Chapter 24 Chapter Twenty-Four

I went back to the Vicarage to find Howes waiting for me in the study.He paced back and forth nervously.When I entered the room, he was startled as if he had been shot. "You'll have to forgive me," he said, wiping his brow. "I've been restless lately." "My dear chap," said I, "you must go away and change your surroundings. We shall see you utterly broken, and it must not be." "I cannot abandon my post. No, I will never do anything like that." "It's not about abandonment. You're ill. I'm sure Haydock would agree with me."

"Haydock--Haydock. What kind of doctor is he? An ignorant country practitioner." "I don't think you're being fair to him. In his line of business. He's always been considered a capable man." "Oh, maybe. Yes, I dare say, but I don't like him. I didn't come here to say that. I came here to ask you if you would preach for me tonight. I—I do feel Overwhelmed." "Oh, of course. I can also conduct the ceremony on your behalf." "No, no. I wish to officiate. I'm in good health. Just the thought of being on the pulpit with so many eyes on me..."

He closed his eyes and swallowed a few convulsive breaths. It was clear to me that Howes was suffering from something.He seemed to understand me, for he opened his eyes and said quickly: "I don't really have any serious illness. Just some headaches, these excruciating headaches. Let me have a glass of water, please?" "Ok." I said. I went to the pipe to fetch water myself.Ringing the bell for the maid was a futile exercise in our house. I fetched him water.He thanked me.He took a small cardboard box out of his pocket, opened it, took out a wafer capsule, and swallowed it with water.

"Headache powder," he explained. I suddenly wondered if Howes had become drug dependent.This might explain a lot of his erratic behavior. "I hope you won't be convinced too much." I said. "No, oh, no. Dr. Haydock warned me. But it's a real drug, and it'll work right away." Indeed, he had appeared calmer and clearer. He stood up. "So you're going to preach tonight? It's very kind of you, sir." "You're welcome. I also insist on presiding over the ceremony. Go home and rest. No, I won't listen to any explanation. Say nothing more."

He thanked me again.Then, his eyes slid to the side window and said: "Sir, you—you've been to the 'Old House' today, haven't you?" "yes." "I'm sorry—but did they send you?" I looked at him in surprise, and he panicked. "I'm sorry, sir. I—I thought there might be something new going on, and that's why Mrs. Protheroe sent you." I had no intention of satisfying Howes' curiosity. "She wants to talk to me about funeral arrangements and a couple of other little things," I said. "Oh! That's it. I see."

I didn't speak.He kept moving his feet, and finally said: "Mr Redding came to see me last night. I—I can't think why." "Did he tell you?" "He—he just said he wanted to visit me. Said it was a bit lonely at night. He'd never visited me before." "Oh, I think he's nice company," I said, smiling. "Why did he come to see me? I don't know," he said sharply. "He talks about coming. What does it all mean? What do you think he's going through in his head?" "Why do you think he has ulterior motives?" I asked.

"I don't like it," said Howes stubbornly again. "I never opposed him in any way. I never suggested he was guilty, and even when he turned himself in, I said it seemed very Incomprehensible. If I ever suspected anything, it was Archer, not him. Archer was a whole different fellow--a godless, irreligious scoundrel, a drunken rascal." "Don't you think that's a bit harsh?" I asked. "After all, we don't know this man very well." "A burglar, in and out of prison several times, for all sorts of bad things." "Do you really think he killed Colonel Protheroe?" I asked curiously.

Howes has a habit of not liking to answer "yes" or "no."I've noticed this habit several times recently. "Don't you think, sir, that this is the only possible answer?" "As far as I know," I said, "there has been no evidence against him." "His threat," said Howes hastily, "you forgot his threat." I'm sick and tired of talking about Archer's threats.As far as I know, there is no direct evidence that he made any threats. "He determined to get revenge on Colonel Protheroe. Filled his stomach with wine and killed him."

"That's just speculation." "But do you admit that it is quite possible?" "no I do not." "Then, is it possible?" "Yes, somewhat possible." Howes squinted at me. "Why don't you think it's quite possible?" "Because," I said, "a man like Archer wouldn't try to kill a man with a pistol. He'd use another weapon." Howes seemed surprised by my answer.Obviously, this justification was beyond his expectation. "Do you really think this justification is plausible?" he asked skeptically.

"In my opinion, this is a complete stumbling block to the conviction of Archer's crime," I said. In the face of my affirmative defense, Howes said nothing more.He thanked me again and left. I send him to the front door.On the table in the restaurant, I saw four notes. These notes all have some common features.The handwriting was almost recognizably feminine, and both read: "Referred. Urgent." The only difference I could tell was that one of the sheets was visibly dirtier than the rest. The notes were so similar that I was curious to see what was going on—not double curiosity, but quadruple curiosity.

Mary came out of the kitchen and saw me staring at the notes. "It was delivered after lunch," she offered, "except one. I saw this one in the mailbox." I nodded, put away the note, and walked into the study. The first note reads: Dear Mr. Claremont: I have learned something that I feel I should let you know. It has something to do with the death of poor Colonel Protheroe.I would be very grateful for your opinion on this - whether to report it to the police.Since the death of my poor husband, I have been reluctant to appear in any public appearances.Perhaps you can come and see me for a while this afternoon. Yours sincerely Martha Price Ridley I open the second note: Dear Mr. Claremont: I was very disturbed and overwhelmed.Something that I thought might be important reached my ears.I was terrified of getting involved with the police.I am very disturbed and distressed.Is it not too much to ask, my dear pastor, to come and sit for a few minutes, and to reassure me of my doubts and anxieties in your usual excellent way? Your most sincere Caroline Wetherby I felt that I could almost recite the contents of the third note in advance. Dear Mr. Claremont: I heard something very important.I feel like you should be the first to know.Would you please come and see me at my house sometime this afternoon, please?I will wait for you at home. This crisp note was signed: Amanda Hartner. I open the fourth note.I've been lucky enough to be rarely harassed by anonymous letters.Anonymous letters, I think, are a most vile and cruel weapon.This note is no exception.The note pretended to be written by a man of low education, but several doubts in it allowed me to see through the pretense. Dear Pastor: I think you should know what's going on.Your wife has been seen several times sneaking out of Mr Redding's lodgings.You know what I mean.The two have an ambiguous relationship.I think you should know. a friend With a little cry of disgust, I crumpled the notes and threw them over the open grate when Griselda entered the room. "What is it that you throw away so contemptuously?" she asked. "Trash," I said. I took a match from my pocket, polished it, and squatted down.But Griselda was faster than me.She knelt down and grabbed the ball of crumpled paper, which unfolded before I could stop her. She read the note, gave a little yelp of disgust, and threw it back at me, turning away.I lit the note and watched it burn. Griselda went and stood by the window, looking out into the garden. "Len," she said, still looking out. "Well, honey." "I have to tell you something. Yes, don't interrupt me. I'm going to talk, please listen. When—when Lawrence came here, I made you think I had only known him once before.That's not true.I — I have a very close relationship with him.In fact, I fell in love with him before I met you.I think most women would fall in love with Lawrence.I was, oh, kind of silly for a moment.I'm not saying that I wrote him a compromise letter or something stupid like the one described in the book.However, I used to like him a lot. " "Why didn't you tell me?" I asked. "Oh, because I don't quite know, unless... oh, you're kind of silly in some ways. Just because you're so much older than me, you think, oh, it's possible for me to fall in love with someone else. I think, you Maybe hate that I'm friends with Lawrence." "You're so clever at hiding things," I said, remembering what she'd told me in that room less than a week earlier, and the innocence with which she had talked. "Yeah, I've always been able to hide things. I kind of like it." There was a childlike joy in her voice. "But what I say is quite true. I don't know Anne, I can't figure out why Lawrence is so different, no--oh, really not interested in me." There was a silence. "Len, you understand, don't you?" Griselda asked anxiously. "Yes," I said, "I understand." But can I really understand?