Chapter 15 Chapter 12 Henry's Defense

When they reached the library, the corridor clock struck half past eleven. "—full report," said Sergeant Porter in a chant-like voice, "the coroner's report, post-mortem order awaits your signature. Here are two pairs of plaster casts of the footprints of Mr. John Bohun and James Benn. Mr Nett's, before we arrived, there were only these two pairs of footprints. Here's the floor plan of the site with the footprints drawn, distances measured. I think it's very sensible, because it's snowing again now. Here's the fingerprint report .The pictures will be developed soon and sent back here in the afternoon. The body is still there, but it was moved to a bed."

Under the yellow shadow lamp, Officer Potter put the reports on the table in order and lined them up.It was getting darker outside, and the dead vines of the vines were blown against the window by the wind.There was a roar in the chimney; a tall flame, crackling like a thorn, spewed out burnt ash now and then in a gust of air. Masters' large face, more wrinkled in the light, was sitting at a desk, flipping through a notebook.Maurice Bohun was also sitting at the table, looking at the corner of the fireplace with interest and pleasure without blinking.Passing this way, Thompson and a gray-haired, strong woman stood in silhouette against the firelight, like two Dutch dolls.

James Bennett could not see Sir Henry Merrillville, but in a gigantic shadow in the far corner of the fireplace he caught a glimpse of a gigantic pair of spectacles, and a pair of white socks. "Thank you, Potter! . . . " said Masters. "Here is your notebook, here you go. We have collected Sir Henry's testimony in court so far, and I have been reading it. Now... Instructions, ser?" "Uh?……" Masters moved slightly to the side, allowing a few faint rays of light to shine on the corner of the fireplace. Now James Bennett opened his eyes when he saw Sir Henry Merrillville startled awake.The corners of the mouth curled down, as if smelling rotten eggs, and he fiddled with the only hair on both sides of the big bald head.

"Instructions, sir?" "I'm not asleep, fuck you! . . . " said Sir Henry Merrillville angrily.He put the pipe in his mouth and let out a puff of smoke. Sir Henry Merrillville added petulantly: "I'm concentrating, don't disturb me now. Don't disturb me, you know? . . . You throw me a pile of untidy things and expect me to fix them right away. Understood. Also, I reckon I'll have to get to the Waterside before the snow falls, which is more important. I don't like such things at all, Masters. It's ugly—diabolically ugly." He couldn't stop Grumbling, "What are you asking? . . . oh, report. No, wait until I can think of something." He gestured to Potter, "Stand over, boy!  … Let me speak to Mr. and Mrs. Thompson."

Despite Sir Henry Merrillville's glare, there was something about his presence that relieved the Thompsons a little. "Well, both! . . . " said Sir Henry Merrillville, raising his pipe, "I have heard what you said to the Sheriff, and intend to use both of you as witnesses at the same time to examine the others here. If anyone is lying, tell the old man over there. Well..." He squinted at Thompson, "Last night, the candlelight expedition in the house, did you take part?" "No, sir. My wife and I were packing up at the waterside for Miss Tate's arrival. Making bedding, checking the chimney clean, lighting the fireplace, checking the taps... We were all busy last night with things like that. .My wife is in charge of packing Miss Tate's clothes—"

"What a lovely dress! . . . " said Mrs. Thompson, holding up her hands, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. "She won't let any other maid do it. She wants me." "Aha. What time did you leave the water pavilion?" "A few minutes past twelve, sir, when Mr. Morris and two other gentlemen brought back Miss Martha Tate." "Of course you didn't drop any matches there, did you?" asked Sir Henry Merrillville sternly. Catherine Bohun stood in the shadow of the doorway, unable to see James Bennett.And from where he stood, he could only see Thompson's back.However, he felt that person's attitude, and became nervous for the first time.

Thompson looked at Maurice Bohun, who sat impassively, with a cheerful face and the air of a host. "Sorry, sir. That was my oversight." Thompson bowed his head and apologized. "What have you been doing since you got back to the main house?" asked Sir Henry Merrillville. Mrs. Thompson recalled excitedly: "That was when I went to bed, Mr. Henry Merrillville." "That was ... Mr. Henry Merivale ... as my wife said, when she went to bed. Following Mr. Maurice Bohun's instructions, I scrubbed some silver and waited for the others to leave Come back. They came back about fifteen past twelve, so I locked the door at that hour."

"They haven't been out since then?" asked Sir Henry Merivale. "Well, sir, when Mr. Morris went to the library with the others, Mr. Jarvis Willard went out, but he was only out for ten or fifteen minutes. He asked me at first, come back Get up and open the door for him, if you will; he says he'll go to the back door of the house, which is nearer my pantry, and knock on the pane. That's what he does, sir." Sir Henry Merrillville looked down his nose as if annoyed by an invisible fly.He growled to himself. "Aha. Funny, there's a question no one seems to care to ask. And...damn, it's important! . Up and down and back and forth - the dog 'Storm' didn't even bark. But when someone left the main house at 1:30, the dog barked so loudly that he got locked up. What's the matter, hey? "

Masters cursed softly.He looked at his notebook, then at Sir Henry Merrillville, and then back at his notebook. "What's the matter, Mr. Baronet? ..." said Thompson, "that's easy to explain. I see, it was I who called the stables and informed Locke. Sorry, sir, I almost forgot to tell you. Martha Tate Miss asked me to see if the horse she and Mr. John were going to ride was ready to-morrow morning. But I forgot until Mr. Jarvis Willard came back from the waterside, and then I wondered— Excuse me - why didn't the storm call? Then I thought the storm must have been with Locke - Locke liked it and used to take it into the house until very late. Then it reminded me that it hadn't blown Called Locke and asked about the horses. So I called him about twelve-twenty and he said he was going to the kennel with a storm..."

Thompson was older and looked bewildered now, but always with his eyes, stalking Maurice Bohun.He had now turned halfway to get a better look at his employer. "I'm afraid you've forgotten a lot of things," said Maurice Bohun in a tone of vague pleasure, and then grinned.But he looked suddenly at Sir Henry Merrillville, for H. M. looked almost excited like a colossus. "Relax now, boy! . . . " said Sir Henry Merrillville courteously, "think about it for as long as you want, if you give a definite answer. You mean to tell me that the dog last night, Not hanging out all the time, but it didn't start until after half past twelve?"

"Yes, sir." Thompson nodded affirmatively. "Oh, marvelous! . . . " muttered Sir Henry Merivale, putting his pipe in his mouth and drawing it out again with almost admiration, "Oh. That's what I heard in this nightmare The best news. In the back of my mind, there is a hazy idea. It is not a serious problem. You see, there is no sharp and clear sign. However, I still hope that someone can directly clear up my doubts. No problem now , so I'm happy." Masters slammed his fist on the table. "I admit we've overlooked it, sir! . . . " he said angrily, "but what does it matter? Just because we've ignored it makes it matter, I don't see it that way . . . What matters, dog After 1:30, it was locked up." "Ah, we're going to examine that possibility. Well, let's get on with it, Mr. Thompson. Now you're in bed—what time is that?" "After the silver was polished, sir, at about one o'clock, Mr. Morris allowed me to go to bed," Thompson replied honestly. "As I told the officer, I left some sandwiches for Mr. John, and then No more going down until half past one, when 'The Tempest' made a scene, and Mr Morris called me." Thompson swallowed suddenly, as if saying something wrong, and glanced at his employer again. "More of Thompson's conjecture, I guess! . . . " remarked Maurice Bohun, "is this the time your good lady left the main house when she saw that mysterious figure? It was my niece Catherine Bohun, or the honorable Louise Carraway?" Thompson quickly touched his wife's arm, but she refused to remain silent.Like a black chick, she flapped her wings and blurted out her words. She yelled: "Sir, and you, sir, and you, as I have told you over and over again, I cannot be bound by that testimony, and I was even hanged for it. Sir, I don't know if that is a Ma'am. It was only an impression, sir, and I cannot be hanged or restrained because of an impression. For example, if it is Miss Kate, I will die immediately, and that is what I have to say." "Very well, ma'am, very well! . . . " nodded Sir Henry Merrillville, his deep voice and dead manner reminiscent of old Weller.He sniffled. "Um, okay. You're all done, aren't you? Well, I think that's all, you can go." They stomped away, and Sir Henry Merrillville sat for a moment, scratching his head with his hands. "Now, Sir Henry? . . . " urged Masters. "You..." Sir Henry Merivale looked at Maurice Bohun with a malicious expression on his face, and pointed at him with a finger, "What do you think if you come to chat, hey? ..." "I am perfectly willing to obey, Sir Henry. I am sure you have no reason to complain of my confession." Sir Henry Merrillville blinked his eyes and laughed: "Aha, I'm afraid it's not like that. My boy, frankness is only a virtue when talking about yourself, and it is annoying on other occasions. Besides, it It is also impossible. There is only one kind of person in the world who is willing to always tell the truth about himself, and that is the kind of person who has been verified by people and forced into a mental hospital. And when a person says that he intends to be frank , speaking of other people, he meant to give a kick in the back..." said Sir Henry Merrival, curtly, "let me see. When you last night, with Jarvis Willa and Carl Reg, you and Reg sat here in the library after you came back from the waterside. How long have you been here?" "Until I got Thompson and told him to have the dog locked up," said Maurice Bohun, laughing. "Got it. One thirty. Why did it end then?" Maurice Bohun watched him warily like a duelist, but Sir Henry Merrillville seemed uninterested. Maurice Bohun continued: "That was Mr. Reg's wish. At that time, I thought it was my younger brother John who came back, so I agreed. I admit that I was very curious and wanted to see how Mr. Reg and John met. What's going to happen, John doesn't know--you've been told, I suppose?--Mr. Reg is coming. There's a little--little quarrel between them, shall we say?" "Okay, say something. You mean: You want to see if John, punching Carl Wragg in the jaw, is funny to you? They call it a psychological study ?...Then, although Reg had no excuse, he found an excuse and slipped away. Then why did you let him go?" Maurice Bohun rubbed his palms together slowly, his forehead wrinkled. "Sir, I'm not wise enough to risk Mr. Reg's malice. So it's a tactic to take his clumsy excuses seriously and let him go upstairs." "And you didn't go to bed yourself?" Maurice Bohun smiled. "I'm afraid you've jumped to conclusions. I've gone to bed, but my room is on the first floor." "There's one more thing that concerns me now. You must be a wonderful family, aren't you? . . . " said Sir Henry Merrillville, with a sneer, "you think it's your brother, after a long stay in America , came back at half past one and you didn't go out and say 'hello, welcome home'?" The other party looked puzzled: "I don't think it's very strange, my dear sir. As everyone knows, I am the boss in this house. If my younger brother wants to say something to me, I will certainly be happy to hear it, but I really can't take the initiative to flatter you." , bothering about such things. Sir Henry! . . . ” He lifted his eyes courteously, “I’ve been used to having people come to me, and I’m so respected. Ah . . . Where did I say that? . . . Oh yes Yes. I think he knows where I am, so..." "That's what I want to hear," said Sir Henry Merrillville, closing his eyes. "Would you please say that again?" "Go away, don't you understand? . . . " cried Sir Henry Merrillville irritably. Maurice Bohun began to speak in a rapid and monotonous tone: "If you promise me that you will never destroy the 'Queen's Mirror', I will do my best and go away happily. I have been very patient, sir. I've had enough of desecrating my health and disturbing my peace of mind. But your impertinent subordinate proposes to desecrate the sacred water pavilion - tear down a holy building to pieces , to search for a secret passage that does not exist at all...then...then..." "Then, you can know the news!..." Sir Henry Merrillville agreed calmly, "Okay, you can cheer, and I promise I won't search for any nonsense 'secret passages'." Maurice Bohun was so happy that he didn't see the two people standing at the door as he hurried away.This was the first time he was in a hurry, and Bennett saw that his forehead was sweating, and he seemed to be humming to himself.James Bennett was full of doubts, and Masters' voice conveyed the same feelings. "Sorry, sir! . . . " grumbled Inspector Masters, "but why did you make that kind of promise? Not search the secret passage?" "Because no! . . . " said Sir Henry Merrillville irritably, "shut up, don't you understand? . . . If you'd put a finger on his pretty haunted house, that fastidious spinster, He will also turn blue with fright. If there is a secret passage, he will tell you right away, and will not wait for you to tell him to find it himself. Do you understand!  …” "I'm not sure, sir! . . . " replied Masters, "if the secret passage leads to his own chamber, so what?" "Aha! I've considered that possibility too. Well, even then we could still corner him." Sir Henry Merrillville scratched his big bald head. "But, I think : The idea of ​​a secret passage is outdated." Sir Henry Merivale turned to look at Masters, his face, which was like a simple Chinese painting, was destroyed by a grin for the first time. "That backroom situation upsets you terribly, doesn't it? . . . you unique monster. It seems that murderers have a special penchant for engaging Sergeant Humphrey Masters, Self-refusal to play by the rules again. Only this time it's worse. If it's just a locked room, you can still cheer. Everyone knows several tricks to lock the door from the outside: the latch can be made of a needle and thread The finished mechanism can be pulled on, the key can be twisted in a vise, the hinge can be removed from the door and put back on again, so you don't have to worry about the lock. But when your secret room contains a simple, mundane, crazy problem, surrounding When it's half an inch of unmarked snow for a hundred feet...well, don't worry. There's worse, Masters." "Worse?..." Masters stared at Sir Henry Merrivier with his eyes widened in surprise. "I was thinking: Boheng tried to murder His Royal Highness Carneyfest, but unfortunately he screwed up, but thought he succeeded..." In the gloom beside him, James Bennett felt the girl beside him suddenly stiffen.She looked at him incomprehensibly, but he waved her sharply to silence.They were eavesdropping, and now he dared not speak or move. Catherine Bohun's restless mind seemed to drive her to say something; James Bennett regretted coming down here.He holds her arm... "But we can skip that for the moment," continued Sir Henry Merrillville sleepily, "and look at the impossibility. The first thing is to establish the motive of the murderer. I do not mean murder." not a motive, but a motive to create an impossible situation. That's important, boy, because it's the best clue to a motive for killing someone. Why would he do it?  … No one but a madman would take pleasure in making out A whole lot of convoluted shenanigans just to play with the cops. With Martha Tate's murder, enough motives have emerged that we can't simply say 'the murderer was crazy' to explain the mess. . Well, if that is the case, then what is the reason? "First, pretending to commit suicide, that's the most straightforward. I'll go to your house, shoot and explode your head, and put the gun in your hand. If it's a house like this, there are lattices on the windows Pattern. Aha. I bolted the door from the inside, and I had a little bag with a piece of glass just the right size, and tools and plaster. I removed the pane of the window closest to the hook lock, and I crept out of the window, reached in and locked it. Then I replaced the old glass with new ones, plastered it, and dusted it so it wouldn't show. Then I could walk away, because the room was full Locked down, they'll think you shot yourself." Masters looked at him uncertainly. "I am astonished, Sir Henry," said he, "that you know all sorts of tricks..." "Of course I know all sorts of tricks," grumbled Sir Henry Merryville maliciously, looking into the flames. "I've seen a lot, boy, a lot I don't want to think about at Christmas. I want to stay home and drink warm Booze, and decorating a Christmas tree. But let's get this out of the way first. If there's any new developments in the art of the killer, I'd love to know." murmured Sir Henry Merrillville, and began to collect his thoughts. "First of all, fake suicide is not established, no one will break a woman's head and by this method, create a scene to fake suicide. "Second, pretending to be haunted, someone trying to make the case look like a supernatural murder. That rarely happens, at most it's just a cunning deception, and it takes a long time and careful to create the corresponding atmosphere and environment. Obviously to This murder is also impossible. No one has hinted that there is a bloodthirsty ghost in the water pavilion. "In the end, it was an accident, and the killer didn't want to conjure up an impossible situation. Suppose you and Officer Potter, sleep in adjoining rooms, and the only door to the outside is his door, which has been bolted from the inside. .I want to kill you and put the blame on him. I come in at night and use that window-changing trick and stab you in the dark and replace the pane before leaving.Yeah but I forgot to check , the door at the junction of your two rooms is also locked from your side—look, I created another impossible situation. Ah!  … "That's the last possibility, but damn it..." Sir Henry Merrillville suddenly turned away the anger in his small eyes, "can you see how this last possibility applies to this case?  … ...Accident, hey? ...What kind of accident can make a person step on the snow without a trace?" Masters said sadly, "Okay, sir, I will call this last item the only reasonable hypothesis. Just like this, the unknown mysterious murderer arrived at the waterside pavilion while it was still snowing... "'. "Aha, still thinking of Carneyfest's daughter?" said Sir Henry Merrival with a sneer. Sergeant Masters was trying to stick to his guns, his serious and focused attitude as if he were holding a bucket of water on his head.He continued stubbornly: "Wait a minute, Monsieur Baron! . . . just wait now. We agree with the 'accident' aspect of the theory. Well, the killer was out before the snow stopped. Eh? Then, when he killed After Martha Tate, the guy found out..." "Is it a girl? . . . " asked Sir Henry Merrillville. "Yes, you are so sure now." "Well, why not?... When Mr. Carl Wraig left the library and appeared in the upstairs corridor at half past one, if Miss Bohun said that seeing him was the truth, then she would be ruled out." Humphrey Ray Masters shook his head and said, "But, I'm still thinking about that woman's motive. Miss Carraway left a row of footprints when she got to the waterside; she killed another woman, and then she was surprised that the snow had stopped , she was trapped in the water pavilion!... This is what you call an accident, Sir Henry. She didn't mean to create an impossible situation, but it actually happened." Sir Henry Merrillville wiped his forehead and said with a sneer: "Aha. Then, how did she go back to the main house without leaving any footprints? ... Could it be by accident?" Using several adjectives, Masters said: "You are not very helpful. According to the testimony I read to you, this young lady was lying unconscious in the corridor at four o'clock in the morning. There's blood." Sir Henry Merrillville nodded, glaring at his pipe. "I know, that's another thing I wanted to ask. What was she wearing?" James Bennett sees: The net is beginning to tighten.Then Catherine Bohun suddenly wrenched her arm from his grasp and hurried towards the group around the fireplace. "May I tell you what she's wearing?" Catherine Bohun demanded suddenly, her voice trying to keep her composure, "she's wearing a pajamas and a dressing gown with a pea coat . . . " Inspector Masters got up from the table and blocked the fire from the fire, so that James Bennett could not see Sir Henry Merrillville. "But she has no shoes! . . . " said Catherine Bohun, opening and closing her hands, "don't you understand, Mr. Masters? . . . She has no shoes on her feet, only one Stubborn ass. She couldn't go out without shoes--overshoes--and such. And if she came back and took them off again, they would be wet; and they must still be wet, Don't you?... Well, I'll go to her room this morning..." "Calm down, miss," said Masters quietly, "you didn't tell us that before." "I didn't think of that before! ... But, this morning I sneaked up to her room looking for smelling salts. She always carries them with her, and that's... well, that's Louise's." style." Catherine Bohun nodded and said, "Then I looked at the shoes and other items she had brought, and I was pretty sure which ones were there, because, yesterday she showed me off, a new one bought in America. Things, understand?... In the end, none of them contained moisture, because I wanted to find her a pair of warm slippers... Do you believe me or not?" In the silence, save for the crackling of the flames, James Bennett saw snowflakes drift past the gray window. "I believe you, ma'am," said Masters quietly, "it's so easy to hide a shoe—say, a pair of galoshes—and I think it's just as easy to find it again. It's easy. Thank you, Miss, for bringing this to my attention." Then, the police officer suddenly stood up and shouted outside, "Potter!..." "What are your orders?" Officer Potter replied. "There's a few more people here, isn't there?..." Masters exclaimed, "OK!...Listen, you know what to look for, in any room, and find any wet shoe, overshoe, or galoshe. Do you have any objection to going into your room, miss?" "Of course not. But don't bother..." "At once, Potter! . . . " said Masters. When the heavy footsteps of Officer Porter died away, Masters pointed to a chair and stared at the girl again. "Please sit down, miss. I've said a lot of stupid nonsense in this case, and I admit it, but it's almost the end." Masters asked with a smile, "Miss Carraway last night, at all Didn't get out, did you? ... and neither did you. Finding men's wet boots, no point, but, if we find anything else ..." There was a sudden growl behind him. "Stand out of the light, understand? . . . " cried Sir Henry Merrillville protestingly, "and get out of the way of the witnesses, damn it. Every time someone asks a reasonable question here, you go into a rage. Huh... . . . " H. M. snorted disapprovingly, turned back, looked tenderly at Catherine Bohun, and whispered to her, "Hello, listen to me! . . . You are a beautiful fairy, or you will be killed Kill me!..." Masters stepped aside, and Sir Henry Merrillville lumbered up, his dark face showing sincere admiration.James Bennett noticed now that he was wearing a huge coat with a moth-eaten fur collar and pockets full of Christmas parcels, all tied up with gaudy ribbons. "Oh, you're here too?" Seeing James Bennett, the Baron's expression changed, "You seem to be mentioning trifles, boy, and all you're thinking about now is asking me to help You deal with it..." Sir Henry Merrillville snorted disapprovingly. "Now, now... no need to worry, Miss Bohun. Just wait until the old man is back in his place and starts working. The point is, Mars There's no strategy at Tess. Sit down, everybody, and get comfortable." "It just occurred to me..." Masters said, "that... hell, what's wrong with you, Potter?..." Sheriff Masters suddenly became nervous, but he had a reason for it.Sergeant Porter slammed the door unintentionally when he returned to the room, but the dull echo of the thud echoed along the vaults and through the library, just as the fire was dying out. "I'm sorry, sir," said Potter emphatically, "but please come here." "What's the matter?..." Masters asked, and for a moment he seemed unable to stand. "There won't be any more..." "I don't know, sir!... There are reporters outside, dozens of reporters." Officer Porter shook his head helplessly, "One of them, who I thought was also a reporter, suddenly went crazy; is he just crazy or what? Yes, sir. He said he killed Martha Tate, or something like that..." "What?" Masters jumped up with a swish, his eyes widened in surprise. "Yes, sir. He said he sent her a box of poisoned chocolates. His name is Emory, sir—Tim Emory."

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