"Feeling better?" asked Sir Benjamin.
Budge tried to speak, and only croaked. He felt humiliated. A bit of remembrance swirled down into his consciousness, like a rope....
Yes. He remembered now. It swept in such vivid colours that he closed his eyes. The young Yankee, the white gloves, the pistol. What had he done? - it rushed over him that he had been a coward, as he had always felt, and the taste of that thought was like nauseous medicine.
"Don't try to say anything," Sir Benjamin said. "You're at Dr. Markley's; he said you couldn't be moved. So lie still. You got a nasty bullet wound, but you'll pull through. We'll clear out now." Sir Benjamin seemed embarrassed. He fingered the iron post at the foot of the bed. "As to what you did, Budge," he added, "well, I don't mind telling you-well, it was damned sporting, you know."
Moistening his lips, Budge at last achieved speech.
"Yes, sir," he said. "Thank you, sir."
His half-closed eyes opened in wonder and some anger when he saw that the young American had almost laughed....
"No offense, Budge," Rampole hastily put in. "It was just that you rushed his gun like an Irish cop, and now you act as if somebody had just offered you a glass of beer... . I don't suppose you recognized him, did you?"
(Some struggle in the brain; a half-face, cut into whorls like water over sand. Budge felt dizzy, and there was something hurting inside his chest. The water washed out the face.)
"Yes, sir," he said, with an effort. "I shall remember it – soon. Just now I can't think…"Of course," Rampole interposed, hurriedly. somebody in white beckoning them from the doorway. "Well, good luck, Budge. You've got plenty of nerve."
At the smiles of the others, Budge felt a responsive smile drawing at his own lips like a nervous twitch. He felt drowsy again, and his head sang, but he was floating pleasantly away now. He was not sure what had happened; but I warm satisfaction lulled him for the first time in his life - What a story! If only those housemaids wouldn't leave windows open....
His eyes closed.
"Thank you, sir," said Budge. "Please tell Miss Dorothy that I shall be back at the Hall tomorrow."
Rampole closed the door of the bedroom behind them, and turned to face Sir Benjamin in the dim upper hallway of Dr. Markley's house. He could see the white skirt of a nurse descending the stairs ahead.
"He saw whoever it was," the chief constable said, grimly. "Yes, and he'll remember. What the devil, though, was he doing up there, to begin with?
"Just curiosity, I suppose. And now what?"
Sir Benjamin opened the case of a big gold watch, glanced at it rather nervously, and shut it up again.
"It's Fell's show. I'm dashed if I know." His voice grew querulous. "He's gone over my head completely-mine! I mean to say, he has quite a stand-in with Sir William Rossiter, the High Commissioner at the Yard; he seems to be on intimate terms with everybody in England. And he's been pulling wires.... All I know is that we're to meet the five-four train from London, and nab somebody who gets off it. Well, I hope everybody's waiting. Come along."
Dr. Markley was still on his afternoon round, and they did not linger. As they went down into the High Street, Rampole was rather more nervous than the chief constable.
Neither last night nor today could he elicit anything more from Dr. Fell.
"What's more," the chief constable grumbled, in the same tone, "I will not go to Southampton to meet the rector's uncle. I don't care if he is an old friend; the rector is going instead. I have business in Manchester - that's Thursday-and I've got to be away a week at the least. Dash it! Something always comes up. I can't find Payne, either; he has some papers I must take to Manchester along with me. Dash it! Here I've wasted all this time with the blasted case, when I could easily turn it over to the proper people, and Fell takes the whole thing out of my hands. . . .
He was talking rather desperately, Rampole sensed, talking away at anything that came into his head, so that he would not be forced to think. And the American agreed with him.
Sir Benjamin's grey Daimler was waiting in the elm-shadowed street. It was tea-time, and few people were abroad. Rampole wondered whether the news of Herbert's death had yet filtered into Chatterham; the body had been conveyed to the Hall late last night, and the servants warned with awesome threats to say nothing until they were given permission, but that was no guarantee at all. Last night, to keep away the horrors, Dorothy had stayed with Mrs. Fell. Until almost daybreak Rampole had heard them talking in the room next to his. Exhausted, and yet unable to sleep, he had sat at the window, smoking innumerable cigarettes, and staring with smarting eyelids at the whitening dawn....
Now the grey Daimler swept through Chatterham, and the wind stroked his face with cool fragrance. In the sky the fiery streaks had paled; there were white, and violet, and a smokiness of shadow creeping up from the lowlands. There were a few dark clouds, like slow sheep. He remembered the first evening he had walked into Chatterham with Dorothy Starberth, through this mysterious hour of the gold-darkened sky and the faint jangling bells; when a wind ran across the green corn, and the smell of hawthorn grew stronger with dusk. Remembering it, he did not believe that it had been only ten days ago.
"Tomorrow there is an afternoon train from London," he could hear Dr. Fell speaking in the Hag's Nook. "We will meet that train."
The words had finality....
Sir Benjamin said nothing. The Daimler roared against the whipping breeze. Dorothy in New York. Dorothy as his wife. Lord! but it had a funny sound! - every time he thought of that, he thought of himself sitting in a class last year and thinking that if he flunked economics (which, like all intelligent people, he detested), it would be the end of the world. Possessing a wife, he would become suddenly a citizen, with a telephone number and a cocktail-shaker and everything; and his mother would have hysterics; and his father, up twenty-five floors in a law-office at Number One West Forty-Second Street, would drowsily lift an eyebrow and say, "Well, how much do you need?"
The Daimler stopped with a slur of tires in the road. They would have to wait for this respectable citizenship; they would have to wait for a murderer.
In the darkening lane which led to Yew Cottage several figures were awaiting them. Dr. Fell's voice boomed out:
"How is he? Getting better? - I thought so. Well, we're ready." He made a gesture with one cane. "Everybody who was on the scene the night Martin was murdered, everybody who can give evidence, is going to be in at the death now. Miss Starberth didn't want to come, and neither did the rector. But they're both here. I think there will be others waiting for us at the railway station." He added, testily, "Well, climb in, climb in!"
The rector's huge figure loomed out of the lane. He almost stumbled as he assisted Dorothy into the car.
"I'm quite willing, of course," he said. ` `But I don't understand what you said about needing me-"
They had come out of the lane's shadow now. Dr. Fell struck his stick in the dust. He said:
"That's the point. That's the whole point. I want you to identify somebody. There's something you can tell us, and I doubt whether you know it yourself. And, unless you all do exactly as I tell you, we shall never know. Do you hear?"
He glared at all of them. Sir Benjamin was racing his motor, keeping his stiff face turned away. He suggested in a cold voice that they be on their way. In the tonneau the rector was trying to arrange his large plump face along pleasant lines. Dorothy sat with her hands folded in her lap, looking straight ahead....
Rampole had not been to the railway station since he had arrived in that other age ten days ago. The Daimler fled along the curves of the road, its siren crying ahead. Chatterham prison fell away behind; they seemed more in touch with reality now. Up over the waves of corn rose the small brick station, and the rails were shimmering against a low, dull, yellow-gleaming sunset. The lamps along the platform had not yet been lighted, but there was a green-shaded light in the ticket window of the station. Dogs were barking, just as on that f
irst night....
As Sir Benjamin stopped the car they heard, far down the tracks, the thin whistle of the train.
Rampole started. Stumbling on his canes, Dr. Fell had lurched out of the car. He wore his old black slouch-hat and box-pleated cape, which made him seem like a fat bandit; and a breeze waved the black ribbon on his eyeglasses.
"Now, listen," he said. "Stay with me. The only instructions I have are for you." He looked fiercely at Sir Benjamin. "I warn you that you may have a temptation. But, whatever you see or hear, for God's sake don't speak! Do you understand?" He was glaring now.
"As chief constable of this county-" Sir Benjamin was beginning, snapping the words out, when the doctor cut him short.
"Here comes the train. Walk up to the platform with me."
They could hear the thin, faint, clicking roar. It was rushing through Rampole's nerves now. He felt as though he were one of a herd of chickens being shooed into a pen by Dr. Fell. The headlight of the locomotive winked around a curve among the trees; the rails were shimmering, and they had begun to hum.... '
A stationmaster pulled open the door of the baggage-room with a long screech, emitting light on the boards of the platform. Rampole glanced in that direction. Against the eeriness of the dim yellow sky he saw a motionless figure standing near the station. Then, with a shock, he saw that there were several of these motionless figures in corners about the platform. All of them had their hands in the side pockets of their coats.
He turned sharply. Dorothy Starberth was at his side, staring up the tracks. The rector, his blue eyes pinched up, was swabbing at his forehead with a handkerchief, and seemed about to speak. Sir Benjamin looked sourly at the ticket window.
Swaying in a gush of cinders, the small train ground in to a stop, its headlight enormous now. There was a heavy sigh from the engine, and it panted in puffs of steam. A white lamp winked on over the entrance to the station. Past the yellow, grimed windows of the train there were flickers as of people moving out. The only noise was a subdued clanking, above the rumble of the baggage truck.
"There . . ." said Dr. Fell.
One passenger was alighting now. Rampole could not see his face because of the conflicting lights and the heavy backwash of steam. Then the passenger moved under the white station light, and the American stared...
He had never seen this man before. At the same time, he was conscious that one of the motionless men about the platform, his hand still in his pocket, had moved closer. But he was looking at this curious person from the train: a tall man, with an old-fashioned square derby and a grey moustache clipped sharp about a strong brown chin. The stranger hesitated, swinging a large valise from his right hand to his left....
"There," repeated Dr. Fell. He seized the rector's arm. "You see him? Who is he?"
The rector turned a puzzled face. He said: "You must be mad! I never saw him before. What on earth-?"
"Ah," said Dr. Fell. His voice suddenly grew louder. It seemed to boom and echo along the platform. "You don't recognize him. But you should, Mr. Saunders; you should.
He's your uncle."
During an enormous silence one of the motionless men came up behind and put his hand on the rector's shoulder.
He said: "Thomas Saunders, I arrest you for the murder of Martin Starberth. I have to warn you that anything you say may be taken down and used in evidence against you."
He had taken his other hand out of his pocket, and it held a revolver. Rampole, even while his wits were whirling, saw that the motionless men were closing in, silently, from all corners of the platform.
Chapter 17
THE rector did not move, nor did his expression change. He continued to swab at his forehead with the handkerchief, that old trick of his; large and black-clad and comfortable, with his gold watch-chain swinging. But his blue eyes seemed to have shrunk. Not narrowed, but shrunk, as though they had really grown smaller. He was mustering up unction, ease, fluency, Rampole felt, as a man takes a deep inhalation before a swim underwater.
He said:
"This is absurd. I hope you realise that. But," a polite gesture, with the handkerchief, "we seem to be – ah - attracting some attention. I suppose you gentlemen are all detectives; even if you are so mad as to arrest me, you hardly needed so large a force.... There's a crowd gathering!" he added, in a lower and angrier tone. "If you must keep your hand on my shoulder, let's go back to Sir Benjamin's car."
The man who had arrested him, a taciturn-looking person with heavy lines in his face, looked at Dr. Fell.
"This is the man, sir?" he asked.
"It's all right, Inspector," answered the doctor. "That's the man. You may as well do as he suggests.- Sir Benjamin, you see that man on the platform. You recognize him?"
"Good Lord, yes!" exclaimed the chief constable. "It's Bob Saunders, right enough. He's older than when I knew him, but I should recognize him anywhere.... But I say, Fell!" He was sputtering like a boiling kettle. "You can't possibly mean - the rector - Saunders-!"
"His name isn't Saunders," said the doctor, composedly. "And I'm fairly sure he isn't a clergyman. Anyhow, you recognize the uncle. I was afraid you would blurt out something before I could enquire. There was always a chance, that the bogus Saunders would resemble the real rector.
“Inspector Jennings, I suggest you take your prisoner over to that grey automobile on the other side of the road. Sir Benjamin, you might meet your old friend before the rest of us do. Tell him as much or as little as you like, and then join us."
Saunders took off his hat and fanned himself with it.
"Then you are behind this, Doctor?" he enquired, almost genially. "I – er - it surprises me. It even shocks me. I do not like you, Doctor Fell. Gentlemen, come along. You needn't keep hold of my arm, Inspector. I assure you I have no intention of running away."
In the darkening light, the little party moved across to the Daimler. Inspector Jennings turned his neck as though on a slow pivot.
"I thought I should bring a few of the men along with me, sir," he said to Dr. Fell. "You said he was a killer."
The ugly word, unemotionally spoken, caused a hush which was broken only by the plodding of large feet. Rampole, walking behind the rest of them with Dorothy, stared at the large back of the rector moving in confident strides. The bald spot on Saunders' head shone out of the fluff of yellowish hair. He heard Saunders laugh....
They put the prisoner in the tonneau of the car. Spreading himself comfortably, the rector drew a deep breath. The word "killer" was still sounding faintly in their ears. Saunders seemed to know it. His eyes moved slowly over them, and he was meticulously folding and unfolding his handkerchief. It was as though he were putting on pieces of armour.
"Now, then, gentlemen," he remarked, "pray let's make this appear to be a pleasant little chat in the rear of a motor-car.... What, precisely, is the charge against me?"
"By God!" said Dr. Fell, striking the side of the car admiringly, "it's damned good, Saunders!-You heard the Inspector. Officially you are charged only with the murder of Martin Starberth. Eh?"
"Quite," agreed the rector, nodding slowly. "I am glad I have such a group of witnesses about me Before I say anything, Inspector, this is your last chance. Are you sure you want to proceed with this arrest?"
"Those are my instructions, sir."
Again the other nodded pleasantly. "I rather think you'll regret it, then. Because three witnesses-excuse, four witnesses - will testify that it would have been absolutely impossible for me to have killed my young friend Martin. Or, indeed, anybody else."
He smiled.
"May I ask a question now? Dr. Fell, you seem to have caused this somewhat-pardon me-amazing procedure. On the night my young friend – ah - died, I was at your house, by your side, was I not? At what time did I arrive?" Dr. Fell, still resembling a fat bandit, was leaning against the side of the car. He seemed to be enjoying himself.
"First move," he said. "You're opening with a pawn instead of a knight. Stand by
, Inspector; I like this.You arrived in the vicinity of ten-thirty. More or less. I'll give you ten-thirty."
"Let me remind you"-the rector's voice had grown a trifle harsher; but he changed it in an instant, smoothly. "Ah, no matter. Miss Starberth, will you tell these gentlemen again what time your brother left the Hall?"
"There was a mix-up about clocks, you know," Dr. Fell put in. "The clock in the hall was ten minutes fast...."
"Quite so," said Saunders. "Well, at whatever time he left the Hall, I must have been at Dr. Fell's house? You know this to be a fact?"
Dorothy, who had been staring at him queerly, nodded.
"Why ... yes. Yes, naturally."
"And you, Mr. Rampole. You know that I was at the doctor's, and that I never left. You saw Martin coming up to the prison with his light while I was there; you saw his lamp in the Governor's Room while I was there? In short, I could not conceivably have killed him?"
Rampole had to say, "Yes." There was no denying it. During all that time, Saunders had been directly under his eyes; under Dr. Fell's eyes also. He did not like Saunders' look. There was too much of a sort of desperate hypnosis behind the smile of the big, pink, steaming face. All the same...
"You, too, must grant all this, doctor?" the rector asked. "I do admit it."
"And I employed no mechanical device, such as has several times been suggested in this investigation? There was no death-trap by which I could have killed Martin Starberth while I was not there?"
"There was not," the doctor replied. His blinking eyes had become steady. "You were with us the whole time you say you were. In the brief moments when you were separated from Mr. Rampole while you two ran up towards the prison, you did nothing whatever - Martin Starberth was already dead. Your conduct was clear. And yet you killed Martin Starberth with your own hand, and flung his body into the Hag's Nook."
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