Mrs. Tote said, “Oh, no.”
She folded her hands in her lap, fixed her red-rimmed eyes upon him, and thought with anguished longing of the days when a policeman used to be a pleasant sight. If only anything didn’t come out about Albert-if only she could be sure that there wasn’t anything to come out. Getting rich quick in ways you oughtn’t to was bad enough, but there might be worse than that. Murder would be worse. When the word came into her mind it made her feel as if she was shrinking up smaller and smaller and smaller, until presently she wouldn’t be there at all -and then she wouldn’t see Allie again-
Lamb’s voice sounded like a great gong.
“Now, Mrs. Tote-about tonight. What time did you go upstairs?”
“Ten minutes to ten.”
“Rather early?”
“We’d all had enough of it.”
Something about the way she said this gave him quite a good idea of what the evening had been like. He took her through it, getting her angle on what had already been very accurately described by Miss Maud Silver. She agreed that Mr. Carroll had had a good deal to drink- “Not drunk, of course, but he’d had more than was good for him. He’d never have said the things he said, nor behaved the way he did if he hadn’t-trying to make everyone think he knew something-well, it isn’t the way anyone would behave if they’d any sense in them. Downright foolish, I thought it was, and likely to lead to trouble.”
“What do you mean by that?”
She was frightened. She oughtn’t to have said it. It was only what she thought. You can’t just say what you think in a murder case-it isn’t safe. She spoke quickly.
“No one likes to be hinted at. That’s what he was doing-hinting. I was afraid one of the gentlemen would take it up and there would be words.”
Perhaps she oughtn’t to have said that either. She threw a nervous glance at Miss Silver. There was something reassuring about the pink wool and the steady click of the needles.
Lamb recalled her attention.
“Well, you went upstairs at ten minutes to ten. Did you go to bed at once?”
“No.”
“What did you do?”
“We talked a bit.”
“About Mr. Carroll-about the scene downstairs?”
“Well, there was something said.”
Lamb laughed.
“Well, I suppose there would be! And I suppose your husband wasn’t best pleased?”
“Nobody would be,” said Mrs. Tote.
“I don’t suppose they would. I’m not blaming him. And I suppose you were trying to soothe him down?”
“Well, I was.”
“And then?”
“He went off to his dressing-room.”
“What time was that?”
“Twenty past ten.”
“Look at your watch?”
“Yes. I wanted to see if I’d write a line to my daughter. My husband takes his time undressing.”
“Did you write to your daughter?”
“No-I thought I wouldn’t. I was feeling upset-I didn’t want to upset her. I thought I would undress.”
Lamb leaned forward.
“Now, Mrs. Tote-your room has two windows looking on to the courtyard where Mr. Carroll’s body was found. Were those windows shut or open?”
She said, “Shut,” looked round at Miss Silver, looked back, opened her mouth as if she was going to say something, and then closed it again.
“Yes, Mrs. Tote?”
She sat there, twisting her hands in her lap, pressing her lips together.
“Come, Mrs. Tote-something about those windows, isn’t there? Did you open one of them-did you look out?”
Her fingers went on twisting. You couldn’t exactly say she nodded, but there was some small reluctant movement of the head. Lamb looked at her with a gravity which was impressive in its way.
“Mrs. Tote, if you heard anything or saw anything tonight, you know as well as I do that you’ve got a duty. It isn’t pleasant giving evidence which may lead to a man being hanged, but murder’s murder, and if you know anything, it’s your duty to speak.”
Her red-rimmed eyes were sad but acquiescent.
“I opened the window.”
“Yes. Why?”
“I heard something.”
“What?”
“Something rattling-as if there was someone throwing stones up against a window.”
“Your window?”
She shook her head.
“Oh, no-not mine. So I thought I’d look out.”
“Yes?”
“I put out my light and opened the window. I couldn’t see anything at first, but I could hear someone moving down there in the court. And then all at once Mr. Carroll opened his window just over the way and stood there looking out with the lighted room behind him.”
“See him?”
“Oh, yes-quite plainly. He leaned out and said, ‘Who’s there?’ and someone moved below and said, ‘Come along down -I want to speak to you.’ ”
“Yes-go on.”
“Mr. Carroll said, ‘Is that you, Oakley?’ and the man in the court said, ‘It might be worth your while to keep a still tongue. Suppose you come down and talk it over.’ ”
“What did Carroll say to that?”
“He laughed. It was all very quiet, you know. I’ve got very quick hearing. It was just so I could hear it and no more. He laughed, and he said, ‘I’ll come down and let you in by one of those groundfloor windows,’ and he shut his window and pulled the curtains over it.”
“What did you do?”
“I shut my window and went back into the room and put the light on. I didn’t think it was any of my business, and I didn’t want them to know I’d been listening.”
“Did you hear anything after that?”
“No-”
“Nothing that might have been a blow, or a fall?”
“I was moving about, you see-pouring out water and having a wash. You don’t hear things when you’re washing-” There was something hesitating about her manner.
“But Carroll said, ‘Is that you, Oakley?’ You’re sure about that?”
She had a shrinking look, but she said quite firmly,
“Yes, I’m sure about that. He said the name quite loud.”
“And you heard nothing more-nothing more at all after you shut your window?”
She seemed distressed.
“I don’t know-it isn’t fair to say if you’re not sure.”
“Then you did hear something?”
Her fingers twisted.
“Not to say hear. I was washing. I thought there was something-like someone calling.”
“What did you think when you heard it?”
“I thought it was Mr. Carroll calling out to Mr. Oakley. Just the name-that’s what I thought it was-the way he said it before, only louder. It must have been louder, or I wouldn’t have thought I heard it-but the water was running-I couldn’t swear to anything.”
He let her go.
When the door had closed behind her he threw himself back in his chair.
“Well, that puts a noose round Oakley’s neck all right!”
Miss Silver coughed delicately.
“Mrs. Tote will not swear that the person she saw in the court was Mr. Oakley.”
She sustained the full impact of a formidable frown.
“She heard Carroll address him as Oakley-she’ll swear to that.”
“That is not quite the same thing. Mr. Carroll may have been mistaken. In fact the final point you so skilfully elicited from Mrs. Tote confirms Mr. Oakley’s story. He explains his presence in the court by saying that he thought someone was calling him and hastened in the direction from which he believed the sound to come.”
Lamb gave a short annoyed laugh.
“And isn’t that just what he had to say? Carroll has shouted his name-anyone may have heard him. He’s got to put some kind of a gloss on it, so he uses it to account for his going round to that side of the house.”
With his frowning gaze upon Miss Silver, he was struck by the birdlike quality of her regard, the head a little on one side, the eyes very bright. He had seen her look like that before, and it meant something. In fact, the bird with its eye on a highly promising worm.
“If I might just put that question to Mr. Pearson, Chief Inspector-”
“It won’t keep?”
“I believe not.”
He jerked round in his chair.
“Ring, Frank!”
Pearson came in all agog. His nerves had received a severe shock, but he was being a good deal buoyed up by the fact that it was entirely due to his zeal that the police had arrived in time to arrest the murderer upon the very scene of his crime. That the circumstances of this case would provide him with the most interesting reminiscences, he was already aware. But this solace could not entirely prevent a nostalgic yearning for a future in which two murders would have become merely the subject of a tale. As he was subsequently to put it to his wife, “It’s all very well when it’s a has-been as you might say, but very upsetting to the nerves when it’s going on and you don’t know who’s going to be the next corpse.” Since murders do not commonly take place in the presence of two police officers, to say nothing of one of them being a Chief Inspector, he found the study a very comfortable place, and would have been quite willing to stay there all night.
Miss Silver’s words were therefore rather a disappointment.
“I only want to ask you one question, Mr. Pearson.”
He assumed the butler.
“Yes, madam?”
“When you came through the hall after locking up, did you put any wood on the fire?”
If anyone had been watching Frank Abbott he would have been observed to start.
“Oh, no, madam-I shouldn’t do that.”
“So I supposed. Did you notice the condition of the fire?”
“It is part of my duty to do so, as you might say. I wouldn’t go upstairs and leave a big fire, or anything that might fall out.”
“And the fire was low?”
“Three or four bits lying flat and quite charred through.”
“And you have put no wood on since?”
“Oh, no, madam.”
“Or anyone else?”
“No one has had the opportunity-not since the alarm was given.”
Miss Silver turned a look of extreme gravity upon the Chief Inspector.
“When I came downstairs after the murder I noticed a heavy crooked log at the back of the fire. It was not there when we all retired just before ten o’clock. When you began to speak about the weapon used in tonight’s murder, the fire as I had seen it when I went upstairs and as I saw it when I came down again came very strongly to my thought. At first it only seemed that there was some incongruity, but whilst you were talking to Sergeant Abbott I became aware that this extra piece of wood might very well be the missing weapon. I can only hope that the smouldering ash has not been hot enough to destroy possible evidences.”
Before she had finished speaking Frank Abbott was at the door.
Chapter XXXIV
Ten minutes later Lamb said, “Well, Miss Silver, we are very much obliged to you. There’s no doubt we’ve got the weapon. Fortunately Oakley must have been in too much of a hurry to do more than pitch that log in on the back of the fire without waiting to see where it landed. If it hadn’t rolled off what was left of the fire it would probably have caught. As it is, there’s no mistake about what it was used for.”
“Oakley?” Miss Silver coughed in rather a definite manner. “Mr. Oakley, Chief Inspector?”
He stared. Frank Abbott gave a slight start.
Miss Silver was knitting rapidly. She said,
“If that log was the weapon, Mr. Oakley was not the murderer. It is not possible.”
She got a grunt and a curt “Your reasons?”
“When Mr. Pearson came to tell me of the telephone conversation he had just overheard he mentioned that he had been shutting up the house. Every window on the ground floor was shut and fastened, every door locked and bolted-your men can confirm this. Even apart from the question of how Mr. Oakley could have left the house completely shut up after disposing of the weapon as you suggest, we are faced with another problem. Mr. Carroll did leave the house. He left it after it had been shut up for the night-since Pearson saw him going upstairs when he himself had finished locking up. He must have come down again. He must have opened some door or window in order to leave the house. Yet no door or window was found to be open or unlatched. Someone inside the house must have shut Mr. Carroll out. Is it not natural to suppose that it was the murderer? Mr. Oakley could not have done it.”
There was a pause. Lamb’s surface irritation was all gone. His mind, slower than Miss Silver’s, but eminently competent and impartial, bent itself to weighing the arguments she had used. He did not allow himself to be hurried. He knew his own pace and kept to it. In the end he said,
“That’s right-it wasn’t Oakley-he couldn’t have done it.” He spoke as to an equal, quite without rancour, and continued in the same tone. “Any idea who did do it?”
She said gravely, “Someone who knew that Mr. Oakley was coming over.”
He whistled.
“How do you make that out?”
“I think it follows. I feel sure that the murderer knew of the telephone conversation between Mr. Oakley and Mr. Carroll- I think it quite apparent.”
Lamb’s eyes bulged.
“You’re not going to tell me you think it’s Pearson! I can’t swallow that.”
Miss Silver smiled.
“I shall not ask you to do so. We know that Pearson was listening to the first of the two conversations, the one which was terminated by Mr. Carroll. He did not, however, hear the second, when Mr. Oakley rang up to say that he was coming over. I considered it practically certain that there would be a second extension, to Mr. Porlock’s bedroom, and I have ascertained that this is the case. Now consider for a moment. Mr. Carroll had been playing upon the nerves and upon the fears of the whole company. How tightly strained must the murderer’s nerves have been-how intensely he must have been wondering whether Mr. Carroll really had any hold over him, and how he meant to use it. The party begins to separate for the night. He sees Mr. Carroll enter the study and shut the door. He may even hear him calling the exchange. Do you not think that he would wonder whether Mr. Carroll was about to impart his information to the police? If he could slip into Mr. Porlock’s room he could listen in on the extension and find out. I suggest that this instrument should be examined for fingerprints without delay. If they correspond-and I think they will correspond -with the prints taken early this evening from the mantelpiece in the hall and from the panelled side of the staircase, there will be a good deal of support for my theory.”
“Whose prints do you expect to find?”
Miss Silver shook her head.
“Pray allow me to continue. The murderer hears Mr. Oakley say that he is coming over. I think it possible, in fact probable, that he only reached the extension in time to hear this second conversation. He would have had to get upstairs and watch for an opportunity of penetrating into Mr. Porlock’s room.”
Lamb gave another of his grunts, usually a sign of interest.
“Well, what did he do next? I suppose you can give us an eyewitness account!”
Miss Silver continued to knit.
“I fear not. I can only tell you what I believe may have happened. He would, of course, immediately realize that Mr. Oakley might be used as a scapegoat. The circumstances of Mr. Porlock’s murder make it quite clear that the murderer is quickwitted and resourceful. He would, I think, see his chance of disposing of Mr. Carroll with very little risk to himself. He would calculate how long it would take Mr. Oakley to get here, and he would have to allow for his coming by car. The distance between the two houses being a good deal less than a mile, the difference between driving and walking would not be very great. Since the garage at the
Mill House is at some little distance, I should suppose that he would wait for not more than five minutes before descending to the billiard-room, probably by the back stair.”
“The billiard-room?”
“I think so. Part of it lies under Mr. Carroll’s room, and it therefore has windows giving upon the court where the body was found. These windows, like the ones above, are all casements, and they are not very far from the ground. Having climbed out, he would have to go as far as the edge of the gravel sweep and provide himself with a handful of pebbles. He throws these up at Mr. Carroll’s window. As the window below was probably open at the time, it is possible that traces of gravel may be found on the billiard-room floor.”
Lamb jerked round on his subordinate.
“Go and have a look! Get Hughes, and tell him to try the telephone extension in Porlock’s room for prints-door-handles inside and out-window-fastenings in the billiard-room. Tell him to look slippy. He’d better start with the telephone. Let me see-where’s Jones? Put him in the billiard-room till it’s been gone over. And tell Jackson no one’s to leave the drawing-room till I come.”
Sergeant Abbott departed with regret. He would have preferred to stay and hear whether Miss Silver had anything more to say. This being the case, he did his errands in remarkably good time and returned with an air of vicarious triumph to report two or three pieces of small gravel just inside the billiard-room window.
Lamb grunted.
“Well, Miss Silver, it seems you’ve hit the nail on the head. Perhaps you will tell us now whose prints you think we’re going to find?”
Her needles clicked, the pink ball revolved. The triumph had been all Sergeant Abbott’s. She spoke gravely.
“I have been a very short time in this house. I have not, therefore, had my usual opportunities of making contacts or coming to conclusions. But, even on a very short acquaintance, there are things which cannot be overlooked. At any time before nine o’clock-”
Lamb picked her up sharply.
“Nine o’clock?”
She inclined her head.
“Coffee was brought into the drawing-room just before nine o’clock. The gentlemen joined us very shortly afterwards. Up till then, if I had been asked which of the guests in the house was the one most likely to have murdered Mr. Porlock, I should have been very much inclined to indicate Mr. Carroll. He made a very disagreeable impression on me. I thought him crooked and unscrupulous, and when it came to a question of motive he seemed to have a stronger one than anyone else. Proof that he had been concerned in treasonable correspondence with the enemy would certainly have meant a serious term of imprisonment, if not the death penalty. Even if the charge were not fully substantiated, he would be ruined professionally.”
Wicked Uncle Page 22