The Philo Vance Megapack. S.S. Van Dine

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СКАЧАТЬ at once led them into an alcove and briefly explained his reason for summoning them.

      “Spotswoode’s upstairs now,” he said. “I want the arrest made as quietly as possible.”

      “Spotswoode!” Heath repeated the name in astonishment. “I don’t see—”

      “You don’t have to see—yet,” Markham cut in sharply. “I’m taking all responsibility for the arrest. And you’re getting the credit—if you want it. That suit you?”

      Heath shrugged his shoulders. “It’s all right with me…anything you say, sir.” He shook his head uncomprehendingly. “But what about Jessup?”

      “We’ll keep him locked up. Material witness.”

      We ascended in the elevator and emerged at the third floor. Spotswoode’s rooms were at the end of the hall, facing the Square. Markham, his face set grimly, led the way.

      In answer to his knock Spotswoode opened the door and, greeting us pleasantly, stepped aside for us to enter.

      “Any news yet?” he asked, moving a chair forward.

      At this moment he got a clear view of Markham’s face in the light, and at once he sensed the minatory nature of our visit. Though his expression did not alter, I saw his body suddenly go taut. His cold, indecipherable eyes moved slowly from Markham’s face to Heath and Snitkin. Then his gaze fell on Vance and me, who were standing a little behind the others, and he nodded stiffly.

      No one spoke; yet I felt that an entire tragedy was somehow being enacted, and that each actor heard and understood every word.

      Markham remained standing, as if reluctant to proceed. Of all the duties of his office, I knew that the arrest of malefactors was the most distasteful to him. He was a worldly man, with the worldly man’s tolerance for the misfortunes of evil. Heath and Snitkin had stepped forward and now waited with passive alertness for the district attorney’s order to serve the warrant.

      Spotswoode’s eyes were again on Markham. “What can I do for you, sir?” His voice was calm and without the faintest quaver.

      “You can accompany these officers, Mr. Spotswoode,” Markham told him quietly, with a slight inclination of his head toward the two imperturbable figures at his side. “I arrest you for the murder of Margaret Odell.”

      “Ah!” Spotswoode’s eyebrows lifted mildly. “Then you have—discovered something?”

      “The Beethoven Andante.”

      Not a muscle of Spotswoode’s face moved; but after a short pause he made a barely perceptible gesture of resignation. “I can’t say that it was wholly unexpected,” he said evenly, with the tragic suggestion of a smile; “especially as you thwarted every effort of mine to secure the record. But then…the fortunes of the game are always uncertain.” His smile faded, and his manner became grave. “You have acted generously toward me, Mr. Markham, in shielding me from the canaille; and because I appreciate that courtesy I should like you to know that the game I played was one in which I had no alternative.”

      “Your motive, however powerful,” said Markham, “cannot extenuate your crime.”

      “Do you think I seek extenuation?” Spotswoode dismissed the imputation with a contemptuous gesture. “I’m not a schoolboy. I calculated the consequences of my course of action and, after weighing the various factors involved, decided to risk it. It was a gamble, to be sure; but it’s not my habit to complain about the misfortunes of a deliberately planned risk. Furthermore, the choice was practically forced upon me. Had I not gambled in this instance, I stood to lose heavily nevertheless.”

      His face grew bitter.

      “This woman, Mr. Markham, had demanded the impossible of me. Not content with bleeding me financially, she demanded legal protection, position, social prestige—such things as only my name could give her. She informed me I must divorce my wife and marry her. I wonder if you apprehend the enormity of that demand?… You see, Mr. Markham, I love my wife, and I have children whom I love. I will not insult your intelligence by explaining how, despite my conduct, such a thing is entirely possible.… And yet, this woman commanded me to wreck my life and crush utterly those I held dear, solely to gratify her petty, ridiculous ambition! When I refused, she threatened to expose our relations to my wife, to send her copies of the letters I had written, to sue me publicly—in fine, to create such a scandal that, in any event, my life would be ruined, my family disgraced, my home destroyed.”

      He paused and drew a deep inspiration.

      “I have never been partial to halfway measures,” he continued impassively. “I have no talent for compromise. Perhaps I am a victim of my heritage. But my instinct is to play out a hand to the last chip—to force whatever danger threatens. And for just five minutes, a week ago, I understood how the fanatics of old could, with a calm mind and a sense of righteousness, torture their enemies who threatened them with spiritual destruction.… I chose the only course which might save those I love from disgrace and suffering. It meant taking a desperate risk. But the blood within me was such that I did not hesitate, and I was fired by the agony of a tremendous hate. I staked my life against a living death, on the remote chance of attaining peace. And I lost.”

      Again he smiled faintly.

      “Yes—the fortunes of the game.… But don’t think for a minute that I am complaining or seeking sympathy. I have lied to others perhaps, but not to myself. I detest a whiner—a self-excuser. I want you to understand that.”

      He reached to the table at his side and took up a small limp-leather volume. “Only last night I was reading Wilde’s De Profundis. Had I been gifted with words, I might have made a similar confession. Let me show you what I mean so that, at least, you won’t attribute to me the final infamy of cravenness.”

      He opened the book, and began reading in a voice whose very fervor held us all silent:

      “‘I brought about my own downfall. No one, be he high or low, need be ruined by any other hand than his own. Readily as I confess this, there are many who will, at this time at least, receive the confession sceptically. And although I thus mercilessly accuse myself, bear in mind that I do so without offering any excuse. Terrible as is the punishment inflicted upon me by the world, more terrible is the ruin I have brought upon myself.… In the dawn of manhood I recognized my position.… I enjoyed an honored name, an eminent social position.… Then came the turning-point. I had become tired of dwelling on the heights—and descended by my own will into the depths.… I satisfied my desires wherever it suited me, and passed on. I forgot that every act, even the most insignificant act of daily life, in some degree, makes or unmakes the character; and every occurrence which transpires in the seclusion of the chamber will some day be proclaimed from the housetops. I lost control of myself. I was no longer at the helm, and knew it not. I had become a slave to pleasure.… One thing only is left to me—complete humility.’”

      He tossed the book aside.

      “You understand now, Mr. Markham?”

      Markham did not speak for several moments.

      “Do you care to tell me about Skeel?” he at length asked.

      “That swine!” Spotswoode sneered his disgust. “I could murder such creatures every day and regard myself as a benefactor of society.… Yes, I strangled him, and I would have done it before, only the opportunity did not offer.… СКАЧАТЬ