The Mad Hatter Mystery dgf-2

by John Dickson Carr

  Hadley nodded thoughtfully

  'Yes. Yes,' he said, `that's true. But why are you so aggressive on the point?'

  Dr Fell sighed. He was very much relieved.

  `Because, if you understand that, you're half-way, along the right track. I..' Wearily he raised his eyes to the door at another of the inevitable knocks. He went on vigorously: `But I was going to say that I absolutely refuse to listen to another witness this afternoon. It's past six and the pubs are open.'

  A very tired looking Sergeant Betts entered.

  `I've just been talking to the other visitors, sir,' he said to Hadley. `And I'm afraid it's been a long job. They all wanted to talk, and I had to listen for fear of missing something. But not one of them knew anything whatever, so I let them go Was that correct sir?'

  `Yes. But keep those names and addresses in case you need them.' Wearily Hadley passed a hand over his eyes. He hesitated, and then looked at his watch. `'H'm. Well, it's getting late, sergeant, and we'll run along. I'll take charge of these articles on the table.'

  He took down his overcoat and donned it slowly.

  `Well, gentlemen,' said General Mason, `that seems to be all for the moment. And I think we could all deal with a large brandy and soda. If you'll do me the honour to come up to my rooms…?'

  Hadley hesitated; but he looked at his watch again, and shook his head.

  `Thanks, General. It's good of you, but I'm afraid I can't. I have to get back to the Yard; I've the devil's own lot of routine business, you know, and I've taken far too much time as it is. I shouldn't be handling the affair at all.' He frowned. `Besides, I think it's best that none of us go up. Sir William will be waiting for you, General. You know him best and you had better tell him everything. About Arbor, you see.?

  'Hum! I'm bound to admit I don't like the job,' the other said. `But I suppose you're right.'

  `Tell him we shall probably pay him a visit in Berkeley Square to-night, and to be sure everybody is at home.' Oh — yes. And the newspapers. There will be reporters here soon, if they're not being held outside already. For the Lord's sake don't say anything yourself. Just say, "I have no statement to make at the present time," and refer them to Sergeant Hamper.'

  He was already gathering up the objects which had been in Driscoll's pocket. Rampole handed him an old newspaper from the top of a bookcase; he wrapped the crossbow bolt inside it and stowed it away in the breast pocket of his overcoat.

  `Right you are. But at least,' said the general, `let me give you a stirrup cup before you go.' He went to the door and spoke a few words. In a remarkably short time the impassive Parker appeared, bearing a tray with a bottle of whisky, a siphon, and four glasses.

  `Well,' he continued, watching the-soda foam as Parker mixed the drinks, `this has been an afternoon. It it weren't for poor Bitton and the damnable closeness of this thing, I should even call it entertaining. But I'm bound to say I can't make head or tail of it.'

  `You wouldn't call it entertaining,' Hadley asserted, moodily, `if you had my job. And yet — I don't know.' There was a wry smile under his clipped moustache. He accepted a glass and stared into it. `I've been thirty years in this game, General. And yet I can't help getting something like a quickened pulse when I see "Scotland Yard has been called in on the case." What's the magic in the damned name?' I don't know. I'm a part of it. Sometimes I am it. But I'm still as intrigued as a naive old dodderer like Dr Fell.'

  `But I always thought you were dead against amateurs„' said the General. `Of course you can hardly call the doctor, an amateur, but… '

  Hadley shook his head. `Sir Basil Thomson, one of the greatest men the Yard ever had, used to say that a detective had to be jack of all trades and a master of none. The only thing I regret about the doctor here is the deliberate way he patterns himself after the detectives in sensational fiction; of which, by the way, he's an omnivorous, reader. His silences. His mysterious "Aha's!" his….’

  `Thank you,' rumbled Dr Fell, satirically. He had put on his cloak and his long shovel-hat. Stumping round near the door, he accepted a glass from Parker. `Hadley,' he continued, `that's an outworn maxim, and a baseless slur on a noble branch of literature. You say that the detective in fiction is mysterious and slyly secret. All right; but he only reflects real life. What about the genuine detective? He is the one who looks mysterious, says "Aha!" and assures everybody that there will be an arrest within twenty-four hours.. In other words, he has all the pose, whether he has the knowledge or not. But, like the fictional detective, very sensibly he doesn't tell what he thinks, for the excellent and commonplace reason that he may be wrong.'

  `All right,' said Hadley, — resignedly. 'If you like. Well, good health, gentlemen..!' He drained his glass and put it down. `I' suppose, doctor, this is a preamble to some mysterious predictions of yours?'

  `I hadn't thought of doing so,' he replied. `But as a matter of fact, I will give you three hints about what I think. I won't elaborate them' — his scowl became ferocious as he saw Hadley's grin `because I may be wrong. Ha!'

  `I thought so. Well, number one?'

  `Number one is this. There was some dispute about the time Driscoll died. The only period in which we seem absolutely to be able to fix it lies between one-thirty when he was seen by Parker lighting a cigarette at the rail in front of Traitors' Gate, and ten minutes to two, which is the time

  Doctor Watson said he died. Mr Arbor, coming into Water Lane at twenty-five minutes, to two, was positive there was nobody near the rail.'

  `I don't see any implication there,' General Mason said, after a pause; `unless it's the implication that Arbor was lying. What's your second hint?'

  `The second hint,' Dr Fell answered, `concerns that crossbow bolt. It was, as you saw, filed sharp into a deadly weapon. Now you are assuming, quite naturally, that this filing was done by the murderer.' We have also noticed that the same hand had started to file off those words, Souvenir de Carcassonne, but had stopped with three letters neatly effaced, and gone no farther…. Why weren't those other letters effaced? When we found the body, we were of course bound to learn of the bolt Mrs Bitton purchased at Carcassonne, and, since the victim was Driscoll, it would be too monstrous to assume a mere coincidence. I repeat: why weren't those letters effaced?'

  `Yes,' said Hadley. `I'd thought of that point, too. I hope you're sure of the answer. I'm not. And the third hint?'

  By this time Dr Fell, and the black ribbon of his eyeglasses, quivered to his chuckle.

  `And the third hint,' he said, `is very short. It is a simple query. Why did Sir William's hat fit him?'

  With a capacious tilt of his head he swallowed off his drink, glanced blandly, about the group, pushed open the door, and shouldered out into the mist.

  10. Eyes in a Mirror

  The great clock in Westminster tower struck eight-thirty.

  Dorothy had not been at the hotel when Rampole and the doctor arrived there on their return from the Tower. A note left for Rampole at the desk informed him that Sylvia Somebody, who had been at school with her, was taking her home for a gathering of some of the other old girls. Owing, she said, to previous knowledge of her husband's passionate aversion to jolly little evenings of this kind, she had informed them that he was in the hospital with a violent attack of delirium tremens. She said he was to give her love to Dr Fell; and not to forget to pin the name of his hotel to his coat lapel so that the cabman would know where to put him at the end of the evening.

  Rampole and the doctor dined at a little French restaurant in Wardour Street. Hadley, who had gone to Scotland Yard immediately after leaving the Tower, had promised to meet them there for a visit to the Bitton home that night. Dr Fell dug himself in behind a steaming parapet of dishes and a formidable array of wine-bottles; but throughout the meal he steadily refused to discuss crime.

  On any other subject, however, it was practically impossible to stop him. He discussed in turn the third Crusade, the origin of the Christmas cracker, Sir Richard Steele, Beowulf,
and Buddhism. It was eight-thirty before they finished dinner. Rampole, comfortably lazy and warmed with wine, had just sat back for the lighting of the cigars when Hadley arrived.

  The chief inspector was restless, and drew up a chair without removing his overcoat.

  `I'll have a sandwich and a whisky with you,' he said, in reply to Dr Fell's invitation.

  The doctor peered at him over the flame of the match for his cigar.

  `Developments?'

  `Serious ones, I'm afraid. At least two unforeseen things have occurred. One of them I can't make head or tail of.' He began to rummage in his brief-case and draw out papers. `To begin with, somebody broke into Driscoll's flat about a quarter to five o'clock this afternoon.!

  'Broke into…'

  `Yes. Here are the facts, briefly. You remember, when we questioned that Larkin woman I left orders to have her shadowed. Fortunately, Hamper had an excellent man there a plain-clothes constable, new man, whose only talent seems to be along that line. He took up Larkin's trail as soon as she left the gates. She walked straight up Tower Hill, without hesitating.

  'At the top of Tower Hill she cut across and went into the Mark Lane Underground Station. There was a queue in front of the booking-office, and Somers couldn't get close enough to hear the station to which she booked. But Somers had a hunch. He took a ticket to Russell Square, which is the tube station nearest to where she lives. She changed at King's Cross, and then he knew he was right. He got out after her at the Russell Square station in Bernard Street, and followed her down Woburn Place to Tavistock Square.

  She went into the third entry of Tavistock Chambers. Somers walked straight in after her, like a fool. But it's fortunate he did.

  'He describes it as a rather narrow entry, badly lighted by a door with a glass panel at the rear, and with an automatic lift in the centre. The doors to the two flats on that floor are on either side. He had seen her closing the door of No.1 after her. And, at the same time she was going in, a woman slid out of the door of No. 2, darted past the lift, down a couple of steps, and out of the glass door at the back.'

  The woman again, eh?' said Dr Fell, blowing out smoke placidly. `Did he catch a glimpse of her?'

  `There were no lights on, and what with the mist, the darkness of the hall, and the sudden run she made, he could just be sure it was a woman. Of course, he wasn't sure that anything was wrong. But as a matter of caution, he went close and looked at the door, and then he was sure.

  `The lock of the door had been splintered out from, the jamb with some sharp instrument like a chisel or a heavy screwdriver. Somers ran down the way she had gone. The glass door opened on a large paved court, with a driveway going out to the street. Of course, the woman was gone. And Somers came back.'

  `Now, at the time he didn't know Driscoll lived there he only knew the Larkin woman did, from what instructions he'd been given. But he struck a match and saw the card on the door, and then he was inside in a hurry.

  `The place was in a wild state of disorder; somebody had been searching for something.. Somers went out after the porters and had the devil's own time finding him. The porter is an old man, rather deaf, and he was in a bad state when Somers made him understand what had happened. The only person he had seen there that afternoon was a young man who had been there many times before, and had a key. He knew he hadn't burgled the place, because he had met the young man coming out of the door of the flat, and walked out to his car with him, and he knew everything had been in order then. Somers explained he meant a woman, who had, been there just a moment ago; and the porter refused to believe him.'

  `Had anything been stolen from the flat?' Dr Fell inquired.

  `We can't tell yet. I haven't seen the place, but one of my best men is up there now. According to Somers' report, the desk had been broken open, every drawer in the flat ransacked, and most of Driscoll's papers scattered over the floor.'

  In search for some sort of letter or document?'

  `Apparently. And I think we have an explanation of `Mary" '

  `I rather thought we should,' said the doctor.

  `One thing in the study struck Somers' eye because it seemed so out of place. It was your typical bachelor digs: hunting-prints, leather chairs, a silver cup or two, sport groups, things' like that. But on the mantelpiece were two plaster figures on bases, painted in bright colours — a man and a woman. They wore what Somers called "old-time clothes; like the ones in Madame Tussaud's," and they were labelled… '

  Dr Fell raised his' eyebrows and grunted. 'I see. Philip II and Mary Tudor. They probably got them at some outing together, and kept them for the sentimental remembrance. Well who was the woman?'

  The waiter brought Hadley a ham sandwich and a; stiff whisky and soda. He took a pull at the latter before he answered.

  `It looks fairly clear, doesn't it, after what we decided this afternoon?' he demanded. `It had to be somebody who already knew about the murder. She would realize that, with Driscoll dead, his papers would be examined immediately. And if there were any letters that incriminate her.-?'

  In short, Mrs Bitton,' said Dr Fell. `No, I don't have any doubt you're right.' Let's see. We questioned her before we questioned Larkin, didn't we? And then let her go.'

  `Yes. And think back, now! Do you remember just before she was about to leave…? Ah, Rampole, you remember it, I can see. You noticed?

  The American nodded. `Just for a moment; an expression of real and close terror. She seemed to remember something?

  `And do you recall what General Mason had just said? I saw the expression on her face, and I tried to account for it; but I understand now. General Mason had been urging Sir William to go up to his rooms and rest, and he said, "The Devereux record is in the portfolio on my desk." And that instantly suggested to her the damning evidence that might be lying in Driscoll's desk for the police to discover. Evidently she has called herself; "Mary" only since she had reason to believe she was being watched.'

  'But would she have had time to get up to Driscoll's flat and do all this?' Rampole asked. 'We didn't talk very long with Mrs Larkin. And Sir William went out to put Mrs Bitton into a cab…'

  `Which she dismissed at the top of Tower Hill for the Underground. She could have gone from Mark Lane to King's Cross in less than fifteen minutes; she could have even saved the risk of time lost in changing trains by getting out at King's Cross and walking to Tavistock Square. Oh yes. The taxi would have been much too slow… And as for getting into the flat, you've only got to take one look at her to realize that she could have broken open a much less flimsy door with no particular trouble. The deaf porter wouldn't be apt to hear any noise, and the only other person who could have discovered her was Mrs Larkin — whom she knew to be detained at the Tower.'

  'That tears it,'' said Dr Fell. 'That undoubtedly tears it. Hah!' He put his big head in his hands. 'This is bad, Hadley. And what I don't like is the symbolism.'

  'Symbolism?'

  'I mean those two plaster figures you've described. Suppose you and your lady-love have two china dolls in which you like to fancy an analogy to; yourselves. One of them' is labelled "Abelard" and the other "Heloise." You're very apt to look up Heloise and Abelard, aren't you, and see, who they were? — if you don't already know. And I tell you, Hadley, I didn't like that Bitton woman's much too palpably idiotic prattle about Queen Elizabeth being executed.'

  `What are you driving, at?'

  `If there is a symbolism about those two figures,' said the doctor, `we have got to remember two things about Queen Mary Tudor of England and her husband, King Philip II of Spain. One is that all her life Mary was violently in love with Philip, a passion almost as strong as her religious faith; while Philip was never in the least interested in her. And the second thing we must remember is that they called her "Bloody Mary."'

  There was a long silence. The little restaurant, almost empty of diners, whispered to that suggestion as with the ticking of a clock.

  'Whatever that amounts to,' Hadley said
, at length, with ' grim doggedness, 'I'll go on to the second thing that's happened since I've seen you. And it's the really disturbing one. It's about Julius Arbor.'

  Dr Fell struck the table. 'Go on!' he said. 'Good God! I might have known… '

  'He's at Golders Green. They didn't tell us this when we left the Tower, but Sergeant Hamper found it. out and phoned to me, and I've just finished tracing down the rest. When Arbor left us, it couldn't have been much more than twenty past six o'clock. ‘

  'Well, the word had already been carried up to the Middle Tower to let him go through. He told us, you're member, that he'd brought a taxi down there; told the, driver to wait, and then couldn't reappear. After some length of time, the driver wondered what was wrong and came down to the Middle Tower to investigate. The Spur Guard barred his way, and the warder on duty said something about an accident. Apparently the driver had happy visions of his meter clicking into pounds; he planted himself there and waited for over three hours.

  'Then Arbor came out from the Byward Tower, where we were, and started to walk along the causeway between there and the Middle Tower: It was dark then, and still rather misty. But there's a gas-lamp on the parapet of the bridge. The taxi-driver and the warder on duty at the Middle Tower happened to glance along the causeway, and saw Arbor leaning against the lamp-standard as though he were about to collapse. Then he straightened up: and stumbled ahead.

  'They thought he was drunk. But when he reached them his face was white and sweaty, and he could hardly talk. Another of those attacks we witnessed, undoubtedly, but a worse attack because, somehow, he'd got a worse fright. The taxi-driver took him over to the refreshment-room, and he drank about half a tumbler of brandy neat. He seemed a bit better, and ordered the driver to take him to Sir William's house in Berkeley Square.