Phase
V
The Reply
Their admiration for Reggie Fortune received a shock the next day. It came by telephone. Just after his late and lazy breakfast, Reggie was rung up from Scotland Yard. Bell spoke. Mr. Lomas thought that Mr. Fortune would like to know that Sandford had gone down to Mr. Kimball’s place. Reggie answered, “Oh, Peter!” In a quarter of an hour he was in Lomas’s room asking for confirmation. There was no doubt. The detective watching Sandford’s chambers had followed him to Victoria, and heard him take a ticket to Alwynstow, Kimball’s place, and was gone with him.
“So that’s the next move,” said Lomas, “and if you can tell me what it means I shall be obliged to you.”
Reggie dropped his hand on the table. “Not a guess,” he said. “How can a man guess? We don’t even know how much they know, or whether one knows what the other knows. I could fancy Sandford—what’s the use?
“So runs my dream. But what am I?
An infant crying in the night,
An infant crying for the light,
And with no language but a cry.
Same like you, Lomas.”
“I notice you are not so much the moral sage this morning,” Lomas said sourly.
“Lomas, dear, don’t be unkind. I can’t abear it. I wish to God I was down there!”
“Damn it, we’ve got two men down there now—one on Sandford, one on Kimball. They’ll be knocking their heads together. What the devil do you think you could do?”
“Nothing. Lord, don’t I know it? Nothing. That’s what makes me peevish.”
Lomas said severely that he had work to do, and Reggie left him, promising to come back and take him out to lunch, which he received as if it were a threat.
But when Reggie did come back, Superintendent Bell was in the room and Lomas listening to the telephone. Bell looked oddly at Reggie. Lomas raised a blank and pallid face from the receiver. “Sandford has murdered Kimball,” he said.
“Oh, Peter! I wonder if he’s brought it off,” Reggie murmured. “Has he brought it off after all?” He bit his lip. Lomas was talking into the telephone. Asking for details, giving instructions. “Hold the line. Cut that out,” said Reggie. “We’ll go down, Lomas, please. Tell your chap to meet us at the house. My car’s here.”
Lomas gave the orders and rang off. “I’ll have to go, I suppose,” he agreed. “One doesn’t kill Cabinet Ministers every day. More’s the pity. Damn the case! There’s nothing in it, though, Fortune. Sandford was walking up to the house. He met Kimball in the lane. They were crossing the ornamental water in the park when they had a quarrel. Kimball was thrown in. He called out, ‘You scoundrel, you have murdered me.’ When they got Kimball out he was dead. That’s all. I’m afraid it washes your stuff about Kimball right out.”
“Well, well,” Reggie drawled, looking through his eyelashes. “Where is he that knows, Lomas? From the great deep to the great deep he goes, Lomas. We’ll get on.”
“What about lunch?”
“Damn lunch!” said Reggie, and went out.
The other two, who liked food far less than he but could not go without it, lingered to collect sandwiches, and found him chafing in the driver’s seat.
They exchanged looks of horror. “I’m too old for Mr. Fortune’s driving, and that’s a fact,” Bell mumbled.
“When I got out alive after that day at Woking I swore I’d never go again,” said Lomas.
But they quailed before Reggie’s virulent politeness when he asked them if they would please get in. … It is in the evidence of Lomas that they only slowed once, when an old lady dropped her handkerchief in the middle of Croydon. He is in conflict with the statement of Bell as to the most awful moment. For he selects the episode of the traction-engine with trucks at the Alwynstow crossroads, and Bell chooses the affair of the motorbus and the caravan at Merstham. They agree that they arrived at Alwynstow Park in a cold sweat.
A detective came out on the steps to meet them, and watched reverently Bell and Lomas helping each other out. Reggie ran up to him. “Which are you?”
“Beg pardon, sir? Oh, I’m Hall. I had Mr. Kimball. It was Parker had Mr. Sandford.” He turned to Lomas. “Good morning, sir. I tried to get you on the telephone, but they said you were on your way down.”
“Oh, you’ve been on the telephone too?”
“When I heard what Parker’s information was I rung up quick, sir. It’s a very queer business, sir.”
“Where is Parker? And where’s Sandford? I suppose you’ve arrested him?”
“Well, no, sir. Not strictly speaking. We detained him pending instructions.”
“Damme, you’re very careful. Parker saw the murder committed, didn’t he?”
“Well, sir, if I may say so, that’s drawing conclusions. I don’t understand Parker would go as far as that.”
“Good Gad!” said Lomas. “Where the devil is Parker?”
“Keeping Mr. Sandford under observation, sir, according to instructions. Beg your pardon, sir. I’ve heard his story, and I quite agree it all happened like that. But you haven’t heard mine.”
Lomas looked round him. The house was too near. “We’ll walk on the lawn,” he announced. “Now then. Parker says the two men quarrelled on the bridge over the lake and Kimball was thrown in, and as he fell he called out, ‘You scoundrel, you’ve murdered me!’ And you say that isn’t murder.”
“Did Serjeant Parker say ‘thrown in’?” said Hall, with surprise in his face and his voice.
“I believe he didn’t,” said Lomas slowly. “No. He said Kimball was thrown off, and as he fell in he called out.”
“That’s right, sir,” said Hall heartily. “But I reckon there is more to it than that. When Mr. Kimball came out this morning I was waiting for him in the park. It was rather touch and go, because he had some men at work above the lake. He went down that way to the station. As he was crossing the bridge he tried the rails. It’s very odd, sir, but a bit of the bar—it’s a sort of rustic stuff—was that loose it came off in his hand. He put it back and went on. He met Mr. Sandford in the road and turned back with him. I had to get out of the way quick. I judged they were coming back to the house, so I did a run and dropped over the fence, and was away on the other side of the lake. Then I went into the rhododendrons and waited for them to pass. You see, sir, Parker had to keep well out of sight behind, and I was as near as makes no matter. Well, if you’ll believe me, it was Mr. Kimball made the quarrel, and all in a minute he made it. One minute they were walking quite friendly, the next he whips round on Mr. Sandford and he called him a bad name. I couldn’t hear all, he was talking so quick, but there was ugly words in it. Then he made to strike Mr. Sandford, and Mr. Sandford closed and chucked him back, and into the water he went just where that same rail that he looked at was loose. But it’s true enough as he fell he called out, ‘You scoundrel, you’ve murdered me!’ ”
“Well, well. So he didn’t bring it off after all,” said Reggie. “We trumped his last card.”
“Sir?” said the detective.
“You were the trump,” said Reggie. “Oh, my aunt, I feel much better! I wonder if there’s any lunch in these parts? What about it, Lomas, old thing?”
“I’m damned if I understand,” said Lomas. “I want Sandford. Let’s go up to the house.”
They found Sandford sitting in an easy-chair in the dead man’s library. He was reading; to Reggie’s ineffable admiration he was reading a book by Mr. Sidney Webb on the history of trade unions. Serjeant Parker, the detective, made himself uncomfortable at the table and pored over his notebook.
“All right, all right, Parker. Quite understood.” Lomas waved him away. “Good afternoon, Mr. Sandford. Sorry to detain you. Most unfortunate affair.”
“Good afternoon. It is not necessary to apologize,” said Sandford, completely himself. “I realize that the police must require my account of the affair. Yesterday afternoon Mr. Kimball rang me up at my rooms. I did not learn from where he was speaking. He said that my affair—that was his phrase—my affair had taken a new turn, and he wished me to come and see him here this morning. He named the train by which I was to travel. I thought it strange that he should bring me into the country, but I had no valid ground of objection. Accordingly I came this morning. I thought it strange that he sent no conveyance to meet me. I started to walk to the house. In the lane he met me walking. He talked of indifferent things in a rather broken manner, I thought, but that was common with him, and yet I was surprised he did not come to the point. He was, however, quite friendly until we reached the bridge over the lake. Then without any warning or reason he turned upon me and was violently abusive. His language was vulgar and even filthy. He attempted to strike me, and I defended myself. I was, in fact, a good deal alarmed, for he was, as you know, much bigger and heavier than I, and he was in a frenzy of rage. To my surprise, I may say my relief, I was able to resist him. I pushed him off—really, you know, it seemed quite easy—and the handrail behind him gave way and he fell into the water. As he fell he called out, ‘You scoundrel, you have murdered me!’ I can only suppose he was not responsible for his actions.”
“Much obliged,” said Lomas. “I’m afraid you’ve had a distressing time.”
“It has been a remarkable experience,” said Sandford. “May I ask if there is any reason why I should not return to town?”
“No, no.” Lomas looked at him queerly. “You have an uncommon cool head. They’ll want your evidence at the inquest, of course. But it’s fair to say I quite accept your story.”
“I am obliged to you,” said Sandford, in a tone of surprise, as if he could not conceive that anyone should not. “I am told there is a train at 3:35. Good afternoon.”
“One moment. One moment,” said Reggie. “Do you know of any reason in the world Kimball had to hate you?”
“Certainly not,” said Sandford, in offended dignity. “Our relations were short and wholly official. I conceive that he had no reason to complain of my services.”
“And yet he meant to murder you or have you hanged for his murder.”
“If he did, I can only suppose that he was out of his mind.”
“Was he out of his mind when he worked the Coal Ramp to ruin you?”
“Dear me,” said Sandford, “do you really suggest, sir, that Mr. Kimball was responsible for that scandalous piece of finance?”
“Who else?”
“But really—you startle me. That is to say, as a Minister he betrayed the secrets of the department?”
“Well, he didn’t stick at a trifle, did he?”
“The poor fellow must have been mad,” said Sandford, with grave sympathy.
“Yes, yes. But why was he mad? Why did he hate you? My dear chap, do search your memory. Can you think of any sort of connection between Kimball and you?”
“I never heard of him till he became prominent in the House. I never saw him till he came into the office. Our relations were always perfectly correct. No, I can only suppose that he was insane. Is it any use to try to discover reasons for the antipathies of madness? I have not studied the subject, but it seems obvious that they must be irrational. I am sorry I cannot help your investigations. I believe I had better catch my train. Good afternoon.”
“You know, I begin to like that fellow. He’s so damned honest,” said Reggie.
“Cold-blooded fish,” said Lomas. “Begad, he don’t know how near he was to dead. Did you ever hear anything less plausible than that yarn of his? If we didn’t know it was true we wouldn’t believe a word of it. Good God, suppose Hall hadn’t been down here watching! We should have had the outside facts. Sandford, who had been accused and suspended by Kimball, suddenly comes down to Kimball’s house, meets him, quarrels with him, and throws him into the lake.”
“And the men working in the park a little way off just saw the struggle, just heard Kimball call out that he was murdered,” said Reggie. “Don’t forget the men. They’re a most interesting touch. He always thought of everything, did Mr. Kimball. He had them there, just the right distance for the evidence he wanted. I don’t know if you see the full significance of those men working in the park.”
Lomas sat down. “I don’t mind owning I thought they were accidental.”
“My dear chap! Oh, my dear chap, there was very little accidental in the vicinity of the late Kimball. They were there to give evidence that would hang Sandford. And that proves Kimball didn’t mean to throw Sandford into the lake. He wanted to be thrown in, he wanted to be killed, and get Sandford hanged for it.”
“I suppose so,” Lomas agreed. “It’s a case that’s happened before. And you couldn’t always say the creatures that planned it were mad.”
“Not legally mad. Not medically mad. I always said that. No, I don’t know that it’s even very strange. Quite a lot of people would be ready to die if they could get their enemies killed by their death. Only they don’t see their way. But he was an able fellow, the late Kimball.”
“Able! I should say so. If our men hadn’t been here, Sandford would have been as good as hanged. Nobody could have believed his story. Why did he come here? There could be no evidence of Kimball’s telephone call. What did Sandford come for? There’s no reasonable reason. Kimball put him under a cloud, he was furious, he meant murder, and did it. The jury wouldn’t leave the box.”
“That’s right, sir,” said Superintendent Bell. “If it wasn’t for Mr. Fortune he’d be down and out. What you might call a rarity in our work, that is, to save a man from a charge of murder before it comes along.”
“How do you mean?” Reggie seemed to come back from other thoughts. “Oh, because I told you to have Kimball watched. Well, it was pretty clear he wasn’t the kind to go about without a chaperon. We took that trick. I suppose Kimball’s thinking, wherever he is, that we won the game. But I wouldn’t say that—I wouldn’t say that. Why did he hate Sandford?”
“My dear fellow, the man was mad.”
“You mean he didn’t like the way Sandford does his hair—or he thought Sandford was a German spy. No. He wasn’t that kind of mad. There’s something we don’t know, Lomas, old thing. I dare say it’s crazy enough. I’ll bet you my favourite shirt it’s something the ordinary sane man feels.”
“If we are to go looking for something crazy which sane men feel!” said Lomas.
“Speakin’ broadly, all the human emotions,” said Reggie. “Didn’t you ever hate a man because he married a girl who was pretty? Don’t be so godlike.”
“They weren’t either of them married, sir,” said Bell, in grave surprise.
“How do you know?” Reggie snapped. “No, I don’t suppose they were. But we don’t know. We don’t know anything. That’s why I say we haven’t won the game. Well, well. For God’s sake let’s have some food! There was a modest pub in the village. I saw it when you let off your futile scream at the traction-engine. Let’s go. I don’t seem to want to eat Kimball’s grub.”