Poisoned Chocolates Case (7 page)

But was it only rhetoric that had made him begin to doubt? Sir Charles seemed to have some substantial facts to weave into the airy web of his oratory. And pompous old fellow though he might be, he was certainly no fool. Roger began to feel distinctly uneasy. For his own hare, he had to admit, was a very elusive one.

As Sir Charles proceeded to develop his thesis, Roger's uneasiness began to turn into downright unhappiness.

"There can be no doubt about it. I ascertained through an agent that Mason's, an old - fashioned firm, invariably paid such private customers as had an account with them (nine - tenths of their business of course is wholesale) the courtesy of including a statement of thanks, just two or three words typed in the middle of a sheet of notepaper. I ascertained that this individual had had an account with the firm, which was apparently closed five months ago; that is to say, a cheque was sent then in settlement and no goods have been ordered since.

“Moreover I found time to pay a special visit myself to Scotland Yard in order to examine that letter again. By looking at the back I could make out quite distinct though indecipherable traces of former typewritten words in the middle of the page. These latter cut halfway down one of the lines of the letter and so prove that they could not have been an erasure from that; they correspond in length to the statement I expected; and they show signs of the most careful attempts, by rubbing, rolling and re - roughening the smoothed paper, to eradicate not only the typewriter - ink but even the actual indentations caused by the metal letter - arms. ”This I held to be conclusive proof that my theory was correct, and at once I set about clearing up such other doubtful points as had occurred to me. Time was short, and I had recourse to no less than four firms of trustworthy inquiry - agents among whom I divided the task of providing the data I was seeking. This not only saved me considerable time, but had the advantage of not putting the sum - total of the information obtained into any hands but my own. Indeed I did my best so to split up my queries as to prevent any of the firms from even guessing what object I had in mind; and in this I am of the opinion that I have been successful.

“My next care was the post - mark. It was necessary for my case that I should prove that my suspect had actually been in the neighbourhood of the Strand at the time in question. You will say,” suggested Sir Charles, searching the interested faces round him, and apparently picking upon Mr. Morton Harrogate Bradley as the raiser of this futile objection. “You will say,” said Sir Charles sternly to Mr. Bradley, "that this was not necessary. The parcel might have been posted quite innocently by an unwitting accomplice to whom it had been entrusted, so that the actual criminal had an unshakable alibi for that period; the more so as the individual to whom I refer was actually not in this country, so that it would be all the easier to request a friend who might be travelling to England to undertake the task of posting the parcel in this country and so saving the cost of the foreign postage, which on parcels is not inconsiderable.

“I do not agree,” said Sir Charles to Mr. Bradley, still more severely. "I have considered that point, and I do not think the individual I have in mind would undertake such a very grave risk. For the friend would almost certainly remember the incident when she read of the affair in the papers, as would be almost inevitable.

“No,” concluded Sir Charles, finally crushing Mr. Bradley once and for all, “I am convinced that the individual I am thinking of would realise that nobody else must handle that parcel till it had passed into the keeping of the post - office.”

“Of course,” said Mr. Bradley academically, “Lady Pennefather may have had not an innocent accomplice but a guilty one. You've considered that, of course?” Mr. Bradley managed to convey that the matter was of no real interest, but as Sir Charles had been addressing these remarks directly to him it was only courteous to comment on them.

Sir Charles purpled visibly. He had been priding himself on the skilful way in which he had been withholding his suspect's name, to bring it out with a lovely plump right at the end after proving his case, just like a real detective story. And now this wretched scribbler of the things had spoilt it all.

“Sir,” he intoned, in proper Johnsonian manner, “I must call your attention to the fact that I have mentioned no names at all. To do such a thing is most imprudent. Do I need to remind you that there is such a thing as a law of libel? ”

Morton Harrogate smiled his maddeningly superior smile (he really was a most insufferable young man). “Really, Sir Charles!” he mocked, stroking his little sleek object he wore on his upper lip. “I'm not going to write a story about Lady Pennefather trying to murder her husband, if that's what you're warning me against. Or could it possibly be that you were referring to the law of slander?”

Sir Charles, who had meant slander, enveloped Mr. Bradley in a crimson glare.

Roger sped to the rescue. The combatants reminded him of a bull and a gadfly, and that is a contest which it is often good fun to watch. But the Crimes Circle had been founded to investigate the crimes of others, not to provide opportunities for new ones. Roger did not particularly like either the bull or the gadfly, but both amused him in their different ways; he certainly disliked neither. Mr. Bradley on the other hand disliked both Roger and Sir Charles. He disliked Roger the more of the two because Roger was a gentleman and pretended not to be, whereas he himself was not a gentleman and pretended he was. And that surely is cause enough to dislike any one.

“I'm glad you raised that point, Sir Charles,” Roger now said smoothly. “It's one we must consider. Personally I don't see how we're to progress at all unless we come to some arrangement concerning the law of slander, do you?”

Sir Charles consented to be mollified. “It is a difficult point,” he agreed, the lawyer in him immediately swamping the outraged human being. A born lawyer will turn aside from any other minor pursuit, even briefs, for a really knotty legal point, just as a born woman will put on her best set of underclothes and powder her nose before inserting the latter in the gas - oven.

“I think,” Roger said carefully, anxious not to wound legal susceptibilities (it was a bold proposition for a layman to make), “that we should disregard that particular law. I mean,” he added hastily, observing the look of pain on Sir Charles's brow at being asked to condone this violation of a lex intangenda, “1 mean, we should come to some such arrangement as that anything said in this room should be without prejudice, or among friends, or - or not in the spirit of the adverb,” he plunged desperately, “or whatever the legal wriggle is.” On the whole it was not a tactful speech.

But it is doubtful whether Sir Charles heard it. A dreamy look had come into his eyes, as of a Lord of Appeal crooning over a piece of red tape. “Slander, as we all know,” he murmured, “consists in the malicious speaking of such words as render the party who speaks them in the hearing of others liable to an action at the suit of the party to whom they apply. In this case, the imputation being of a crime or misdemeanour which is punishable corporeally, pecuniary damage would not have to be proved, and, the imputation being defamatory, its falsity would be presumed and the burden of proving its truth would be laid upon the defendant. We should therefore have the interesting situation of the defendant in a slander action becoming, in essence, the plaintiff in a civil suit for murder. And really,” said Sir Charles in much perplexity, “I don't know what would happen then.”

“Er - what about privilege?” suggested Roger feebly.

“Of course,” Sir Charles disregarded him, “there would have to be stated in the declaration the actual words used, not merely their meaning and general inference, and failure to prove them as stated would result in the plaintiff being nonsuited; so that unless notes were taken here and signed by a witness who had heard the defamation, I do not quite see how an action could lie.”

“Privilege?” murmured Roger despairingly.

“Moreover I should be of the opinion,” said Sir Charles, brightening, “that this might be regarded as one of those proper occasions upon which statements, in themselves defamatory, and even false, may be made if from a perfectly proper motive and with an entire belief in their truth. In that case the presumption would be reversed and the burden would be on the plaintiff to prove, and that to the satisfaction of a jury, that the defendant was actuated by express malice. In that case I rather fancy that the court would be guided almost wholly by considerations of public expediency, which would probably mean that - - ”

“Privilege!” said Roger loudly.

Sir Charles turned on him the dull eye of a red - ink fiend. But this time the word had penetrated. “I was coming to that,” he reproved. “Now in our case I hardly think that a plea of public privilege would be accepted. As to private privilege, the limits are of course exceedingly difficult to define. It would be doubtful if we could plead successfully that all statements made here are matters of purely private communication, because it is a question whether this Circle does constitute, in actual fact, a private or a public gathering. One could,” said Sir Charles with much interest, “argue either way. Or even, for the matter of that, that it is a private body meeting in public, or, vice versa, a public gathering held in private. The point is a very debatable one.” Sir Charles swung his glasses for a moment to emphasise the extreme debatability of the point.

“But I do feel inclined to venture the opinion,” he plunged at last, “that on the whole we might be justified in taking up our stand upon the submission that the occasion is privileged in so far as it is concerned entirely with communications which are made with no animus injuiandi but solely in performance of a duty not necessarily legal but moral or social, and any statements so uttered are covered by a plea of veritas convicii being made within proper limits by persons in the bonafide prosecution of their own and the public interest. I am bound to say however,” Sir Charles immediately proceeded to hedge as if horrified at having committed himself at last, “ that this is not a matter of complete certainty, and a wiser policy might be to avoid the direct mention of any name, while holding ourselves free to indicate in some unmistakable manner, such as by signs, or possibly by some form of impersonation or acting, the individual to whom we severally refer.”

“Still,” pursued the President, faint but persistent, “on the whole you do think that the occasion may be regarded as privileged, and we may go ahead and mention any name we like?”

Sir Charles's glasses described a complete and symbolical circle. “I think,” said Sir Charles very weightily indeed (after all it was an opinion which would have cost the Circle such a surprisingly round sum had it been delivered in chambers that Sir Charles need not be grudged a little weight in the delivering of it). “I think,” said Sir Charles, “that we might take that risk.”

“Right - ho!” said the President with relief.

“I DARE say,” resumed Sir Charles, “that many of you will have already reached the same conclusion as myself, with regard to the identity of the murderer. The case seems to me to afford so striking a parallel with one of the classical murders, that the similarity can hardly have passed unnoticed. I refer, of course, to the Marie Lafarge case.”

“Oh!” said Roger, surprised. So far as he was concerned the similarity had passed unnoticed. He wriggled uncomfortably. Now one came to consider it, of course the parallel was obvious.

“There too we have a wife, accused of sending a poisoned article to her husband. Whether the article was a cake or a box of chocolates is beside the point. It will not do perhaps to - - ”

“But nobody in their sane senses still believes that Marie Lafarge was guilty,” Alicia Dammers interrupted, with unusual warmth. “It's been practically proved that the cake was sent by the foreman, or whatever he was. Wasn't his name Dennis? His motive was much bigger than hers, too.”

Sir Charles regarded her severely. “I think I said, accused of sending. I was referring to a matter of fact, not of opinion.”

“Sorry,” nodded Miss Dammers, unabashed.

“In any case, I just mention the coincidence for what it is worth. Let us now go back to resume our argument at the point we left it. In that connection, the question was raised just now,” said Sir Charles, determinedly impersonal, “as to whether Lady Pennefather may have had not an innocent accomplice but a guilty one. That doubt had already occurred to me. I have satisfied myself that it is not the case. She planned and carried through this affair alone.” He paused, inviting the obvious question.

Roger tactfully supplied it. “How could she, Sir Charles? We know that she was in the South of France the whole time. The police investigated that very point. She has a complete alibi.”

Sir Charles positively beamed at him. “She had a complete alibi. I have destroyed it.”

“This is what actually happened. Three days before the parcel was posted Lady Pennefather left Mentone and went, ostensibly, for a week to Avignon. At the end of the week she returned to Mentone. Her signature is in the hotel - register at Avignon, she has the receipted bill, everything is quite in order. The only curious thing is that apparently she did not take her maid, a very superior young woman of smart appearance and good manners, to Avignon with her, for the hotel - receipt is for one person only. And yet the maid did not stay at Mentone. Did the maid then vanish into thin air?” demanded Sir Charles indignantly.

“Oh!” nodded Mr. Chitterwick, who had been listening intently. “I see. How ingenious.”

“Highly ingenious,” agreed Sir Charles, complacently taking the credit for the erring lady's ingenuity. “The maid took the mistress's place; the mistress paid a secret visit to England. And I have verified that beyond any doubt. An agent, acting on telegraphic instructions from me, showed the hotel - proprietor at Avignon a photograph of Lady Pennefather and asked whether such a person had ever stayed in the hotel; the man averred that he had never seen her in his life. My agent showed him a snapshot which he had obtained of the maid; the proprietor recognised her instantly as Lady Pennefather. Another 'guess' of mine had proved only too accurate.” Sir Charles leaned back in his chair and swung his glasses in silent tribute to his own astuteness.