'It's only a short drive from Grosvenor Street to Praed Street, near Paddington. Amelia Jordan arrives at the hospital, say 6.22. She will hand the suitcase to Spencer, who will discover that his whatever-it-is is missin', and they will drive back. They will arrive back between 6.27 and 6.30.
'By this time the stage is all set. Avory Hume will cut up a row, bring Dyer bangin' at the door - open the door to show the results of a frantic struggle in the study. Reginald, groggy and wild-eyed with the inertia that follows a maniacal outburst, won't be able to say much. The doctor will arrive, clucking his tongue. While the excitement is still high and handsome, Fleming will arrive and be the last witness. So.'
H.M. puffed out smoke and waved it away.
'Only it didn't work out like that,' I said. 'Someone took advantage of that scheme - and murdered the old man.'
'That's it. Now I've told you what was meant to happen. Next, to help you along, I'll show you what did happen. I'm goin' to give you a time-table for that whole evening, because it's very suggestive. Most of the official times, like the arrival of officers or the times centrin' directly round the fact of the murder, you've already heard in court. Others weren't important as direct evidence, and weren't stressed. But I've got 'em all here, taken down from the police notes; and I've got the comments I wrote opposite 'em after I'd interviewed Answell and Mary Hume. I suggest to you (gor, how I'm beginnin' to hate that expression!) that, if you study 'em with a little cerebral activity, you'll learn a good deal.'
From his inside pocket he took out a large, grubby sheet of paper, worn from much pawing-over, and spread it out carefully. It was dated over a month before. The time-schedule, in the left-hand column, had evidently been typed by Lollypop. The comments, in the other column, were scrawled in blue pencil by H.M. Thus:
Table
6.10 Answell arrives, and is taken to study.
Delay by mist,
6.11 Avory Hume tells Dyer to go and get the car; study door is closed, but not bolted.
6.11- 6.15 Dyer remains in the passage outside the study door. Hears Answell say: 'I did not come here to kill anyone unless it becomes absolutely necessary.' Later hears Hume speaking in sharp tone, no words distinguishable; but ending loudly; ‘'Man, what is wrong with you? Have you gone mad?' Hears sounds like scuffle. Taps on door and asks if anything is wrong. Hume says: 'No, I can deal with this; go away.'
No mention of stealing spoons,
'Have you gone mad?' Very fishy; look into this, 'Scuffle' Answell's fall?
Was door bolted at this time? No, or Dyer would have heard sounds made by stiff and unused bolt shot into socket,
Very brave of Hume; unco' fishy
6.15. Dyer goes to get car.
Obedient. Arrives at garage 6.18.
6.39. Amelia Jordan finishes packing own valise and suitcase - Dr Hume has asked her to pack for him.
Shocking.
Suppose she left something out? ?
6.30-6.32. Amelia Jordan comes downstairs. Goes into passage towards study door. Hears Answell say: 'Get up, damn you !' Tries study door, finds it is bolted; or locked in some way.
Must be bolted. Lock is stuck at 'open' position.
6.32. Dyer returns with car.
6.33-6.34. Amelia Jordan tells Dyer to stop them fighting or get Fleming; she goes after Fleming.
1.
Finds Fleming coming down steps of own house to go next door.
1.
Rather early; but what of it?
1.
Fleming accompanies her. They all knock at study door.
6.36. Answell opens study door.
6.36-6.39. Examination of body and room. No doubt of door and windows being locked on inside. Answell's cool and dazed behaviour commented on. 'Are you made of stone?' Answell says: 'Serve him right for drugging (or doctoring) my whisky." Enquiries about whisky. Bottle and syphon found full, glasses untouched; Answell still declaring business a frame-up. Piece of feather found torn off arrow.
Drug still working. Brudine?
How did Hume get rid of original syphon? Original decanter too? Answell says nothing put into glass; must have been in decanter?
N.B. - No hocus-pocus about locks. Door inch-and-a-half thick; big heavy knob and panels; tight-fitting frame; no keyhole. Shutters have bar; no slits; windows also locked.
Gobble gobble.
Phooey.
6.39. Fleming sends Amelia Jordan to get Dr Hume. Fleming wants to take Answell's finger-prints. Dyer says there is ink-pad in Spencer Hume's suit.
Why? Officious busybody?
6.39-6.45. Dyer cannot find ink-pad or suit. Remembers old Ink-pad in desk in study. Answell objects to having his finger-prints taken; knocks Fleming across room, finally seems to become dispirited and agrees.
Was that desk searched? (N.B. It was, I find.) Then where is missing piece of
feather?
6.45. Dyer goes out into street and calls Police-Constable Hardcastle.
At this point Evelyn interposed. 'I say I Does this mean, in actual times, that it was only nine minutes between the time they went into the room and the time Dyer went out to get the policeman? By the way they talked in court, it sounded much longer, somehow.'
H.M. grunted sourly. 'Sure. It always sounds longer, because they've got so much to tell. But there's the actual record, as you could 'a' worked it out for yourselves.'
'The one thing that's most puzzling here,' I insisted, 'is why so much rumpus in general is being kicked up on the subject of ink-pads. Ink-pads would seem to have nothing to do with the case. What difference does it make whether Fleming did or didn't take Answell's fingerprints? The police could always do it, and match them with the ones on the arrow. Yet even the prosecution made a point of bringing it up and hammering it home.'
Exhaling a cloud of smoke, H.M. leaned back with rich satisfaction and closed one eye to avoid getting smoke in it.
'Sure, they did, Ken. But they weren't concerned with ink-pads. What they wanted to hammer was that, when Fleming tried to get Answell's finger-prints, Answell - far from bein' torpid - flared out murderously and threw Fleming clear across the room. Same kind of attack as he launched on the deceased, d'ye see? But I'm glad they brought it up; if they hadn't, I should have. Because I am most definitely interested in one particular ink-pad. It's pretty well the key to the whole business. You see that, don't you?'
XIV
Time-table for Archers
THAT argument, up in the little low-raftered room at the 'Milton's Head', while we waited for the afternoon session of the court, will always remain a kind of vignette as vivid as anything in the case. The firelight shone on rows of pewter tankards, and on H.M.'s enormous shoes, and on his glasses, and on a face wreathed with fantastic jollity. Evelyn sat with her legs crossed, leaning forward with her chin in her hand; and her hazel eyes had that amused annoyance which H.M. inspires in every woman.
' You know perfectly well we don't,' she said.' Now don't sit there chortling and rocking and making faces like Tony Weller thinking what he'd like to do to Stiggins. You know, at times you can be the most utterly exasperating man who ever - ee!
Why do you take such pleasure in mystifying people? If only Mr Masters were here, the party would be complete, wouldn't it?'
'I don't take pleasure in it, dammit 1 ' grumbled H.M., and quite seriously believed this. 'It's only that people take such unholy joy in doin' me in the eye, that I got to get a bit of my own back.' He was soothing. 'You stick to business, here. Read the rest of the time-table. I'm merely askin' you: if Jim Answell isn't the murderer, who is?'
'No, thanks,' said Evelyn. 'I've been had like that before. And much too often. You did it in France, and you did it in Devon. You parade out a list of suspects, and we take our choice; and then it always turns out that you've got someone else altogether. I dare say in this case you'll show the murder was really committed by Sir Walter Storm or the judge. No, thanks.'
'Meanin' what?' enquired H.M., lookin
g at her over his spectacles.
'Meaning this. You've called our attention to his timetable, and that's a most awfully suspicious sign. You seem to concentrate attention on people who were actually lurking about the place at the time of the murder. But what about the others?'
'What others?'
'There are at least three others, I mean Reginald Answell, and even Mary Hume herself, and Dr Hume. For instance, the Attorney-General "put it to" the Hume girl to-day that Reginald wasn't in London at all: he was in Rochester: and didn't reach London until nearly midnight. You didn't contradict him - at least, you didn't re-examine the witness. Well, where was he? We know he was at the house at some time on the night of the murder, even if it was late: I heard him say so himself, when he was going down the stairs at the Old Bailey. Mary Hume was also there, also late. Finally, there's the doctor, who's missing now. First you rather indicate that Dr Hume has got an alibi; and last night, Ken tells me, he writes a letter swearing he actually saw the murder committed. How do you propose to straighten out all that?'
'If you'd only read the rest of your time-table -' howled H.M., and then grew, reflective. 'Some of it's worryin' me,' he admitted. 'You knew, did you, that there's a court order out to arrest Spencer? When we knew he'd run off, Balmy Rankin wouldn't let that pass. If they ketch him, Balmy'll commit him to clink for deliberate contempt of court in a murder case. I thought Walt Storm rather too easily decided to dispense with that witness, when he should 'a' moved an adjournment. Walt must have known he'd done a bunk. But so did Balmy. Burn me, I wonder ... never mind. Have you got any ideas, Ken?*
My position was simple. 'Not having much sense of social justice, I don't care so much who killed him as how it was done. I'm like Masters: "Never mind the motive: let's hear about the mechanics." There are three alternatives: (1) Answell really did stab him after all; (2) Hume killed himself, either by accident or suicide; (3) there's an unknown murderer and an unknown method. H.M., will you answer a couple of straight questions, without technical evasions or double meanings?'
His face smoothed itself out.
'Sure, son. Fire away.'
'According to you, the real murderer made his entrance by means of the Judas window. Is that straight?' 'Yes.'
'And the murder was committed with a cross-bow. Is that your argument?' 'That's right.'
'Why? I mean, why a cross-bow?'
H.M. considered. 'It was the most logical thing, Ken: it was the only weapon that fitted the crime. Also, it was much the easiest weapon to use.'
'The easiest weapon? That whacking big clumsy thing-you showed us?'
'Easy,' said H.M. sharply. 'Not in the least big, son. Very broad, yes; remember that; but not long. You saw it yourself: it was the short "stump" crossbow. And easy? At a very short distance, you heard Fleming admit himself, not even an amateur could miss.'
'I was coming to that. From what distance was the arrow fired?'
H.M. regarded us over his spectacles with a kind of sour whimsicality. 'The court-room manner is gettin' infectious. I feel like a medical man said at one trial: "This is like a college examination under oath." That, Ken, is the one thing I can't tell you within a couple of inches, since you want me to be so goddam precise. But, just in case I'm accused of evasion, I'll tell you this - not much more than three feet, at the very longest. Satisfied?'
'Not quite. What was Hume's position when the arrow was fired?'
'The murderer was talkin' to him. Hume had been by the desk, bendin' over to look at something. As he bent forward, the murderer casually pulled the trigger of the cross-bow: hence the rummy angle of the arrow, which was shot in rather a straight line. Walt Storm made an awful lot of fun of that, but it's the strict truth.'
'Bending over to look at something?'
'That's right.'
Evelyn and I looked at each other. H.M., nibbling at the stump of his cigar, pushed the time-table across to me.
'Now that you've got that off your chest, why not pay a bit of attention to matters just as relevant? Spencer Hume, for instance. He's a gap in the proceedings, because he didn't testify in court. Not that he did much of importance when he got back to the house; but what he did is interestin’. Y'know, Spencer must have got one hell of a shock when he learned it really was. Jim Answell they'd caught, and not Reginald.'
'Did he know either of the cousins by sight?'
'Yes,' said H.M., with another odd look. 'He knew both of them; and he was the only one in the whole flamin' case who did.'
Table
9.46 Spencer Hume arrives In Grosvenor Street.
Uncle Spencer, vide police state merits, has got an absolutely water-tight alibi. From 5.10 to 6.40 he was walking wards of hospital. At 6.40 he went downstairs and waited in foyer. Finally went out on steps. At 6.43 (fast driving), A. Jordan whizzed up in car and told him to come quickly and take wheel, saying Avory was dead and Mary's fiance was loopy.
Uncle Spencer is o-u-t. Gobble gobble.
6.46-6.50. P.C. Hardcastle tries to question Answell; then telephones to police-station.
6.46-6.50. Spencer Hume takes Amelia Jordan upstairs: doctor necessary.
6.51-6.55. Spencer Hume goes to study. In presence of Fleming and Dyer, Answell says: 'You are a doctor; for God's sake tell them I have been doped.' Spencer says: 'I can find no sign of it.'
Why didn't Spencer own up to truth about drugged drink? Too dangerous?
6.55. Inspector Mottram and Sergeant Raye arrive
First time study is searched by police
6.55-7.45. First examination of Answell by Inspector Mottram; other witnesses questioned; study is searched by Inspector Mottram and Sergeant Raye.
No dust in thin vertical line down shaft of arrow. Very rummy; projected?
Feather torn in half completely; couldn't be done in struggle; powerful clean break - caught somewhere. Mechanism? Projected?
What kind of mechanism? Find out what there might be in archer's house.
(Later.) J. Shanks, odd-jobs man for three houses, reports crossbow missing from box in shed in back garden.
Cross-bow missing.
Golf suit missing.
1 + 1 Equo ne credite, 0, coppers.
7.45. Divisional Police-surgeon Dr Stocking arrives.
7.45-8.10. Examination of body.
Note position of body. Direction of wound? Maybe! Does not
fit.
8.15. Spencer Hume telephones to Mary Hume at Frawnend
Had dinner out, but arrived back in time to get message
8.10-9.40. Further questioning and search of house. Answell collapses.
9.42. Answell's cousin Reginald telephoned to.
Reginald had just arrived at flat, motoring from Rochester. Known to have left Rochester about 5.15; says he had early dinner at hotel along way, and took a long time about it; was rather drunk on arriving back. Cannot remember name of hotel or village.
9.55. Reginald Answell arrives in Grosvenor Street.
10.10. Answell removed to police-station, Reginald going along.
10.35. Mary Hume, taking first train, arrives back.
10.50. Body removed to mortuary; at this time two letters formerly in dead man's pocket are discovered missing.
Mary had pinched them: why?
12. 15. Answell's final statement taken at police-station.
Conclusions: From times and facts given above, there is no doubt as to identity of real murderer. Gobble gobble gobble.
'That's fairly sweeping,' I commented, and looked hard at him. 'Is this supposed to tell us anything? And, by the way, what is the reason for the persistent recurrence of this "gobble-gobble" business?'
'Oh, I dunno. That's how I felt at the time,' said H.M. apologetically. 'It showed I was touchin' the fringes of the truth.'
Evelyn glanced down the list again. 'Well, unless this is a bit of faking on your part, there's something else you can practically eliminate — I mean Reginald. You say he's proved to have left Rochester at 5.15. Rocheste
r's about thirty-three miles from London, isn't it? Yes. So, while it's theoretically possible to drive thirty-three miles in an hour, with all the traffic - and central traffic at that - I don't see how he could have got to Grosvenor Street in time to commit the murder. And you've already eliminated Dr Hume.'
'Eliminated Spencer?' demanded H.M. 'Oh, no, my wench. Not a bit of it.'
'But you yourself admit he's got a water-tight alibi.'
'Oh, alibis!' roared H.M., shaking his fist. He got up and began to waddle about the room, growling. 'The Red Widow murderer had a fine alibi, didn't he? The feller who did the dirty in that ten tea-cups business also had a pretty good one. But that's not what's really botherin' me. What bothers me is that infernal letter Uncle Spencer wrote to the Hume gal last night - swearin' he actually saw the murder done, and that Answell did it after all. Why did he write that? If he lied, why the blazes should he lie? The most insidious bit in it is the suggestion that Answell might be quite sincere about swearin' he's innocent: that he killed Hume and simply doesn't remember it. Oh, my eye! Did you ever hear anyone advance the theory that that was the way Dickens intended to finish Edwin Drood? - Jasper bein' the murderer, but not re-memberin' it: hence the opium-smoking? It's the same idea Wilkie Collins used in The Moonstone for pinchin' the jewel, so I shouldn't be surprised. If my whole great big beautiful theory cracks up on a point like that... but it can't! Burn me, it's not reasonable; or what about the feather. The first person I suspected was Uncle Spencer -'
'You suspected him just because he had an alibi?' I asked.
'It's no good talkin' to you,' said H.M. wearily. ‘You won't see the difficulties. I thought that if he didn't actually commit the murder, he arranged it -'
A new possibility appeared.
‘I remember reading about another of these cases,' I said; 'but it's so long ago that I can't remember whether it was a real happening or a story. A man was found apparently murdered in a room high up in a tower by the edge of the sea. His chest had been blown in with a shotgun, and the weapon was missing. The only clue was a fishing-rod in the room. Unfortunately, the door of the tower had been under observation, and no one was seen to go in or out. The only window was a small one up a smooth wall above the sea. Who killed him, and what had happened to the weapon? ... The secret was fairly simple. It was suicide. He had propped up the shot-gun, facing him, in the window. He stood some feet away and touched the hair-trigger with the fishing-rod. The kick of the gun when it exploded carried it backwards off the window-ledge into the sea: hence it was supposed to be murder and his family collected the insurance. Do you mean that there might have been some device in Avory Hume's study, which he accidentally touched, and it discharged the arrow at him? Or what die devil do you mean?'
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