'It can't be that,' Evelyn protested. 'If this isn't more mystification, we're to believe that the murderer was actually talking to Hume at the time.'
'That's right,' admitted H.M.
'All the same,' I said, 'it seems that we're straying away from the most important point. No matter who committed the murder, what was the motive? You can't tell me, for instance, that Answell would grab an arrow and stab Hume simply because he believed his future father-in-law had put knock-out drops in a glass of whisky. Unless, of course, he's as mad as they wanted to make out Reginald was. But there's been remarkably little talk about motive in this case. Who else had a shadow of a motive to kill Hume?’
'Ain't you forgettin' the will?' asked H.M., lifting dull eyes. 'What will?'
‘You heard all about it in court. Avory Hume was mad to have a grandson, like most self-made men. Perpetuate the line, and so on. He was goin' to make a will leaving everything in trust - everything, mind - for that hypothetical grandson.'
'Did he make the will?'
'No. He didn't have time. So I thought it might be interestin' to go to Somerset House and put down my shilling and get a look at the original will, the one that's been admitted to probate now. Well, the girl is the chief legatee, of course; but everybody else gets a neat slice of the old man's money; he wasn't even cautious over things like that. Even poor old Dyer got a cut, and there was a sizable bequest of £3,500 to build a new ward-house for the Woodmen of Kent, to be delivered to the Secretary and used at his own discretion ...'
'So the Woodmen of Kent got together and marched up to London, and skewered him with an arrow? Rubbish, H.M.! That's not worthy of you.'
'I was only throwin' out suggestions,' returned H.M. with surprising meekness. He peered up from under wrinkled brows. 'Just to see if anything could possibly stir up your grey matter. You'd never be able to construct a defence, Ken: you can't take a hint out of the evidence, and go straight to where you'd probably find a witness. For instance! Suppose I thought it was pretty vital to get hold of Uncle Spencer? Even if I didn't shove him into the witness-box, suppose I thought it was very necessary to have a little talk with him? How would I go about puttin' .. my hands on him?'
'God knows. That's one of Masters's favourite jobs of routine. If the police can't find him, I don't see how you can. He got a good head-start, remember. He could be in Palestine by now.'
A knock at the door roused H.M. out of his apparent torpor. He dropped the stump of his cigar into the plate, and squared himself.
'Come in,' said H.M. 'He could be,' H.M. added, 'but he's not.'
The door was opened with some caution. And Dr Spencer Hume, impeccably dressed, with a bowler hat in one hand and a rolled umbrella hanging from the crook of his arm, came into the room.
XV
'The Shape of the Judas Window'
IF the gilded figure of Justice on the dome of the Old Bailey had slid down from the cupola and appeared here, it could have caused no more pronounced effect. But Dr Hume did not to-day seem so bland and banal. He looked ill. Though his dark hair was as neatly brushed into place as before, his high colour had gone and his little, sensitive eyes were uneasy. When he saw Evelyn and me sitting in the firelight, he shied badly.
'It's all right, son,' H.M. assured him. H.M. was sitting back at the table, one hand shading his eyes. The doctor's glance had gone instinctively towards the window, in the direction of the great building where he was wanted. 'These are friends of mine. One of 'em I think you met yesterday. Just sit down and smoke a cigar. There's a very old artillery proverb: "The closer the target, the safer you are." Bein' right smack up against the eye of Balmy Rankin, you're all right. You could get in the queue outside the public gallery entrance, and go up in the gallery among the spectators, and you could sit right up over Balmy's head without his knowin' you were anywhere closer than China.'
'I - ah - am aware of that,' replied Spencer, with traces of a bitter smile. He sat very straight in the chair, and his tubby figure had an odd dignity. He did not accept H.M.'s offer of a cigar, but sat with his hands flat on his knees. 'As a matter of strict record, I have been sitting in the public gallery all morning.'
'Uh-huh. I was pretty sure I saw you there,' observed H.M. casually. The other went a little more white. 'It's not a new trick. Charlie Peace did it at the trial of young Habron for the murder of the man Peace really killed. Honestly, you've got more guts than I thought you had.'
'But you didn't - speak up?'
"I hate rows in court” sniffed H.M., inspecting his fingers. 'It disturbs the nice soothin' atmosphere, and the feelin' of intellectual balance. Still, that's beside the point. I gather you got my message last night?'
Dr Hume put his hat on the floor, and leaned the umbrella carefully against the side of the chair.
'The point is that you have got me here,' he retorted, but without heat. 'Now will you answer one question? How did you know where to find me?'
'I didn't,' said H.M. 'But I had to try the most likely places. You'd done a bunk. But you had time to write a very long, very careful, and very weighty letter to your niece; and people who got to depend on the rush of aeroplanes or boat-trains don't usually have time for that. You knew they'd be after you, and that contempt of court is a criminal offence. There's only one excuse for it - extreme illness. I thought you'd probably run straight to your friend Tregannon, and gone to earth among the bedclothes and the ice-caps in his nursin' home. You can probably produce a certificate now, showin' how ruddy unwell you were yesterday. I've said a good many times that this tracing business is only a glorified version of the old chestnut about the idiot boy findin' the lost horse: "I just thought where I'd have gone if I had been a horse; and I went there; and he had." I sent you a message there, and you had.'
'Rather a queer kind of message,' said Spencer, looking hard at him.
'Yes. That's why it's time we got down to business. I thought there was one person at least you wouldn't want to see hanged.'
'You mean myself?'
'Right,' agreed H.M., taking his hand away from shading his eyes. He got out his watch, a large cheap one of the turnip variety, and put it on the table. 'Listen to me, doctor. I'm not bluffin'. I'll prove it, if you think I am. But in about fifteen minutes I'm due to be in court. I'll wind up the defence of Jim Answell this afternoon. I
don't say this as a certainty, mind - but, when I do, I think the betting's about a hundred to six that you'll be arrested for murder.'
The other remained quiet for a time, tapping his fingers on his knees. Then, reaching into an inside pocket, he took out a cigarette-case, extracted a cigarette, and closed the case with a rather vicious snap - as he might have closed a different sort of case. When he spoke, his voice was calm.
'That is bluff. I wondered, and now I know.'
'It's bluff that I know where the ink-pad and the golf-suit and all the rest of it really disappeared to; and that I've got 'em all in my possession right now?'
With the same impassive expression, H.M. reached into his own side-pocket. He drew out a black ink-pad in its ordinary tin-container, and a long rubber stamp inscribed with someone's name; and he flung them on the table among the plates. For the hundredth time I wondered at the connection, especially at the contrast between the violence of H.M.'s hand and the inscrutability of his face. Dr Hume did not seem so much taken aback as distressed and puzzled.
'But, my dear sir ... yes, of course; but what of it?' 'What of it?'
'Dr Quigley,' answered the other, with quiet bitterness, 'disposed of my character in court to-day. I suppose we shall have to accept his verdict. Granted that you produced every one of those interesting exhibits, what would it prove beyond what has already been proved? The man who has been already drowned views the prospect of a sea-voyage with equanimity.' A rather ghastly smile, an edge of the old bouncing and bustling smile, touched his face. I am not sure whether that is a quotation from Kai Lung. But, since I have already been virtually convicted of one t
hing, I don't give a damn for your French monkey-tricks.'
He lit the cigarette with a sharp jerk of the match across its box. H.M. remained staring at him for a short time, and H.M.'s face altered.
'Y'know -' H.M. began slowly. 'Burn me, I'm beginning to believe you really think Answell is guilty.'
'I am quite certain he is guilty.'
'Last night you wrote to Mary Hume swearin' you saw the murder done. Do you mind tellin' me if that was true?'
The other blew an edge of ash off his cigarette, holding it upright. 'I strongly object to giving an opinion even on the weather, as a rule. This much I'll tell you. The thing that has so - so fuddled and - yes, and maddened me throughout this whole affair,' he made a fierce gesture, 'is that I have done absolutely nothing! I tried to help Avory. I tried to help Mary. Granting that it was unethical, I believed it was for everyone's good ... and what happened? I am being hounded: yes, sir, I will repeat it: hounded. But even yesterday, when I was forced to go away, I tried to help Mary. I admitted to her that I supplied the brudine, at Avory's request. At the same time I was obliged to point out that James Answell is a murderer; and, if it were with my last breath, I should call him a murderer.'
Despite the man's innate love of clichés, his apparent sincerity was such that it overcame even the self-pity in his voice.
'You saw him do it?'
'I had to safeguard myself. If I wrote only the first part of the letter, you would take it into court, and it might help to save Answell - a murderer. So I had to ensure that you did not take it into court.'
'Oh,' said H.M. in a different tone. 'I see. You deliberately shoved that lie in so that we wouldn't dare use it as evidence?'
Dr Hume waved this aside, and became more calm.
'At considerable risk to myself, Sir Henry, I came here. That was in order to get as much information as I received. Fair play, eh? Surely that is fair? What I wish to know is my legal position in this matter. In the first place, I hold a certificate testifying to my illness yesterday -'
'From a doctor who's goin' to be struck off the register.'
'But who is not yet so discredited,' replied the other. 'If you insist on applying technicalities, I must use them as well. I was actually in attendance this morning, you know. In the second place, the Crown have waived their intention to call me as a witness; and their case is closed.'
'Sure. Still, the defence hasn't closed the case. And you can still be called as a witness: it won't matter for which side.'
Spencer Hume put down his cigarette carefully on the edge of the table. He folded his hands.
'Sir Henry, you will not call me as a witness. If you do, I will blow your whole case sky-high in just five seconds.'
'Oh-ho? So we're doin' a little arguing about compounding a felony, now, are we?' Hume's face tightened, and he looked round quickly at us; but H.M. had only a gleam of benevolent wickedness in his dull eye. 'Never mind,' H.M. went on. 'I'm pretty unorthodox, not to say twisty. Have you got the incredible, stratospheric cheek to threaten you'll go into the box and tell your story about seein' the murder done, if I dare to pull you out of retirement? Wow! Honest, son, I really admire you.'
'No,' said Hume calmly. 'I need only tell a plain truth.'
'Comin' from you -'
'No, that will not do,' said the other, and raised one finger with a critical air. 'It was established this morning, you know, that this is not a court of morals. Because Mary went the way of all flesh, it is no reason why her testimony about a murder should be discredited. Because I intended bloodlessly and painlessly to put a blackmailer where he belonged (a much less heinous offence to British ears, I assure you), that is no reason why my testimony about a murder should be discredited.'
'Uh-huh. If you hate blackmailers so much, why try a spot of blackmail on me now?'
Dr Hume drew a deep breath. 'I honestly and sincerely am not. I merely tell you - don't call me as a witness.’
Your whole case has been based on a missing piece of feather. You have repeatedly and even monotonously thundered at every witness: "Where is that piece of feather?"' 'Well?'
'I've got it’ said Dr Hume simply. 'And here it is’
Again he took out his cigarette-case. From under a line of cigarettes he carefully pulled out a piece of blue feather, some inch and a quarter long by an inch broad. He put it on the table with equal care.
'You'll notice’ he continued, during the heavy silence while H.M.'s face remained as impassive as ever, 'that the edges are a bit more ragged than those on the other piece. But I think they'll fit fairly well. Where was this piece of the feather? God love you, I had it, of course. I picked it up off the floor of the study on the night of the murder. It was no instinct for clues; it was simply an instinct of tidiness. And why didn't I show it to anyone? I can see you getting ready to ask that. My good fellow, do you know the only person who has ever been at all interested in this feather? That's you. The police weren't interested in it. The police never thought greatly about it - like myself. To be quite honest, I forgot all about it. But, if that feather is submitted in evidence, you will readily see the result. Have I convinced you?'
'Yes’ said H.M., with a broad and terrifying grin. 'At last you have. You've convinced me you really did know about the Judas window after all’
Spencer Hume rose rather quickly to his feet, and his hand knocked to the floor the cigarette on the edge of the table. With an instinct of tidiness he had automatically put his foot on it when there was another knock-on the door. This time the door opened more precipitately. Randolph Fleming, ducking under the low lintel, brought his aggressive red moustache into the room - and stopped in mid-sentence.
'I say, Merrivale, they tell me that you – hullo!'
As though disconcerted at being put off his stride,
Fleming stood staring at the doctor. In his own quiet way he was as great a dandy as Spencer Hume: he wore a soft grey hat whose angle just escaped being rakish, and carried a silver-headed stick. His withered jowls swelled out as he regarded Spencer; he hesitated, with an embarrassed air, and ended by making sure that the door was closed behind him.
'Here, hang it!' he said gruffly. 'I thought you had -'
'Cut and run for it?' supplied H.M.
Fleming compromised with a blurred statement' to Spencer Hume over his shoulder: 'Look here, won't you get into a lot of trouble if you turn up now?' Then he faced H.M. in an evident mood to get something off his mind.
'First, like to say this. I'd like to say no offence; I don't hold it against you for pitching into me yesterday in court. That's your business, and all in the day's work. Lawyers and liars, eh? Always has been. Ha, ha, ha I But here's what I want to know. They say - for some reason I don't understand - I may be called as a witness for your side as well. What's up?'
'No,' said H.M. T think there'll be a clear enough identification from Shanks. Even if you do get asked anything, it'll only be a matter of form. I got a cross-bow I want to get identified as belongin' to Avory Hume. Shanks should be able to do that pretty well.'
'The odd-jobs man?' muttered Fleming, and brushed up his moustache with the back of his gloved hand. 'Look here, would you mind telling me -'
'Not at all,' said H.M., as the other hesitated.
'Not to put too fine a point on it,' said Fleming, 'do you still think poor Hume was killed with a cross-bow?'
‘I always did think so.'
Fleming considered this carefully. 'I don't admit anything to go back on my opinion,' he pointed out, after a glowering look. 'But I thought I was bound to tell you one thing. I tried some experiments last night, just by way of making sure. And it could be done. It could be done, provided the distance was short enough. I don't say it was, but it could be. Another thing -'
'Get it off your chest, son,' suggested H.M. He glanced over at the doctor, who was sitting very quietly, and making noises as though he were trying to clear a dry throat without having the sounds become too audible.
'I
tried it out three times - shooting arrows from a crossbow, I mean,' insisted Fleming, with an illustrative gesture. 'The guide-feather does tend to get stuck in the teeth of the windlass, unless you're damned careful. Once it stuck and pulled the whole feather off the shaft of the arrow when the bow was released. Another time it cut the feather in half - kkk! - like that. Like the one you showed us in court. Mind you,' he wagged his finger, 'not, as I say, that I'd take back one word I said. But things like that worry me. I'm damned if they don't. I can't help it. I thought to myself: If there's anything fishy in this, I ought to tell 'em about it. Only decent. If you think I like coming here and telling you, you're off your chump; but I'm going to warn the Attorney-General about it too. Then it's off my mind. But still, between ourselves, what did happen to that infernal piece of feather?'
For a short time H.M. looked at him without speaking. On the table, almost hidden by the dishes, lay the piece of blue feather Spencer Hume had put there. Spencer made a quick movement as Fleming spoke, but H.M. forestalled him. Scooping up the feather, H.M. put it on the back of his hand and held it out as though he were going to puff at it.
'It's a very rummy thing about that,' remarked H.M., without looking at Spencer. 'We were just discussin' the point as you came in. Do you think, for instance, that this could be the missin' piece?'
'Where'd you find it?'
'Well ... now. That's one of the points under debate. But, as an expert on the subject, would you just look at this little joker and decide whether it could be the one we want?'
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