The Case Is Closed (20 page)

We shall have to telephone to Cousin Selina,’ said Hilary. She pushed back her hair and gazed rather wanly at Henry.

It was actually only about two hours since she had smashed the ink-bottle in Alfred Mercer’s face, but it felt like a long and sordid week. The large Scotch policeman had taken his prisoner away. A detective had arrived to take charge of the flat. Mrs. Mercer had come out of her swoon only to go from one weeping fit into another until she was taken away in a taxi with a policeman and Miss Silver in attendance. Henry had then removed Hilary to an hotel, where she had got the worst of the ink off her hands and resigned herself to the fact that it would never quite come off her coat. They had just had lunch.

‘Henry, we shall have to telephone to Cousin Selina,’ she said.

‘I don’t see why. She wasn’t expecting us back to lunch, anyhow.’

‘It feels like months,’ said Hilary with a shudder. ‘Henry, can’t you get married in Scotland just by saying you’re married? I mean could we just do it, and then we needn’t go back at all? I mean, I don’t feel like Cousin Selina.’

Henry hugged her.

‘Darling, I wish we could! But you’ve got to have a Scottish domicile nowadays.’

‘How do you get one?’

‘Three weeks’ residence, I believe. You see, I’ve never lived in Scotland, though my name is Scotch. But we can get married a lot quicker than that in England.’

That’s no good,’ said Hilary in a forlorn sort of voice. She rubbed her cheek against his coat sleeve. ‘It’s all rather beastly — isn’t it? I mean about Mrs. Mercer. She —she cried so. Henry, they won’t do anything to her? Because whatever she did, he made her do it. She wouldn’t dare to go against him. Whatever she did, he made her do it — like he did with that confession.’

‘H’m — ’ said Henry. ‘I wonder if she did shoot James Everton. It’s possible, you know.’

‘I know it is. That’s what’s making me feel so bad. I do hope she didn’t.’

‘If she did, I don’t see where Bertie Everton comes in — and he does come in, he must come in. Hullo — I’ve only just thought of it — where’s that parcel I had?’ He jumped up from the sofa corner where he and Hilary had been sitting very close together and began to feel in all his pockets.

Hilary looked bewildered.

‘What are you talking about darling? You hadn’t any parcel.’

‘It wasn’t a parcel, it was evidence, with a capital E — and I’ve lost it!’ He ran both hands distractedly through his hair. ‘Hang it all, I can’t have lost it! I had it in the street when I was talking to Miss Silver. We were talking about it, and then we got the wind up about you and I forgot all about it. You know, Hilary, I don’t want to rub it in, but if you’d done what you were told and stayed where you were put — ’

She gazed meekly at him through her eyelashes.

‘I know, darling —Mrs. Mercer would have been dead.’ The meekness vanished. ‘She would — wouldn’t she?’

Henry threw her a look of frowning dislike.

‘Anyhow, I’ve lost that dashed parcel, and if you hadn’t — ’

‘Not quarrelling,’ said Hilary with a quiver in her voice — ‘please not.’ And all at once nothing mattered to Henry in the world except that she shouldn’t cry, and nothing mattered in the world to Henry except that he should love her, and hold her close, and make her feel safe again.

Miss Silver entered upon a very touching scene. She stood just inside the door and coughed gently, and then neither of them took any notice of that she waited for a moment and thought it was pleasant to see two young people so much in love, and then coughed again a good deal louder than before.

Hilary lifted her head from Henry’s shoulder with a start. Henry jumped up. Miss Silver spoke in her ladylike voice.

‘I was afraid you might be worrying about your parcel, Captain Cunningham. I took charge of it, as I thought it would be safer with me.’ She held it out, a shabby, disreputable parcel tied with a raffish piece of string.

Henry took it from her with considerable relief.

‘You’ve opened it?’

Miss Silver appeared surprised and pained.

‘Oh, dear me, no — though I confess that I have felt curious. You were telling me that Mrs. Francis Everton gave it to you, and that it contained a very important piece of evidence.

‘It contains a red wig,’ said Henry. He slipped off the string and dropped the paper to the floor. A most authentic red wig emerged.

Hilary said ‘Oh!’ and Miss Silver said, “Dear me.’ They all looked at it — red hair of a peculiar shade, red hair worn longer than is usual for a man, red hair of the exact shade of Bertie Everton’s hair, and worn as he wore his.

Miss Silver drew a long satisfied breath.

‘This is indeed an important piece of evidence. I congratulate you with all my heart, Captain Cunningham.’

Hilary’s eyes were bright and frightened.

‘What does it mean?’ she said in a troubled whisper.

‘That,’ said Miss Silver, ‘I am now in a position to explain. Will you both sit down? There is really no need for us to stand. No, Captain Cunningham, I prefer an upright chair.’

Hilary was glad enough to get back into the sofa corner. She slipped her hand inside Henry’s arm and looked expectantly at Miss Silver sitting bolt upright in an imitation Sheraton chair with a bright yellow shell on the back. Miss Silver’s mousy grey hair was smooth and unruffled, and her voice was prim and calm. The pansies bloomed serenely in her tidy dowdy hat. She removed her black kid gloves, folded them neatly, and put them inside her bag.

‘Mrs. Mercer has made a statement. I think that what she has said this time is the real truth. The wig which enabled Francis Everton to impersonate his brother and thus provide him with an alibi on the day of the murder is a strongly corroborative piece of evidence.’

‘It was Frank Everton at the hotel — Frank? said Hilary.

‘I was sure of it from the first,’ said Miss Silver.

‘But he was here — he drew his allowance here in Glasgow that afternoon.’

Miss Silver nodded.

‘At a quarter to six. Let me run over the details, and you will see how it all fits in. Bertie Everton’s alibi depends on the evidence of the people who saw him in the Caledonian Hotel on Tuesday, July 16th, the day of the murder. His own account is that after dining with his uncle on the evening of the fifteenth he caught the 1.5 from King’s Cross, arriving in Edinburgh at 9.36 on the morning of the sixteenth, that he went straight to the Caledonian Hotel, where he had a late breakfast and put in some arrears of sleep. He lunched in the hotel at half-past one, and then wrote letters in his room. In the course of the afternoon he complained to the chambermaid that his bell was put of order. He went out some time after four, enquiring at the office if there had been any telephone message for him. He did not return to the hotel until getting on for half-past eight, when he rang and asked the chambermaid to bring him some biscuits as he did not feel well and intended to go to bed. In her statement she says that she thought he was the worse for drink, but when she brought him his tea at nine o’clock next morning he seemed all right and quite himself.’

Miss Silver paused, coughed in a refined manner, and proceeded.

‘There were several points that struck me in this statement and in the evidence as to Bertie Everton’s movements. To begin with, why, when he was staying at the Caledonian Hotel, did he take a train from King’s Cross? The King’s Cross trains arrive at the Waverley Station, which is a mile from that hotel. If he had taken a train from Euston, he would have got out at the Caledonian Station, where he would only have had to walk through a swing-door. Why, then, did he choose the King’s Cross-Waverley route? It occurred to me at once that he must have had some strong motive. The point was unnoticed at the inquest, and it does not seem to have emerged at all at the trial.’

‘Why did he arrive at the Waverley?’ said Hilary.

Henry said, ‘He didn’t,’ and Miss Silver nodded.

‘Exactly, Captain Cunningham. It was Francis Everton who arrived at the Waverley Station, having come over from Glasgow, probably on a motor-bicycle. You were not able to get any information on this point?’

‘No — no luck — too long afterwards.’

‘I was afraid so. But I feel sure that he came on a motor-bicycle. The head-dress and goggles make a perfect disguise. Having garaged his machine, he had only to go down into the station, present the cloakroom ticket with which, I feel sure, his brother must have furnished him, and take out a suit-case containing a suit of Bertie Everton’s clothes and this wig. The change would be easily effected in a lavatory. With his own clothes in the suit-case, he could then take a taxi to the Caledonian Hotel, and be seen breakfasting there.’

‘How much alike were they?’ said Henry. ‘It was a bit of a risk, wasn’t it?’

Miss Silver shook her head.

‘No risk at all. The first thing I did was to secure photographs of the brothers. There is a decided family likeness, but Frank had short dark hair growing well back from the temples, whereas Bertie Everton’s shock of red hair is easily the most noticeable thing about him. In this wig Frank would deceive any hotel servant. It would be so easy to avoid being seen full face. He had only to rest his head on his hand, to be busy with a newspaper, to be blowing his nose — there are half a dozen expedients.’

‘The chambermaid never saw his face,’ said Hilary in an excited tone. ‘We found her, and she said so — didn’t she, Henry? She said no one could mistake that red head of his, and when he complained about the bell he was writing letters with his back to the door, and he ordered his biscuits standing over by the window looking out, and when she brought them he’d been washing and had the towel up to his face drying it. I got it all out of her — didn’t I, Henry?’

Henry put his arm round her.

‘You’ll get wind in the head if you’re not careful,’ he said.

‘You did very well,’ said Miss Silver. ‘That was how it was done. And you see there was very little risk. Everyone in the hotel knew that noticeable head of red hair, and when they saw it they were quite sure that they were seeing Bertie Everton. At a little after four Frank left the hotel, asking about a telephone call at the office as he went out. He must have taken the suit-case with him and changed back into his own clothes. He could have done it in the station. He had then to pick up his motor-bicycle, ride over to Glasgow, and present himself at Mr. Johnstone’s office by a quarter to six. The distance is about forty-two miles, I believe. He could do it easily. He was in the office till a quarter past six. At half-past six he was, I feel sure, upon the road again. But he made one big mistake — he stopped on the way for refreshment. Drink, as you know, was his enemy, and he was unable to resist the temptation. The moment I read in the chambermaid’s statement that she thought Bertie Everton was the worse for drink when she answered his bell at half-past eight that Tuesday evening, I had the feeling that here was a very important clue. I was right. Enquiry quickly informed me that drink was not one of Bertie Eyerton’s vices — I could not find anyone who had ever seen him the worse for it — whereas his brother’s weakness was notorious. At that moment I felt sure that Bertie Everton’s alibi was fraudulent and the result of a cleverly contrived impersonation. We shall never know all the details. Having-got rid of the chambermaid, Frank would have had to watch his opportunity and leave the hotel. He most probably changed back into his own clothes up there in his brother’s room. There would not be many servants about at that hour in the evening. He had only to get out of the room without being seen, after which no one would notice him. He could proceed to wherever he had left his motor-bicycle and return to Glasgow. But he did one thing which I feel sure was not in his brother’s plan — he kept the wig. I have a strong conviction that he was never intended to keep the wig.’

‘And it’s the wig that’s going to smash Bertie Everton’s alibi,’ said Henry in a tone of great satisfaction.

Miss Silver nodded.

‘That, and Mrs. Mercer’s statement,’ she said.

Hilary leaned forward.

‘The one Mercer dictated to her? Oh, Miss Silver!’

‘Not that one. She kept on saying that it wasn’t true, poor creature, and when I told her you could testify that it had been written in fear of her life she said she had put down what really happened a bit at a time when her husband was out of the way, and that it was pinned inside her stays. And there it was, done up in an old pocket handkerchief. It was very blurred and ill written, poor thing, but the Superintendent had it typed out and read over to her, and she signed it. We are old acquaintances, and he has allowed me to bring away a copy. Bertie Everton will be arrested without delay. I think that Mrs. Grey should be communicated with at once and advised to place Mr. Grey’s interests in the hands of a first-rate solicitor. I will now read Mrs. Mercer’s statement.’

mrs. mercer’s statement

‘I want to say what I know. I can’t go on any longer and not tell. He said he’d kill me if I didn’t do what he said. I’ve wished and wished I’d let him kill me then and not swore false and let Mr. Geoffrey go to prison. I’ve not had one happy moment since, thinking about him and about Mrs. Grey.

‘I’ve got to go back to explain. Alfred and me was sweethearts when I was a girl, and he let me down and lost me my character. And when I was out of a place Mrs. Bertram Everton that was Mr. Bertie’s mother heard about me. She was staying near my home, and she took me away to give me another chance, and had me trained under her cook, and by and by when the cook left I got the place. It’s all a matter of twenty-five years ago. Mr. Bertie was five years old, and Mr. Frank was the baby. Mr. Bertie was the loveliest child I ever did see, though you wouldn’t think it now. He’d the wonderfullest head of hair, for all the world like a new-minted penny, and he’d the sort of way with him you couldn’t stand out against, and I suppose that was his ruin — everything come easy to him. He liked pictures and music, and he liked money, oh, something terrible. That’s where it all began. He got into disgrace taking money that belonged to the other children, and then it come out that some of them had give it to him so he shouldn’t tell on them for things they’d done, and it seemed that was worse than stealing. It fair broke his mother’s heart, and she was never the same again. They sent him to be educated somewhere foreign after that, and he come home a very gay young gentleman and got into a fast set in London. And presently his mother died and the house was broke up, and I was in other places for years and didn’t hear nothing about the Evertons.

‘Well, then one day I come across Alfred Mercer again. I was in a place in London, and it was my afternoon out, so I had a cup of tea with him and we got talking about old times. We went on seeing each other after that, and he began to get the same sort of hold over me he had before. It seemed as if he could make me do anything he liked, so when he said I was to give in my notice I done it. He said we was to get married and take up a job with Mr. James Everton that was brother-in-law to my Mrs. Bertram. Solway Lodge, Putney, was the address, and we went and applied for it as man and wife, because that was what he was wanting. Alfred he said we’d get married before we went in, but he kept putting of it off. I had my references and Alfred had his, and he told Mr. Everton we’d got married, but we never, not till afterwards. Alfred he kept putting of me off, and come the last, I darsn’t talk. He’d always made me do what he wanted, but now he’d got so as I was right down afraid to death of him.

‘Well, then I got to know that Alfred was seeing Mr. Bertie on the quiet. We met him once when we was out together, and he stopped and spoke, and called me Louie same as he used to when he was a boy and come into my kitchen coaxing for titbits. I thought to myself “He wants something now,” but I didn’t know what it was. I said so to Alfred, and he told me to shut my mouth.

‘Mr. James Everton didn’t like Mr. Bertie. He was all for his other nephew Mr. Geoffrey Grey that was in the business — chartered accountants they called themselves. I don’t know how it come about, but Mr. Bertie found out something his uncle done wrong in the way of his business. I don’t know the ins and outs, but from what Alfred told me he’d obliged a friend over his accounts, and it would have got him into trouble with the law if so be it had come out. Mr. Geoffrey didn’t know nothing about it, and his uncle was mortal afraid in case he’d get to know, because he thought the world of Mr. Geoff.

‘It came so that Mr. Everton agreed to see Mr. Bertie and talk it over. Mr. Bertie come down from Scotland on purpose. That was the fifteenth of July, the day before Mr. Everton was killed. Mr. Bertie come to dinner, and afterwards they went into the study and talked. I knew there was something up, but I didn’t know what it was, not then. I went upstairs, and when I come across the hall I could hear Mr. Everton shouting as if he was clean out of his senses. And all Alfred would say was that we’d be made for life, and he kissed me, which he hadn’t done for a long time, and said he’d given in our notice to be married, and told me to buy a new bonnet and make myself smart. I didn’t know nothing then — I swear I didn’t.’

‘Blackmail!’ said Henry suddenly. ‘By gum! That’s why he altered his will! He was in the soup, and Bertie blackmailed him into making a will in his favour!’

‘Let her go on,’ said Hilary in a whisper — ‘let her go on.’

Miss Silver nodded, and went on reading.

‘Next day Mr. Everton wasn’t well. Alfred told me he’d gone to alter his will, and he was to let Mr. Bertie know as soon as it was done. “And that’s a bit of luck for us all,” he said. And then he told me he’d asked Mrs. Thompson in to supper that night. It was the sixteenth of July and a hot sunny day. Mr. Everton stayed shut up in the study. There was to be cold supper in the dining-room, and he’d go in when he wanted to. At a quarter to seven Alfred had me up into our room and told me Mr. Everton had shot himself. He said nobody mustn’t know till after Mrs. Thompson had been in the house long enough to clear us of having a hand in it. He said they’d put it on us if we were alone in the house when he done it. He said Mrs. Thompson being deaf wouldn’t know whether there was a shot or not, and he told me what I was to do and what I was to say. He swore if I went from it he’d cut my heart out, and he took out his knife and showed it to me, and said all the police in the world couldn’t save me, and he made me go down on my knees and swear. And I was to tell Mrs. Thompson I’d got the toothache to cover up the way I was —after what he’d said. Mrs. Thompson come in at half-past seven. I don’t know how I got through. Alfred told her I was near off my head with the pain, and she never doubted nothing. At eight o’clock I went through with some plates. I put them in the dining-room and come back. Half-way across the hall I could have dropped, for I heard Mr. Everton talking in the study. He was talking on the telephone — and I’d been thinking him dead this hour past! I didn’t seem I could move. He said, “Come as soon as you can, Geoff,” and he rang off.

‘The door was the least thing ajar, and I could hear quite plain. I heard him go across the room, and I heard him scrape his chair like he always done pulling it up to the desk. And then he called out sharp, “Who are you? What do you want?” And so true as I’m a sinful woman I heard Mr. Bertie say, “Well, you see I’ve come back,” and Mr. Everton said, “What are you doing in those clothes, you mountebank?” Mr. Bertie laughed and said, “Private business,” and Mr. Everton said, “What business?” I was right by the door, and I looked through the crack. Mr. Everton was sitting at his desk very pale and angry, and Mr. Bertie was over by the window. He’d got overalls on like they wear on their motor-bikes, and a leather cap, and the goggles pushed up out of the way. I wouldn’t hardly have known him if it hadn’t been for his voice, but it was him all right. Mr. Everton he said, “What business?” and Mr. Bertie put his hand in his pocket and said “This”. I didn’t see what was in his hand, but it was Mr. Geoffrey’s pistol that he left here when he got married, like he swore at the trial. I couldn’t see what it was, but Mr. Everton seen it, and he started to get up, and he called out loud and said, “My own nephew!” and Mr. Bertie shot him.

‘I didn’t seem I could move. Mr. Bertie come over and shut the door and I heard the key turn in the lock, and then there was a kind of a soft sound that was him wiping the handle and wiping the key. And he must have wiped the pistol, too, because they didn’t find any fingermarks on it, only poor Mr. Geoffrey’s later on.

‘I come over so frightened I couldn’t stay no longer. I got back to the kitchen and sat down by the table and put my head in my hands. I hadn’t been gone no time to speak of. Alfred was there with Mrs. Thompson. He’d heard the shot, but she hadn’t heard nothing along of being so deaf. He shouted in her ear that I was pretty near off my head with the toothache, and then he come over to me and we spoke together quiet. I said, “He’s killed him —Mr. Bertie’s killed him.” And he said, “That’s where you’re wrong, Louie. It’s Mr. Geoffrey that’s a-going to kill him in a quarter of an hour’s time from now, and don’t you forget it.” ’

Miss Silver looked up from the neatly typed copy of Mrs. Mercer’s scrappy, blotted confession.

‘You will notice the discrepancies in the poor creature’s statement. She says Mercer led her to believe that Mr. Everton had committed suicide, but it is obvious that she had been primed beforehand with the evidence which she gave to the police on their arrival. Two such careful conspirators as Bertie Everton and Alfred Mercer would never have risked taking her by surprise in the manner she describes here. It is quite certain that she must have known that Mr. Everton was to be murdered, and that she had been well rehearsed in the part she was to play — she admits it with one breath and denies it with the next. There is of course no doubt that she acted under extreme intimidation.

‘Yes,’ said Henry. ‘What I don’t see is how they would have got Geoffrey Grey there if Mr. Everton hadn’t telephoned for him.’

Miss Silver nodded.

‘An interesting point, Captain Cunningham. I think it is clear that Mr. Everton was beginning to repent of having given way to blackmail. He intended to confide in Mr. Grey and enlist his help. He had been thrown off his balance by a sudden shock, but he was making a struggle to regain it.’

‘Yes, I suppose it was like that. But that’s not what I meant. The plan was to implicate Geoffrey Grey. Mr. Everton played into their hands by telephoning for him, but how did they know he had telephoned, and what would they have done if he hadn’t sent for Geoffrey?’

‘Exactly,’ said Miss Silver. ‘The Superintendent raised those very points. Mrs. Mercer says that Bertie Everton overheard his uncle’s conversation on the telephone. It was a piece of luck for them and reduced the risks they were running. Bertie Everton, who is an excellent mimic, had intended to ring Mr. Grey up after the murder. He would have imitated his uncle’s voice and have said very much what his uncle did actually say. It was essential to the plot that Geoffrey Grey should find the body and handle the pistol.’

‘They couldn’t be sure that he would pick it up,’ said Hilary. (Poor Geoff —walking into a trap! Poor Geoff! Poor Marion!)

‘Nine hundred and ninety-nine men out of a thousand would have picked it up,’ said Henry. ‘I should for one. Any man who’d ever had a pistol of his own would.’

‘Yes?’ said Miss Silver. ‘The Superintendent thought so, too. He is a very intelligent man.’ She coughed. ‘I think that disposes of those two points. I will continue.’

The paper rustled. She went on reading the anguished sentences in her cool, precise voice.

‘ “It’s Mr. Geoffrey that’s a-going to kill him in a quarter of an hour’s time from now.” That’s what he said. I don’t know how I kept from screaming. Such a wicked plot. And Mr. Geoffrey that never done them any harm — only his uncle was fond of him, and Mr. Bertie had set himself to get the money. He done murder for it and put it on Mr. Geoffrey, and that’s the gospel truth if I never wrote another word.

‘Mrs. Thompson she never noticed nothing. She thought I’d come over bad and she thought what a kind husband Alfred was, patting me on the shoulder and talking to me comforting like. If she’d heard what he said she’d have thought different, but she couldn’t hear nothing. Alfred said, “Did he ring Mr. Geoffrey up?” — meaning Mr. Bertie — and I told him Mr. Everton done it himself. And he said, “When?” and I remembered as the clock struck eight when I was in the dining-room. Alfred turns round and shouts to Mrs. Thompson that I’ll be better soon and a pity I didn’t have the tooth out like he said. Then he goes into the pantry and he says to me, speaking quiet, “It’s seven minutes past now, and you’ve got to pull yourself together. At a minute short of the quarter you go upstairs and turn down the bed and look slippy about it, and then you come down and stand by the study door till you hear Mr. Geoffrey, and then you scream just as loud as you can. And remember, you’ve just heard the shot, and if so be there’s any mistake about it, it’s the last mistake you’ll ever make, my girl.” And he picks up one of the knives he was cleaning, and he looks at it and he looks at me. Mrs. Thompson couldn’t see nothing from where she sat, but I could, and I knew well enough that he’d kill me if I didn’t do what he said.

‘So I done it. I swore false to the police, and I swore false at the inquest and at the trial. I swore I heard voices in the study quarrelling, and a shot, and then I screamed and Alfred come running and Mr. Geoffrey opened the door with the pistol in his hand. And so he did, but it was Mr. Bertie shot his uncle and put the pistol there by the garden door for Mr. Geoffrey to find, knowing he’d be sure to come in that way like he always done. And Mr. Geoffrey picked it up, that’s all he done, and come over and tried the door, and when he found it was locked he turned the key same as they reckoned he would. So there was his finger-marks for the police. But he never done it, and I’ve never had a happy moment since. Alfred and me got married next day, but he only done it to shut my mouth, and what’s the good of that?

‘Mr. Bertie he’s come in for the money, and there’s talk of our going to America with what he promised Alfred. It’s a lot of money, but I’ll be dead first. It wasn’t any use my doing what I done, because Alfred’ll kill me just the same. He’s afraid of my talking — ever since I saw Miss Hilary Carew, in the train. I’m writing it down, because he’ll kill me and I want Mr. Geoffrey to get free.’

Miss Silver laid the last sheet down on her knee.

‘She signed it as a statement after it had been read through to her. I think there is no doubt that it is true as far as it goes.’

Hilary sat up. She still held Henry’s arm. You need something to hold on to when the world swings round.

‘I ought to be so frightfully glad — about Geoff and about Marion — but I can’t — not yet. She’s so unhappy, that poor thing!’

Miss Silver’s expression changed. She looked very kindly at Hilary, and said in a gentle voice,