Chapter 12 Chapter Twelve

"Mr. Anthony Cade." Zhuo Dewei announced for him. "Enter the suspicious stranger at the country inn," said Anthony. He walked in the direction of the Marquis of Judhan. This kind of instinctive behavior is rare for strangers.At the same time, he secretly looked at the other three people in his own mind: "One, someone from the Metropolitan Police Department's criminal department. Two, a local dignitary - maybe the chief constable. Three, a troubled person on the verge of madness - who may have something to do with the government relation." "I must apologize." Anthony continued, still addressing Lord Judham.

"I mean, breaking in like this. But there's a rumor in the Happy Dog--or whatever it's called--in your local tavern--that there's been a murder here. I think, I may be able to provide some information to help you understand the case. Therefore, I have come." After a minute or two, no one spoke.What about the Combat Inspector General?He didn't speak because of years of rich experience, and he thought it would be much better if he could get everyone else to speak.Where is Colonel Melrose?Because he has always been sullen and taciturn.Where is George?Because, in the habit, he always listens to his subordinates to report problems.Lord Judham, for he had no idea what to say.Even so, firstly because the other three people had reduced their eyes three times, and secondly because the other party was speaking to himself, Marquis Judhan finally had to speak.

"Hmmm...yes...yes," he said nervously. "Please... um... Please sit down. " "Thank you," Anthony said. George swept haughtily. "Well... You said, you can provide information to help us understand the case... Are you saying..." "I mean," said Anthony, "I broke into Lord Judham's house at about eleven-forty last night (for which I hope he will forgive me). I actually heard shots fired. In any case, I can determine the time of the murder for you." He looked back at the three of them in turn.He stared at the Chief Inspector of Combat the longest, and he seemed to appreciate the man's deadpan attitude.

"However, I thought this was old news to you guys," he added mildly. "What do you mean by that, Mr. Cade?" Battle asked. "Just that. When I got up this morning, I put my shoes on. Then, when I asked them for the boots, they couldn't get them. He said a kind young policeman came and asked for the boots. So I just Understood. So I hastened here to see if it was possible to clarify my character." "Smart move," said the Combat Inspector calmly. There was a gleam in Anthony's eyes. "I appreciate your moroseness, Inspector. You're an Inspector, aren't you?"

Lord Judham interrupted.He grew to feel fond of Anthony. "Combat Inspector-General of the Metropolitan Police Department. This is Melrose, our Chief Constable, and Mr. Lomax." Anthony looked at George alertly. "Mr. George Lomax?" "yes." "Mr. Lomax," said Anthony, "I had the honor of having a letter from you yesterday." George looked at him intently. "I don't think so," he said coldly. But, he thought, it would be nice if Miss Oscar was here.Miss Oscar wrote all his letters.She would remember who it was addressed to and what it said.

A man as big as George couldn't keep all these annoying details in his mind. "I thought, Mr. Cade," he revealed, "that you were going to explain to us what you were doing here at eleven forty-five last night?" Judging from his tone, it is obvious that he said: "No matter what you say, we can't believe your words." "Well, Mr. Cade, what were you doing last night?" said the Marquess of Judham with great interest. "This," Anthony said regretfully. "It's a long story." He took out his cigarette case. "May I smoke?"

Lord Judhan nodded.Anthony lit a cigarette to brace himself for the ordeal. He didn't feel any better about it.He still recognizes the danger of his situation.In this short period of twenty-four hours, he was involved in two different murder cases.What he had done in relation to the first murder did not bear a moment's investigation.After deliberately throwing away a corpse so that the law enforcement officers could not find it, he came to the scene of the second murder, just when the murderer committed the crime.For a young man who likes to make trouble, it couldn't be better.

"The thing about South America," thought Anthony, "has absolutely nothing to do with it." He has decided what action to take.He was going to tell the truth—just a little bit, to hide a serious problem. "It started," said Anthony, "about three weeks ago--in Bulawayo. Of course Mr. Lomax knew where it was--it was an outpost of England--'only the name England." What would you know about England, man?' I was talking to a friend then, a Mr. James McGrath . . . " He said the name slowly, looking at George meaningfully.George sat there startled, and managed to hold back an exclamation.

"The conclusion of our conversation was that I was coming to England to do a little errand entrusted to me by Mr. McGrath, as he could not come himself. And since his name was used in the booking, I used Jem all the way. McGrath's name. I don't know what particular crime I'm guilty of -- please tell me, Inspector General. If necessary, ask him to arrest me and force me to labor for many years. " "Let's get on with it, shall we, sir?" said Battle, with a little twinkle in his eye. "As soon as I arrived in London I went to the Brigger's Hotel, where I still used the name James McGrath. My business in London was to send a manuscript to a publishing house. But almost as soon as I I was contacted by representatives of two foreign political parties. One representative used perfectly legal methods, but the other did not. I managed to get by. My troubles were not over, however. There was a hotel clerk in my room that night. The waiter came in and tried to steal my things."

"I suppose you didn't report that to the police?" said the Combat Inspector-General. "You're right. No. No action was taken, but I did report the matter to the manager of the hotel. He can confirm my story, and can tell you that the waiter I'm speaking of suddenly escaped in the middle of the night. Yes. The next day, the publishing company called me to send a representative to pick up the manuscript. I agreed. Therefore, on the morning of the third day, the manuscript was handed over to their representative according to the agreed method .Because I have no further information, I think they have received the manuscript. Yesterday, still in the name of James McGrath, I received a letter from Mr. Lomax..."

Anthony stopped.By now, he was slowly feeling very proud.George turned uneasily in his seat. "I remember," he murmured, "so many letters. The names on each letter, of course, are different. I can't be expected to know every name. And, I'm telling you," George's voice rose, emphatically showing his moral firmness. "I don't think this kind of—this kind of...pretending to be someone else is the most indecent act.I think there is no doubt that you have committed a very serious crime. " "In this letter," continued Anthony, unimpressed. "Mr. Romax made various suggestions on the manuscript in my hand. He also invited me to a dinner here for the Marquess of Judham." "Nice meeting, good meeting, my friend," said the lord. "Better late than never—right?" George frowned and looked at him dissatisfied. The Inspector looked at Anthony expressionlessly. "So, that's your explanation for coming here last night, sir?" he asked. "Of course not," said Anthony mildly. "When I'm invited to dinner at a country house, I don't climb walls late at night, walk around evil circles, and try to open the downstairs windows. I drive the car to the front. at the door, ring the bell, rub the soles of your shoes on the door-mat, and go in openly. I shall go on. I replied to Mr. Romax, saying that the manuscript was no longer in my possession, and therefore , I express my regret that I cannot accept the invitation of the Marquis of Judhan. After I did so, I suddenly remembered that I forgot one thing." He stopped.Now, the time has come to bring a delicate matter to the fore. "I must tell you that when I wrestled with Giusep the waiter, I snatched from his hand a little piece of paper on which some words were scrawled. At the time, I felt that the words meant nothing to me. But the note was still in my hand that night, so the word 'chimney' reminded me of the words on it. I took out the torn note and saw that it was exactly what I expected. Gentlemen , and here is the note. You can see for yourselves. It reads; 'Thursday, eleven forty-five, chimney'." The Combat Inspector looked at the note attentively. "Of course," continued Antony, "the word 'chimney' may have nothing to do with the building. On the other hand, it may. And, beyond doubt. This Giuseppe is a Sneaky stuff. So last night I resolved to drive up here to see if everything was all right, then to spend the night at the inn, and to call on Lord Judham the next morning, and ask him to be on his guard, in case anyone tried to get in the game. Mess up the future." "Not bad," said Lord Judham encouragingly, "not bad." "I got here very late - because I didn't expect so much time on the road. As a result, I stopped the car, climbed over the wall, and ran across the evil circle. When I came to the porch, the whole building was black. It was painted and there was no sound at all. I was turning back when I heard a gunshot. I thought it must have come from inside the house. So I ran back and went across the porch and tried the windows. But the windows were all bolted It was secure and there was no sound from the room. I waited for a while. But the whole mansion was as silent as a tomb. So I came to the conclusion that I was wrong. What I heard were poachers' guns Sound—I think, in that case, that's a natural conclusion." "Naturally," said the Chief Inspector of Combat, expressionless. "I went back to the inn, and spent the night there, as I said--and heard of the murder here this morning. I knew, of course, that I was becoming a suspicious character--as it must be under the circumstances. So I'm just going to explain what happened, and I hope that there is no possibility of anyone here being handcuffed." There was a moment of silence.Melos glanced sideways at the Chief Inspector of Combat. "I think that's enough of what happened to him," he said. "Yes," said the Combat Inspector General. "I don't think we're handcuffing anyone this morning." "Is there a problem, Chief Inspector of Combat?" "One thing, I want to know. What is this manuscript?" He looked at George.George replied somewhat reluctantly: "Memoirs of the late Lord Stiptitch. You know..." "You don't have to say any more," Battle said. "I totally get it." He turned to Anthony. "Do you know who was shot, Mr. Cade?" "In the 'Merry Dog Tavern' it was heard that it was a man who was not known to be the Earl of Stanislaw, or what the Earl was." "Tell him!" said the Chief Inspector of Combat curtly to George Lomax. George obviously didn't want to say it, but he had to. "The person who is here as a guest under the alias of Count Stanislaus is Prince Michael of Herzoslav." Anthony whistled in surprise. "That would be really embarrassing," he said. The Combat Inspector, who had been watching Anthony closely, now gave a low grunt, as if satisfied with something, and stood up abruptly. "There are a couple of questions I'd like to ask Mr. Cade," he announced. "I don't know if I can take him to the meeting hall for a talk?" "Of course, of course," said Lord Judham. "You can take him wherever you want to talk." Anthony and the inspector went out together. The body has been removed from the scene of the tragedy.There was a black spot of blood on the floor where the dead man lay, otherwise there would be nothing to suggest that tragedy had taken place here.The sunlight coming in through the open window set off the pastel hues of the old panelling.Anthony looked around appreciatively. "Good." He commented. "There's nothing like old England, is there?" "Did you at first think that the gunfire seemed to come from this house?" asked the Inspector General, with no response to the tribute. "I'll think about it." Anthony opened the window, went out on the porch, and looked up at the house. "Yes, yes, this is the house," he said. "It was built outside and took up the entire corner of the house. If the bullet had come from somewhere else, it would have been heard from the left, but it came from behind me, which is to the right. .That's why I thought about poachers. You know, it's the end of the side of the house." He walked back, stepped over the threshold of the French windows, and then, as if suddenly remembered, asked suddenly: "Why do you ask that? You know he was shot here, don't you?" "Ah," said the Inspector-General. "We can't know 100 percent what we want to know. But, yes, he was shot here, yes. You were talking about trying to open the window, weren't you?" "Yes. It's all bolted from the inside." "How many windows have you tried?" "Tried all three." "Are you sure, sir?" "I've always been sure, why do you ask?" "That's a curious thing," said the inspector general. "How could it be a strange thing?" "When the murder was discovered this morning, the middle window was open—I mean, not bolted." "Sunny!" Anthony screamed, sat down on the window sill, and took out his cigarette case. "It was a bolt from the blue. So the case took another direction. Now, we have only two theories: First, he was killed by someone in the building who, after I left, took the The latch is open to make the case look like an outsider's work--then I'm a little bastard--and second, to put it bluntly, I'm a liar. I think you might think it's the second Two. But, I can swear, you're wrong." "Now, no one is allowed to leave this building until I have finished asking each of them." The Combat Inspector said solemnly. Anthony looked at him warily. "So, you thought it might have been done by someone on the inside. How long have you had that idea?" he asked. Battle laughed. "I've always thought that. Your footprints are a little too... don't know if it's okay to say that... too obvious. As soon as we found out that your boots matched the footprints, I began to suspect." "I would like to congratulate the Metropolitan Police Department of Crime," said Anthony lightly. At that moment, when the Inspector-General of Combat clearly admitted that Anthony had nothing to do with the murder, Anthony felt that he had to be more on the defensive.The Combat Inspector General is a very astute police officer.Dealing with him, there is no mistake. "I think that's the murder scene?" Anthony nodded in the direction of the black mark on the floor. "yes." "What was he shot with... a pistol?" "Yes, but we won't know what type of bullet it is until we do the autopsy." "So, haven't found it yet?" "Yes, not found yet." "No clues?" "We found this." The Combat Inspector General, a bit like a magician, took out half a sheet of letter paper.As he did so, he watched Anthony's face discreetly and closely. Anthony recognized the pattern on the note without showing any surprise. "Ah! Comrades from the Red Hands again. If they're going to distribute something like this, it should be lithographed. It's such a hassle to write it down one by one. Where did you find it?" "Under the body, have you seen it before, sir?" Anthony told him about his brief contact with the charitable organization. "I think that means that the Red Hand comrades killed him." "Do you think it's possible, sir?" "This—it fits their propaganda well. But, I've always found that people who talk about killing people so loudly never actually kill. I personally don't think Red Hand comrades would have that kind of guts. Besides, they look very strange, not suitable for people who pretend to be guests at a country house. However, things in the world are unpredictable." "That's right, Mr. Cade, the world is unpredictable." Anthony suddenly showed a very interesting look. "Now I understand their tricks. Open windows, footprints, suspicious strangers in village inns. But, dear Inspector, you can trust me, whoever I am, I'm not a mafia lying here bottom." The Chief Inspector of Combat smiled.Then he showed his cards. "Go and see that corpse, don't you object?" he asked suddenly. "Not at all against it," Anthony said. The Inspector took a key from his pocket and led the way down the corridor.He stopped at a door and unlocked it.It was one of many small living rooms.The corpse was lying on a table covered with a quilt. The inspector waited until Anthony came to him, and then he suddenly lifted the sheet. He saw Anthony startle suddenly and utter a short exclamation, and his eyes suddenly flashed eagerly. "So you do know him, don't you, Mr. Cade?" he said.He tried to keep the tone of triumph out of his voice. "I've seen him before, yes," Anthony said, regaining his composure. "However, it is not His Royal Highness Michael Oborovitch. He claims to have been sent by the Bordson Hajiken Book Company, calling himself Mr. Holmes."