British Mystery Classics - Arthur Morrison Edition (Illustrated). Morrison Arthur

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СКАЧАТЬ sir, you see everything was in such a muddle,” the housekeeper began, “and when the police had done —”

      “Just so. I know. You ‘set it to rights’, eh? Oh, that setting to rights! It has lost me a fortune at one time and another. As to the other rooms, now, have they been set to rights?”

      “Such as was disturbed have been put right, sir, of course.”

      “Which were disturbed? Let me see them. But wait a moment.”

      He opened the French windows, and closely examined the catch and bolts. He knelt and inspected the holes whereinto the bolts fell, and then glanced casually at the folding shutters. He opened a drawer or two, and tried the working of the locks with the keys the housekeeper carried. They were, the housekeeper explained, Mr Kingscote’s own keys. All through the lower floors Hewitt examined some things attentively and closely, and others with scarcely a glance, on a system unaccountable to me. Presently, he asked to be shown Mr Kingscote’s bedroom, which had not been disturbed, “set to rights”, or slept in since the crime. Here, the housekeeper said, all drawers were kept unlocked but two — one in the wardrobe and one in the dressing — table, which Mr Kingscote had always been careful to keep locked. Hewitt immediately pulled both drawers open without difficulty. Within, in addition to a few odds and ends, were papers. All the contents of these drawers had been turned over confusedly, while those of the unlocked drawers were in perfect order.

      “The police,” Hewitt remarked, “may not have observed these matters. Any more than such an ordinary thing as this,” he added, picking up a bent nail lying at the edge of a rug.

      The housekeeper doubtless took the remark as a reference to the entire unimportance of a bent nail, but I noticed that Hewitt dropped the article quietly into his pocket.

      We came away. At the front gate we met Mr Douglas Kingscote, who had just returned from town. He introduced himself, and expressed surprise at our promptitude both of coming and going.

      “You can’t have got anything like a clue in this short time, Mr Hewitt?” he asked.

      “Well, no,” Hewitt replied, with a certain dryness, “perhaps not. But I doubt whether a month’s visit would have helped me to get anything very striking out of a washed floor and a houseful of carefully cleaned-up and ‘set-to-rights’ rooms. Candidly, I don’t think you can reasonably expect much of me. The police have a much better chance — they had the scene of the crime to examine. I have seen just such a few rooms as anyone might see in the first well-furnished house he might enter. The trail of the housemaid has overlaid all the others.”

      “I’m very sorry for that; the fact was, I expected rather more of the police; and, indeed, I wasn’t here in time entirely to prevent the clearing up. But still, I thought your well-known powers —”

      “My dear sir, my ‘well-known powers’ are nothing but common sense assiduously applied and made quick by habit. That won’t enable me to see the invisible.”

      “But can’t we have the rooms put back into something of the state they were in? The cook will remember —”

      “No, no. That would be worse and worse: that would only be the housemaid’s trail in turn overlaid by the cook’s. You must leave things with me for a little, I think.”

      “Then you don’t give the case up?” Mr Kingscote asked anxiously.

      “Oh, no! I don’t give it up just yet. Do you know anything of your brother’s private papers — as they were before his death?”

      “I never knew anything till after that. I have gone over them, but they are all very ordinary letters. Do you suspect a theft of papers?”

      Martin Hewitt, with his hands on his stick behind him, looked sharply at the other, and shook his head. “No,” he said, “I can’t quite say that.”

      We bade Mr Douglas Kingscote good-day, and walked towards the station. “Great nuisance, that setting to rights,” Hewitt observed, on the way. “If the place had been left alone, the job might have been settled one way or another by this time. As it is, we shall have to run over to your old lodgings.”

      “My old lodgings?” I repeated, amazed. “Why my old lodgings?”

      Hewitt turned to me with a chuckle and a wide smile. “Because we can’t see the broken panel-work anywhere else,” he said. “Let’s see — Chelsea, isn’t it?”

      “Yes, Chelsea. But why — you don’t suppose the people who defaced the panels also murdered the man who painted them?”

      “Well,” Hewitt replied, with another smile, “that would be carrying a practical joke rather far, wouldn’t it? Even for the ordinary picture damager.”

      “You mean you don’t think they did it, then? But what do you mean?”

      “My dear fellow, I don’t mean anything but what I say. Come now, this is rather an interesting case despite appearances, and it has interested me: so much, in fact, that I really think I forgot to offer Mr Douglas Kingscote my condolence on his bereavement. You see a problem is a problem, whether of theft, assassination, intrigue, or anything else, and I only think of it as one. The work very often makes me forget merely human sympathies. Now, you have often been good enough to express a very flattering interest in my work, and you shall have an opportunity of exercising your own common sense in the way I am always having to exercise mine. You shall see all my evidence (if I’m lucky enough to get any) as I collect it, and you shall make your own inferences. That will be a little exercise for you; the sort of exercise I should give a pupil if I had one. But I will give you what information I have, and you shall start fairly from this moment. You know the inquest evidence such as it was, and you saw everything I did in Ivy Cottage?”

      “Yes; I think so. But I’m not much the wiser.”

      “Very well. Now I will tell you. What does the whole case look like? How would you class the crime?”

      “I suppose as the police do. An ordinary case of murder with the object of robbery.”

      “It is not an ordinary case. If it were, I shouldn’t know as much as I do, little as that is; the ordinary cases are always difficult. The assailant did not come to commit a burglary, although he was a skilled burglar, or one of them was, if more than one were concerned. The affair has, I think, nothing to do with the expected wedding, nor had Mr Campbell anything to do in it — at any rate, personally — nor the gardener. The criminal (or one of them) was known personally to the dead man, and was well-dressed: he (or again one of them, and I think there were two) even had a chat with Mr Kingscote before the murder took place. He came to ask for something which Mr Kingscote was unwilling to part with — perhaps hadn’t got. It was not a bulky thing. Now you have all my materials before you.”

      “But all this doesn’t look like the result of the blind spite that would ruin a man’s work first and attack him bodily afterwards.”

      “Spite isn’t always blind, and there are other blind things besides spite; people with good eyes in their heads are blind sometimes, even detectives.”

      “But where did you get all this information? What makes you suppose that this was a burglar who didn’t want to burgle, and a well-dressed man, and so on?”

      Hewitt chuckled and smiled again.

      “I СКАЧАТЬ