The rector did not move, nor did his expression change. He continued to swab at his forehead with the handkerchief, that old trick of his; large and black-clad and comfortable, with his gold watch-chain swinging. But his blue eyes seemed to have shrunk. Not narrowed, but shrunk, as though they had really grown smaller. He was mustering up unction, ease, fluency, Rampole felt, as a man takes a deep inhalation before a swim underwater.
He said:
"This is absurd. I hope you realise that. But," a polite gesture, with the handkerchief, "we seem to be — ah — attracting some attention. I suppose you gentlemen are all detectives; even if you are so mad as to arrest me, you hardly needed so large a force…. There's a crowd gathering!" he added, in a lower and angrier tone. "If you must keep your hand on my shoulder, let's go back to Sir Benjamin's car."
The man who had arrested him, a taciturn-looking person with heavy lines in his face, looked at Dr. Fell.
"This is the man, sir?" he asked.
"It's all right, Inspector," answered the doctor. "That's the man. You may as well do as he suggests.- Sir Benjamin, you see that man on the platform. You recognize him?"
"Good Lord, yes!" exclaimed the chief constable. "It's Bob Saunders, right enough. He's older than when I knew him, but I should recognize him anywhere…. But I say, Fell!" He was sputtering like a boiling kettle. "You can't possibly mean — the rector — Saunders-!"
"His name isn't Saunders," said the doctor, composedly. "And I'm fairly sure he isn't a clergyman. Anyhow, you recognize the uncle. I was afraid you would blurt out something before I could enquire. There was always a chance, that the bogus Saunders would resemble the real rector.
“Inspector Jennings, I suggest you take your prisoner over to that grey automobile on the other side of the road. Sir Benjamin, you might meet your old friend before the rest of us do. Tell him as much or as little as you like, and then join us."
Saunders took off his hat and fanned himself with it.
"Then you are behind this, Doctor?" he enquired, almost genially. "I — er — it surprises me. It even shocks me. I do not like you, Doctor Fell. Gentlemen, come along. You needn't keep hold of my arm, Inspector. I assure you I have no intention of running away."
In the darkening light, the little party moved across to the Daimler. Inspector Jennings turned his neck as though on a slow pivot.
"I thought I should bring a few of the men along with me, sir," he said to Dr. Fell. "You said he was a killer."
The ugly word, unemotionally spoken, caused a hush which was broken only by the plodding of large feet. Rampole, walking behind the rest of them with Dorothy, stared at the large back of the rector moving in confident strides. The bald spot on Saunders' head shone out of the fluff of yellowish hair. He heard Saunders laugh….
They put the prisoner in the tonneau of the car. Spreading himself comfortably, the rector drew a deep breath. The word "killer" was still sounding faintly in their ears. Saunders seemed to know it. His eyes moved slowly over them, and he was meticulously folding and unfolding his handkerchief. It was as though he were putting on pieces of armour.
"Now, then, gentlemen," he remarked, "pray let's make this appear to be a pleasant little chat in the rear of a motor-car…. What, precisely, is the charge against me?"
"By God!" said Dr. Fell, striking the side of the car admiringly, "it's damned good, Saunders! — You heard the Inspector. Officially you are charged only with the murder of Martin Starberth. Eh?"
"Quite," agreed the rector, nodding slowly. "I am glad I have such a group of witnesses about me Before I say anything, Inspector, this is your last chance. Are you sure you want to proceed with this arrest?"
"Those are my instructions, sir."
Again the other nodded pleasantly. "I rather think you'll regret it, then. Because three witnesses-excuse, four witnesses — will testify that it would have been absolutely impossible for me to have killed my young friend Martin. Or, indeed, anybody else."
He smiled.
"May I ask a question now? Dr. Fell, you seem to have caused this somewhat-pardon me-amazing procedure. On the night my young friend — ah — died, I was at your house, by your side, was I not? At what time did I arrive?" Dr. Fell, still resembling a fat bandit, was leaning against the side of the car. He seemed to be enjoying himself.
"First move," he said. "You're opening with a pawn instead of a knight. Stand by, Inspector; I like this.You arrived in the vicinity of ten-thirty. More or less. I'll give you ten-thirty."
"Let me remind you"-the rector's voice had grown a trifle harsher; but he changed it in an instant, smoothly. "Ah, no matter. Miss Starberth, will you tell these gentlemen again what time your brother left the Hall?"
"There was a mix-up about clocks, you know," Dr. Fell put in. "The clock in the hall was ten minutes fast…."
"Quite so," said Saunders. "Well, at whatever time he left the Hall, I must have been at Dr. Fell's house? You know this to be a fact?"
Dorothy, who had been staring at him queerly, nodded.
"Why… yes. Yes, naturally."
"And you, Mr. Rampole. You know that I was at the doctor's, and that I never left. You saw Martin coming up to the prison with his light while I was there; you saw his lamp in the Governor's Room while I was there? In short, I could not conceivably have killed him?"
Rampole had to say, "Yes." There was no denying it. During all that time, Saunders had been directly under his eyes; under Dr. Fell's eyes also. He did not like Saunders' look. There was too much of a sort of desperate hypnosis behind the smile of the big, pink, steaming face. All the same…
"You, too, must grant all this, doctor?" the rector asked. "I do admit it."
"And I employed no mechanical device, such as has several times been suggested in this investigation? There was no death-trap by which I could have killed Martin Starberth while I was not there?"
"There was not," the doctor replied. His blinking eyes had become steady. "You were with us the whole time you say you were. In the brief moments when you were separated from Mr. Rampole while you two ran up towards the prison, you did nothing whatever — Martin Starberth was already dead. Your conduct was clear. And yet you killed Martin Starberth with your own hand, and flung his body into the Hag's Nook."
Unfolding his handkerchief again, the rector wiped his forehead. His eyes seemed to watch for a trap. Anger was growing now….
"You'd better turn me loose, Inspector," he said, suddenly. "Don't you think we've had enough foolery? This man is either trying to play a joke, or…"
"Here comes Sir Benjamin with the man you say is your uncle," remarked Dr. Fell. "I think we had all better go back to my house. And then I'll show you how he did it. In the meantime-Inspector!"
"Yes, sir?"
"You have the search warrant?' "Yes, sir."
"Send the rest of your men down to search the rectory, and come with us."
Saunders moved slightly. His eyes were reddish round the lids, and had an expression like marbles. He still wore his steady smile.
"Move over," Dr. Fell ordered, composedly. "I'll sit beside you. Oh, and by the way! — I shouldn't keep fiddling with that handkerchief, if I were you. Your constant use of a handkerchief is too well known. We found one of 'em in the hiding-place in the well, and I rather imagined the initials stood for Thomas Saunders instead of Timothy Starberth. The last word old Timothy said before he died was `handkerchief.' He saw to it ' that a clue was left behind, even beside that manuscript."
Saunders, moving over to make room, calmly spread the handkerchief out on his knee so that it was in full view. Dr. Fell chuckled.
"You don't still insist your name is Thomas Saunders, do you?" he enquired. A motion of his cane indicated Sir Benjamin coming towards them with the tall brown man carrying the large valise. Piercing across the open space, a high and querulous voice was complaining:
"— about what the devil this means. I had some friends to visit, and I wrote Tom not to meet me until Thursday; then he cabled me to the boat to come down here directly, on a matter of life or death, and specified trains, and―"
"I sent the cable," said Dr. Fell. "It's a good thing I did. Our friend would have disappeared by Thursday. He had already persuaded Sir Benjamin to urge him to disappear.
The tall man stopped short, pushing back his hat.
"Listen," he said, with a sort of wild patience. "Is everybody stark, raving mad? First Ben won't talk sense, and now — who are you?"
"No, no. That's not the question," Dr. Fell corrected: "The question is, who is this?" He touched Saunders' arm. "Is it your nephew?"
"Oh, hell!" said Mr. Robert Saunders.
"Get into the car, then. Better sit up beside the driver, and he'll tell you."
In went the inspector on the other side of Saunders.
Rampole and Dorothy sat on the small seats, and Robert Saunders up with Sir Benjamin. The rector only remarked:
"A mistake can be proved, of course. But such a mistake is very different from a murder charge. You can prove no murder charge, you know."
He had got rather white. Sitting with his knee almost touching the rector's, Rampole felt a little quiver of repulsion and almost of fear. The bulbous blue eyes were still wide open, the mouth hung somewhat loose. You could hear his breathing. A deadly quiet hung in the tonneau. Dusk bad come on rapidly, and the wheels sang with the word "killer."
Then Rampole saw that the inspector had unobtrusively folded his pistol under one arm, and that its barrel was against the rector's side.
Down the lane to Yew Cottage, wild bumping, and Sir Benjamin was still talking in the front seat… They had just stopped before the house when Robert Saunders sprang out. His long arm reached into the tonneau.
He said: "You dirty swine, where is he? What did you do to Tom?"
The inspector seized his wrist. "Steady, sir. Steady. No violence."
"He claims to be Tom Saunders? He's a damned liar. He- I'll kill him. I―"
Without haste, Inspector Jennings pushed him away from the car door as it was opened. They were all around the rector now. With his tonsure and fluff of yellow hair, he looked like a decaying saint; he kept trying to smile. They escorted him into the house, where Dr. Fell was lighting lamps in the study. Sir Benjamin pushed the rector down into a chair.
"Now, then―" he began.
"Inspector," said Dr. Fell, gesturing with the lamp, "you'd better search him. I think he's wearing a moneybelt."
"Keep away-!" Saunders said. His voice was growing high. "You can't prove anything. You'd better keep away!"
His eyes were opened wide. Dr. Fell put the lamp down beside him, so that it shone on his sweating face.
"Never mind, then," the doctor said, indifferently. "No
good searching him, Inspector…. Saunders, do you want to make a statement?"
"No. You can't prove anything."
As though he were reaching after a piece of paper to take down a statement, Dr. Fell drew open the drawer of his study table. Rampole followed the movement of his hand. The others did not see it, because they were looking at Saunders; but the rector was hungrily following every gesture the doctor made.
There was paper in the drawer. There was also the doctor's old-fashioned derringer pistol. It had been broken open, so that the chambers lay exposed; and as the lamp, light gleamed on it, Rampole saw that there was just one cartridge in the breech. Then the drawer closed.
Death had come into the room now.
"Sit down, gentlemen," urged Dr. Fell. Saunders' blank eyes were still on the closed drawer. The doctor glanced over at Robert Saunders, who was standing with a stupid expression on his brown face and his fists clenched. "Sit down, gentlemen. I must tell you how he did these murders, if he refuses to tell, himself. It isn't a pretty story. If you, Miss Starberth, would care to withdraw…?"
"Please go," said Rampole, in a low voice. "I'll go along."
"No!" she cried, and he knew that she was fighting down hysteria. "I've stood it so far. I won't go. You can't make me. If he did it, I want to know.."
The rector had recovered himself, though his voice was husky.
"By all means stay, Miss Starberth," he boomed. "You are the one with a right to hear this madman's story. He can't tell you — he, or anybody else, can't tell you how I could be sitting with him in this very house — and still throw your brother off the balcony of the Governor's Room."
Dr. Fell spoke loudly and sharply. He said:
"I didn't say you threw him from the balcony. He was never thrown from the balcony at all."
There was a silence. Dr. Fell leaned against the mantelpiece, one arm stretched along it and his eyes half shut. He went on, thoughtfully:
"There are several reasons why he wasn't. When you found him, he was lying on his right side. And his right hip was broken. But his watch, in the watch-pocket of his trousers, was not only unbroken, but still kept ticking without a flaw. A drop of fifty feet — it can't be done, you know. We will come back to that watch in a moment.
"Now, on the night of the murder it rained heavily. It rained, to be exact, from just before eleven o'clock until precisely one. The next morning, when we went up to the Governor's Room, we found the iron door to the balcony standing open. You remember? Martin Starberth was, presumably, murdered about ten minutes to twelve. The door, presumably also, was open then, and remained open. An hour's heavy rain, we must assume, drove in at that door. Certainly it drove against the window — a much smaller space, and choked with ivy. The next morning there were large rain-water pools under the window. But not a drop of rain had come in at the door; the floor around it was dry, gritty, and even dusty.
"In other words, gentlemen," the doctor said, calmly, "the door had not been opened until after one o'clock, after the rain had stopped. It didn't blow open; it is so heavy that you can barely wrench it out. Somebody opened it afterwards, in the middle of the night, to set his stage."
Another pause. The rector sat stiffly upright. The lamplight showed a twitching nerve beside his cheekbone.
"Martin Starberth was a very heavy smoker," continued Dr. Fell. "He was frightened, and nervous, and he had been smoking steadily all that day. In a vigil of the sort he had to undergo it is not too far fetched to believe that he would have smoked even more heavily during his wait…. A full cigarette-case and matches were found on his body. There was not one single cigarette-stub on the floor of the Governor's Room."
The doctor spoke leisurely. As though his recital had given him an idea, he produced his own pipe.
"Undoubtedly, however, there had been somebody in the Governor's Room. And just there is where the murderer's plan miscarried. Had they gone according to schedule, there would have been no necessity for a wild dash across the meadow when the light went out. We should have waited, and found Martin's body after a decently long interval, when he did not reappear. But-remark this, as Mr. Rampole has — the light went out just ten minutes too soon.
"Now it was fortunate that the murderer, in smashing Martin's hip to simulate a fall from the balcony, did not smash Martin's watch. It was running, and it had the right time. Let us suppose (for the sake of a hypothesis) that it had really been Martin waiting in the Governor's Room. When his vigil was ended, he would have switched off his lamp and gone home. He would have known, at ten minutes to twelve, that his time was not yet up. But, if there were somebody else keeping vigil in his place, and this somebody's watch happened to be ten minutes fast…?"
Sir Benjamin Arnold got up from his chair like a man groping blindly.
"Herbert―" he said.
"We knew that Herbert's watch was just ten minutes fast," the doctor said. "He ordered the housemaid to set the grandfather clock; but she discovered that it was wrong, and left the other clocks as they were. And while Herbert was keeping the vigil for the cousin who was too frightened to do it, his cousin was already lying with his neck broken in the Hag's Nook."
"But still I don't see how―" Sir Benjamin paused bewilderedly.
The telephone in the hall rang with a suddenness that made them all jump.
"You'd better answer it, Inspector," suggested the doctor; "it's probably your men phoning here from the rectory.
Saunders had risen now. His fleshy jowls had the look of a sick dog's. He started to say. "Most preposterous! Most — " in a way that sounded horribly as though he were burlesquing his usual voice. Then he stumbled against the edge of the chair and sat down again….
They could bear Inspector Jennings talking in the hall.
Presently he came back into the study, with an even more wooden face.
"It's all up, sir," he said to Dr. Fell. "They've been down in the cellar. The motor-bicycle is broken in bits and buried there. They've found a Browning pistol, a pair of gardener's gloves, some valises full of―"
Sir Benjamin said, incredulous, "You swine "
"Wait!" cried the rector. He had gotten to his feet again, his hand moving like some one scratching at a door. "You don't know the story. You don't know anything — just guesses — part of it"
"I don't know this story," snarled Robert Saunders, "and I've kept quiet long enough. I want to know about Tom. Where is he? Did you kill him, too? How long have you been posing here?"
"He died!" the other said, desperately. "I had nothing to do with it. He died. I swear to God I never did anything to him. I just wanted quiet, and peace, and respect, and I took his place…."
Aimless fingers were fumbling in the air. "Listen. All I want is a little time to think. I only want to sit here and close my eyes. You caught me so suddenly. Listen. I'll write you out everything, the whole story, and you'd never know it if I didn't. Not even you, Doctor. If I sit down here, now, and write it, will you promise to stop?"
He was almost like a huge and blubbering child. Looking at him narrowly, Dr. Fell said:
"I think you'd better let him, Inspector. He can't get away. And you can walk about the lawn, if you like."
Inspector Jennings was impassive. "Our instructions from Sir William, sir, at the Yard, were to take orders from you. Very well."
The rector drew himself up. Again that weird burlesque of his old mannerisms. "There is — ah — only one other thing. I must insist that Dr. Fell explain certain things to me, as I can explain certain things to you. In view of our past-friendship, will you be so good as to sit down here with me a few moments when the others have gone?"
A protest was almost out of Rampole's mouth. He was going to say, "There's a gun in that drawer! — " when he saw that Dr. Fell was looking at him. The lexicographer was casually lighting his pipe beside the fireplace, and his squinted eyes were asking for silence over the flame of the match….
It was almost dark now. A furious and wildly threatening Robert Saunders had to be led out by the inspector and Sir Benjamin. Rampole and the girl went out into the dim hallway. The last thing they saw was the doctor still lighting his pipe, and Thomas Saunders, his chin up and his expression indifferent, reaching towards the writing-table…
The door closed.