed. He had the jaded look of the +sleepless, and a new and reserved expression, in which her quick sensibilities +felt something not propitious, took the place of his half smile of fixed +good-humour. + +'May I come to the point at once?' he said, when she had given him her hand. +'There is a train I ought to catch at Bishopsbridge at twelve o'clock, but I +cannot go until I have settled this thing, which concerns you only, Mrs +Manderson. I have been working half the night and thinking the rest; and I +know now what I ought to do.' + +'You look wretchedly tired,' she said kindly. 'Won't you sit down? This is a +very restful chair. Of course it is about this terrible business and your work +as correspondent. Please ask me anything you think I can properly tell you, Mr +Trent. I know that you won't make it worse for me than you can help in doing +your duty here. If you say you must see me about something, I know it must be +because, as you say, you ought to do it.' + +'Mrs Manderson,' said Trent, slowly measuring his words, 'I won't make it +worse for you than I can help. But I am bound to make it bad for you--only +between ourselves, I hope. As to whether you can properly tell me what I shall +ask you, you will decide that; but I tell you this on my word of honour: I +shall ask you only as much as will decide me whether to publish or to withhold +certain grave things that I have found out about your husband's death, things +not suspected by any one else, nor, I think, likely to be so. What I have +discovered--what I believe that I have practically proved--will be a great +shock to you in any case. But it may be worse for you than that; and if you +give me reason to think it would be so, then I shall suppress this +manuscript,' he laid a long envelope on the small table beside him, 'and +nothing of what it has to tell shall ever be printed. It consists, I may tell +you, of a short private note to my editor, followed by a long dispatch for +publication in the Record. Now you may refuse to say anything to me. If you do +refuse, my duty to my employers, as I see it, is to take this up to London +with me today and leave it with my editor to be dealt with at his discretion. +My view is, you understand, that I am not entitled to suppress it on the +strength of a mere possibility that presents itself to my imagination. But if +I gather from you--and I can gather it from no other person- -that there is +substance in that imaginary possibility I speak of, then I have only one thing +to do as a gentleman and as one who'--he hesitated for a phrase-- 'wishes you +well. I shall not publish that dispatch of mine. In some directions I decline +to assist the police. Have you followed me so far?' he asked with a touch of +anxiety in his careful coldness; for her face, but for its pallor, gave no +sign as she regarded him, her hands clasped before her, and her shoulders +drawn back in a pose of rigid calm. She looked precisely as she had looked at +the inquest. + +'I understand quite well,' said Mrs Manderson in a low voice. She drew a deep +breath, and went on: 'I don't know what dreadful thing you have found out, or +what the possibility that has occurred to you can be, but it was good, it was +honourable of you to come to me about it. Now will you please tell me?' + +'I cannot do that,' Trent replied. 'The secret is my newspaper's if it is not +yours. If I find it is yours, you shall have my manuscript to read and +destroy. Believe me,' he broke out with something of his old warmth, 'I detest +such mystery-making from the bottom of my soul; but it is not I who have made +this mystery. This is the most painful hour of my life, and you make it worse +by not treating me like a hound. The first thing I ask you to tell me,' he +reverted with an effort to his colourless tone, 'is this: is it true, as you +stated at the inquest, that you had no idea at all of the reason why your late +husband had changed his attitude toward you, and become mistrustful and +reserved, during the last few months of his life?' + +Mrs Manderson's dark brows lifted and her eyes flamed; she quickly rose from +her chair. Trent got up at the same moment, and took his envelope from the +table; his manner said that he perceived the interview to be at an end. But +she held up a hand, and there was colour in her cheeks and quick breathing in +her voice as she said: 'Do you know what you ask, Mr Trent? You ask me if I +perjured myself.' + +'I do,' he answered unmoved; and he added after a pause, 'you knew already +that I had not come here to preserve the polite fictions, Mrs Manderson. The +theory that no reputable person, being on oath, could withhold a part of the +truth under any circumstances is a polite fiction.' He still stood as awaiting +dismissal, but she was silent. She walked to the window, and he stood +miserably watching the slight movement of her shoulders until it subsided. +Then with face averted, looking out on the dismal weather, she spoke at last +clearly. + +'Mr Trent,' she said, 'you inspire confidence in people, and I feel that +things which I don't want known or talked about are safe with you. And I know +you must have a very serious reason for doing what you are doing, though I +don't know what it is. I suppose it would be assisting justice in some way if +I told you the truth about what you asked just now. To understand that truth +you ought to know about what went before--I mean about my marriage. After all, +a good many people could tell you as well as I can that it was not... a very +successful union. I was only twenty. I admired his force and courage and +certainty; he was the only strong man I had ever known. But it did not take me +long to find out that he cared for his business more than for me, and I think +I found out even sooner that I had been deceiving myself and blinding myself, +promising myself impossible things and wilfully misunderstanding my own +feelings, because I was dazzled by the idea of having more money to spend than +an English girl ever dreams of. I have been despising myself for that for five +years. My husband's feeling for me... well, I cannot speak of that ... what I +want to say is that along with it there had always been a belief of his that I +was the sort of woman to take a great place in society, and that I should +throw myself into it with enjoyment, and become a sort of personage and do him +great credit--that was his idea; and the idea remained with him after other +delusions had gone. I was a part of his ambition. That was his really bitter +disappointment, that I failed him as a social success. I think he was too +shrewd not to have known in his heart that such a man as he was, twenty years +older than I, with great business responsibilities that filled every hour of +his life, and caring for nothing else--he must have felt that there was a risk +of great unhappiness in marrying the sort of girl I was, brought up to music +and books and unpractical ideas, always enjoying myself in my own way. But he +had really reckoned on me as a wife who would do the honours of his position +in the world; and I found I couldn't.' + +Mrs Manderson had talked herself into a more emotional mood than she had yet +shown to Trent. Her words flowed freely, and her voice had begun to ring and +give play to a natural expressiveness that must hitherto have been dulled, he +thought, by the shock and self-restraint of the past few days. Now she turned +swiftly from the window and faced him as she went on, her beautiful face +flushed and animated, her eyes gleaming, her hands moving in slight emphatic +gestures, as she surrendered herself to the impulse of giving speech to things +long pent up. + +'The people,' she said. 'Oh, those people! Can you imagine what it must be for +any one who has lived in a world where there was always creative work in the +background, work with some dignity about it, men and women with professions or +arts to follow, with ideals and things to believe in and quarrel about, some +of them wealthy, some of them quite poor; can you think what it means to step +out of that into another world where you have to be very rich, shamefully +rich, to exist at all--where money is the only thing that counts and the first +thing in everybody's thoughts--where the men who make the millions are so +jaded by the work, that sport is the only thing they can occupy themselves +with when they have any leisure, and the men who don't have to work are even +duller than the men who do, and vicious as well; and the women live for +display and silly amusements and silly immoralities; do you know how awful +that life is? Of course I know there are clever people, and people of taste in +that set, but they're swamped and spoiled, and it's the same thing in the end; +empty, empty! Oh! I suppose I'm exaggerating, and I did make friends and have +some happy times; but that's how I feel after it all. The seasons in New York +and London--how I hated them! And our house-parties and cruises in the yacht +and the rest--the same people, the same emptiness. + +'And you see, don't you, that my husband couldn't have an idea of all this. +His life was never empty. He did not live it in society, and when he was in +society he had always his business plans and difficulties to occupy his mind. +He hadn't a suspicion of what I felt, and I never let him know; I couldn't, it +wouldn't have been fair. I felt I must do something to justify myself as his +wife, sharing his position and fortune; and the only thing I could do was to +try, and try, to live up to his idea about my social qualities... I did try. I +acted my best. And it became harder year by year... I never was what they call +a popular hostess, how could I be? I was a failure; but I went on trying... I +used to steal holidays now and then. I used to feel as if I was not doing my +part of a bargain--it sounds horrid to put it like that, I know, but it was +so--when I took one of my old school-friends, who couldn't afford to travel, +away to Italy for a month or two, and we went about cheaply all by ourselves, +and were quite happy; or when I went and made a long stay in London with some +quiet people who had known me all my life, and we all lived just as in the old +days, when we had to think twice about seats at the theatre, and told each +other about cheap dressmakers. Those and a few other expeditions of the same +sort were my best times after I was married, and they helped me to go through +with it the rest of the time. But I felt my husband would have hated to know +how much I enjoyed every hour of those returns to the old life. + +'And in the end, in spite of everything I could do, he came to know .... He +could see through anything, I think, once his attention was turned to it. He +had always been able to see that I was not fulfilling his idea of me as a +figure in the social world, and I suppose he thought it was my misfortune +rather than my fault. But the moment he began to see, in spite of my +pretending, that I wasn't playing my part with any spirit, he knew the whole +story; he divined how I loathed and was weary of the luxury and the brilliancy +and the masses of money just because of the people who lived among them--who +were made so by them, I suppose .... It happened last year. I don't know just +how or when. It may have been suggested to him by some woman--for they all +understood, of course. He said nothing to me, and I think he tried not to +change in his manner to me at first; but such things hurt--and it was working +in both of us. I knew that he knew. After a time we were just being polite and +considerate to each other. Before he found me out we had been on a footing +of--how can I express it to you?--of intelligent companionship, I might say. +We talked without restraint of many things of the kind we could agree or +disagree about without its going very deep... if you understand. And then that +came to an end. I felt that the only possible basis of our living in each +other's company was going under my feet. And at last it was gone. + +'It had been like that,' she ended simply, 'for months before he died.' She +sank into the corner of a sofa by the window, as though relaxing her body +after an effort. For a few moments both were silent. Trent was hastily sorting +out a tangle of impressions. He was amazed at the frankness of Mrs Manderson's +story. He was amazed at the vigorous expressiveness in her telling of it. In +this vivid being, carried away by an impulse to speak, talking with her whole +personality, he had seen the real woman in a temper of activity, as he had +already seen the real woman by chance in a temper of reverie and unguarded +emotion. In both she was very unlike the pale, self-disciplined creature of +majesty that she had been to the world. With that amazement of his went +something like terror of her dark beauty, which excitement kindled into an +appearance scarcely mortal in his eyes. Incongruously there rushed into his +mind, occupied as it was with the affair of the moment, a little knot of +ideas... she was unique not because of her beauty but because of its being +united with intensity of nature; in England all the very beautiful women were +placid, all the fiery women seemed to have burnt up the best of their beauty; +that was why no beautiful woman had ever cast this sort of spell on him +before; when it was a question of wit in women he had preferred the brighter +flame to the duller, without much regarding the lamp. 'All this is very +disputable,' said his reason; and instinct answered, 'Yes, except that I am +under a spell'; and a deeper instinct cried out, 'Away with it!' He forced his +mind back to her story, and found growing swiftly in him an irrepressible +conviction. It was all very fine; but it would not do. + +'I feel as if I had led you into saying more than you meant to say, or than I +wanted to learn,' he said slowly. 'But there is one brutal question which is +the whole point of my enquiry.' He braced his frame like one preparing for a +plunge into cold waters. 'Mrs Manderson, will you assure me that your +husband's change toward you had nothing to do with John Marlowe?' + +And what he had dreaded came. 'Oh!' she cried with a sound of anguish, her +face thrown up and open hands stretched out as if for pity; and then the hands +covered the burning face, and she flung herself aside among the cushions at +her elbow, so that he saw nothing but her heavy crown of black hair, and her +body moving with sobs that stabbed his heart, and a foot turned inward +gracelessly in an abandonment of misery. Like a tall tower suddenly breaking +apart she had fallen in ruins, helplessly weeping. + +Trent stood up, his face white and calm. With a senseless particularity he +placed his envelope exactly in the centre of the little polished table. He +walked to the door, closed it noiselessly as he went out, and in a few minutes +was tramping through the rain out of sight of White Gables, going nowhere, +seeing nothing, his soul shaken in the fierce effort to kill and trample the +raving impulse that had seized him in the presence of her shame, that +clamoured to him to drag himself before her feet, to pray for pardon, to pour +out words-- he knew not what words, but he knew that they had been straining +at his lips--to wreck his self-respect for ever, and hopelessly defeat even +the crazy purpose that had almost possessed him, by drowning her wretchedness +in disgust, by babbling with the tongue of infatuation to a woman with a +husband not yet buried, to a woman who loved another man. + +Such was the magic of her tears, quickening in a moment the thing which, as +his heart had known, he must not let come to life. For Philip Trent was a +young man, younger in nature even than his years, and a way of life that kept +his edge keen and his spirit volcanic had prepared him very ill for the +meeting that comes once in the early manhood of most of us, usually--as in his +case, he told himself harshly--to no purpose but the testing of virtue and the +power of the will. + +CHAPTER XI: Hitherto Unpublished + +My Dear Molloy:---This is in case I don't find you at your office. I have +found out who killed Manderson, as this dispatch will show. This was my +problem; yours is to decide what use to make of it. It definitely charges an +unsuspected person with having a hand in the crime, and practically accuses +him of being the murderer, so I don't suppose you will publish it before his +arrest, and I believe it is illegal to do so afterwards until he has been +tried and found guilty. You may decide to publish it then; and you may find it +possible to make some use or other before then of the facts I have given. That +is your affair. Meanwhile, will you communicate with Scotland Yard, and let +them see what I have written? I have done with the Manderson mystery, and I +wish to God I had never touched it. Here follows my dispatch.--P.T. + +Marlstone, June 16th. I begin this, my third and probably my final dispatch to +the Record upon the Manderson murder, with conflicting feelings. I have a +strong sense of relief, because in my two previous dispatches I was obliged, +in the interests of justice, to withhold facts ascertained by me which would, +if published then, have put a certain person upon his guard and possibly have +led to his escape; for he is a man of no common boldness and resource. These +facts I shall now set forth. But I have, I confess, no liking for the story of +treachery and perverted cleverness which I have to tell. It leaves an evil +taste in the mouth, a savour of something revolting in the deeper puzzle of +motive underlying thc puzzle of the crime itself, which I believe I have +solved. + +It will be remembered that in my first dispatch I described the situation as I +found it on reaching this place early on Tuesday morning. I told how the body +was found, and in what state; dwelt upon the complete mystery surrounding the +crime, and mentioned one or two local theories about it; gave some account of +the dead man's domestic surroundings; and furnished a somewhat detailed +description of his movements on the evening before his death. I gave, too, a +little fact which may or may not have seemed irrelevant: that a quantity of +whisky much larger than Manderson habitually drank at night had disappeared +from his private decanter since the last time he was seen alive. On the +following day, the day of the inquest, I wired little more than an abstract of +the proceedings in the coroner's court, of which a verbatim report was made at +my request by other representatives of the Record. That day is not yet over as +I write these lines; and I have now completed an investigation which has led +me directly to the man who must be called upon to clear himself of the guilt +of the death of Manderson. + +Apart from the central mystery of Manderson's having arisen long before his +usual hour to go out and meet his death, there were two minor points of oddity +about this affair which, I suppose, must have occurred to thousands of those +who have read the accounts in the newspapers: points apparent from the very +beginning. The first of these was that, whereas the body was found at a spot +not thirty yards from the house, all the people of the house declared that +they had heard no cry or other noise in the night. Manderson had not been +gagged; the marks on his wrists pointed to a struggle with his assailant; and +there had been at least one pistol-shot. (I say at least one, because it is +the fact that in murders with firearms, especially if there has been a +struggle, the criminal commonly misses his victim at least once.) This odd +fact seemed all the more odd to me when I learned that Martin the butler was a +bad sleeper, very keen of hearing, and that his bedroom, with the window open, +faced almost directly toward the shed by which the body was found. + +The second odd little fact that was apparent from the outset was Manderson's +leaving his dental plate by the bedside. It appeared that he had risen and +dressed himself fully, down to his necktie and watch and chain, and had gone +out of doors without remembering to put in this plate, which he had carried in +his mouth every day for years, and which contained all the visible teeth of +the upper jaw. It had evidently not been a case of frantic hurry; and even if +it had been, he would have been more likely to forget almost anything than +this denture. Any one who wears such a removable plate will agree that the +putting it in on rising is a matter of second nature. Speaking as well as +eating, to say nothing of appearances, depend upon it. + +Neither of these queer details, however, seemed to lead to anything at the +moment. They only awakened in me a suspicion of something lurking in the +shadows, something that lent more mystery to the already mysterious question +how and why and through whom Manderson met his end. + +With this much of preamble I come at once to the discovery which, in the first +few hours of my investigation, set me upon the path which so much ingenuity +had been directed to concealing. + +I have already described Manderson's bedroom, the rigorous simplicity of its +furnishing, contrasted so strangely with the multitude of clothes and shoes, +and the manner of its communication with Mrs Manderson's room. On the upper of +the two long shelves on which the shoes were ranged I found, where I had been +told I should find them, the pair of patent leather shoes which Manderson had +worn on the evening before his death. I had glanced over the row, not with any +idea of their giving me a clue, but merely because it happens that I am a +judge of shoes, and all these shoes were of the very best workmanship. But my +attention was at once caught by a little peculiarity in this particular pair. +They were the lightest kind of lace-up dress shoes, very thin in the sole, +without toe- caps, and beautifully made, like all the rest. These shoes were +old and well worn; but being carefully polished, and fitted, as all the shoes +were, upon their trees, they looked neat enough. What caught my eye was a +slight splitting of the leather in that part of the upper known as the vamp--a +splitting at the point where the two laced parts of the shoe rise from the +upper. It is at this point that the strain comes when a tight shoe of this +sort is forced upon the foot, and it is usually guarded with a strong +stitching across the bottom of the opening. In both the shoes I was examining +this stitching had parted, and the leather below had given way. The splitting +was a tiny affair in each case, not an eighth of an inch long, and the torn +edges having come together again on the removal of the strain, there was +nothing that a person who was not something of a connoisseur of shoe-leather +would have noticed. Even less noticeable, and indeed not to be seen at all +unless one were looking for it, was a slight straining of the stitches uniting +the upper to the sole. At the toe and on the outer side of each shoe this +stitching had been dragged until it was visible on a close inspection of the +join. + +These indications, of course, could mean only one thing--the shoes had been +worn by some one for whom they were too small. + +Now it was clear at a glance that Manderson was always thoroughly well shod, +and careful, perhaps a little vain, of his small and narrow feet. Not one of +the other shoes in the collection, as I soon ascertained, bore similar marks; +they had not belonged to a man who squeezed himself into tight shoe-leather. +Some one who was not Manderson had worn these shoes, and worn them recently; +the edges of the tears were quite fresh. + +The possibility of some one having worn them since Manderson's death was not +worth considering; the body had only been found about twenty-six hours when I +was examining the shoes; besides, why should any one wear them? The +possibility of some one having borrowed Manderson's shoes and spoiled them for +him while he was alive seemed about as negligible. With others to choose from +he would not have worn these. Besides, the only men in the place were the +butler and the two secretaries. But I do not say that I gave those +possibilities even as much consideration as they deserved, for my thoughts +were running away with me, and I have always found it good policy, in cases of +this sort, to let them have their heads. Ever since I had got out of the train +at Marlstone early that morning I had been steeped in details of the Manderson +affair; the thing had not once been out of my head. Suddenly the moment had +come when the daemon wakes and begins to range. + +Let me put it less fancifully. After all, it is a detail of psychology +familiar enough to all whose business or inclination brings them in contact +with difficult affairs of any kind. Swiftly and spontaneously, when chance or +effort puts one in possession of the key-fact in any system of baffling +circumstances, one's ideas seem to rush to group themselves anew in relation +to that fact, so that they are suddenly rearranged almost before one has +consciously grasped the significance of the key-fact itself. In the present +instance, my brain had scarcely formulated within itself the thought, +'Somebody who was not Manderson has been wearing these shoes,' when there flew +into my mind a flock of ideas, all of the same character and all bearing upon +this new notion. It was unheard- of for Manderson to drink much whisky at +night. It was very unlike him to be untidily dressed, as the body was when +found--the cuffs dragged up inside the sleeves, the shoes unevenly laced; very +unlike him not to wash when he rose, and to put on last night's evening shirt +and collar and underclothing; very unlike him to have his watch in the +waistcoat pocket that was not lined with leather for its reception. (In my +first dispatch I mentioned all these points, but neither I nor any one else +saw anything significant in them when examining the body.) It was very +strange, in the existing domestic situation, that Manderson should be +communicative to his wife about his doings, especially at the time of his +going to bed, when he seldom spoke to her at all. It was extraordinary that +Manderson should leave his bedroom without his false teeth. + +All these thoughts, as I say, came flocking into my mind together, drawn from +various parts of my memory of the morning's enquiries and observations. They +had all presented themselves, in far less time than it takes to read them as +set down here, as I was turning over the shoes, confirming my own certainty on +the main point. And yet when I confronted the definite idea that had sprung up +suddenly and unsupported before me--'It was not Manderson who was in the house +that night'--it seemed a stark absurdity at the first formulating. It was +certainly Manderson who had dined at the house and gone out with Marlowe in +the car. People had seen him at close quarters. But was it he who returned at +ten? That question too seemed absurd enough. But I could not set it aside. It +seemed to me as if a faint light was beginning to creep over the whole expanse +of my mind, as it does over land at dawn, and that presently the sun would be +rising. I set myself to think over, one by one, the points that had just +occurred to me, so as to make out, if possible, why any man masquerading as +Manderson should have done these things that Manderson would not have done. + +I had not to cast about very long for the motive a man might have in forcing +his feet into Manderson's narrow shoes. The examination of footmarks is very +well understood by the police. But not only was the man concerned to leave no +footmarks of his own: he was concerned to leave Manderson's, if any; his whole +plan, if my guess was right, must have been directed to producing the belief +that Manderson was in the place that night. Moreover, his plan did not turn +upon leaving footmarks. He meant to leave the shoes themselves, and he did so. +The maidservant had found them outside the bedroom door, as Manderson always +left his shoes, and had polished them, replacing them on the shoe-shelves +later in the morning, after the body had been found. + +When I came to consider in this new light the leaving of the false teeth, an +explanation of what had seemed the maddest part of the affair broke upon me at +once. A dental plate is not inseparable from its owner. If my guess was right, +the unknown had brought the denture to the house with him, and left it in the +bedroom, with the same object as he had in leaving the shoes: to make it +impossible that any one should doubt that Manderson had been in the house and +had gone to bed there. This, of course, led me to the inference that Manderson +was dead before the false Manderson came to the house, and other things +confirmed this. + +For instance, the clothing, to which I now turned in my review of the +position. If my guess was right, the unknown in Manderson's shoes had +certainly had possession of Manderson's trousers, waistcoat, and shooting +jacket. They were there before my eyes in the bedroom; and Martin had seen the +jacket--which nobody could have mistaken--upon the man who sat at the +telephone in the library. It was now quite plain (if my guess was right) that +this unmistakable garment was a cardinal feature of the unknown's plan. He +knew that Martin would take him for Manderson at the first glance. + +And there my thinking was interrupted by the realization of a thing that had +escaped me before. So strong had been the influence of the unquestioned +assumption that it was Manderson who was present that night, that neither I +nor, as far as I know, any one else had noted the point. Martin had not seen +the man's face, nor had Mrs Manderson. + +Mrs Manderson (judging by her evidence at the inquest, of which, as I have +said, I had a full report made by the Record stenographers in court) had not +seen the man at all. She hardly could have done, as I shall show presently. +She had merely spoken with him as she lay half asleep, resuming a conversation +which she had had with her living husband about an hour before. Martin, I +perceived, could only have seen the man's back, as he sat crouching over the +telephone; no doubt a characteristic pose was imitated there. And the man had +worn his hat, Manderson's broad-brimmed hat! There is too much character in +the back of a head and neck. The unknown, in fact, supposing him to have been +of about Manderson's build, had had no need for any disguise, apart from the +jacket and the hat and his powers of mimicry. + +I paused there to contemplate the coolness and ingenuity of the man. The +thing, I now began to see, was so safe and easy, provided that his mimicry was +good enough, and that his nerve held. Those two points assured, only some +wholly unlikely accident could unmask him. + +To come back to my puzzling out of the matter as I sat in the dead man's +bedroom with the tell-tale shoes before me. The reason for the entrance by the +window instead of by the front door will already have occurred to any one +reading this. Entering by the door, the man would almost certainly have been +heard by the sharp-eared Martin in his pantry just across the hall; he might +have met him face to face. + +Then there was the problem of the whisky. I had not attached much importance +to it; whisky will sometimes vanish in very queer ways in a household of eight +or nine persons; but it had seemed strange that it should go in that way on +that evening. Martin had been plainly quite dumbfounded by the fact. It seemed +to me now that many a man--fresh, as this man in all likelihood was, from a +bloody business, from the unclothing of a corpse, and with a desperate part +still to play--would turn to that decanter as to a friend. No doubt he had a +drink before sending for Martin; after making that trick with ease and +success, he probably drank more. + +But he had known when to stop. The worst part of the enterprise was before +him: the business--clearly of such vital importance to him, for whatever +reason--of shutting himself in Manderson's room and preparing a body of +convincing evidence of its having been occupied by Manderson; and this with +the risk--very slight, as no doubt he understood, but how unnerving!--of the +woman on the other side of the half-open door awaking and somehow discovering +him. True, if he kept out of her limited field of vision from the bed, she +could only see him by getting up and going to the door. I found that to a +person lying in her bed, which stood with its head to the wall a little beyond +the door, nothing was visible through the doorway but one of the cupboards by +Manderson's bed-head. Moreover, since this man knew the ways of the household, +he would think it most likely that Mrs Manderson was asleep. Another point +with him, I guessed, might have been the estrangement between the husband and +wife, which they had tried to cloak by keeping up, among other things, their +usual practice of sleeping in connected rooms, but which was well known to all +who had anything to do with them. He would hope from this that if Mrs +Manderson heard him, she would take no notice of the supposed presence of her +husband. + +So, pursuing my hypothesis, I followed the unknown up to the bedroom, and saw +him setting about his work. And it was with a catch in my own breath that I +thought of the hideous shock with which he must have heard the sound of all +others he was dreading most: the drowsy voice from the adjoining room. + +What Mrs Manderson actually said, she was unable to recollect at the inquest. +She thinks she asked her supposed husband whether he had had a good run in the +car. And now what does the unknown do? Here, I think, we come to a supremely +significant point. Not only does he--standing rigid there, as I picture him, +before the dressing-table, listening to the sound of his own leaping +heart--not only does he answer the lady in the voice of Manderson; he +volunteers an explanatory statement. He tells her that he has, on a sudden +inspiration, sent Marlowe in the car to Southampton; that he has sent him to +bring back some important information from a man leaving for Paris by the +steamboat that morning. Why these details from a man who had long been +uncommunicative to his wife, and that upon a point scarcely likely to interest +her? Why these details about Marlowe? + +Having taken my story so far, I now put forward the following definite +propositions: that between a time somewhere about ten, when the car started, +and a time somewhere about eleven, Manderson was shot--probably at a +considerable distance from the house, as no shot was heard; that the body was +brought back, left by the shed, and stripped of its outer clothing; that at +some time round about eleven o'clock a man who was not Manderson, wearing +Manderson's shoes, hat, and jacket, entered the library by the garden window; +that he had with him Manderson's black trousers, waistcoat, and motor-coat, +the denture taken from Manderson's mouth, and the weapon with which he had +been murdered; that he concealed these, rang the bell for the butler, and sat +down at the telephone with his hat on and his back to the door; that he was +occupied with the telephone all the time Martin was in the room; that on going +up to the bedroom floor he quietly entered Marlowe's room and placed the +revolver with which the crime had been committed--Marlowe's revolver--in the +case on the mantelpiece from which it had been taken; and that he then went to +Manderson's room, placed Manderson's shoes outside the door, threw Manderson's +garments on a chair, placed the denture in the bowl by the bedside, and +selected a suit of clothes, a pair of shoes, and a tie from those in the +bedroom. + +Here I will pause in my statement of this man's proceedings to go into a +question for which the way is now sufficiently prepared: + +Who was the false Manderson? + +Reviewing what was known to me, or might almost with certainty be surmised, +about that person, I set down the following five conclusions: + +(1.) He had been in close relations with the dead man. In his acting before +Martin and his speaking to Mrs Manderson he had made no mistake. + +(2.) He was of a build not unlike Manderson's, especially as to height and +breadth of shoulder, which mainly determine the character of the back of a +seated figure when the head is concealed and the body loosely clothed. But his +feet were larger, though not greatly larger, than Manderson's. + +(3.) He had considerable aptitude for mimicry and acting--probably some +experience too. + +(4.) He had a minute acquaintance with the ways of the Manderson household. + +(5.) He was under a vital necessity of creating the belief that Manderson was +alive and in that house until some time after midnight on the Sunday night. + +So much I took as either certain or next door to it. It was as far as I could +see. And it was far enough. + +I proceed to give, in an order corresponding with the numbered paragraphs +above, such relevant facts as I was able to obtain about Mr John Marlowe, from +himself and other sources: + +(1.) He had been Mr Manderson's private secretary, upon a footing of great +intimacy, for nearly four years. + +(2.) The two men were nearly of the same height, about five feet eleven +inches; both were powerfully built and heavy in the shoulder. Marlowe, who was +the younger by some twenty years, was rather slighter about the body, though +Manderson was a man in good physical condition. Marlowe's shoes (of which I +examined several pairs) were roughly about one shoemaker's size longer and +broader than Manderson's. + +(3.) In the afternoon of the first day of my investigation, after arriving at +the results already detailed, I sent a telegram to a personal friend, a Fellow +of a college at Oxford, whom I knew to be interested in theatrical matters, in +these terms: + +PLEASE WIRE JOHN MARLOWE'S RECORD IN CONNECTION WITH ACTING AT OXFORD SOME +TIME PAST DECADE VERY URGENT AND CONFIDENTIAL. + +My friend replied in the following telegram, which reached me next morning +(the morning of the inquest): + +MARLOWE WAS MEMBER O.U.D.S FOR THREE YEARS AND PRESIDENT 19- PLAYED BARDOLPH +CLEON AND MERCUTIO EXCELLED IN CHARACTER ACTING AND IMITATIONS IN GREAT DEMAND +AT SMOKERS WAS HERO OF SOME HISTORIC HOAXES. + +I had been led to send the telegram which brought this very helpful answer by +seeing on the mantel-shelf in Marlowe's bedroom a photograph of himself and +two others in the costume of Falstaff's three followers, with an inscription +from The Merry Wives, and by noting that it bore the imprint of an Oxford firm +of photographers. + +(4.) During his connection with Manderson, Marlowe had lived as one of the +family. No other person, apart from the servants, had his opportunities for +knowing the domestic life of the Mandersons in detail. + +(5.) I ascertained beyond doubt that Marlowe arrived at a hotel in Southampton +on the Monday morning at 6.30, and there proceeded to carry out the commission +which, according to his story, and according to the statement made to Mrs +Manderson in the bedroom by the false Manderson, had been entrusted to him by +his employer. He had then returned in the car to Marlstone, where he had shown +great amazement and horror at the news of the murder. + +These, I say, are the relevant facts about Marlowe. We must now examine fact +number 5 (as set out above) in connection with conclusion number 5 about the +false Manderson. + +I would first draw attention to one important fact. The only person who +professed to have heard Manderson mention Southampton at all before he started +in the car was Marlowe. His story--confirmed to some extent by what the butler +overheard--was that the journey was all arranged in a private talk before they +set out, and he could not say, when I put the question to him, why Manderson +should have concealed his intentions by giving out that he was going with +Marlowe for a moonlight drive. This point, however, attracted no attention. +Marlowe had an absolutely air-tight alibi in his presence at Southampton by +6.30; nobody thought of him in connection with a murder which must have been +committed after 12.30--the hour at which Martin the butler had gone to bed. +But it was the Manderson who came back from the drive who went out of his way +to mention Southampton openly to two persons. He even went so far as to ring +up a hotel at Southampton and ask questions which bore out Marlowe's story of +his errand. This was the call he was busy with when Martin was in the library. + +Now let us consider the alibi. If Manderson was in the house that night, and +if he did not leave it until some time after 12.30, Marlowe could not by any +possibility have had a direct hand in the murder. It is a question of the +distance between Marlstone and Southampton. If he had left Marlstone in the +car at the hour when he is supposed to have done so--between 10 and +10.30--with a message from Manderson, the run would be quite an easy one to do +in the time. But it would be physically impossible for the car--a 15 h.p. +four-cylinder Northumberland, an average medium-power car--to get to +Southampton by half-past six unless it left Marlstone by midnight at latest. +Motorists who will examine the road-map and make the calculations required, as +I did in Manderson's library that day, will agree that on the facts as they +appeared there was absolutely no case against Marlowe. + +But even if they were not as they appeared; if Manderson was dead by eleven +o'clock, and if at about that time Marlowe impersonated him at White Gables; +if Marlowe retired to Manderson's bedroom--how can all this be reconciled with +his appearance next morning at Southampton? He had to get out of the house, +unseen and unheard, and away in the car by midnight. And Martin, the +sharp-eared Martin, was sitting up until 12.30 in his pantry, with the door +open, listening for the telephone bell. Practically he was standing sentry +over the foot of the staircase, the only staircase leading down from the +bedroom floor. + +With this difficulty we arrive at the last and crucial phase of my +investigation. Having the foregoing points clearly in mind, I spent the rest +of the day before the inquest in talking to various persons and in going over +my story, testing it link by link. I could only find the one weakness which +seemed to be involved in Martin's sitting up until 12.30; and since his having +been instructed to do so was certainly a part of the plan, meant to clinch the +alibi for Marlowe, I knew there must be an explanation somewhere. If I could +not find that explanation, my theory was valueless. I must be able to show +that at the time Martin went up to bed the man who had shut himself in +Manderson's bedroom might have been many miles away on the road to +Southampton. + +I had, however, a pretty good idea already--as perhaps the reader of these +lines has by this time, if I have made myself clear--of how the escape of the +false Manderson before midnight had been contrived. But I did not want what I +was now about to do to be known. If I had chanced to be discovered at work, +there would have been no concealing the direction of my suspicions. I resolved +not to test them on this point until the next day, during the opening +proceedings at the inquest. This was to be held, I knew, at the hotel, and I +reckoned upon having White Gables to myself so far as the principal inmates +were concerned. + +So in fact it happened. By the time the proceedings at the hotel had begun I +was hard at work at White Gables. I had a camera with me. I made search, on +principles well known to and commonly practised by the police, and often +enough by myself, for certain indications. Without describing my search, I may +say at once that I found and was able to photograph two fresh fingerprints, +very large and distinct, on the polished front of the right-hand top drawer of +the chest of drawers in Manderson's bedroom; five more (among a number of +smaller and less recent impressions made by other hands) on the glasses of the +French window in Mrs Manderson's room, a window which always stood open at +night with a curtain before it; and three more upon the glass bowl in which +Manderson's dental plate had been found lying. + +I took the bowl with me from White Gables. I took also a few articles which I +selected from Marlowe's bedroom, as bearing the most distinct of the +innumerable fingerprints which are always to be found upon toilet articles in +daily use. I already had in my possession, made upon leaves cut from my pocket +diary, some excellent fingerprints of Marlowe's which he had made in my +presence without knowing it. I had shown him the leaves, asking if he +recognized them; and the few seconds during which he had held them in his +fingers had sufficed to leave impressions which I was afterwards able to bring +out. + +By six o'clock in the evening, two hours after the jury had brought in their +verdict against a person or persons unknown, I had completed my work, and was +in a position to state that two of the five large prints made on the window- +glasses, and the three on the bowl, were made by the left hand of Marlowe; +that the remaining three on the window and the two on the drawer were made by +his right hand. + +By eight o'clock I had made at the establishment of Mr H. T. Copper, +photographer, of Bishopsbridge, and with his assistance, a dozen enlarged +prints of the finger-marks of Marlowe, clearly showing the identity of those +which he unknowingly made in my presence and those left upon articles in his +bedroom, with those found by me as I have described, and thus establishing the +facts that Marlowe was recently in Manderson's bedroom, where he had in the +ordinary way no business, and in Mrs Manderson's room, where he had still +less. I hope it may be possible to reproduce these prints for publication with +this dispatch. + +At nine o'clock I was back in my room at the hotel and sitting down to begin +this manuscript. I had my story complete. I bring it to a close by advancing +these further propositions: that on the night of the murder the impersonator +of Manderson, being in Manderson's bedroom, told Mrs Manderson, as he had +already told Martin, that Marlowe was at that moment on his way to +Southampton; that having made his dispositions in the room, he switched off +the light, and lay in the bed in his clothes; that he waited until he was +assured that Mrs Manderson was asleep; that he then arose and stealthily +crossed Mrs Manderson's bedroom in his stocking feet, having under his arm the +bundle of clothing and shoes for the body; that he stepped behind the curtain, +pushing the doors of the window a little further open with his hands, strode +over the iron railing of the balcony, and let himself down until only a drop +of a few feet separated him from the soft turf of the lawn. + +All this might very well have been accomplished within half an hour of his +entering Manderson's bedroom, which, according to Martin, he did at about +half- past eleven. + +What followed your readers and the authorities may conjecture for themselves. +The corpse was found next morning clothed--rather untidily. Marlowe in the car +appeared at Southampton by half-past six. + +I bring this manuscript to an end in my sitting-room at the hotel at +Marlstone. It is four o'clock in the morning. I leave for London by the noon +train from Bishopsbridge, and immediately after arriving I shall place these +pages in your hands. I ask you to communicate the substance of them to the +Criminal Investigation Department. + +PHILIP TRENT. + +CHAPTER XII: Evil Days + +'I am returning the cheque you sent for what I did on the Manderson case,' +Trent wrote to Sir James Molloy from Munich, whither he had gone immediately +after handing in at the Record office a brief dispatch bringing his work on +the case to an unexciting close. 'What I sent you wasn't worth one-tenth of +the amount; but I should have no scruple about pocketing it if I hadn't taken +a fancy--never mind why--not to touch any money at all for this business. I +should like you, if there is no objection, to pay for the stuff at your +ordinary space-rate, and hand the money to some charity which does not devote +itself to bullying people, if you know of any such. I have come to this place +to see some old friends and arrange my ideas, and the idea that comes out +uppermost is that for a little while I want some employment with activity in +it. I find I can't paint at all: I couldn't paint a fence. Will you try me as +your Own Correspondent somewhere? If you can find me a good adventure I will +send you good accounts. After that I could settle down and work.' + +Sir James sent him instructions by telegram to proceed at once to Kurland and +Livonia, where Citizen Browning was abroad again, and town and countryside +blazed in revolt. It was a roving commission, and for two months Trent +followed his luck. It served him not less well than usual. He was the only +correspondent who saw General Dragilew killed in the street at Volmar by a +girl of eighteen. He saw burnings, lynchings, fusillades, hangings; each day +his soul sickened afresh at the imbecilities born of misrule. Many nights he +lay down in danger. Many days he went fasting. But there was never an evening +or a morning when he did not see the face of the woman whom he hopelessly +loved. + +He discovered in himself an unhappy pride at the lasting force of this +infatuation. It interested him as a phenomenon; it amazed and enlightened him. +Such a thing had not visited him before. It confirmed so much that he had +found dubious in the recorded experience of men. + +It was not that, at thirty-two, he could pretend to ignorance of this world of +emotion. About his knowledge let it be enough to say that what he had learned +had come unpursued and unpurchased, and was without intolerable memories; +broken to the realities of sex, he was still troubled by its inscrutable +history. He went through life full of a strange respect for certain feminine +weakness and a very simple terror of certain feminine strength. He had held to +a rather lukewarm faith that something remained in him to be called forth, and +that the voice that should call would be heard in its own time, if ever, and +not through any seeking. + +But he had not thought of the possibility that, if this proved true some day, +the truth might come in a sinister shape. The two things that had taken him +utterly by surprise in the matter of his feeling towards Mabel Manderson were +the insane suddenness of its uprising in full strength and its extravagant +hopelessness. Before it came, he had been much disposed to laugh at the +permanence of unrequited passion as a generous boyish delusion. He knew now +that he had been wrong, and he was living bitterly in the knowledge. + +Before the eye of his fancy the woman always came just as she was when he had +first had sight of her, with the gesture which he had surprised as he walked +past unseen on the edge of the cliff; that great gesture of passionate joy in +her new liberty which had told him more plainly than speech that her widowhood +was a release from torment, and had confirmed with terrible force the +suspicion, active in his mind before, that it was her passport to happiness +with a man whom she loved. He could not with certainty name to himself the +moment when he had first suspected that it might be so. The seed of the +thought must have been sown, he believed, at his first meeting with Marlowe; +his mind would have noted automatically that such evident strength and grace, +with the sort of looks and manners that the tall young man possessed, might go +far with any woman of unfixed affections. And the connection of this with what +Mr Cupples had told him of the Mandersons' married life must have formed +itself in the unconscious depths of his mind. Certainly it had presented +itself as an already established thing when he began, after satisfying himself +of the identity of the murderer, to cast about for the motive of the crime. +Motive, motive! How desperately he had sought for another, turning his back +upon that grim thought, that Marlowe-- obsessed by passion like himself, and +privy perhaps to maddening truths about the wife's unhappiness--had taken a +leaf, the guiltiest, from the book of Bothwell. But in all his investigations +at the time, in all his broodings on the matter afterwards, he had been able +to discover nothing that could prompt Marlowe to such a deed--nothing but that +temptation, the whole strength of which he could not know, but which if it had +existed must have pressed urgently upon a bold spirit in which scruple had +been somehow paralysed. If he could trust his senses at ail, the young man was +neither insane nor by nature evil. But that could not clear him. Murder for a +woman's sake, he thought, was not a rare crime, Heaven knew! If the modern +feebleness of impulse in the comfortable classes, and their respect for the +modern apparatus of detection, had made it rare among them, it was yet far +from impossible. It only needed a man of equal daring and intelligence, his +soul drugged with the vapours of an intoxicating intrigue, to plan and perform +such a deed. + +A thousand times, with a heart full of anguish, he had sought to reason away +the dread that Mabel Manderson had known too much of what had been intended +against her husband's life. That she knew all the truth after the thing was +done he could not doubt; her unforgettable collapse in his presence when the +question about Marlowe was suddenly and bluntly put, had swept away his last +hope that there was no love between the pair, and had seemed to him, moreover, +to speak of dread of discovery. In any case, she knew the truth after reading +what he had left with her; and it was certain that no public suspicion had +been cast upon Marlowe since. She had destroyed his manuscript, then, and +taken him at his word to keep the secret that threatened her lover's life. + +But it was the monstrous thought that she might have known murder was brewing, +and guiltily kept silence, that haunted Trent's mind. She might have +suspected, have guessed something; was it conceivable that she was aware of +the whole plot, that she connived? He could never forget that his first +suspicion of Marlowe's motive in the crime had been roused by the fact that +his escape was made through the lady's room. At that time, when he had not yet +seen her, he had been ready enough to entertain the idea of her equal guilt +and her co-operation. He had figured to himself some passionate hysterique, +merciless as a cat in her hate and her love, a zealous abettor, perhaps even +the ruling spirit in the crime. + +Then he had seen her, had spoken with her, had helped her in her weakness; and +such suspicions, since their first meeting, had seemed the vilest of infamy. +He had seen her eyes and her mouth; he had breathed the woman's atmosphere. +Trent was one of those who fancy they can scent true wickedness in the air. In +her presence he had felt an inward certainty of her ultimate goodness of +heart; and it was nothing against this that she had abandoned herself a +moment, that day on the cliff, to the sentiment of relief at the ending of her +bondage, of her years of starved sympathy and unquickened motherhood. That she +had turned to Marlowe in her destitution he believed; that she had any +knowledge of his deadly purpose he did not believe. + +And yet, morning and evening the sickening doubts returned, and he recalled +again that it was almost in her presence that Marlowe had made his +preparations in the bedroom of the murdered man, that it was by the window of +her own chamber that he had escaped from the house. Had he forgotten his +cunning and taken the risk of telling her then? Or had he, as Trent thought +more likely, still played his part with her then, and stolen off while she +slept? He did not think she had known of the masquerade when she gave evidence +at the inquest; it read like honest evidence. Or--the question would never be +silenced, though he scorned it- -had she lain expecting the footsteps in the +room and the whisper that should tell her that it was done? Among the foul +possibilities of human nature, was it possible that black ruthlessness and +black deceit as well were hidden behind that good and straight and gentle +seeming? + +These thoughts would scarcely leave him when he was alone. + +Trent served Sir James, well earning his pay for six months, and then returned +to Paris where he went to work again with a better heart. His powers had +returned to him, and he began to live more happily than he had expected among +a tribe of strangely assorted friends, French, English, and American, artists, +poets, journalists, policemen, hotel-keepers, soldiers, lawyers, business men, +and others. His old faculty of sympathetic interest in his fellows won for +him, just as in his student days, privileges seldom extended to the Briton. He +enjoyed again the rare experience of being taken into the bosom of a +Frenchman's family. He was admitted to the momentous confidence of les jeunes, +and found them as sure that they had surprised the secrets of art and life as +the departed jeunes of ten years before had been. + +The bosom of the Frenchman's family was the same as those he had known in the +past, even to the patterns of the wallpaper and movables. But the jeunes, he +perceived with regret, were totally different from their forerunners. They +were much more shallow and puerile, much less really clever. The secrets they +wrested from the Universe were not such important and interesting secrets as +had been wrested by the old jeunes. This he believed and deplored until one +day he found himself seated at a restaurant next to a too well-fed man whom, +in spite of the ravages of comfortable living, he recognized as one of the +jeunes of his own period. This one had been wont to describe himself and three +or four others as the Hermits of the New Parnassus. He and his school had +talked outside cafes and elsewhere more than solitaries do as a rule; but, +then, rules were what they had vowed themselves to destroy. They proclaimed +that verse, in particular, was free. The Hermit of the New Parnassus was now +in the Ministry of the Interior, and already decorated: he expressed to Trent +the opinion that what France needed most was a hand of iron. He was able to +quote the exact price paid for certain betrayals of the country, of which +Trent had not previously heard. + +Thus he was brought to make the old discovery that it was he who had changed, +like his friend of the Administration, and that les jeunes were still the +same. Yet he found it hard to say what precisely he had lost that so greatly +mattered; unless indeed it were so simple a thing as his high spirits. + +One morning in June, as he descended the slope of the Rue des Martyrs, he saw +approaching a figure that he remembered. He glanced quickly round, for the +thought of meeting Mr Bunner again was unacceptable. For some time he had +recognized that his wound was healing under the spell of creative work; he +thought less often of the woman he loved, and with less pain. He would not +have the memory of those three days reopened. + +But the straight and narrow thoroughfare offered no refuge, and the American +saw him almost at once. + +His unforced geniality made Trent ashamed, for he had liked the man. They sat +long over a meal, and Mr Bunner talked. Trent listened to him, now that he was +in for it, with genuine pleasure, now and then contributing a question or +remark. Besides liking his companion, he enjoyed his conversation, with its +unending verbal surprises, for its own sake. + +Bunner was, it appeared, resident in Paris as the chief Continental agent of +the Manderson firm, and fully satisfied with his position and prospects. He +discoursed on these for some twenty minutes. This subject at length exhausted, +he went on to tell Trent, who confessed that he had been away from England for +a year, that Marlowe had shortly after the death of Manderson entered his +father's business, which was now again in a flourishing state, and had already +come to be practically in control of it. They had kept up their intimacy, and +were even now planning a holiday for the summer. Mr Bunner spoke with generous +admiration of his friend's talent for affairs. 'Jack Marlowe has a natural big +head,' he declared, 'and if he had more experience, I wouldn't want to have +him up against me. He would put a crimp in me every time.' + +As the American's talk flowed on, Trent listened with a slowly growing +perplexity. It became more and more plain that something was very wrong in his +theory of the situation; there was no mention of its central figure. Presently +Mr Bunner mentioned that Marlowe was engaged to be married to an Irish girl, +whose charms he celebrated with native enthusiasm. + +Trent clasped his hands savagely together beneath the table. What could have +happened? His ideas were sliding and shifting. At last he forced himself to +put a direct question. + +Mr Bunner was not very fully informed. He knew that Mrs Manderson had left +England immediately after the settlement of her husband's affairs, and had +lived for some time in Italy. She had returned not long ago to London, where +she had decided not to live in the house in Mayfair, and had bought a smaller +one in the Hampstead neighbourhood; also, he understood, one somewhere in the +country. She was said to go but little into society. 'And all the good hard +dollars just waiting for some one to spraddle them around,' said Mr Bunner, +with a note of pathos in his voice. 'Why, she has money to burn--money to feed +to the birds-- and nothing doing. The old man left her more than half his wad. +And think of the figure she might make in the world. She is beautiful, and she +is the best woman I ever met, too. But she couldn't ever seem to get the habit +of spending money the way it ought to be spent.' + +His words now became a soliloquy: Trent's thoughts were occupying all his +attention. He pleaded business soon, and the two men parted with cordiality. + +Half an hour later Trent was in his studio, swiftly and mechanically 'cleaning +up'. He wanted to know what had happened; somehow he must find out. He could +never approach herself, he knew; he would never bring back to her the shame of +that last encounter with him; it was scarcely likely that he would even set +eyes on her. But he must get to know!... Cupples was in London, Marlowe was +there .... And, anyhow, he was sick of Paris. + +Such thoughts came and went; and below them all strained the fibres of an +unseen cord that dragged mercilessly at his heart, and that he cursed bitterly +in the moments when he could not deny to himself that it was there. The folly, +the useless, pitiable folly of it! + +In twenty-four hours his feeble roots in Paris had been torn out. He was +looking over a leaden sea at the shining fortress-wall of the Dover cliffs. + +But though he had instinctively picked out the lines of a set purpose from +among the welter of promptings in his mind, he found it delayed at the very +outset. + +He had decided that he must first see Mr Cupples, who would be in a position +to tell him much more than the American knew. But Mr Cupples was away on his +travels, not expected to return for a month; and Trent had no reasonable +excuse for hastening his return. Marlowe he would not confront until he had +tried at least to reconnoitre the position. He constrained himself not to +commit the crowning folly of seeking out Mrs Manderson's house in Hampstead; +he could not enter it, and the thought of the possibility of being seen by her +lurking in its neighbourhood brought the blood to his face. + +He stayed at an hotel, took a studio, and while he awaited Mr Cupples's return +attempted vainly to lose himself in work. + +At the end of a week he had an idea that he acted upon with eager +precipitancy. She had let fall some word at their last meeting, of a taste for +music. Trent went that evening, and thenceforward regularly, to the opera. He +might see her; and if, in spite of his caution, she caught sight of him, they +could be blind to each other's presence--anybody might happen to go to the +opera. + +So he went alone each evening, passing as quickly as he might through the +people in the vestibule; and each evening he came away knowing that she had +not been in the house. It was a habit that yielded him a sort of satisfaction +along with the guilty excitement of his search; for he too loved music, and +nothing gave him so much peace while its magic endured. + +One night as he entered, hurrying through the brilliant crowd, he felt a touch +on his arm. Flooded with an incredible certainty at the touch, he turned. + +It was she: so much more radiant in the absence of grief and anxiety, in the +fact that she was smiling, and in the allurement of evening dress, that he +could not speak. She, too, breathed a little quickly, and there was a light of +daring in her eyes and cheeks as she greeted him. + +Her words were few. 'I wouldn't miss a note of Tristan,' she said, 'nor must +you. Come and see me in the interval.' She gave him the number of the box. + +CHAPTER XIII: Eruption + +The following two months were a period in Trent's life that he has never since +remembered without shuddering. He met Mrs Manderson half a dozen times, and +each time her cool friendliness, a nicely calculated mean between mere +acquaintance and the first stage of intimacy, baffled and maddened him. At the +opera he had found her, to his further amazement, with a certain Mrs Wallace, +a frisky matron whom he had known from childhood. Mrs Manderson, it appeared, +on her return from Italy, had somehow wandered into circles to which he +belonged by nurture and disposition. It came, she said, of her having pitched +her tent in their hunting- grounds; several of his friends were near +neighbours. He had a dim but horrid recollection of having been on that +occasion unlike himself, ill at ease, burning in the face, talking with idiot +loquacity of his adventures in the Baltic provinces, and finding from time to +time that he was addressing himself exclusively to Mrs Wallace. The other +lady, when he joined them, had completely lost the slight appearance of +agitation with which she had stopped him in the vestibule. She had spoken +pleasantly to him of her travels, of her settlement in London, and of people +whom they both knew. + +During the last half of the opera, which he had stayed in the box to hear, he +had been conscious of nothing, as he sat behind them, but the angle of her +cheek and the mass of her hair, the lines of her shoulder and arm, her hand +upon the cushion. The black hair had seemed at last a forest, immeasurable, +pathless and enchanted, luring him to a fatal adventure .... At the end he had +been pale and subdued, parting with them rather formally. + +The next time he saw her--it was at a country house where both were +guests--and the subsequent times, he had had himself in hand. He had matched +her manner and had acquitted himself, he thought, decently, considering-- + +Considering that he lived in an agony of bewilderment and remorse and longing. +He could make nothing, absolutely nothing, of her attitude. That she had read +his manuscript and understood the suspicion indicated in his last question to +her at White Gables was beyond the possibility of doubt. Then how could she +treat him thus and frankly, as she treated all the world of men who had done +no injury? + +For it had become clear to his intuitive sense, for all the absence of any +shade of differentiation in her outward manner, that an injury had been done, +and that she had felt it. Several times, on the rare and brief occasions when +they had talked apart, he had warning from the same sense that she was +approaching this subject; and each time he had turned the conversation with +the ingenuity born of fear. Two resolutions he made. The first was that when +he had completed a commissioned work which tied him to London he would go away +and stay away. The strain was too great. He no longer burned to know the +truth; he wanted nothing to confirm his fixed internal conviction by faith, +that he had blundered, that he had misread the situation, misinterpreted her +tears, written himself down a slanderous fool. He speculated no more on +Marlowe's motive in the killing of Manderson. Mr Cupples returned to London, +and Trent asked him nothing. He knew now that he had been right in those +words--Trent remembered them for the emphasis with which they were spoken--'So +long as she considered herself bound to him... no power on earth could have +persuaded her.' He met Mrs Manderson at dinner at her uncle's large and +tomb-like house in Bloomsbury, and there he conversed most of the evening with +a professor of archaeology from Berlin. + +His other resolution was that he would not be with her alone. + +But when, a few days after, she wrote asking him to come and see her on the +following afternoon, he made no attempt to excuse himself. This was a formal +challenge. + +While she celebrated the rites of tea, and for some little time thereafter, +she joined with such natural ease in his slightly fevered conversation on +matters of the day that he began to hope she had changed what he could not +doubt had been her resolve, to corner him and speak to him gravely. She was to +all appearance careless now, smiling so that he recalled, not for the first +time since that night at the opera, what was written long ago of a Princess of +Brunswick: 'Her mouth has ten thousand charms that touch the soul.' She made a +tour of the beautiful room where she had received him, singling out this +treasure or that from the spoils of a hundred bric-a-brac shops, laughing over +her quests, discoveries, and bargainings. And when he asked if she would +delight him again with a favourite piece of his which he had heard her play at +another house, she consented at once. + +She played with a perfection of execution and feeling that moved him now as it +had moved him before. 'You are a musician born,' he said quietly when she had +finished, and the last tremor of the music had passed away. 'I knew that +before I first heard you.' + +'I have played a great deal ever since I can remember. It has been a great +comfort to me,' she said simply, and half-turned to him smiling. 'When did you +first detect music in me? Oh, of course: I was at the opera. But that wouldn't +prove much, would it?' + +'No,' he said abstractedly, his sense still busy with the music that had just +ended. 'I think I knew it the first time I saw you.' Then understanding of his +own words came to him, and turned him rigid. For the first time the past had +been invoked. + +There was a short silence. Mrs Manderson looked at Trent, then hastily looked +away. Colour began to rise in her cheeks, and she pursed her lips as if for +whistling. Then with a defiant gesture of the shoulders which he remembered +she rose suddenly from the piano and placed herself in a chair opposite to +him. + +'That speech of yours will do as well as anything,' she began slowly, looking +at the point of her shoe, 'to bring us to what I wanted to say. I asked you +here today on purpose, Mr Trent, because I couldn't bear it any longer. Ever +since the day you left me at White Gables I have been saying to myself that it +didn't matter what you thought of me in that affair; that you were certainly +not the kind of man to speak to others of what you believed about me, after +what you had told me of your reasons for suppressing your manuscript. I asked +myself how it could matter. But all the time, of course, I knew it did matter. +It mattered horribly. Because what you thought was not true.' She raised her +eyes and met his gaze calmly. Trent, with a completely expressionless face, +returned her look. + +'Since I began to know you,' he said, 'I have ceased to think it.' 'Thank +you,' said Mrs Manderson; and blushed suddenly and deeply. Then, playing with +a glove, she added, 'But I want you to know what was true. + +I did not know if I should ever see you again,' she went on in a lower voice, +'but I felt that if I did I must speak to you about this. I thought it would +not be hard to do so, because you seemed to me an understanding person; and +besides, a woman who has been married isn't expected to have the same sort of +difficulty as a young girl in speaking about such things when it is necessary. +And then we did meet again, and I discovered that it was very difficult +indeed. You made it difficult.' + +'How?' he asked quietly. + +'I don't know,' said the lady. 'But yes--I do know. It was just because you +treated me exactly as if you had never thought or imagined anything of that +sort about me. I had always supposed that if I saw you again you would turn on +me that hard, horrible sort of look you had when you asked me that last +question-- do you remember?--at White Gables. Instead of that you were just +like any other acquaintance. You were just'--she hesitated and spread out her +hands--'nice. You know. After that first time at the opera when I spoke to you +I went home positively wondering if you had really recognized me. I mean, I +thought you might have recognized my face without remembering who it was.' + +A short laugh broke from Trent in spite of himself, but he said nothing. + +She smiled deprecatingly. 'Well, I couldn't remember if you had spoken my +name; and I thought it might be so. But the next time, at the Iretons', you +did speak it, so I knew; and a dozen times during those few days I almost +brought myself to tell you, but never quite. I began to feel that you wouldn't +let me, that you would slip away from the subject if I approached it. Wasn't I +right? Tell me, please.' He nodded. 'But why?' He remained silent. + +'Well,' she said, 'I will finish what I had to say, and then you will tell me, +I hope, why you had to make it so hard. When I began to understand that you +wouldn't let me talk of the matter to you, it made me more determined than +ever. I suppose you didn't realize that I would insist on speaking even if you +were quite discouraging. I dare say I couldn't have done it if I had been +guilty, as you thought. You walked into my parlour today, never thinking I +should dare. Well, now you see.' + +Mrs Manderson had lost all her air of hesitancy. She had, as she was wont to +say, talked herself enthusiastic, and in the ardour of her purpose to +annihilate the misunderstanding that had troubled her so long she felt herself +mistress of the situation. + +'I am going to tell you the story of the mistake you made,' she continued, as +Trent, his hands clasped between his knees, still looked at her enigmatically. +'You will have to believe it, Mr Trent; it is utterly true to life, with its +confusions and hidden things and cross-purposes and perfectly natural mistakes +that nobody thinks twice about taking for facts. Please understand that I +don't blame you in the least, and never did, for jumping to the conclusion you +did. You knew that I was estranged from my husband, and you knew what that so +often means. You knew before I told you, I expect, that he had taken up an +injured attitude towards me; and I was silly enough to try and explain it +away. I gave you the explanation of it that I had given myself at first, +before I realized the wretched truth; I told you he was disappointed in me +because I couldn't take a brilliant lead in society. Well, that was true; he +was so. But I could see you weren't convinced. You had guessed what it took me +much longer to see, because I knew how irrational it was. Yes; my husband was +jealous of John Marlowe; you divined that. + +'Then I behaved like a fool when you let me see you had divined it; it was +such a blow, you understand, when I had supposed all the humiliation and +strain was at an end, and that his delusion had died with him. You practically +asked me if my husband's secretary was not my lover, Mr Trent--I have to say +it, because I want you to understand why I broke down and made a scene. You +took that for a confession; you thought I was guilty of that, and I think you +even thought I might be a party to the crime, that I had consented .... That +did hurt me; but perhaps you couldn't have thought anything else--I don't +know.' + +Trent, who had not hitherto taken his eyes from her face, hung his head at the +words. He did not raise it again as she continued. 'But really it was simple +shock and distress that made me give way, and the memory of all the misery +that mad suspicion had meant to me. And when I pulled myself together again +you had gone.' + +She rose and went to an escritoire beside the window, unlocked a drawer, and +drew out a long, sealed envelope. + +'This is the manuscript you left with me,' she said. 'I have read it through +again and again. I have always wondered, as everybody does, at your cleverness +in things of this kind.' A faintly mischievous smile flashed upon her face, +and was gone. I thought it was splendid, Mr Trent--I almost forgot that the +story was my own, I was so interested. And I want to say now, while I have +this in my hand, how much I thank you for your generous, chivalrous act in +sacrificing this triumph of yours rather than put a woman's reputation in +peril. If all had been as you supposed, the facts must have come out when the +police took up the case you put in their hands. Believe me, I understood just +what you had done, and I never ceased to be grateful even when I felt most +crushed by your suspicion.' + +As she spoke her thanks her voice shook a little, and her eyes were bright. +Trent perceived nothing of this. His head was still bent. He did not seem to +hear. She put the envelope into his hand as it lay open, palm upwards, on his +knee. There was a touch of gentleness about the act which made him look up. + +'Can you--' he began slowly. + +She raised her hand as she stood before him. 'No, Mr Trent; let me finish +before you say anything. It is such an unspeakable relief to me to have broken +the ice at last, and I want to end the story while I am still feeling the +triumph of beginning it.' She sank down into the sofa from which she had first +risen. 'I am telling you a thing that nobody else knows. Everybody knew, I +suppose, that something had come between us, though I did everything in my +power to hide it. But I don't think any one in the world ever guessed what my +husband's notion was. People who know me don't think that sort of thing about +me, I believe. And his fancy was so ridiculously opposed to the facts. I will +tell you what the situation was. Mr Marlowe and I had been friendly enough +since he came to us. For all his cleverness--my husband said he had a keener +brain than any man he knew--I looked upon him as practically a boy. You know I +am a little older than he is, and he had a sort of amiable lack of ambition +that made me feel it the more. One day my husband asked me what I thought was +the best thing about Marlowe, and not thinking much about it I said, "His +manners." He surprised me very much by looking black at that, and after a +silence he said, "Yes, Marlowe is a gentleman; that's so", not looking at me. + +'Nothing was ever said about that again until about a year ago, when I found +that Mr Marlowe had done what I always expected he would do--fallen +desperately in love with an American girl. But to my disgust he had picked out +the most worthless girl, I do believe, of all those whom we used to meet. She +was the daughter of wealthy parents, and she did as she liked with them; very +beautiful, well educated, very good at games--what they call a +woman-athlete--and caring for nothing on earth but her own amusement. She was +one of the most unprincipled flirts I ever knew, and quite the cleverest. +Every one knew it, and Mr Marlowe must have heard it; but she made a complete +fool of him, brain and all. I don't know how she managed it, but I can +imagine. She liked him, of course; but it was quite plain to me that she was +playing with him. The whole affair was so idiotic, I got perfectly furious. +One day I asked him to row me in a boat on the lake--all this happened at our +house by Lake George. We had never been alone together for any length of time +before. In the boat I talked to him. I was very kind about it, I think, and he +took it admirably, but he didn't believe me a bit. He had the impudence to +tell me that I misunderstood Alice's nature. When I hinted at his prospects--I +knew he had scarcely anything of his own--he said that if she loved him he +could make himself a position in the world. I dare say that was true, with his +abilities and his friends--he is rather well connected, you know, as well as +popular. But his enlightenment came very soon after that. + +'My husband helped me out of the boat when we got back. He joked with Mr +Marlowe about something, I remember; for through all that followed he never +once changed in his manner to him, and that was one reason why I took so long +to realize what he thought about him and myself. But to me he was reserved and +silent that evening--not angry. He was always perfectly cold and +expressionless to me after he took this idea into his head. After dinner he +only spoke to me once. Mr Marlowe was telling him about some horse he had +bought for the farm in Kentucky, and my husband looked at me and said, +"Marlowe may be a gentleman, but he seldom quits loser in a horse-trade." I +was surprised at that, but at that time--and even on the next occasion when he +found us together--I didn't understand what was in his mind. That next time +was the morning when Mr Marlowe received a sweet little note from the girl +asking for his congratulations on her engagement. It was in our New York +house. He looked so wretched at breakfast that I thought he was ill, and +afterwards I went to the room where he worked, and asked what was the matter. +He didn't say anything, but just handed me the note, and turned away to the +window. I was very glad that was all over, but terribly sorry for him too, of +course. I don't remember what I said, but I remember putting my hand on his +arm as he stood there staring out on the garden and just then my husband +appeared at the open door with some papers. He just glanced at us, and then +turned and walked quietly back to his study. I thought that he might have +heard what I was saying to comfort Mr Marlowe, and that it was rather nice of +him to slip away. Mr Marlowe neither saw nor heard him. My husband left the +house that morning for the West while I was out. Even then I did not +understand. He used often to go off suddenly like that, if some business +project called him. + +'It was not until he returned a week later that I grasped the situation. He +was looking white and strange, and as soon as he saw me he asked me where Mr +Marlowe was. Somehow the tone of his question told me everything in a flash. + +'I almost gasped; I was wild with indignation. You know, Mr Trent, I don't +think I should have minded at all if any one had thought me capable of openly +breaking with my husband and leaving him for somebody else. I dare say I might +have done that. But that coarse suspicion... a man whom he trusted... and the +notion of concealment. It made me see scarlet. Every shred of pride in me was +strung up till I quivered, and I swore to myself on the spot that I would +never show by any word or sign that I was conscious of his having such a +thought about me. I would behave exactly as I always had behaved, I +determined--and that I did, up to the very last. Though I knew that a wall had +been made between us now that could never be broken down--even if he asked my +pardon and obtained it--I never once showed that I noticed any change. + +'And so it went on. I never could go through such a time again. My husband +showed silent and cold politeness to me always when we were alone--and that +was only when it was unavoidable. He never once alluded to what was in his +mind; but I felt it, and he knew that I felt it. Both of us were stubborn in +our different attitudes. To Mr Marlowe he was more friendly, if anything, than +before--Heaven only knows why. I fancied he was planning some sort of revenge; +but that was only a fancy. Certainly Mr Marlowe never knew what was suspected +of him. He and I remained good friends, though we never spoke of anything +intimate after that disappointment of his; but I made a point of seeing no +less of him than I had always done. Then we came to England and to White +Gables, and after that followed--my husband's dreadful end.' + +She threw out her right hand in a gesture of finality. 'You know about the +rest- -so much more than any other man,' she added, and glanced up at him with +a quaint expression. + +Trent wondered at that look, but the wonder was only a passing shadow on his +thought. Inwardly his whole being was possessed by thankfulness. All the +vivacity had returned to his face. Long before the lady had ended her story he +had recognized the certainty of its truth, as from the first days of their +renewed acquaintance he had doubted the story that his imagination had built +up at White Gables, upon foundations that seemed so good to him. + +He said, 'I don't know how to begin the apologies I have to make. There are no +words to tell you how ashamed and disgraced I feel when I realize what a +crude, cock-sure blundering at a conclusion my suspicion was. Yes, I +suspected--you! I had almost forgotten that I was ever such a fool. +Almost--not quite. Sometimes when I have been alone I have remembered that +folly, and poured contempt on it. I have tried to imagine what the facts were. +I have tried to excuse myself.' + +She interrupted him quickly. 'What nonsense! Do be sensible, Mr Trent. You had +only seen me on two occasions in your life before you came to me with your +solution of the mystery.' Again the quaint expression came and was gone. 'If +you talk of folly, it really is folly for a man like you to pretend to a woman +like me that I had innocence written all over me in large letters--so large +that you couldn't believe very strong evidence against me after seeing me +twice.' + +'What do you mean by "a man like me"?' he demanded with a sort of fierceness. +'Do you take me for a person without any normal instincts? I don't say you +impress people as a simple, transparent sort of character--what Mr Calvin +Bunner calls a case of open-work; I don't say a stranger might not think you +capable of wickedness, if there was good evidence for it: but I say that a man +who, after seeing you and being in your atmosphere, could associate you with +the particular kind of abomination I imagined, is a fool--the kind of fool who +is afraid to trust his senses .... As for my making it hard for you to +approach the subject, as you say, it is true. It was simply moral cowardice. I +understood that you wished to clear the matter up; and I was revolted at the +notion of my injurious blunder being discussed. I tried to show you by my +actions that it was as if it had never been. I hoped you would pardon me +without any words. I can't forgive myself, and I never shall. And yet if you +could know--' He stopped short, and then added quietly, 'Well, will you accept +all that as an apology? The very scrubbiest sackcloth made, and the grittiest +ashes on the heap....I didn't mean to get worked up,' he ended lamely. + +Mrs Manderson laughed, and her laugh carried him away with it. He knew well by +this time that sudden rush of cascading notes of mirth, the perfect expression +of enjoyment; he had many times tried to amuse her merely for his delight in +the sound of it. + +'But I love to see you worked up,' she said. 'The bump with which you always +come down as soon as you realize that you are up in the air at all is quite +delightful. Oh, we're actually both laughing. What a triumphant end to our +explanations, after all my dread of the time when I should have it out with +you. And now it's all over, and you know; and we'll never speak of it any +more.' + +'I hope not,' Trent said in sincere relief. 'If you're resolved to be so kind +as this about it, I am not high-principled enough to insist on your blasting +me with your lightnings. And now, Mrs Manderson, I had better go. Changing the +subject after this would be like playing puss-in-the-corner after an +earthquake.' He rose to his feet. + +'You are right,' she said. 'But no! Wait. There is another thing--part of the +same subject; and we ought to pick up all the pieces now while we are about +it. Please sit down.' She took the envelope containing Trent's manuscript +dispatch from the table where he had laid it. 'I want to speak about this.' + +His brows bent, and he looked at her questioningly. 'So do I, if you do,' he +said slowly. 'I want very much to know one thing.' + +'Tell me.' + +'Since my reason for suppressing that information was all a fantasy, why did +you never make any use of it? When I began to realize that I had been wrong +about you, I explained your silence to myself by saying that you could not +bring yourself to do a thing that would put a rope round a man's neck, +whatever he might have done. I can quite understand that feeling. Was that +what it was? Another possibility I thought of was that you knew of something +that was by way of justifying or excusing Marlowe's act. Or I thought you +might have a simple horror, quite apart from humanitarian scruples, of +appearing publicly in connection with a murder trial. Many important witnesses +in such cases have to be practically forced into giving their evidence. They +feel there is defilement even in the shadow of the scaffold.' + +Mrs Manderson tapped her lips with the envelope without quite concealing a +smile. 'You didn't think of another possibility, I suppose, Mr Trent,' she +said. + +'No.' He looked puzzled. + +'I mean the possibility of your having been wrong about Mr Marlowe as well as +about me. No, no; you needn't tell me that the chain of evidence is complete. +I know it is. But evidence of what? Of Mr Marlowe having impersonated my +husband that night, and having escaped by way of my window, and built up an +alibi. I have read your dispatch again and again, Mr Trent, and I don't see +that those things can be doubted.' + +Trent gazed at her with narrowed eyes. He said nothing to fill the brief pause +that followed. Mrs Manderson smoothed her skirt with a preoccupied air, as one +collecting her ideas. + +'I did not make any use of the facts found out by you,' she slowly said at +last, 'because it seemed to me very likely that they would be fatal to Mr +Marlowe.' + +'I agree with you,' Trent remarked in a colourless tone. + +'And,' pursued the lady, looking up at him with a mild reasonableness in her +eyes, 'as I knew that he was innocent I was not going to expose him to that +risk.' + +There was another little pause. Trent rubbed his chin, with an affectation of +turning over the idea. Inwardly he was telling himself, somewhat feebly, that +this was very right and proper; that it was quite feminine, and that he liked +her to be feminine. It was permitted to her--more than permitted--to set her +loyal belief in the character of a friend above the clearest demonstrations of +the intellect. Nevertheless, it chafed him. He would have had her declaration +of faith a little less positive in form. It was too irrational to say she +'knew'. In fact (he put it to himself bluntly), it was quite unlike her. If to +be unreasonable when reason led to the unpleasant was a specially feminine +trait, and if Mrs Manderson had it, she was accustomed to wrap it up better +than any woman he had known. + +'You suggest,' he said at length, 'that Marlowe constructed an alibi for +himself, by means which only a desperate man would have attempted, to clear +himself of a crime he did not commit. Did he tell he was innocent?' + +She uttered a little laugh of impatience. 'So you think he has been talking me +round. No, that is not so. I am merely sure he did not do it. Ah! I see you +think that absurd. But see how unreasonable you are, Mr Trent! Just now you +were explaining to me quite sincerely that it was foolishness in you to have a +certain suspicion of me after seeing me and being in my atmosphere, as you +said.' Trent started in his chair. She glanced at him, and went on: 'Now, I +and my atmosphere are much obliged to you, but we must stand up for the rights +of other atmospheres. I know a great deal more about Mr Marlowe's atmosphere +than you know about mine even now. I saw him constantly for several years. I +don't pretend to know all about him; but I do know that he is incapable of a +crime of bloodshed. The idea of his planning a murder is as unthinkable to me +as the idea of your picking a poor woman's pocket, Mr Trent. I can imagine you +killing a man, you know... if the man deserved it and had an equal chance of +killing you. I could kill a person myself in some circumstances. But Mr +Marlowe was incapable of doing it, I don't care what the provocation might be. +He had a temper that nothing could shake, and he looked upon human nature with +a sort of cold magnanimity that would find excuses for absolutely anything. It +wasn't a pose; you could see it was a part of him. He never put it forward, +but it was there always. It was quite irritating at times .... Now and then in +America, I remember, I have heard people talking about lynching, for instance, +when he was there. He would sit quite silent and expressionless, appearing not +to listen; but you could feel disgust coming from him in waves. He really +loathed and hated physical violence. He was a very strange man in some ways, +Mr Trent. He gave one a feeling that he might do unexpected things--do you +know that feeling one has about some people? What part he really played in the +events of that night I have never been able to guess. But nobody who knew +anything about him could possibly believe in his deliberately taking a man's +life.' Again the movement of her head expressed finality, and she leaned back +in the sofa, calmly regarding him. + +'Then,' said Trent, who had followed this with earnest attention, 'we are +forced back on two other possibilities, which I had not thought worth much +consideration until this moment. Accepting what you say, he might still +conceivably have killed in self-defence; or he might have done so by +accident.' + +The lady nodded. 'Of course I thought of those two explanations when I read +your manuscript.' + +'And I suppose you felt, as I did myself, that in either of those cases the +natural thing, and obviously the safest thing, for him to do was to make a +public statement of the truth, instead of setting up a series of deceptions +which would certainly stamp him as guilty in the eyes of the law, if anything +went wrong with them.' + +'Yes,' she said wearily, 'I thought over all that until my head ached. And I +thought somebody else might have done it, and that he was somehow screening +the guilty person. But that seemed wild. I could see no light in the mystery, +and after a while I simply let it alone. All I was clear about was that Mr +Marlowe was not a murderer, and that if I told what you had found out, the +judge and jury would probably think he was. I promised myself that I would +speak to you about it if we should meet again; and now I've kept my promise.' + +Trent, his chin resting on his hand, was staring at the carpet. The excitement +of the hunt for the truth was steadily rising in him. He had not in his own +mind accepted Mrs Manderson's account of Marlowe's character as +unquestionable. But she had spoken forcibly; he could by no means set it +aside, and his theory was much shaken. + +'There is only one thing for it,' he said, looking up. 'I must see Marlowe. It +worries me too much to have the thing left like this. I will get at the truth. +Can you tell me,' he broke off, 'how he behaved after the day I left White +Gables?' + +'I never saw him after that,' said Mrs Manderson simply. 'For some days after +you went away I was ill, and didn't go out of my room. When I got down he had +left and was in London, settling things with the lawyers. He did not come down +to the funeral. Immediately after that I went abroad. After some weeks a +letter from him reached me, saying he had concluded his business and given the +solicitors all the assistance in his power. He thanked me very nicely for what +he called all my kindness, and said goodbye. There was nothing in it about his +plans for the future, and I thought it particularly strange that he said not a +word about my husband's death. I didn't answer. Knowing what I knew, I +couldn't. In those days I shuddered whenever I thought of that masquerade in +the night. I never wanted to see or hear of him again.' + +'Then you don't know what has become of him?' + +'No, but I dare say Uncle Burton--Mr Cupples, you know-could tell you. Some +time ago he told me that he had met Mr Marlowe in London, and had some talk +with him. I changed the conversation.' She paused and smiled with a trace of +mischief. 'I rather wonder what you supposed had happened to Mr Marlowe after +you withdrew from the scene of the drama that you had put together so much to +your satisfaction.' + +Trent flushed. 'Do you really want to know?' he said. + +'I ask you,' she retorted quietly. + +'You ask me to humiliate myself again, Mrs Manderson. Very well. I will tell +you what I thought I should most likely find when I returned to London after +my travels: that you had married Marlowe to live abroad.' + +She heard him with unmoved composure. 'We certainly couldn't have lived very +comfortably in England on his money and mine,' she observed thoughtfully. 'He +had practically nothing then.' + +He stared at her--'gaped', she told him some time afterwards. At the moment +she laughed with a little embarrassment. + +'Dear me, Mr Trent! Have I said anything dreadful? You surely must know .... I +thought everybody understood by now .... I'm sure I've had to explain it often +enough... if I marry again I lose everything that my husband left me.' + +The effect of this speech upon Trent was curious. For an instant his face was +flooded with the emotion of surprise. As this passed away he gradually drew +himself together, as he sat, into a tense attitude. He looked, she thought as +she saw his knuckles grow white on the arms of the chair, like a man prepared +for pain under the hand of the surgeon. But all he said, in a voice lower than +his usual tone, was, I had no idea of it.' + +'It is so,' she said calmly, trifling with a ring on her finger. 'Really, Mr +Trent, it is not such a very unusual thing. I think I am glad of it. For one +thing, it has secured me--at least since it became generally known--from a +good many attentions of a kind that a woman in my position has to put up with +as a rule.' + +'No doubt,' he said gravely. 'And... the other kind?' + +She looked at him questioningly. 'Ah!' she laughed. 'The other kind trouble me +even less. I have not yet met a man silly enough to want to marry a widow with +a selfish disposition, and luxurious habits and tastes, and nothing but the +little my father left me.' + +She shook her head, and something in the gesture shattered the last remnants +of Trent's self-possession. + +'Haven't you, by Heaven!' he exclaimed, rising with a violent movement and +advancing a step towards her. 'Then I am going to show you that human passion +is not always stifled by the smell of money. I am going to end the +business--my business. I am going to tell you what I dare say scores of better +men have wanted to tell you, but couldn't summon up what I have summoned +up--the infernal cheek to do it. They were afraid of making fools of +themselves. I am not. You have accustomed me to the feeling this afternoon.' +He laughed aloud in his rush of words, and spread out his hands. 'Look at me! +It is the sight of the century! It is one who says he loves you, and would ask +you to give up very great wealth to stand at his side.' + +She was hiding her face in her hands. He heard her say brokenly, 'Please... +don't speak in that way.' + +He answered: 'It will make a great difference to me if you will allow me to +say all I have to say before I leave you. Perhaps it is in bad taste, but I +will risk that; I want to relieve my soul; it needs open confession. This is +the truth. You have troubled me ever since the first time I saw you--and you +did not know it--as you sat under the edge of the cliff at Marlstone, and held +out your arms to the sea. It was only your beauty that filled my mind then. As +I passed by you it seemed as if all the life in the place were crying out a +song about you in the wind and the sunshine. And the song stayed in my ears; +but even your beauty would be no more than an empty memory to me by now if +that had been all. It was when I led you from the hotel there to your house, +with your hand on my arm, that--what was it that happened? I only knew that +your stronger magic had struck home, and that I never should forget that day, +whatever the love of my life should be. Till that day I had admired as I +should admire the loveliness of a still lake; but that day I felt the spell of +the divinity of the lake. And next morning the waters were troubled, and she +rose--the morning when I came to you with my questions, tired out with doubts +that were as bitter as pain, and when I saw you without your pale, sweet mask +of composure--when I saw you moved and glowing, with your eyes and your hands +alive, and when you made me understand that for such a creature as you there +had been emptiness and the mere waste of yourself for so long. Madness rose in +me then, and my spirit was clamouring to say what I say at last now: that life +would never seem a full thing again because you could not love me, that I was +taken for ever in the nets of your black hair and by the incantation of your +voice-' + +'Oh, stop!' she cried, suddenly throwing back her head, her face flaming and +her hands clutching the cushions beside her. She spoke fast and disjointedly, +her breath coming quick. 'You shall not talk me into forgetting common sense. +What does all this mean? Oh, I do not recognize you at all--you seem another +man. We are not children; have you forgotten that? You speak like a boy in +love for the first time. It is foolish, unreal--I know that if you do not. I +will not hear it. What has happened to you?' She was half sobbing. 'How can +these sentimentalities come from a man like you? Where is your +self-restraint?' + +'Gone!' exclaimed Trent, with an abrupt laugh. 'It has got right away. I am +going after it in a minute.' He looked gravely down into her eyes. 'I don't +care so much now. I never could declare myself to you under the cloud of your +great fortune. It was too heavy. There's nothing creditable in that feeling, +as I look at it; as a matter of simple fact it was a form of cowardice--fear +of what you would think, and very likely say--fear of the world's comment too, +I suppose. But the cloud being rolled away, I have spoken, and I don't care so +much. I can face things with a quiet mind now that I have told you the truth +in its own terms. You may call it sentimentality or any other nickname you +like. It is quite true that it was not intended for a scientific statement. +Since it annoys you, let it be extinguished. But please believe that it was +serious to me if it was comedy to you. I have said that I love you, and honour +you, and would hold you dearest of all the world. Now give me leave to go.' + +But she held out her hands to him. + +CHAPTER XIV: Writing a Letter + +'If you insist,' Trent said, 'I suppose you will have your way. But I had much +rather write it when I am not with you. However, if I must, bring me a tablet +whiter than a star, or hand of hymning angel; I mean a sheet of note-paper not +stamped with your address. Don't underestimate the sacrifice I am making. I +never felt less like correspondence in my life.' + +She rewarded him. + +'What shall I say?' he enquired, his pen hovering over the paper. 'Shall I +compare him to a summer's day? What shall I say?' + +'Say what you want to say,' she suggested helpfully. + +He shook his head. 'What I want to say--what I have been wanting for the past +twenty-four hours to say to every man, woman, and child I met--is "Mabel and I +are betrothed, and all is gas and gaiters." But that wouldn't be a very good +opening for a letter of strictly formal, not to say sinister, character. I +have got as far as "Dear Mr Marlowe." What comes next?' + +'I am sending you a manuscript,' she prompted, 'which I thought you might like +to see.' + +'Do you realize,' he said, 'that in that sentence there are only two words of +more than one syllable? This letter is meant to impress, not to put him at his +ease. We must have long words.' + +'I don't see why,' she answered. 'I know it is usual, but why is it? I have +had a great many letters from lawyers and business people, and they always +begin, "with reference to our communication", or some such mouthful, and go on +like that all the way through. Yet when I see them they don't talk like that. +It seems ridiculous to me.' + +'It is not at all ridiculous to them.' Trent laid aside the pen with an +appearance of relief and rose to his feet. 'Let me explain. A people like our +own, not very fond of using its mind, gets on in the ordinary way with a very +small and simple vocabulary. Long words are abnormal, and like everything else +that is abnormal, they are either very funny or tremendously solemn. Take the +phrase "intelligent anticipation", for instance. If such a phrase had been +used in any other country in Europe, it would not have attracted the slightest +attention. With us it has become a proverb; we all grin when we hear it in a +speech or read it in a leading article; it is considered to be one of the best +things ever said. Why? Just because it consists of two long words. The idea +expressed is as commonplace as cold mutton. Then there's "terminological +inexactitude". How we all roared, and are still roaring, at that! And the +whole of the joke is that the words are long. It's just the same when we want +to be very serious; we mark it by turning to long words. When a solicitor can +begin a sentence with, "pursuant to the instructions communicated to our +representative, or some such gibberish, he feels that he is earning his +six-and-eightpence. Don't laugh! It is perfectly true. Now Continentals +haven't got that feeling. They are always bothering about ideas, and the +result is that every shopkeeper or peasant has a vocabulary in daily use that +is simply Greek to the vast majority of Britons. I remember some time ago I +was dining with a friend of mine who is a Paris cabman. We had dinner at a +dirty little restaurant opposite the central post office, a place where all +the clients were cabmen or porters. Conversation was general, and it struck me +that a London cabman would have felt a little out of his depth. Words like +"functionary" and "unforgettable" and "exterminate" and "independence" hurtled +across the table every instant. And these were just ordinary, vulgar, jolly, +red-faced cabmen. Mind you,' he went on hurriedly, as the lady crossed the +room and took up his pen, 'I merely mention this to illustrate my point. I'm +not saying that cab-men ought to be intellectuals. I don't think so; I agree +with Keats--happy is England, sweet her artless cabmen, enough their simple +loveliness for me. But when you come to the people who make up the collective +industrial brain-power of the country .... Why, do you know--' + +'Oh no, no, no!' cried Mrs Manderson. 'I don't know anything at the moment, +except that your talking must be stopped somehow, if we are to get any further +with that letter to Mr Marlowe. You shall not get out of it. Come!' She put +the pen into his hand. + +Trent looked at it with distaste. 'I warn you not to discourage my talking,' +he said dejectedly. 'Believe me, men who don't talk are even worse to live +with than men who do. O have a care of natures that are mute. I confess I'm +shirking writing this thing. It is almost an indecency. It's mixing two moods +to write the sort of letter I mean to write, and at the same time to be +sitting in the same room with you.' + +She led him to his abandoned chair before the escritoire and pushed him gently +into it. 'Well, but please try. I want to see what you write, and I want it to +go to him at once. You see, I would be contented enough to leave things as +they are; but you say you must get at the truth, and if you must, I want it to +be as soon as possible. Do it now--you know you can if you will--and I'll send +it off the moment it's ready. Don't you ever feel that--the longing to get the +worrying letter into the post and off your hands, so that you can't recall it +if you would, and it's no use fussing any more about it?' + +'I will do as you wish,' he said, and turned to the paper, which he dated as +from his hotel. Mrs Manderson looked down at his bent head with a gentle light +in her eyes, and made as if to place a smoothing hand upon his rather untidy +crop of hair. But she did not touch it. Going in silence to the piano, she +began to play very softly. It was ten minutes before Trent spoke. + +'If he chooses to reply that he will say nothing?' + +Mrs Manderson looked over her shoulder. 'Of course he dare not take that line. +He will speak to prevent you from denouncing him.' + +'But I'm not going to do that anyhow. You wouldn't allow it--you said so; +besides, I won't if you would. The thing's too doubtful now.' + +'But,' she laughed, 'poor Mr Marlowe doesn't know you won't, does he?' + +Trent sighed. 'What extraordinary things codes of honour are!' he remarked +abstractedly. 'I know that there are things I should do, and never think twice +about, which would make you feel disgraced if you did them--such as giving any +one who grossly insulted me a black eye, or swearing violently when I barked +my shin in a dark room. And now you are calmly recommending me to bluff +Marlowe by means of a tacit threat which I don't mean; a thing which hews most +abandoned fiend did never, in the drunkenness of guilt--well, anyhow, I won't +do it.' He resumed his writing, and the lady, with an indulgent smile, +returned to playing very softly. + +In a few minutes more, Trent said: 'At last I am his faithfully. Do you want +to see it?' She ran across the twilight room, and turned on a reading lamp +beside the escritoire. Then, leaning on his shoulder, she read what follows: + +DEAR MR MARLOWE,--YOU WILL PERHAPS REMEMBER THAT WE MET, UNDER UNHAPPY +CIRCUMSTANCES, IN JUNE OF LAST YEAR AT MARLSTONE. + +ON THAT OCCASION IT WAS MY DUTY, AS REPRESENTING A NEWSPAPER, TO MAKE AN +INDEPENDENT INVESTIGATION OF THE CIRCUMSTANCES OF THE DEATH OF THE LATE +SIGSBEE MANDERSON. I DID SO, AND I ARRIVED AT CERTAIN CONCLUSIONS. YOU MAY +LEARN FROM THE ENCLOSED MANUSCRIPT, WHICH WAS ORIGINALLY WRITTEN AS A DISPATCH +FOR MY NEWSPAPER, WHAT THOSE CONCLUSIONS WERE. FOR REASONS WHICH IT IS NOT +NECESSARY TO STATE I DECIDED AT THE LAST MOMENT NOT TO MAKE THEM PUBLIC, OR TO +COMMUNICATE THEM TO YOU, AND THEY ARE KNOWN TO ONLY TWO PERSONS BESIDE MYSELF. + +At this point Mrs Manderson raised her eyes quickly from the letter. Her dark +brows were drawn together. 'Two persons?' she said with a note of enquiry. + +'Your uncle is the other. I sought him out last night and told him the whole +story. Have you anything against it? I always felt uneasy at keeping it from +him as I did, because I had led him to expect I should tell him all I +discovered, and my silence looked like mystery-making. Now it is to be cleared +up finally, and there is no question of shielding you, I wanted him to know +everything. He is a very shrewd adviser, too, in a way of his own; and I +should like to have him with me when I see Marlowe. I have a feeling that two +heads will be better than one on my side of the interview.' + +She sighed. 'Yes, of course, uncle ought to know the truth. I hope there is +nobody else at all.' She pressed his hand. 'I so much want all that horror +buried--buried deep. I am very happy now, dear, but I shall be happier still +when you have satisfied that curious mind of yours and found out everything, +and stamped down the earth upon it all.' She continued her reading. + +QUITE RECENTLY, HOWEVER [the letter went on], FACTS HAVE COME TO MY KNOWLEDGE +WHICH HAVE LED ME TO CHANGE MY DECISION. I DO NOT MEAN THAT I SHALL PUBLISH +WHAT I DISCOVERED, BUT THAT I HAVE DETERMINED TO APPROACH YOU AND ASK YOU FOR +A PRIVATE STATEMENT. IF YOU HAVE ANYTHING TO SAY WHICH WOULD PLACE THE MATTER +IN ANOTHER LIGHT, I CAN IMAGINE NO REASON WHY YOU SHOULD WITHHOLD IT. + +I EXPECT, THEN, TO HEAR FROM YOU WHEN AND WHERE I MAY CALL UPON YOU; UNLESS +YOU PREFER THE INTERVIEW TO TAKE PLACE AT MY HOTEL. IN EITHER CASE I DESIRE +THAT MR CUPPLES, WHOM YOU WILL REMEMBER, AND WHO HAS READ THE ENCLOSED +DOCUMENT, SHOULD BE PRESENT ALSO.--FAITHFULLY YOURS, PHILIP TRENT. + +What a very stiff letter!' she said. 'Now I am sure you couldn't have made it +any stiffer in your own rooms.' + +Trent slipped the letter and enclosure into a long envelope. 'Yes,' he said, +'I think it will make him sit up suddenly. Now this thing mustn't run any risk +of going wrong. It would be best to send a special messenger with orders to +deliver it into his own hands. If he's away it oughtn't to be left.' + +She nodded. 'I can arrange that. Wait here for a little.' + +When Mrs Manderson returned, he was hunting through the music cabinet. She +sank on the carpet beside him in a wave of dark brown skirts. 'Tell me +something, Philip,' she said. + +'If it is among the few things that I know.' + +'When you saw uncle last night, did you tell him about--about us?' 'I did +not,' he answered. 'I remembered you had said nothing about telling any one. +It is for you--isn't it?--to decide whether we take the world into our +confidence at once or later on.' + +'Then will you tell him?' She looked down at her clasped hands. 'I wish you to +tell him. Perhaps if you think you will guess why .... There! that is +settled.' She lifted her eyes again to his, and for a time there was silence +between them. + +He leaned back at length in the deep chair. 'What a world!' he said. 'Mabel, +will you play something on the piano that expresses mere joy, the genuine +article, nothing feverish or like thorns under a pot, but joy that has decided +in favour of the universe? It's a mood that can't last altogether, so we had +better get all we can out of it.' + +She went to the instrument and struck a few chords while she thought. Then she +began to work with all her soul at the theme in the last movement of the Ninth +Symphony which is like the sound of the opening of the gates of Paradise. + +CHAPTER XV: Double Cunning + +An old oaken desk with a deep body stood by the window in a room that +overlooked St James s Park from a height. The room was large, furnished and +decorated by some one who had brought taste to the work; but the hand of the +bachelor lay heavy upon it. John Marlowe unlocked the desk and drew a long, +stout envelope the back of the well. + +'I understand,' he said to Mr Cupples, 'that you have read this.' + +'I read it for the first time two days ago,' replied Mr Cupples, who, seated +on a sofa, was peering about the room with a benignant face. 'We have +discussed it fully.' + +Marlowe turned to Trent. 'There is your manuscript,' he said, laying the +envelope on the table. 'I have gone over it three times. I do not believe +there is another man who could have got at as much of the truth as you have +set down there.' + +Trent ignored the compliment. He sat by the table gazing stonily at the fire, +his long legs twisted beneath his chair. 'You mean, of course, he said, +drawing the envelope towards him, 'that there is more of the truth to be +disclosed now. We are ready to hear you as soon as you like. I expect it will +be a long story, and the longer the better, so far as I am concerned; I want +to understand thoroughly. What we should both like, I think, is some +preliminary account of Manderson and your relations with him. It seemed to me +from the first that the character of the dead man must be somehow an element +in the business.' + +'You were right, Marlowe answered grimly. He crossed the room and seated +himself on a corner of the tall cushion-topped fender. 'I will begin as you +suggest.' + +'I ought to tell you beforehand, said Trent, looking him in the eyes, 'that +although I am here to listen to you, I have not as yet any reason to doubt the +conclusions I have stated here.' He tapped the envelope. 'It is a defence that +you will be putting forward--you understand that?' + +'Perfectly.' Marlowe was cool and in complete possession of himself, a man +different indeed from the worn-out, nervous being Trent remembered at +Marlstone a year and a half ago. His tall, lithe figure was held with the +perfection of muscular tone. His brow was candid, his blue eyes were clear, +though they still had, as he paused collecting his ideas, the look that had +troubled Trent at their first meeting. Only the lines of his mouth showed that +he knew himself in a position of difficulty, and meant to face it. + +'Sigsbee Manderson was not a man of normal mind,' Marlowe began in his quiet +voice. 'Most of the very rich men I met with in America had become so by +virtue of abnormal greed, or abnormal industry, or abnormal personal force, or +abnormal luck. None of them had remarkable intellects. Manderson delighted too +in heaping up wealth; he worked incessantly at it; he was a man of dominant +will; he had quite his share of luck; but what made him singular was his +brainpower. In his own country they would perhaps tell you that it was his +ruthlessness in pursuit of his aims that was his most striking characteristic; +but there are hundreds of them who would have carried out his plans with just +as little consideration for others if they could have formed the plans. + +'I'm not saying Americans aren't clever; they are ten times cleverer than we +are, as a nation; but I never met another who showed such a degree of sagacity +and foresight, such gifts of memory and mental tenacity, such sheer force of +intelligence, as there was behind everything Manderson did in his money-making +career. They called him the "Napoleon of Wall Street" often enough in the +papers; but few people knew so well as I did how much truth there was in the +phrase. He seemed never to forget a fact that might be of use to him, in the +first place; and he did systematically with the business facts that concerned +him what Napoleon did, as I have read, with military facts. He studied them in +special digests which were prepared for him at short intervals, and which he +always had at hand, so that he could take up his report on coal or wheat or +railways, or whatever it might be, in any unoccupied moment. Then he could +make a bolder and cleverer plan than any man of them all. People got to know +that Manderson would never do the obvious thing, but they got no further; the +thing he did do was almost always a surprise, and much of his success flowed +from that. The Street got rattled, as they used to put it, when known that the +old man was out with his gun, and often his opponents seemed to surrender as +easily as Colonel Crockett's coon in the story. The scheme I am going to +describe to you would have occupied most men long enough. Manderson could have +plotted the thing, down to the last detail, while he shaved himself. + +'I used to think that his strain of Indian blood, remote as it was, might have +something to do with the cunning and ruthlessness of the man. Strangely +enough, its existence was unknown to any one but himself and me. It was when +he asked me to apply my taste for genealogical work to his own obscure family +history that I made the discovery that he had in him a share of the blood of +the Iroquois chief Montour and his French wife, a terrible woman who ruled the +savage politics of the tribes of the Wilderness two hundred years ago. The +Mandersons were active in the fur trade on the Pennsylvanian border in those +days, and more than one of them married Indian women. Other Indian blood than +Montour's may have descended to Manderson, for all I can say, through previous +and subsequent unions; some of the wives' antecedents were quite untraceable, +and there were so many generations of pioneering before the whole country was +brought under civilization. My researches left me with the idea that there is +a very great deal of the aboriginal blood present in the genealogical make-up +of the people of America, and that it is very widely spread. The newer +families have constantly intermarried with the older, and so many of them had +a strain of the native in them-and were often rather proud of it, too, in +those days. But Manderson had the idea about the disgracefulness of mixed +blood, which grew much stronger, I fancy, with the rise of the negro question +after the war. He was thunderstruck at what I told him, and was anxious to +conceal it from every soul. Of course I never gave it away while he lived, and +I don't think he supposed I would; but I have thought since that his mind took +a turn against me from that time onward. It happened about a year before his +death.' + +'Had Manderson,' asked Mr Cupples, so unexpectedly that the others started, +'any definable religious attitude?' + +Marlowe considered a moment. 'None that ever I heard of,' he said. 'Worship +and prayer were quite unknown to him, so far as I could see, and I never heard +him mention religion. I should doubt if he had any real sense of God at all, +or if he was capable of knowing God through the emotions. But I understood +that as a child he had had a religious upbringing with a strong moral side to +it. His private life was, in the usual limited sense, blameless. He was almost +ascetic in his habits, except as to smoking. I lived with him four years +without ever knowing him to tell a direct verbal falsehood, constantly as he +used to practise deceit in other forms. Can you understand the soul of a man +who never hesitated to take steps that would have the effect of hoodwinking +people, who would use every trick of the markets to mislead, and who was at +the same time scrupulous never to utter a direct lie on the most insignificant +matter? Manderson was like that, and he was not the only one. I suppose you +might compare the state of mind to that of a soldier who is personally a +truthful man, but who will stick at nothing to deceive the enemy. The rules of +the game allow it; and the same may be said of business as many business men +regard it. Only with them it is always wartime.' + +'It is a sad world,' observed Mr Cupples. + +'As you say,' Marlowe agreed. 'Now I was saying that one could always take +Manderson's word if he gave it in a definite form. The first time I ever heard +him utter a downright lie was on the night he died; and hearing it, I believe, +saved me from being hanged as his murderer.' + +Marlowe stared at the light above his head and Trent moved impatiently in his +chair. 'Before we come to that,' he said, 'will you tell us exactly on what +footing you were with Manderson during the years you were with him?' + +'We were on very good terms from beginning to end,' answered Marlowe. 'Nothing +like friendship--he was not a man for making friends---but the best of terms +as between a trusted employee and his chief. I went to him as private +secretary just after getting my degree at Oxford. I was to have gone into my +father's business, where I am now, but my father suggested that I should see +the world for a year or two. So I took this secretaryship, which seemed to +promise a good deal of varied experience, and I had let the year or two run on +to four years before the end came. The offer came to me through the last thing +in the world I should have put forward as a qualification for a salaried post, +and that was chess.' + +At the word Trent struck his hands together with a muttered exclamation. The +others looked at him in surprise. + +'Chess!' repeated Trent. 'Do you know,' he said, rising and approaching +Marlowe, 'what was the first thing I noted about you at our first meeting? It +was your eye, Mr Marlowe. I couldn't place it then, but I know now where I had +seen your eyes before. They were in the head of no less a man than the great +Nikolay Korchagin, with whom I once sat in the same railway carriage for two +days. I thought I should never forget the chess eye after that, but I could +not put a name to it when I saw it in you. I beg your pardon,' he ended +suddenly, resuming marmoreal attitude in his chair. + +'I have played the game from my childhood, and with good players,' said +Marlowe simply. 'It is an hereditary gift, if you can call it a gift. At the +University I was nearly as good as anybody there, and I gave most of my brains +to that and the OUDS and playing about generally. At Oxford, as I dare say you +know, inducements to amuse oneself at the expense of one's education are +endless, and encouraged by the authorities. Well, one day toward the end of my +last term, Dr Munro of Queen's, whom I had never defeated, sent for me. He +told me that I played a fairish game of chess. I said it was very good of him +to say so. Then he said, "They tell me you hunt, too." I said, "Now and then." +He asked, "Is there anything else you can do? "No," I said, not much liking +the tone of the conversation-the old man generally succeeded in putting +people's backs up. He grunted fiercely, and then told me that enquiries were +being made on behalf of a wealthy American man of business who wanted an +English secretary. Manderson was the name, he said. He seemed never to have +heard it before, which was quite possible, as he never opened a newspaper and +had not slept a night outside the college for thirty years. If I could rub up +my spelling-as the old gentleman put it--I might have a good chance for the +post, as chess and riding and an Oxford education were the only indispensable +points. + +'Well, I became Manderson's secretary. For a long time I liked the position +greatly. When one is attached to an active American plutocrat in the prime of +life one need not have many dull moments. Besides, it made me independent. My +father had some serious business reverses about that time, and I was glad to +be able to do without an allowance from him. At the end of the first year +Manderson doubled my salary. "It's big money," he said, "but I guess I don't +lose." You see, by that time I was doing a great deal more than accompany him +on horseback in the morning and play chess in the evening, which was mainly +what he had required. I was attending to his houses, his farm in Ohio, his +shooting in Maine, his horses, his cars, and his yacht. I had become a walking +railway-guide and an expert cigar-buyer. I was always learning something. + +'Well, now you understand what my position was in regard to Manderson during +the last two or three years of my connection with him. It was a happy life for +me on the whole. I was busy, my work was varied and interesting; I had time to +amuse myself too, and money to spend. At one time I made a fool of myself +about a girl, and that was not a happy time; but it taught me to understand +the great goodness of Mrs Manderson.' Marlowe inclined his head to Mr Cupples +as he said this. 'She may choose to tell you about it. As for her husband, he +had never varied in his attitude towards me, in spite of the change that came +over him in the last months of his life, as you know. He treated me well and +generously in his unsympathetic way, and I never had a feeling that he was +less than satisfied with his bargain--that was the sort of footing we lived +upon. And it was that continuance of his attitude right up to the end that +made the revelation so shocking when I was suddenly shown, on the night on +which he met his end, the depth of crazy hatred of myself that was in +Manderson's soul.' + +The eyes of Trent and Mr Cupples met for an instant. + +'You never suspected that he hated you before that time?' asked Trent; and Mr +Cupples asked at the same moment, 'To what did you attribute it?' + +'I never guessed until that night,' answered Marlowe, 'that he had the +smallest ill-feeling toward me. How long it had existed I do not know. I +cannot imagine why it was there. I was forced to think, when I considered the +thing in those awful days after his death, that it was a case of a madman's +delusion, that he believed me to be plotting against him, as they so often do. +Some such insane conviction must have been at the root of it. But who can +sound the abysses of a lunatic's fancy? Can you imagine the state of mind in +which a man dooms himself to death with the object of delivering some one he +hates to the hangman?' + +Mr Cupples moved sharply in his chair. 'You say Manderson was responsible for +his own death?' he asked. + +Trent glanced at him with an eye of impatience, and resumed his intent watch +upon the face of Marlowe. In the relief of speech it was now less pale and +drawn. + +'I do say so,' Marlowe answered concisely, and looked his questioner in the +face. Mr Cupples nodded. + +'Before we proceed to the elucidation of your statement,' observed the old +gentleman, in a tone of one discussing a point of abstract science, 'it may be +remarked that the state of mind which you attribute to Manderson-' + +'Suppose we have the story first,' Trent interrupted, gently laying a hand on +Mr Cupples's arm. 'You were telling us,' he went on, turning to Marlowe, 'how +things stood between you and Manderson. Now you tell us the facts of what +happened that night?' + +Marlowe flushed at the barely perceptible emphasis which Trent laid upon the +word 'facts'. He drew himself up. + +Bunner and myself dined with Mr and Mrs Manderson that Sunday evening,' he +began, speaking carefully. 'It was just like other dinners at which the four +of us had been together. Manderson was taciturn and gloomy, as we had latterly +been accustomed to see him. We others kept a conversation going. We rose from +the table, I suppose, about nine. Mrs Manderson went to the drawing-room, and +Bunner went up to the hotel to see an acquaintance. Manderson asked me to come +into the orchard behind the house, saying he wished to have a talk. We paced +up and down the pathway there, out of earshot from the house, and Manderson, +as he smoked his cigar, spoke to me in his cool, deliberate way. He had never +seemed more sane, or more well-disposed to me. He said he wanted me to do him +an important service. There was a big thing on. It was a secret affair. Bunner +knew nothing of it, and the less I knew the better. He wanted me to do exactly +as he directed, and not bother my head about reasons. + +'This, I may say, was quite characteristic of Manderson's method of going to +work. If at times he required a man to be a mere tool in his hand, he would +tell him so. He had used me in the same kind of way a dozen times. I assured +him he could rely on me, and said I was ready. "Right now?" he asked. I said +of course I was. + +'He nodded, and said--I tell you his words as well as I can recollect them-- +attend to this. There is a man in England now who is in this thing with me. He +was to have left tomorrow for Paris by the noon boat from Southampton to +Havre. His name is George Harris--at least that's the name he is going by. Do +you remember that name?" "Yes," I said, "when I went up to London a week ago +you asked me to book a cabin in that name on the boat that goes tomorrow. I +gave you the ticket." "Here it is," he said, producing it from his pocket. + +'"Now," Manderson said to me, poking his cigar-butt at me with each sentence +in a way he used to have, "George Harris cannot leave England tomorrow. I find +I shall want him where he is. And I want Bunner where he is. But somebody has +got to go by that boat and take certain papers to Paris. Or else my plan is +going to fall to pieces. Will you go?" I said, "Certainly. I am here to obey +orders." + +'He bit his cigar, and said, "That's all right; but these are not just +ordinary orders. Not the kind of thing one can ask of a man in the ordinary +way of his duty to an employer. The point is this. The deal I am busy with is +one in which neither myself nor any one known to be connected with me must +appear as yet. That is vital. But these people I am up against know your face +as well as they know mine. If my secretary is known in certain quarters to +have crossed to Paris at this time and to have interviewed certain people--and +that would be known as soon as it happened--then the game is up." He threw +away his cigar-end and looked at me questioningly. + +'I didn't like it much, but I liked failing Manderson at a pinch still less. I +spoke lightly. I said I supposed I should have to conceal my identity, and I +would do my best. I told him I used to be pretty good at make-up. + +'He nodded in approval. He said, "That's good. I judged you would not let me +down." Then he gave me my instructions. "You take the car right now," he said, +"and start for Southampton--there's no train that will fit in. You'll be +driving all night. Barring accidents, you ought to get there by six in the +morning. But whenever you arrive, drive straight to the Bedford Hotel and ask +for George Harris. If he's there, tell him you are to go over instead of him, +and ask him to telephone me here. It is very important he should know that at +the earliest moment possible. But if he isn't there, that means he has got the +instructions I wired today, and hasn't gone to Southampton. In that case you +don't want to trouble about him any more, but just wait for the boat. You can +leave the car at a garage under a fancy name--mine must not be given. See +about changing your appearance--I don't care how, so you do it well. Travel by +the boat as George Harris. Let on to be anything you like, but be careful, and +don't talk much to anybody. When you arrive, take a room at the Hotel St +Petersbourg. You will receive a note or message there, addressed to George +Harris, telling you where to take the wallet I shall give you. The wallet is +locked, and you want to take good care of it. Have you got that all clear?" + +'I repeated the instructions. I asked if I should return from Paris after +handing over the wallet. "As soon as you like," he said. "And mind this-- +whatever happens, don't communicate with me at any stage of the journey. If +you don't get the message in Paris at once, just wait until you do--days, if +necessary. But not a line of any sort to me. Understand? Now get ready as +quick as you can. I'll go with you in the car a little way. Hurry." + +'That is, as far as I can remember, the exact substance of what Manderson said +to me that night. I went to my room, changed into day clothes, and hastily +threw a few necessaries into a kit-bag. My mind was in a whirl, not so much at +the nature of the business as at the suddenness of it. I think I remember +telling you the last time we met'-he turned to Trent--'that Manderson shared +the national fondness for doings things in a story-book style. Other things +being equal, he delighted in a bit of mystification and melodrama, and I told +myself that this was Manderson all over. I hurried downstairs with my bag and +rejoined him in the library. He handed me a stout leather letter-case, about +eight inches by six, fastened with a strap with a lock on it. I could just +squeeze it into my side-pocket. Then I went to get the car from the garage +behind the house. + +'As I was bringing it round to the front a disconcerting thought struck me. I +remembered that I had only a few shillings in my pocket. + +'For some time past I had been keeping myself very short of cash, and for this +reason--which I tell you because it is a vital point, as you shall see in a +minute. I was living temporarily on borrowed money. I had always been careless +about money while I was with Manderson, and being a gregarious animal I had +made many friends, some of them belonging to a New York set that had little to +do but get rid of the large incomes given them by their parents. Still, I was +very well paid, and I was too busy even to attempt to go very far with them in +that amusing occupation. I was still well on the right side of the ledger +until I began, merely out of curiosity, to play at speculation. It's a very +old story-- particularly in Wall Street. I thought it was easy; I was lucky at +first; I would always be prudent--and so on. Then came the day when I went out +of my depth. In one week I was separated from my toll, as Bunner expressed it +when I told him; and I owed money too. I had had my lesson. Now in this pass I +went to Manderson and told him what I had done and how I stood. He heard me +with a very grim smile, and then, with the nearest approach to sympathy I had +ever found in him, he advanced me a sum on account of my salary that would +clear me. "Don't play the markets any more," was all he said. + +'Now on that Sunday night Manderson knew that I was practically without any +money in the world. He knew that Bunner knew it too. He may have known that I +had even borrowed a little more from Bunner for pocket-money until my next +cheque was due, which, owing to my anticipation of my salary, would not have +been a large one. Bear this knowledge of Manderson's in mind. + +'As soon as I had brought the car round I went into the library and stated the +difficulty to Manderson. + +'What followed gave me, slight as it was, my first impression of something odd +being afoot. As soon as I mentioned the word "expenses'' his hand went +mechanically to his left hip-pocket, where he always kept a little case +containing notes to the value of about a hundred pounds in our money. This was +such a rooted habit in him that I was astonished to see him check the movement +suddenly. Then, to my greater amazement, he swore under his breath. I had +never heard him do this before; but Bunner had told me that of late he had +often shown irritation in this way when they were alone. "Has he mislaid his +note-case?" was the question that flashed through my mind. But it seemed to me +that it could not affect his plan at all, and I will tell you why. The week +before, when I had gone up to London to carry out various commissions, +including the booking of a berth for Mr George Harris, I had drawn a thousand +pounds for Manderson from his bankers, and all, at his request, in notes of +small amounts. I did not know what this unusually large sum in cash was for, +but I did know that the packets of notes were in his locked desk in the +library, or had been earlier in the day, when I had seen him fingering them as +he sat at the desk. + +'But instead of turning to the desk, Manderson stood looking at me. There was +fury in his face, and it was a strange sight to see him gradually master it +until his eyes grew cold again. "Wait in the car," he said slowly. "I will get +some money." We both went out, and as I was getting into my overcoat in the +hall I saw him enter the drawing-which, you remember, was on the other side of +the entrance hall. + +'I stepped out on to the lawn before the house and smoked a cigarette, pacing +up and down. I was asking myself again and again where that thousand pounds +was; whether it was in the drawing-room, and if so, why. Presently, as I +passed one of the drawing-room windows, I noticed Mrs Manderson's shadow on +the thin silk curtain. She was standing at her escritoire. The window was +open, and as I passed I heard her say, "I have not quite thirty pounds here. +Will that be enough?" I did not hear the answer, but next moment Manderson's +shadow was mingled with hers, and I heard the chink of money. Then, as he +stood by the window, and as I was moving away, these words of his came to my +ears--and these at least I can repeat exactly, for astonishment stamped them +on my memory--"I'm going out now. Marlowe has persuaded me to go for a +moonlight run in the car. He is very urgent about it. He says it will help me +to sleep, and I guess he is right." + +I have told you that in the course of four years I had never once heard +Manderson utter a direct lie about anything, great or small. I believed that I +understood the man's queer, skin-deep morality, and I could have sworn that if +he was firmly pressed with a question that could not be evaded he would either +refuse to answer or tell the truth. But what had I just heard? No answer to +any question. A voluntary statement, precise in terms, that was utterly false. +The unimaginable had happened. It was almost as if some one I knew well, in a +moment of closest sympathy, had suddenly struck me in the face. The blood +rushed to my head, and I stood still on the grass. I stood there until I heard +his step at the front door, and then I pulled myself together and stepped +quickly to the car. He handed me a banker's paper bag with gold and notes in +it. "There's more than you'll want there," he said, and I pocketed it +mechanically. + +'For a minute or so I stood discussing with Manderson--it was by one of those +tours de force of which one's mind is capable under great excitement--points +about the route of the long drive before me. I had made the run several times +by day, and I believe I spoke quite calmly and naturally about it. But while I +spoke my mind was seething in a flood of suddenly born suspicion and fear. I +did not know what I feared. I simply felt fear, somehow--I did not know how-- +connected with Manderson. My soul once opened to it, fear rushed in like an +assaulting army. I felt--I knew--that something was altogether wrong and +sinister, and I felt myself to be the object of it. Yet Manderson was surely +no enemy of mine. Then my thoughts reached out wildly for an answer to the +question why he had told that lie. And all the time the blood hammered in my +ears, "Where is that money?" Reason struggled hard to set up the suggestion +that the two things were not necessarily connected. The instinct of a man in +danger would not listen to it. As we started, and the car took the curve into +the road, it was merely the unconscious part of me that steered and controlled +it, and that made occasional empty remarks as we slid along in the moonlight. +Within me was a confusion and vague alarm that was far worse than any definite +terror I ever felt. + +'About a mile from the house, you remember, one passed on one's left a gate, +on the other side of which was the golf-course. There Manderson said he would +get down, and I stopped the car. "You've got it all clear?" he asked. With a +sort of wrench I forced myself to remember and repeat the directions given me. +"That's OK," he said. "Goodbye, then. Stay with that wallet." Those were the +last words I heard him speak, as the car moved gently away from him.' + +Marlowe rose from his chair and pressed his hands to his eyes. He was flushed +with the excitement of his own narrative, and there was in his look a horror +of recollection that held both the listeners silent. He shook himself with a +movement like a dog's, and then, his hands behind him, stood erect before the +fire as he continued his tale. + +'I expect you both know what the back-reflector of a motor car is.' + +Trent nodded quickly, his face alive with anticipation; but Mr Cupples, who +cherished a mild but obstinate prejudice against motor cars, readily confessed +to ignorance. + +'It is a small round or more often rectangular mirror,' Marlowe explained, +'rigged out from the right side of the screen in front of the driver, and +adjusted in such a way that he can see, without turning round, if anything is +coming up behind to pass him. It is quite an ordinary appliance, and there was +one on this car. As the car moved on, and Manderson ceased speaking behind me, +I saw in that mirror a thing that I wish I could forget.' + +Marlowe was silent for a moment, staring at the wall before him. + +'Manderson's face,' he said in a low tone. 'He was standing in the road, +looking after me, only a few yards behind, and the moonlight was full on his +face. The mirror happened to catch it for an instant. + +'Physical habit is a wonderful thing. I did not shift hand or foot on the +controlling mechanism of the car. Indeed, I dare say it steadied me against +the shock to have myself braced to the business of driving. You have read in +books, no doubt, of hell looking out of a man's eyes, but perhaps you don't +know what a good metaphor that is. If I had not known Manderson was there, I +should not have recognized the face. It was that of a madman, distorted, +hideous in the imbecility of hate, the teeth bared in a simian grin of +ferocity and triumph; the eyes .... In the little mirror I had this glimpse of +the face alone. I saw nothing of whatever gesture there may have been as that +writhing white mask glared after me. And I saw it only for a flash. The car +went on, gathering speed, and as it went, my brain, suddenly purged of the +vapours of doubt and perplexity, was as busy as the throbbing engine before my +feet. I knew. + +'You say something in that manuscript of yours, Mr Trent, about the swift +automatic way in which one's ideas arrange themselves about some new +illuminating thought. It is quite true. The awful intensity of ill-will that +had flamed after me from those straining eyeballs poured over my mind like a +searchlight. I was thinking quite clearly now, and almost coldly, for I knew +what--at least I knew whom--I had to fear, and instinct warned me that it was +not a time to give room to the emotions that were fighting to possess me. The +man hated me insanely. That incredible fact I suddenly knew. But the face had +told me, it would have told anybody, more than that. It was a face of hatred +gratified, it proclaimed some damnable triumph. It had gloated over me driving +away to my fate. This too was plain to me. And to what fate? + +'I stopped the car. It had gone about two hundred and fifty yards, and a sharp +bend of the road hid the spot where I had set Manderson down. I lay back in +the seat and thought it out. Something was to happen to me. In Paris? +Probably--why else should I be sent there, with money and a ticket? But why +Paris? That puzzled me, for I had no melodramatic ideas about Paris. I put the +point aside for a moment. I turned to the other things that had roused my +attention that evening. The lie about my "persuading him to go for a moonlight +run". What was the intention of that? Manderson, I said to myself, will be +returning without me while I am on my way to Southampton. What will he tell +them about me? How account for his returning alone, and without the car? As I +asked myself that sinister question there rushed into my mind the last of my +difficulties: "Where are the thousand pounds?" And in the same instant came +the answer: "The thousand pounds are in my pocket." + +'I got up and stepped from the car. My knees trembled and I felt very sick. I +saw the plot now, as I thought. The whole of the story about the papers and +the necessity of their being taken to Paris was a blind. With Manderson's +money about me, of which he would declare I had robbed him, I was, to all +appearance, attempting to escape from England, with every precaution that +guilt could suggest. He would communicate with the police at once, and would +know how to put them on my track. I should be arrested in Paris, if I got so +far, living under a false name, after having left the car under a false name, +disguised myself, and travelled in a cabin which I had booked in advance, also +under a false name. It would be plainly the crime of a man without money, and +for some reason desperately in want of it. As for my account of the affair, it +would be too preposterous. + +'As this ghastly array of incriminating circumstances rose up before me, I +dragged the stout letter-case from my pocket. In the intensity of the moment, +I never entertained the faintest doubt that I was right, and that the money +was there. It would easily hold the packets of notes. But as I felt it and +weighed it in my hands it seemed to me there must be more than this. It was +too bulky. What more was to be laid to my charge? After all, a thousand pounds +was not much to tempt a man like myself to run the risk of penal servitude. In +this new agitation, scarcely knowing what I did, I caught the surrounding +strap in my fingers just above the fastening and tore the staple out of the +lock. Those locks, you know, are pretty flimsy as a rule.' + +Here Marlowe paused and walked to the oaken desk before the window. Opening a +drawer full of miscellaneous objects, he took out a box of odd keys, and +selected a small one distinguished by a piece of pink tape. + +He handed it to Trent. 'I keep that by me as a sort of morbid memento. It is +the key to the lock I smashed. I might have saved myself the trouble, if I had +known that this key was at that moment in the left-hand side-pocket of my +overcoat. Manderson must have slipped it in, either while the coat was hanging +in the hall or while he sat at my side in the car. I might not have found the +tiny thing there for weeks: as a matter of fact I did find it two days after +Manderson was dead, but a police search would have found it in five minutes. +And then I--I with the case and its contents in my pocket, my false name and +my sham spectacles and the rest of it--I should have had no explanation to +offer but the highly convincing one that I didn't know the key was there.' + +Trent dangled the key by its tape idly. Then: 'How do you know this is the key +of that case?' he asked quickly. + +'I tried it. As soon as I found it I went up and fitted it to the lock. I knew +where I had left the thing. So do you, I think, Mr Trent. Don't you?' There +was a faint shade of mockery in Marlowe's voice. + +'Touche,' Trent said, with a dry smile. 'I found a large empty letter-case +with a burst lock lying with other odds and ends on the dressing-table in +Manderson's room. Your statement is that you put it there. I could make +nothing of it.' He closed his lips. + +'There was no reason for hiding it,' said Marlowe. 'But to get back to my +story. I burst the lock of the strap. I opened the case before one of the +lamps of the car. The first thing I found in it I ought to have expected, of +course, but I hadn't.' He paused and glanced at Trent. + +'It was--' began Trent mechanically, and then stopped himself. 'Try not to +bring me in any more, if you don't mind,' he said, meeting the other's eye. 'I +have complimented you already in that document on your cleverness. You need +not prove it by making the judge help you out with your evidence.' + +'All right,' agreed Marlowe. 'I couldn't resist just that much. If you had +been in my place you would have known before I did that Manderson's little +pocket- case was there. As soon as I saw it, of course, I remembered his not +having had it about him when I asked for money, and his surprising anger. He +had made a false step. He had already fastened his note-case up with the rest +of what was to figure as my plunder, and placed it in my hands. I opened it. +It contained a few notes as usual, I didn't count them. + +'Tucked into the flaps of the big case in packets were the other notes, just +as I had brought them from London. And with them were two small wash-leather +bags, the look of which I knew well. My heart jumped sickeningly again, for +this, too, was utterly unexpected. In those bags Manderson kept the diamonds +in which he had been investing for some time past. I didn't open them; I could +feel the tiny stones shifting under the pressure of my fingers. How many +thousands of pounds' worth there were there I have no idea. We had regarded +Manderson's diamond- buying as merely a speculative fad. I believe now that it +was the earliest movement in the scheme for my ruin. For any one like myself +to be represented as having robbed him, there ought to be a strong inducement +shown. That had been provided with a vengeance. + +'Now, I thought, I have the whole thing plain, and I must act. I saw instantly +what I must do. I had left Manderson about a mile from the house. It would +take him twenty minutes, fifteen if he walked fast, to get back to the house, +where he would, of course, immediately tell his story of robbery, and probably +telephone at once to the police in Bishopsbridge. I had left him only five or +six minutes ago; for all that I have just told you was as quick thinking as I +ever did. It would be easy to overtake him in the car before he neared the +house. There would be an awkward interview. I set my teeth as I thought of it, +and all my fears vanished as I began to savour the gratification of telling +him my opinion of him. There are probably few people who ever positively +looked forward to an awkward interview with Manderson; but I was mad with +rage. My honour and my liberty had been plotted against with detestable +treachery. I did not consider what would follow the interview. That would +arrange itself. + +'I had started and turned the car, I was already going fast toward White +Gables, when I heard the sound of a shot in front of me, to the right. + +'Instantly I stopped the car. My first wild thought was that Manderson was +shooting at me. Then I realized that the noise had not been close at hand. I +could see nobody on the road, though the moonlight flooded it. I had left +Manderson at a spot just round the corner that was now about a hundred yards +ahead of me. After half a minute or so, I started again, and turned the corner +at a slow pace. Then I stopped again with a jar, and for a moment I sat +perfectly still. + +'Manderson lay dead a few steps from me on the turf within the gate, clearly +visible to me in the moonlight.' + +Marlowe made another pause, and Trent, with a puckered brow, enquired, 'On the +golf-course?' + +'Obviously,' remarked Mr Cupples. 'The eighth green is just there.' He had +grown more and more interested as Marlowe went on, and was now playing +feverishly with his thin beard. + +'On the green, quite close to the flag,' said Marlowe. 'He lay on his back, +his arms were stretched abroad, his jacket and heavy overcoat were open; the +light shone hideously on his white face and his shirt-front; it glistened on +his bared teeth and one of the eyes. The other ... you saw it. The man was +certainly dead. As I sat there stunned, unable for the moment to think at all, +I could even see a thin dark line of blood running down from the shattered +socket to the ear. Close by lay his soft black hat, and at his feet a pistol. + +'I suppose it was only a few seconds that I sat helplessly staring at the +body. Then I rose and moved to it with dragging feet; for now the truth had +come to me at last, and I realized the fullness of my appalling danger. It was +not only my liberty or my honour that the maniac had undermined. It was death +that he had planned for me; death with the degradation of the scaffold. To +strike me down with certainty, he had not hesitated to end his life; a life +which was, no doubt, already threatened by a melancholic impulse to +self-destruction; and the last agony of the suicide had been turned, perhaps, +to a devilish joy by the thought that he dragged down my life with his. For as +far as I could see at the moment my situation was utterly hopeless. If it had +been desperate on the assumption that Manderson meant to denounce me as a +thief, what was it now that his corpse denounced me as a murderer? + +'I picked up the revolver and saw, almost without emotion, that it was my own. +Manderson had taken it from my room, I suppose, while I was getting out the +car. At the same moment I remembered that it was by Manderson's suggestion +that I had had it engraved with my initials, to distinguish it from a +precisely similar weapon which he had of his own. + +'I bent over the body and satisfied myself that there was no life left in it. +I must tell you here that I did not notice, then or afterwards, the scratches +and marks on the wrists, which were taken as evidence of a struggle with an +assailant. But I have no doubt that Manderson deliberately injured himself in +this way before firing the shot; it was a part of his plan. + +'Though I never perceived that detail, however, it was evident enough as I +looked at the body that Manderson had not forgotten, in his last act on earth, +to tie me tighter by putting out of court the question of suicide. He had +clearly been at pains to hold the pistol at arm's length, and there was not a +trace of smoke or of burning on the face. The wound was absolutely clean, and +was already ceasing to bleed outwardly. I rose and paced the green, reckoning +up the points in the crushing case against me. + +'I was the last to be seen with Manderson. I had persuaded him--so he had lied +to his wife and, as I afterwards knew, to the butler--to go with me for the +drive from which he never returned. My pistol had killed him. It was true that +by discovering his plot I had saved myself from heaping up further +incriminating facts--flight, concealment, the possession of the treasure. But +what need of them, after all? As I stood, what hope was there? What could I +do?' + +Marlowe came to the table and leaned forward with his hands upon it. 'I want,' +he said very earnestly, 'to try to make you understand what was in my mind +when I decided to do what I did. I hope you won't be bored, because I must do +it. You may both have thought I acted like a fool. But after all the police +never suspected me. I walked that green for a quarter of an hour, I suppose, +thinking the thing out like a game of chess. I had to think ahead and think +coolly; for my safety depended on upsetting the plans of one of the +longest-headed men who ever lived. And remember that, for all I knew, there +were details of the scheme still hidden from me, waiting to crush me. + +'Two plain courses presented themselves at once. Either of them, I thought, +would certainly prove fatal. I could, in the first place, do the completely +straightforward thing: take back the dead man, tell my story, hand over the +notes and diamonds, and trust to the saving power of truth and innocence. I +could have laughed as I thought of it. I saw myself bringing home the corpse +and giving an account of myself, boggling with sheer shame over the absurdity +of my wholly unsupported tale, as I brought a charge of mad hatred and +fiendish treachery against a man who had never, as far as I knew, had a word +to say against me. At every turn the cunning of Manderson had forestalled me. +His careful concealment of such a hatred was a characteristic feature of the +stratagem; only a man of his iron self-restraint could have done it. You can +see for yourselves how every fact in my statement would appear, in the shadow +of Manderson's death, a clumsy lie. I tried to imagine myself telling such a +story to the counsel for my defence. I could see the face with which he would +listen to it; I could read in the lines of it his thought, that to put forward +such an impudent farrago would mean merely the disappearance of any chance +there might be of a commutation of the capital sentence. + +'True, I had not fled. I had brought back the body; I had handed over the +property. But how did that help me? It would only suggest that I had yielded +to a sudden funk after killing my man, and had no nerve left to clutch at the +fruits of the crime; it would suggest, perhaps, that I had not set out to kill +but only to threaten, and that when I found that I had done murder the heart +went out of me. Turn it which way I would, I could see no hope of escape by +this plan of action. + +'The second of the obvious things that I might do was to take the hint offered +by the situation, and to fly at once. That too must prove fatal. There was the +body. I had no time to hide it in such a way that it would not be found at the +first systematic search. But whatever I should do with the body, Manderson's +not returning to the house would cause uneasiness in two or three hours at +most. Martin would suspect an accident to the car, and would telephone to the +police. At daybreak the roads would be scoured and enquiries telegraphed in +every direction. The police would act on the possibility of there being foul +play. They would spread their nets with energy in such a big business as the +disappearance of Manderson. Ports and railway termini would be watched. Within +twenty-four hours the body would be found, and the whole country would be on +the alert for me--all Europe, scarcely less; I did not believe there was a +spot in Christendom where the man accused of Manderson's murder could pass +unchallenged, with every newspaper crying the fact of his death into the ears +of all the world. Every stranger would be suspect; every man, woman, and child +would be a detective. The car, wherever I should abandon it, would put people +on my track. If I had to choose between two utterly hopeless courses, I +decided, I would take that of telling the preposterous truth. + +'But now I cast about desperately for some tale that would seem more plausible +than the truth. Could I save my neck by a lie? One after another came into my +mind; I need not trouble to remember them now. Each had its own futilities and +perils; but every one split upon the fact--or what would be taken for +fact--that I had induced Manderson to go out with me, and the fact that he had +never returned alive. Notion after notion I swiftly rejected as I paced there +by the dead man, and doom seemed to settle down upon me more heavily as the +moments passed. Then a strange thought came to me. + +'Several times I had repeated to myself half-consciously, as a sort of +refrain, the words in which I had heard Manderson tell his wife that I had +induced him to go out. "Marlowe has persuaded me to go for a moonlight run in +the car. He is very urgent about it." All at once it struck me that, without +meaning to do so, I was saying this in Manderson's voice. + +'As you found out for yourself, Mr Trent, I have a natural gift of mimicry. I +had imitated Manderson's voice many times so successfully as to deceive even +Bunner, who had been much more in his company than his own wife. It was, you +remember'--Marlowe turned to Mr Cupples--'a strong, metallic voice, of great +carrying power, so unusual as to make it a very fascinating voice to imitate, +and at the same time very easy. I said the words carefully to myself again, +like this--' he uttered them, and Mr Cupples opened his eyes in +amazement--'and then I struck my hand upon the low wall beside me. "Manderson +never returned alive?" I said aloud. "But Manderson shall return alive!" ' + +'In thirty seconds the bare outline of the plan was complete in my mind. I did +not wait to think over details. Every instant was precious now. I lifted the +body and laid it on the floor of the car, covered with a rug. I took the hat +and the revolver. Not one trace remained on the green, I believe, of that +night's work. As I drove back to White Gables my design took shape before me +with a rapidity and ease that filled me with a wild excitement. I should +escape yet! It was all so easy if I kept my pluck. Putting aside the unusual +and unlikely, I should not fail. I wanted to shout, to scream! + +'Nearing the house I slackened speed, and carefully reconnoitred the road. +Nothing was moving. I turned the car into the open field on the other side of +the road, about twenty paces short of the little door at the extreme corner of +the grounds. I brought it to rest behind a stack. When, with Manderson's hat +on my head and the pistol in my pocket, I had staggered with the body across +the moonlit road and through that door, I left much of my apprehension behind +me. With swift action and an unbroken nerve I thought I ought to succeed.' + +With a long sigh Marlowe threw himself into one of the deep chairs at the +fireside and passed his handkerchief over his damp forehead. Each of his +hearers, too, drew a deep breath, but not audibly. + +'Everything else you know,' he said. He took a cigarette from a box beside him +and lighted it. Trent watched the very slight quiver of the hand that held the +match, and privately noted that his own was at the moment not so steady. + +'The shoes that betrayed me to you,' pursued Marlowe after a short silence, +'were painful all the time I wore them, but I never dreamed that they had +given anywhere. I knew that no footstep of mine must appear by any accident in +the soft ground about the hut where I laid the body, or between the hut and +the house, so I took the shoes off and crammed my feet into them as soon as I +was inside the little door. I left my own shoes, with my own jacket and +overcoat, near the body, ready to be resumed later. I made a clear footmark on +the soft gravel outside the French window, and several on the drugget round +the carpet. The stripping off of the outer clothing of the body, and the +dressing of it afterwards in the brown suit and shoes, and putting the things +into the pockets, was a horrible business; and getting the teeth out of the +mouth was worse. The head--but you don't want to hear about it. I didn't feel +it much at the time. I was wriggling my own head out of a noose, you see. I +wish I had thought of pulling down the cuffs, and had tied the shoes more +neatly. And putting the watch in the wrong pocket was a bad mistake. It had +all to be done so hurriedly. + +'You were wrong, by the way, about the whisky. After one stiffish drink I had +no more; but I filled up a flask that was in the cupboard, and pocketed it. I +had a night of peculiar anxiety and effort in front of me and I didn't know +how I should stand it. I had to take some once or twice during the drive. +Speaking of that, you give rather a generous allowance of time in your +document for doing that run by night. You say that to get to Southampton by +half-past six in that car, under the conditions, a man must, even if he drove +like a demon, have left Marlstone by twelve at latest. I had not got the body +dressed in the other suit, with tie and watch-chain and so forth, until nearly +ten minutes past; and then I had to get to the car and start it going. But +then I don't suppose any other man would have taken the risks I did in that +car at night, without a headlight. It turns me cold to think of it now. + +'There's nothing much to say about what I did in the house. I spent the time +after Martin had left me in carefully thinking over the remaining steps in my +plan, while I unloaded and thoroughly cleaned the revolver using my +handkerchief and a penholder from the desk. I also placed the packets of +notes, the note- case, and the diamonds in the roll-top desk, which I opened +and relocked with Manderson's key. When I went upstairs it was a trying +moment, for though I was safe from the eyes of Martin, as he sat in his +pantry, there was a faint possibility of somebody being about on the bedroom +floor. I had sometimes found the French maid wandering about there when the +other servants were in bed. Bunner, I knew, was a deep sleeper, Mrs Manderson, +I had gathered from things I had heard her say, was usually asleep by eleven; +I had thought it possible that her gift of sleep had helped her to retain all +her beauty and vitality in spite of a marriage which we all knew was an +unhappy one. Still it was uneasy work mounting the stairs, and holding myself +ready to retreat to the library again at the least sound from above. But +nothing happened. + +'The first thing I did on reaching the corridor was to enter my room and put +the revolver and cartridges back in the case. Then I turned off the light and +went quietly into Manderson's room. + +'What I had to do there you know. I had to take off the shoes and put them +outside the door, leave Manderson's jacket, waistcoat, trousers, and black +tie, after taking everything out of the pockets, select a suit and tie and +shoes for the body, and place the dental plate in the bowl, which I moved from +the washing-stand to the bedside, leaving those ruinous finger-marks as I did +so. The marks on the drawer must have been made when I shut it after taking +out the tie. Then I had to lie down in the bed and tumble it. You know all +about it--all except my state of mind, which you couldn't imagine and I +couldn't describe. + +'The worst came when I had hardly begun my operations: the moment when Mrs +Manderson spoke from the room where I supposed her asleep. I was prepared for +it happening; it was a possibility; but I nearly lost my nerve all the same. +However .... + +'By the way, I may tell you this: in the extremely unlikely contingency of Mrs +Manderson remaining awake, and so putting out of the question my escape by way +of her window, I had planned simply to remain where I was a few hours, and +then, not speaking to her, to leave the house quickly and quietly by the +ordinary way. Martin would have been in bed by that time. I might have been +heard to leave, but not seen. I should have done just as I had planned with +the body, and then made the best time I could in the car to Southampton. The +difference would have been that I couldn't have furnished an unquestionable +alibi by turning up at the hotel at 6.30. I should have made the best of it by +driving straight to the docks, and making my ostentatious enquiries there. I +could in any case have got there long before the boat left at noon. I couldn't +see that anybody could suspect me of the supposed murder in any case; but if +any one had, and if I hadn't arrived until ten o'clock, say, I shouldn't have +been able to answer, "It is impossible for me to have got to Southampton so +soon after shooting him." I should simply have had to say I was delayed by a +breakdown after leaving Manderson at half-past ten, and challenged any one to +produce any fact connecting me with the crime. They couldn't have done it. The +pistol, left openly in my room, might have been used by anybody, even if it +could be proved that that particular pistol was used. Nobody could reasonably +connect me with the shooting so long as it was believed that it was Manderson +who had returned to the house. The suspicion could not, I was confident, enter +any one's mind. All the same, I wanted to introduce the element of absolute +physical impossibility; I knew I should feel ten times as safe with that. So +when I knew from the sound of her breathing that Mrs Manderson was asleep +again, I walked quickly across her room in my stocking feet, and was on the +grass with my bundle in ten seconds. I don't think I made the least noise. The +curtain before the window was of soft, thick stuff and didn't rustle, and when +I pushed the glass doors further open there was not a sound.' + +'Tell me,' said Trent, as the other stopped to light a new cigarette, 'why you +took the risk of going through Mrs Manderson's room to escape from the house. +I could see when I looked into the thing on the spot why it had to be on that +side of the house; there was a danger of being seen by Martin, or by some +servant at a bedroom window, if you got out by a window on one of the other +sides. But there were three unoccupied rooms on that side; two spare bedrooms +and Mrs sitting-room. I should have thought it would have been safer, after +you had done what was necessary to your plan in Manderson's room, to leave it +quietly and escape through one of those three rooms .... The fact that you +went through her window, you know,' he added coldly, 'would have suggested, if +it became known, various suspicions in regard to the lady herself. I think you +understand me.' + +Marlowe turned upon him with a glowing face. 'And I think you will understand +me, Mr Trent,' he said in a voice that shook a little, 'when I say that if +such a possibility had occurred to me then, I would have taken any risk rather +than make my escape by that way.... Oh well!' he went on more coolly, 'I +suppose that to any one who didn't know her, the idea of her being privy to +her husband's murder might not seem so indescribably fatuous. Forgive the +expression.' He looked attentively at the burning end of his cigarette, +studiously unconscious of the red flag that flew in Trent's eyes for an +instant at his words and the tone of them. + +That emotion, however, was conquered at once. 'Your remark is perfectly just,' +Trent said with answering coolness. 'I can quite believe, too, that at the +time you didn't think of the possibility I mentioned. But surely, apart from +that, it would have been safer to do as I said; go by the window of an +unoccupied room.' + +'Do you think so?' said Marlowe. 'All I can say is, I hadn't the nerve to do +it. I tell you, when I entered Manderson's room I shut the door of it on more +than half my terrors. I had the problem confined before me in a closed space, +with only one danger in it, and that a known danger: the danger of Mrs +Manderson. The thing was almost done; I had only to wait until she was +certainly asleep after her few moments of waking up, for which, as I told you, +I was prepared as a possibility. Barring accidents, the way was clear. But now +suppose that I, carrying Manderson's clothes and shoes, had opened that door +again and gone in my shirt-sleeves and socks to enter one of the empty rooms. +The moonlight was flooding the corridor through the end window. Even if my +face was concealed, nobody could mistake my standing figure for Manderson's. +Martin might be going about the house in his silent way. Bunner might come out +of his bedroom. One of the servants who were supposed to be in bed might come +round the corner from the other passage--I had found Celestine prowling about +quite as late as it was then. None of these things was very likely; but they +were all too likely for me. They were uncertainties. Shut off from the +household in Manderson's room I knew exactly what I had to face. As I lay in +my clothes in Manderson's bed and listened for the almost inaudible breathing +through the open door, I felt far more ease of mind, terrible as my anxiety +was, than I had felt since I saw the dead body on the turf. I even +congratulated myself that I had had the chance, through Mrs Manderson's +speaking to me, of tightening one of the screws in my scheme by repeating the +statement about my having been sent to Southampton.' + +Marlowe looked at Trent, who nodded as who should say that his point was met. + +'As for Southampton,' pursued Marlowe, 'you know what I did when I got there, +I have no doubt. I had decided to take Manderson's story about the mysterious +Harris and act it out on my own lines. It was a carefully prepared lie, better +than anything I could improvise. I even went so far as to get through a trunk +call to the hotel at Southampton from the library before starting, and ask if +Harris was there. I expected, he wasn't.' + +Was that why you telephoned?' Trent enquired quickly. + +'The reason for telephoning was to get myself into an attitude in which Martin +couldn't see my face or anything but the jacket and hat, yet which was a +natural and familiar attitude. But while I was about it, it was obviously +better to make a genuine call. If I had simply pretended to be telephoning, +the people at the exchange could have told at once that there hadn't been a +call from White Gables that night.' + +'One of the first things I did was to make that enquiry,' said Trent. 'That +telephone call, and the wire you sent from Southampton to the dead man to say +Harris hadn't turned up, and you were returning-I particularly appreciated +both those.' + +A constrained smile lighted Marlowe's face for a moment. 'I don't know that +there's anything more to tell. I returned to Marlstone, and faced your friend +the detective with such nerve as I had left. The worst was when I heard you +had been put on the case--no, that wasn't the worst. The worst was when I saw +you walk out of the shrubbery the next day, coming away from the shed where I +had laid the body. For one ghastly moment I thought you were going to give me +in charge on the spot. Now I've told you everything, you don't look so +terrible.' + +He closed his eyes, and there was a short silence. Then Trent got suddenly to +his feet. + +'Cross-examination?' enquired Marlowe, looking at him gravely. + +'Not at all,' said Trent, stretching his long limbs. 'Only stiffness of the +legs. I don't want to ask any questions. I believe what you have told us. I +don't believe it simply because I always liked your face, or because it saves +awkwardness, which are the most usual reasons for believing a person, but +because my vanity will have it that no man could lie to me steadily for an +hour without my perceiving it. Your story is an extraordinary one; but +Manderson was an extraordinary man, and so are you. You acted like a lunatic +in doing what you did; but I quite agree with you that if you had acted like a +sane man you wouldn't have had the hundredth part of a dog's chance with a +judge and jury. One thing is beyond dispute on any reading of the affair: you +are a man of courage.' + +The colour rushed into Marlowe's face, and he hesitated for words. Before he +could speak Mr Cupples arose with a dry cough. + +'For my part,' he said, 'I never supposed you guilty for a moment.' Marlowe +turned to him in grateful amazement, Trent with an incredulous stare. 'But,' +pursued Mr Cupples, holding up his hand, 'there is one question which I should +like to put.' + +Marlowe bowed, saying nothing. + +'Suppose,' said Mr Cupples, 'that some one else had been suspected of the +crime and put upon trial. What would you have done?' + +'I think my duty was clear. I should have gone with my story to the lawyers +for the defence, and put myself in their hands.' + +Trent laughed aloud. Now that the thing was over, his spirits were rapidly +becoming ungovernable. 'I can see their faces!' he said. 'As a matter of fact, +though, nobody else was ever in danger. There wasn't a shred of evidence +against any one. I looked up Murch at the Yard this morning, and he told me he +had come round to Bunner's view, that it was a case of revenge on the part of +some American black-hand gang. So there's the end of the Manderson case. Holy, +suffering Moses! What an ass a man can make of himself when he thinks he's +being preternaturally clever!' He seized the bulky envelope from the table and +stuffed it into the heart of the fire. 'There's for you, old friend! For want +of you the world's course will not fail. But look here! It's getting +late--nearly seven, and Cupples and I have an appointment at half-past. We +must go. Mr Marlowe, goodbye.' He looked into the other's eyes. 'I am a man +who has worked hard to put a rope round your neck. Considering the +circumstances, I don't know whether you will blame me. Will you shake hands?' + +CHAPTER XVI: The Last Straw + +'What was that you said about our having an appointment at half-past seven?' +asked Mr Cupples as the two came out of the great gateway of the pile of +flats. 'Have we such an appointment?' + +'Certainly we have,' replied Trent. 'You are dining with me. Only one thing +can properly celebrate this occasion, and that is a dinner for which I pay. +No, no! I asked you first. I have got right down to the bottom of a case that +must be unique--a case that has troubled even my mind for over a year--and if +that isn't a good reason for standing a dinner, I don't know what is. Cupples, +we will not go to my club. This is to be a festival, and to be seen in a +London club in a state of pleasurable emotion is more than enough to shatter +any man's career. Besides that, the dinner there is always the same, or, at +least, they always make it taste the same, I know not how. The eternal dinner +at my club hath bored millions of members like me, and shall bore; but tonight +let the feast be spread in vain, so far as we are concerned. We will not go +where the satraps throng the hall. We will go to Sheppard's.' + +'Who is Sheppard?' asked Mr Cupples mildly, as they proceeded up Victoria +Street. His companion went with an unnatural lightness, and a policeman, +observing his face, smiled indulgently at a look of happiness which he could +only attribute to alcohol. + +'Who is Sheppard?' echoed Trent with bitter emphasis. 'That question, if you +will pardon me for saying so, Cupples, is thoroughly characteristic of the +spirit of aimless enquiry prevailing in this restless day. I suggest our +dining at Sheppard's, and instantly you fold your arms and demand, in a frenzy +of intellectual pride, to know who Sheppard is before you will cross the +threshold of Sheppard's. I am not going to pander to the vices of the modern +mind. Sheppard's is a place where one can dine. I do not know Sheppard. It +never occurred to me that Sheppard existed. Probably he is a myth of +totemistic origin. All I know is that you can get a bit of saddle of mutton at +Sheppard's that has made many an American visitor curse the day that +Christopher Columbus was born .... Taxi!' + +A cab rolled smoothly to the kerb, and the driver received his instructions +with a majestic nod. + +'Another reason I have for suggesting Sheppard's,' continued Trent, feverishly +lighting a cigarette, 'is that I am going to be married to the most wonderful +woman in the world. I trust the connection of ideas is clear.' + +'You are going to marry Mabel!' cried Mr Cupples. 'My dear friend, what good +news this is! Shake hands, Trent; this is glorious! I congratulate you both +from the bottom of my heart. And may I say--I don't want to interrupt your +flow of high spirits, which is very natural indeed, and I remember being just +the same in similar circumstances long ago--but may I say how earnestly I have +hoped for this? Mabel has seen so much unhappiness, yet she is surely a woman +formed in the great purpose of humanity to be the best influence in the life +of a good man. But I did not know her mind as regarded yourself. Your mind I +have known for some time,' Mr Cupples went on, with a twinkle in his eye that +would have done credit to the worldliest of creatures. 'I saw it at once when +you were both dining at my house, and you sat listening to Professor +Peppmuller and looking at her. Some of us older fellows have our wits about us +still, my dear boy.' + +'Mabel says she knew it before that,' replied Trent, with a slightly +crestfallen air. 'And I thought I was acting the part of a person who was not +mad about her to the life. Well, I never was any good at dissembling. I +shouldn't wonder if even old Peppmuller noticed something through his double +convex lenses. But however crazy I may have been as an undeclared suitor,' he +went on with a return to vivacity, 'I am going to be much worse now. As for +your congratulations, thank you a thousand times, because I know you mean +them. You are the sort of uncomfortable brute who would pull a face three feet +long if you thought we were making a mistake. By the way, I can't help being +an ass tonight; I'm obliged to go on blithering. You must try to bear it. +Perhaps it would be easier if I sang you a song--one of your old favourites. +What was that song you used always to be singing? Like this, wasn't it?' He +accompanied the following stave with a dexterous clog-step on the floor of the +cab: + +'There was an old nigger, and he had a wooden leg. He had no tobacco, no +tobacco could he beg. Another old nigger was as cunning as a fox, And he +always had tobacco in his old tobacco-box. + +'Now for the chorus! + +'Yes, he always had tobacco in his old tobacco-box. + +'But you're not singing. I thought you would be making the welkin ring.' + +'I never sang that song in my life,' protested Mr Cupples. 'I never heard it +before.' + +'Are you sure?' enquired Trent doubtfully. 'Well, I suppose I must take your +word for it. It is a beautiful song, anyhow: not the whole warbling grove in +concert heard can beat it. Somehow it seems to express my feelings at the +present moment as nothing else could; it rises unbidden to the lips. Out of +the fullness of the heart the mouth speaketh, as the Bishop of Bath and Wells +said when listening to a speech of Mr Balfour's.' + +'When was that?' asked Mr Cupples. + +'On the occasion,' replied Trent, 'of the introduction of the Compulsory +Notification of Diseases of Poultry Bill, which ill-fated measure you of +course remember. Hullo!' he broke off, as the cab rushed down a side street +and swung round a corner into a broad and populous thoroughfare, 'we're there +already'. The cab drew up. + +'Here we are,' said Trent, as he paid the man, and led Mr Cupples into a long, +panelled room set with many tables and filled with a hum of talk. 'This is the +house of fulfilment of craving, this is the bower with the roses around it. I +see there are three bookmakers eating pork at my favourite table. We will have +that one in the opposite corner.' + +He conferred earnestly with a waiter, while Mr Cupples, in a pleasant +meditation, warmed himself before the great fire. 'The wine here,' Trent +resumed, as they seated themselves, 'is almost certainly made out of grapes. +What shall we drink?' + +Mr Cupples came out of his reverie. 'I think,' he said, 'I will have milk and +soda water.' + +'Speak lower!' urged Trent. 'The head-waiter has a weak heart, and might hear +you. Milk and soda water! Cupples, you may think you have a strong +constitution, and I don't say you have not, but I warn you that this habit of +mixing drinks has been the death of many a robuster man than you. Be wise in +time. Fill high the bowl with Samian wine, leave soda to the Turkish hordes. +Here comes our food.' He gave another order to the waiter, who ranged the +dishes before them and darted away. Trent was, it seemed, a respected +customer. 'I have sent,' he said, 'for wine that I know, and I hope you will +try it. If you have taken a vow, then in the name of all the teetotal saints +drink water, which stands at your elbow, but don't seek a cheap notoriety by +demanding milk and soda.' + +'I have never taken any pledge,' said Mr Cupples, examining his mutton with a +favourable eye. 'I simply don't care about wine. I bought a bottle once and +drank it to see what it was like, and it made me ill. But very likely it was +bad wine. I will taste some of yours, as it is your dinner, and I do assure +you, my dear Trent, I should like to do something unusual to show how strongly +I feel on the present occasion. I have not been so delighted for many years. +To think,' he reflected aloud as the waiter filled his glass, 'of the +Manderson mystery disposed of, the innocent exculpated, and your own and +Mabel's happiness crowned--all coming upon me together! I drink to you, my +dear friend.' And Mr Cupples took a very small sip of the wine. + +'You have a great nature,' said Trent, much moved. 'Your outward semblance +doth belie your soul's immensity. I should have expected as soon to see an +elephant conducting at the opera as you drinking my health. Dear Cupples! May +his beak retain ever that delicate rose-stain!--No, curse it all!' he broke +out, surprising a shade of discomfort that flitted over his companion's face +as he tasted the wine again. 'I have no business to meddle with your tastes. I +apologize. You shall have what you want, even if it causes the head-waiter to +perish in his pride.' + +When Mr Cupples had been supplied with his monastic drink, and the waiter had +retired, Trent looked across the table with significance. 'In this babble of +many conversations,' he said, 'we can speak as freely as if we were on a bare +hillside. The waiter is whispering soft nothings into the ear of the young +woman at the pay-desk. We are alone. What do you think of that interview of +this afternoon?' He began to dine with an appetite. + +Without pausing in the task of cutting his mutton into very small pieces Mr +Cupples replied: 'The most curious feature of it, in my judgement, was the +irony of the situation. We both held the clue to that mad hatred of +Manderson's which Marlowe found so mysterious. We knew of his jealous +obsession; which knowledge we withheld, as was very proper, if only in +consideration of Mabel's feelings. Marlowe will never know of what he was +suspected by that person. Strange! Nearly all of us, I venture to think, move +unconsciously among a network of opinions, often quite erroneous, which other +people entertain about us. I remember, for instance, discovering quite by +accident some years ago that a number of people of my acquaintance believed me +to have been secretly received into the Church of Rome. This absurd fiction +was based upon the fact, which in the eyes of many appeared conclusive, that I +had expressed myself in talk as favouring the plan of a weekly abstinence from +meat. Manderson's belief in regard to his secretary probably rested upon a +much slighter ground. It was Mr Bunner, I think you said, who told you of his +rooted and apparently hereditary temper of suspicious jealousy .... With +regard to Marlowe's story, it appeared to me entirely straightforward, and +not, in its essential features, especially remarkable, once we have admitted, +as we surely must, that in the case of Manderson we have to deal with a more +or less disordered mind.' + +Trent laughed loudly. 'I confess,' he said, 'that the affair struck me as a +little unusual. + +'Only in the development of the details,' argued Mr Cupples. 'What is there +abnormal in the essential facts? A madman conceives a crazy suspicion; he +hatches a cunning plot against his fancied injurer; it involves his own +destruction. Put thus, what is there that any man with the least knowledge of +the ways of lunatics would call remarkable? Turn now to Marlowe's proceedings. +He finds himself in a perilous position from which, though he is innocent, +telling the truth will not save him. Is that an unheard-of situation? He +escapes by means of a bold and ingenious piece of deception. That seems to me +a thing that might happen every day, and probably does so.' He attacked his +now unrecognizable mutton. + +'I should like to know,' said Trent, after an alimentary pause in the +conversation, 'whether there is anything that ever happened on the face of the +earth that you could not represent as quite ordinary and commonplace by such a +line of argument as that.' + +A gentle smile illuminated Mr Cupples's face. 'You must not suspect me of +empty paradox,' he said. 'My meaning will become clearer, perhaps, if I +mention some things which do appear to me essentially remarkable. Let me see +.... Well, I would call the life history of the liver-fluke, which we owe to +the researches of Poulton, an essentially remarkable thing.' + +'I am unable to argue the point,' replied Trent. 'Fair science may have smiled +upon the liver-fluke's humble birth, but I never even heard it mentioned.' + +'It is not, perhaps, an appetizing subject,' said Mr Cupples thoughtfully, +'and I will not pursue it. All I mean is, my dear Trent, that there are really +remarkable things going on all round us if we will only see them; and we do +our perceptions no credit in regarding as remarkable only those affairs which +are surrounded with an accumulation of sensational detail.' + +Trent applauded heartily with his knife-handle on the table, as Mr Cupples +ceased and refreshed himself with milk and soda water. 'I have not heard you +go on like this for years,' he said. 'I believe you must be almost as much +above yourself as I am. It is a bad case of the unrest which men miscall +delight. But much as I enjoy it, I am not going to sit still and hear the +Manderson affair dismissed as commonplace. You may say what you like, but the +idea of impersonating Manderson in those circumstances was an extraordinarily +ingenious idea.' + +'Ingenious--certainly!' replied Mr Cupples. 'Extraordinarily so--no! In those +circumstances (your own words) it was really not strange that it should occur +to a clever man. It lay almost on the surface of the situation. Marlowe was +famous for his imitation of Manderson's voice; he had a talent for acting; he +had a chess-player's mind; he knew the ways of the establishment intimately. I +grant you that the idea was brilliantly carried out; but everything favoured +it. As for the essential idea, I do not place it, as regards ingenuity, in the +same class with, for example, the idea of utilizing the force of recoil in a +discharged firearm to actuate the mechanism of ejecting and reloading. I do, +however, admit, as I did at the outset, that in respect of details the case +had unusual features. It developed a high degree of complexity.' + +'Did it really strike you in that way?' enquired Trent with desperate sarcasm. + +'The affair became complicated,' went on Mr Cupples unmoved, 'because after +Marlowe's suspicions were awakened, a second subtle mind came in to interfere +with the plans of the first. That sort of duel often happens in business and +politics, but less frequently, I imagine, in the world of crime.' + +'I should say never,' Trent replied; 'and the reason is, that even the +cleverest criminals seldom run to strategic subtlety. When they do, they don't +get caught, since clever policemen have if possible less strategic subtlety +than the ordinary clever criminal. But that rather deep quality seems very +rarely to go with the criminal make-up. Look at Crippen. He was a very clever +criminal as they go. He solved the central problem of every clandestine +murder, the disposal of the body, with extreme neatness. But how far did he +see through the game? The criminal and the policeman are often swift and bold +tacticians, but neither of them is good for more than a quite simple plan. +After all, it's a rare faculty in any walk of life.' + +'One disturbing reflection was left on my mind,' said Mr Cupples, who seemed +to have had enough of abstractions for the moment, 'by what we learned today. +If Marlowe had suspected nothing and walked into the trap, he would almost +certainly have been hanged. Now how often may not a plan to throw the guilt of +murder on an innocent person have been practised successfully? There are, I +imagine, numbers of cases in which the accused, being found guilty on +circumstantial evidence, have died protesting their innocence. I shall never +approve again of a death-sentence imposed in a case decided upon such +evidence.' + +'I never have done so, for my part,' said Trent. 'To hang in such cases seems +to me flying in the face of the perfectly obvious and sound principle +expressed in the saying that "you never can tell". I agree with the American +jurist who lays it down that we should not hang a yellow dog for stealing jam +on circumstantial evidence, not even if he has jam all over his nose. As for +attempts being made by malevolent persons to fix crimes upon innocent men, of +course it is constantly happening. It's a marked feature, for instance, of all +systems of rule by coercion, whether in Ireland or Russia or India or Korea; +if the police cannot get hold of a man they think dangerous by fair means, +they do it by foul. But there's one case in the State Trials that is +peculiarly to the point, because not only was it a case of fastening a murder +on innocent people, but the plotter did in effect what Manderson did; he gave +up his own life in order to secure the death of his victims. Probably you have +heard of the Campden Case.' + +Mr Cupples confessed his ignorance and took another potato. + +'John Masefield has written a very remarkable play about it,' said Trent, 'and +if it ever comes on again in London, you should go and see it, if you like +having the fan-tods. I have often seen women weeping in an undemonstrative +manner at some slab of oleo-margarine sentiment in the theatre. By George! +what everlasting smelling-bottle hysterics they ought to have if they saw that +play decently acted! Well, the facts were that John Perry accused his mother +and brother of murdering a man, and swore he had helped them to do it. He told +a story full of elaborate detail, and had an answer to everything, except the +curious fact that the body couldn't be found; but the judge, who was probably +drunk at the time--this was in Restoration days--made nothing of that. The +mother and brother denied the accusation. All three prisoners were found +guilty and hanged, purely on John's evidence. Two years after, the man whom +they were hanged for murdering came back to Campden. He had been kidnapped by +pirates and taken to sea. His disappearance had given John his idea. The point +about John is, that his including himself in the accusation, which amounted to +suicide, was the thing in his evidence which convinced everybody of its truth. +It was so obvious that no man would do himself to death to get somebody else +hanged. Now that is exactly the answer which the prosecution would have made +if Marlowe had told the truth. Not one juryman in a million would have +believed in the Manderson plot.' + +Mr Cupples mused upon this a few moments. 'I have not your acquaintance with +that branch of history,' he said at length; 'in fact, I have none at all. But +certain recollections of my own childhood return to me in connection with this +affair. We know from the things Mabel told you what may be termed the +spiritual truth underlying this matter; the insane depth of jealous hatred +which Manderson concealed. We can understand that he was capable of such a +scheme. But as a rule it is in the task of penetrating to the spiritual truth +that the administration of justice breaks down. Sometimes that truth is +deliberately concealed, as in Manderson's case. Sometimes, I think, it is +concealed because simple people are actually unable to express it, and nobody +else divines it. When I was a lad in Edinburgh the whole country went mad +about the Sandyford Place murder.' + +Trent nodded. 'Mrs M'Lachlan's case. She was innocent right enough.' + +'My parents thought so,' said Mr Cupples. 'I thought so myself when I became +old enough to read and understand that excessively sordid story. But the +mystery of the affair was so dark, and the task of getting at the truth behind +the lies told by everybody concerned proved so hopeless, that others were just +as fully convinced of the innocence of old James Fleming. All Scotland took +sides on the question. It was the subject of debates in Parliament. The press +divided into two camps, and raged with a fury I have never seen equalled. Yet +it is obvious, is it not? for I see you have read of the case--that if the +spiritual truth about that old man could have been known there would have been +very little room for doubt in the matter. If what some surmised about his +disposition was true, he was quite capable of murdering Jessie M'Pherson and +then casting the blame on the poor feeble-minded creature who came so near to +suffering the last penalty of the law.' + +'Even a commonplace old dotard like Fleming can be an unfathomable mystery to +all the rest of the human race,' said Trent, 'and most of all in a court of +justice. The law certainly does not shine when it comes to a case requiring +much delicacy of perception. It goes wrong easily enough over the Flemings of +this world. As for the people with temperaments who get mixed up in legal +proceedings, they must feel as if they were in a forest of apes, whether they +win or lose. Well, I dare say it's good for their sort to have their noses +rubbed in reality now and again. But what would twelve red-faced realities in +a jury-box have done to Marlowe? His story would, as he says, have been a +great deal worse than no defence at all. It's not as if there were a single +piece of evidence in support of his tale. Can't you imagine how the +prosecution would tear it to rags? Can't you see the judge simply taking it in +his stride when it came to the summing up? And the jury--you've served on +juries, I expect--in their room, snorting with indignation over the feebleness +of the lie, telling each other it was the clearest case they ever heard of, +and that they'd have thought better of him if he hadn't lost his nerve at the +crisis, and had cleared off with the swag as he intended. Imagine yourself on +that jury, not knowing Marlowe, and trembling with indignation at the record +unrolled before you-- cupidity, murder, robbery, sudden cowardice, shameless, +impenitent, desperate lying! Why, you and I believed him to be guilty until--' + +'I beg your pardon! I beg your pardon!' interjected Mr Cupples, laying down +his knife and fork. 'I was most careful, when we talked it all over the other +night, to say nothing indicating such a belief. I was always certain that he +was innocent.' + +'You said something of the sort at Marlowe's just now. I wondered what on +earth you could mean. Certain that he was innocent! How can you be certain? +You are generally more careful about terms than that, Cupples.' + +'I said "certain",' Mr Cupples repeated firmly. + +Trent shrugged his shoulders. 'If you really were, after reading my manuscript +and discussing the whole thing as we did,' he rejoined, 'then I can only say +that you must have totally renounced all trust in the operations of the human +reason; an attitude which, while it is bad Christianity and also infernal +nonsense, is oddly enough bad Positivism too, unless I misunderstand that +system. Why, man--' + +'Let me say a word,' Mr Cupples interposed again, folding his hands above his +plate. 'I assure you I am far from abandoning reason. I am certain he is +innocent, and I always was certain of it, because of something that I know, +and knew from the very beginning. You asked me just now to imagine myself on +the jury at Marlowe's trial. That would be an unprofitable exercise of the +mental powers, because I know that I should be present in another capacity. I +should be in the witness-box, giving evidence for the defence. You said just +now, "If there were a single piece of evidence in support of his tale." There +is, and it is my evidence. And,' he added quietly, 'it is conclusive.' He took +up his knife and fork and went contentedly on with his dinner. + +The pallor of sudden excitement had turned Trent to marble while Mr Cupples +led laboriously up to this statement. At the last word the blood rushed to his +face again, and he struck the table with an unnatural laugh. 'It can't be!' he +exploded. 'It's something you fancied, something you dreamed after one of +those debauches of soda and milk. You can't really mean that all the time I +was working on the case down there you knew Marlowe was innocent.' + +Mr Cupples, busy with his last mouthful, nodded brightly. He made an end of +eating, wiped his sparse moustache, and then leaned forward over the table. +'It's very simple,' he said. 'I shot Manderson myself.' + +'I am afraid I startled you,' Trent heard the voice of Mr Cupples say. He +forced himself out of his stupefaction like a diver striking upward for the +surface, and with a rigid movement raised his glass. But half of the wine +splashed upon the cloth, and he put it carefully down again untasted. He drew +a deep breath, which was exhaled in a laugh wholly without merriment. 'Go on,' +he said. + +'It was not murder,' began Mr Cupples, slowly measuring off inches with a fork +on the edge of the table. 'I will tell you the whole story. On that Sunday +night I was taking my before-bedtime constitutional, having set out from the +hotel about a quarter past ten. I went along the field path that runs behind +White Gables, cutting off the great curve of the road, and came out on the +road nearly opposite that gate that is just by the eighth hole on the +golf-course. Then I turned in there, meaning to walk along the turf to the +edge of the cliff, and go back that way. I had only gone a few steps when I +heard the car coming, and then I heard it stop near the gate. I saw Manderson +at once. Do you remember my telling you I had seen him once alive after our +quarrel in front of the hotel? Well, this was the time. You asked me if I had, +and I did not care to tell a falsehood.' + +A slight groan came from Trent. He drank a little wine, and said stonily, 'Go +on, please.' + +'It was, as you know,' pursued Mr Cupples, 'a moonlight night, but I was in +shadow under the trees by the stone wall, and anyhow they could not suppose +there was any one near them. I heard all that passed just as Marlowe has +narrated it to us, and I saw the car go off towards Bishopsbridge. I did not +see Manderson's face as it went, because his back was to me, but he shook the +back of his left hand at the car with extraordinary violence, greatly to my +amazement. Then I waited for him to go back to White Gables, as I did not want +to meet him again. But he did not go. He opened the gate through which I had +just passed, and he stood there on the turf of the green, quite still. His +head was bent, his arms hung at his sides, and he looked some-how--rigid. For +a few moments he remained in this tense attitude, then all of a sudden his +right arm moved swiftly, and his hand was at the pocket of his overcoat. I saw +his face raised in the moonlight, the teeth bared, and the eyes glittering, +and all at once I knew that the man was not sane. Almost as quickly as that +flashed across my mind, something else flashed in the moonlight. He held the +pistol before him, pointing at his breast. + +'Now I may say here I shall always be doubtful whether Manderson really meant +to kill himself then. Marlowe naturally thinks so, knowing nothing of my +intervention. But I think it quite likely he only meant to wound himself, and +to charge Marlowe with attempted murder and robbery. + +'At that moment, however, I assumed it was suicide. Before I knew what I was +doing I had leapt out of the shadows and seized his arm. He shook me off with +a furious snarling noise, giving me a terrific blow in the chest, and +presenting the revolver at my head. But I seized his wrists before he could +fire, and clung with all my strength--you remember how bruised and scratched +they were. I knew I was fighting for my own life now, for murder was in his +eyes. We struggled like two beasts, without an articulate word, I holding his +pistol-hand down and keeping a grip on the other. I never dreamed that I had +the strength for such an encounter. Then, with a perfectly instinctive +movement--I never knew I meant to do it--I flung away his free hand and +clutched like lightning at the weapon, tearing it from his fingers. By a +miracle it did not go off. I darted back a few steps, he sprang at my throat +like a wild cat, and I fired blindly in his face. He would have been about a +yard away, I suppose. His knees gave way instantly, and he fell in a heap on +the turf. + +'I flung the pistol down and bent over him. The heart's action ceased under my +hand. I knelt there staring, struck motionless; and I don't know how long it +was before I heard the noise of the car returning. + +'Trent, all the time that Marlowe paced that green, with the moonlight on his +white and working face, I was within a few yards of him, crouching in the +shadow of the furze by the ninth tee. I dared not show myself. I was thinking. +My public quarrel with Manderson the same morning was, I suspected, the talk +of the hotel. I assure you that every horrible possibility of the situation +for me had rushed across my mind the moment I saw Manderson fall. I became +cunning. I knew what I must do. I must get back to the hotel as fast as I +could, get in somehow unperceived, and play a part to save myself. I must +never tell a word to any one. Of course I was assuming that Marlowe would tell +every one how he had found the body. I knew he would suppose it was suicide; I +thought every one would suppose so. + +'When Marlowe began at last to lift the body, I stole away down the wall and +got out into the road by the clubhouse, where he could not see me. I felt +perfectly cool and collected. I crossed the road, climbed the fence, and ran +across the meadow to pick up the field path I had come by that runs to the +hotel behind White Gables. I got back to the hotel very much out of breath.' + +'Out of breath,' repeated Trent mechanically, still staring at his companion +as if hypnotized. + +'I had had a sharp run,' Mr Cupples reminded him. 'Well, approaching the hotel +from the back I could see into the writing-room through the open window. There +was nobody in there, so I climbed over the sill, walked to the bell and rang +it, and then sat down to write a letter I had meant to write the next day. I +saw by the clock that it was a little past eleven. When the waiter answered +the bell I asked for a glass of milk and a postage stamp. Soon afterwards I +went up to bed. But I could not sleep.' + +Mr Cupples, having nothing more to say, ceased speaking. He looked in mild +surprise at Trent, who now sat silent, supporting his bent head in his hands. + +'He could not sleep,' murmured Trent at last in a hollow tone. 'A frequent +result of over-exertion during the day. Nothing to be alarmed about.' He was +silent again, then looked up with a pale face. 'Cupples, I am cured. I will +never touch a crime-mystery again. The Manderson affair shall be Philip +Trent's last case. His high-blown pride at length breaks under him.' Trent's +smile suddenly returned. 'I could have borne everything but that last +revelation of the impotence of human reason. Cupples, I have absolutely +nothing left to say, except this: you have beaten me. I drink your health in a +spirit of self- abasement. And you shall pay for the dinner.' + + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext Trent's Last Case, by E. C. Bentley + diff --git a/old/trent10.zip b/old/trent10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..af99e7e --- /dev/null +++ b/old/trent10.zip |
