"No," said Gabrielle. She was always more alive at night, and now her fine hard voice was almost young. "No," she repeated. "Most of what you have said is excellent. Inspector. I congratulate you. But on that point you are wrong. I know that because I put the hat and coat over the poor wretched man myself."
"You didn't! You didn't! You don't mean it! You don't know what you're saying!"
Dorothea's outburst shook the room while it still was tingling, and the soft chatter of the ornate clock, racing to keep pace with time, was still loud in every ear. She planted herself before Gabrielle and appealed directly to the inspector.
"She doesn't know what she's saying. I told you she'd come out with things she didn't mean. Don't believe her. Don't you dare believe her."
The very old woman in the wing chair made a sound. It was a thin, soft tinkle of amusement, as if a ghost had laughed.
"Dear," she said consolingly, "my dear, dear Dorothea, you don't think I killed the poor vulgar little man, do you? Both of them? I? Sit down. Sit down, Dorothea. The inspector is doing his puzzle and I must contribute my piece. I went downstairs that night. It was my first evening in my old home and I was restless. Dorothea left me sitting up by the fire and I began to remember all sorts of things, things that had just happened and things that had happened long ago. I was very angry with Robert. He had been very rude to me and I was worried about his attitude towards my girl Frances and that odious little camel man."
Her voice was clear and strong and very graceful, but she glanced up at the clock once or twice and frowned because her sight would not reach it. Bridie did not dare to interrupt her. She had shocked all the blandness out of him, and he stood looking at her as if he expected her to produce a cauldron and broomstick before his eyes.
"I got up and walked about my room first," she said. "I found I was much stronger than I had supposed and it occurred to me that I could move all over the house if I wanted to. God knows I knew it well enough. I made up my mind I'd go down to Robert and talk to him. Until then I had not felt strong enough to give him a serious lecture, but that night, after the quarrel in the afternoon, I felt quite capable of managing him or anyone else, so I went."
She paused and in their minds' eye they saw her, a little bundle some figure in trailing woolen lace, bobbing lightly over the shining parquet floor.
"It was dark," said Gabrielle, "but I knew every inch of the dear old house and I paused in the hall to listen. It was quite silent, but I saw the garden-room door was open and that there was a light inside, so I went along there."
"God Almighty!" said Withers and shut his mouth with a snap immediately afterward.
Gabrielle ignored him.
"I pushed open the door a little wider," she said, "and I went in. The blinds were down and at first I thought the room was empty. Then I saw the cupboard door was slightly open."
"Open? Are you sure of that, ma'am?"
Both policemen spoke at once and she glanced up at them disapprovingly.
"Yes, slightly open. I went over and looked inside."
She stopped and shook her head.
"Poor fellow," she said, adding typically, "so undignified and grotesque."
"Did you touch him?"
"I?" Her disdain made Bridie regret his question. "Of course not. It was perfectly obvious that the man was dead. His jaw had dropped. I've seen death too often to mistake it. I went across the room and sat down to think.
It was a very awkward situation. I am an old woman. Frances is a young girl, and poor Phillida is a neurasthenic. Obviously none of us was capable of handling the scandal of a police inquiry. There was only one thing to do. I decided that Robert must wait until my son could return to see to things."
She made the outrageous statement with such simple egotism that no one doubted her for an instant. Of course that was what she had done. How exactly like her. In his astonishment Bridie forgot to look at the clock, while the big hand crept nearer and nearer to the top of the dial.
"It was then that I saw the hat and coat," Gabrielle continued calmly. "Naturally the idea occurred to me at once. Since the cupboard was normally empty presumably it was seldom opened, and if Robert vanished and his outdoor clothes went with him no one would look for him in the house. I carried the heavy coat across to the cupboard and went back for the hat and gloves. I placed them on his body quite reverently and then I closed the door, using my shawl to cover my lingers. I rested for a little while and then I went back to my room. When I switched off the light I used my shawl again. I remember I was quite clearheaded and I arranged with Dorothea to cable for Meyrick. I did not tell her about Robert. It seemed to me that the fewer people there were who knew about it the less morbid and unpleasant the situation became."
"But what a ghastly secret to keep to yourself all those days, ma'am!" Bridie was not reproachful so much as respectful.
Gabrielle met his eyes contemptuously.
"If you had lived when I did, my dear man," she said bitterly, "you'd have learned how to keep a great many hard secrets. That is what disgusts me about this present age. You have no mental discipline. A great many people sneer at the Victorians but no other period had our face."
"I believe you, ma'am," murmured Bridie fervently and would have continued had she not stopped him.
"Wait," she said. "I have not finished yet. Some of your puzzle is filled in. Inspector, but there are several important pieces which remain before we can all see this recognizable portrait you talk about. One of them is this.
On the day that poor Robert's body was discovered by the servants the miserable little Lucar rushed away to America. At first the inference to be drawn from that behavior seemed perfectly obvious to anyone who did not know how long Robert had been in the cupboard, but to me it was quite incomprehensible. If Lucar had killed Robert why had he not run away before? Then, as you have told us, it became apparent that Lucar could not have known of the discovery of the body at the time when he hurried out of the country. That does not explain everything. There remains one of your vital pieces, Inspector. Why did Lucar run away?"
The room was still quiet and Bridie was still looking at her when there came from the hall the sound which brought them all to their feet, their eyes on the clock. It was two minutes to lour, and the deep voice in the hall outside was familiar to most of them.
"Meyrick!"
Godolphin limped across the room and met the newcomer as the door swung wide. Meyrick Ivory came in alone, although there was the ominous gleam of silver buttons in the hall behind him. He was a heavy, wide-shouldered man with a shock of white hair and the smooth ruddy face of the squire rather than the Londoner. He kissed his daughter, nodded briefly to the policeman, and hurried to his mother's side.
"Oh, my poor little old girl," he said. "Oh. darling, how are you?"
The old Gabrielle looked up at him with the first sign of tenderness anyone had seen on her face. Her fine thin lips quirked.
"In full command, my boy," she said distinctly. "In full command."
Frances did not hear her. Ever since Bridie had made his dramatic references to the new facilities for air travel an appalling possibility had occurred to her. She glanced at the clock. It was almost four. The hand was within a fraction of the vertical. She looked at Bridie furtively. He was still watching the clock. Even while her eyes rested on him, however, he turned his head and glanced towards the door. It was opening quietly.
Two plainclothes men appeared first and then, between them, pale and disheveled, with a portfolio under his arm, came David. He looked round eagerly and, catching her eye, smiled wryly at her.
Gradually they all became aware of him. The babble of voices died abruptly and there was a long silence. Meyrick. standing by his mother's chair, raised his head and stared coldly at the little group. Bridie looked at David.
"Well?" he inquired.
David lifted his eyes, and they saw for the first time how deadly tired he was. He opened his mouth and made the most unexpe
cted and incomprehensible reply.
"It was the one with the smallest mustache," he said.
The senior plainclothes man nodded his agreement. "As I told you on the phone this morning, sir. We've got five good witnesses, with dates. The depositions are here with the pictures."
Bridie grunted his satisfaction and went over to the table where David had placed the portfolio. Gabrielle leaned forward.
"Inspector." she said. "I was asking a very pertinent question. Why did Lucar run away? What else happened on the day that Robert's body was found?"
Her voice cut through the general murmur and every face was turned towards her. Frances, her voice a youthful replica of Gabrielle's own, gave the answer like an echo.
"The papers came out with the news of Godolphin's rescue."
"Yes," said Gabrielle softly. "Godolphin's rescue was announced. That's why Lucar ran away."
"That's an interesting theory but I don't follow it." Godolphin limped forward, his yellow face inquiring. "Why?"
"Just possibly he was afraid of confrontation' you," remarked Bridie from the table. He had unfastened the case and was studying what appeared at a long view to be a large photograph. Suddenly he held it up and they all saw it. It was the head of a Hindu in European clothes but wearing a turban which had been painted on the gloss with process white. He had a little dark mustache, and at first glance the man was definitely Indian. However, there was something uncannily familiar about the attenuated lines of the cheeks and the narrowness of the eyes. Slowly every head in the room save one turned towards Godolphin. The exception was Mrs. Sanderson. She remained gaping at the photograph and her triumphant cry shattered the silence, vindicating her obstinacy and airing her insular ignorance in one revealing second.
"The nigger!" she said. "There you are, what did I tell you? That's the nigger I saw."
Godolphin alone remained unimpressed.
"I see someone has been decorating my portrait," he said casually. "That's you, I suppose, Field? Very ingenious, my dear chap, but I don't suppose it proves much, does it?"
"Five people at the Dutch Line Amsterdam Airport recognized it as the passenger arrived there on the day Robert was murdered, and who took the early live o'clock plane out again on the following morning," said David slowly. "I'm sorry, Dolly," but you could have done it in the time."
Godolphin laughed.
"Can any European remember the difference between two Indians?" he inquired lightly.
Bridie did not frown but a shadow passed over his face and he beckoned to Miss Dorset.
"When the Nestor Traders' Protection Association phoned ye just now in response to your inquiry what did they tell ye?" he demanded. "Don't be frightened. Tell it in so many words. Like one or two other people you became suspicious when ye discovered that Mr. Godolphin, who had left England penniless, had come home from an unsuccessful expedition with money enough for diamonds and expensive motorcars, so very sensibly ye put the Association on to him. What did ye find out?"
"I found," said Miss Dorset, speaking slowly and unsteadily, as if the words were forced from her, "I found that the Bank of India guaranteed him up to ninety thousand pounds, and and had done so for some months on the surety of someone called Habib-Ul-Raput."
Godolphin whistled. The flippancy struck a false note, but he was still standing as jauntily as his infirmity would let him in the center of the hearthrug.
"Partly true," he said. "Raput Habib of Penang, is a good friend of mine. I did him a service and he guaranteed me when I came home. The few months' story is an extra thrown in by your trade association friends or luck. Be-sides, while I admire your combined ingenuity, I'm afraid you're not going to get my face fitting into your blasted puzzle. Why on earth should I go to these energetic lengths to kill Robert in England? Believe me, if I'd wanted to do the tick in I should have had much more opportunity in Tibet. Hang it, I saved his life, didn't I?"
"Did you?" In spite of its quietness Gabrielle's question was menacing. "Did you? When I first heard that story of your heroism. Mr. Godolphin, it struck me as a plagiarism. When I saw you again, again I wondered. In my time I have met the kind of man who sacrifices himself to save his friends, and he has not been your kind. He has been a great, simple-hearted, slightly sentimental sort of man, a hero, a pioneer; if I may use such an old-fashioned expression, a noble man; but he has never been a sharp-witted, clever, energetic man like you, Mr. Godolphin. The story of your heroism was the story that Robert told. It was the kind of slavish imitation of the real thing which was typical of Robert."
The old voice faded, but as Godolphin bent towards her she went on again, gathering speed and strength.
"I wonder if the real story was not more like this? In the extreme situation which Robert painted far too vividly for it not to have been true, when you were a serious burden with your injured leg, when you had to be carried every step, when the natives showed dangerous signs of wanting to desert, when Robert's only support was the miserable Lucar, who was even more of a physical coward than he himself, I wonder if then, when you are said to have made your heroic sacrifice, I wonder if you did nothing of the kind."
Her voice sank again until they could only just hear it, a monotone of deadly common sense.
"I wonder if that story was a story of great heroism or a story of great cowardice. I wonder if Robert left you. Mr. Godolphin. I wonder if Robert gave you a blanket and a tin or two of provisions and left you screaming to him in the snow. I wonder if he dragged Lucar on with him and when they returned to safety remembered the magnificent old story of gallantry to cover his cowardice. And I wonder if that was the hold which Lucar had over him, Mr. Godolphin."
The man was gaping at her. There were little beads of sweat on his forehead beneath the line of his hair.
"Witchcraft," he said, but the laughter which should have been in the word was not convincing. "My God, a genuine witch. at last! Well, even so, suppose you're right. Suppose by some misguided miracle you happen to have hit on something of the truth. Prove it! Prove he left me. Prove I starved and froze and rotted for three days before, by the grace of God, a gang of priests picked me up. Prove I won their confidence. Prove they nursed the. Prove they fitted out a new expedition and that I got to Tang Quing and came back over the pass with enough stuff to buy old Raput Habib for life. Prove I came to England with his papers after I had found that Robert had finished his fine work with a master stroke and had married Phillida. Prove that with Raput Habib's help I worked out a cast-iron scheme to pay him back what I owed him. Prove I hid in a shed in the yard. Prove I killed him. Prove I killed Lucar when he practically told the whole lot of you what he knew. Prove I killed Lucar after he whistled 'Little Dolly Daydream' to you until he was black in the face. Little Dolly Godolphin Daydream, the song that he tortured Robert with, until to kill him was an act of Christian charity. Prove I killed him, Mrs. Clairvoyant Gabrielle. What with?"
The man was in a state of ecstasy, drunk with his own words and his own impudent courage. His thin back was straight, his infirmity had disappeared, he used his hands as he talked, and as he finished his stick swung dangerously near her face.
A tiny hand shot out and caught the ferrule, twisting it sharply to the left.
"I've been wondering about this for twenty-four hours. My husband had one," whispered the old Gabrielle, and Godolphin started back from her with two feet of shining sword stick in his hand.
The best policeman in the world, and Bridie privately accredited himself with that distinction, is not prepared for a conjuring trick at the psychological moment of arrest.
For the brief part of a second Godolphin was at an advantage and he took it. He reached the door and got it open before they leapt on him and Frances heard for the third time the sharp, quick, purposeful footsteps which had made such an indelible impression on her mind.
Norris, who was nearest, stuck out a foot to trip him and received a flick which laid open his upper arm to the bone for his trouble. The t
wo men on duty in the hall came for the fugitive with their bare hands, as their discipline so inconsiderately demands.
The younger, a heavy lout new-recruited from the Wolds, snatched at the weapon and lost a finger. The older and more experienced tried a rugby football tackle but was dodged by a man who knew the game as well as he did, and Godolphin gained the square.
His fortnight's enforced limping had not impaired his natural agility and he took the steps lightly. Petrie, of the Courier, might have stopped him, for he was directly in his path, but he had his own affairs to attend to and by refraining he obtained one of the finest news photographs of the year and a pictorial scoop for his paper.
It was the crowd who defeated Godolphin, and the symbolism of that defeat was horribly right and just. His sin was against them, and the civilization which made their existence possible. In a civilized world murder is a crime against the public and the man who commits it is public property, doomed to public justice and public punishment.
When Godolphin appeared on the top of the steps the crowd by the railings opposite were stolidly silent, lost in that state of morbid contemplation which is so incomprehensible to the individual. They were standing dejectedly in the wind and the rain, their eyes fixed hopefully on the dark house across the glistening ribbon of wet asphalt.
No crowd of this type is quick witted, and the wiry figure had cleared the steps and plunged down the pavement towards the lights of St. James before they grasped the significance of his appearance. However, the moment one individualist among them came to life and leapt out into the roadway the entire pack was galvanized as by a single electric shock. The roar, which is primitive and hideous and like no other sound in the world, went up from them and they surged in to pursuit.
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