‘If it was,’ said the old man, ‘who more interested than herself?’ He brushed aside interruptions. ‘Thomas Gemminy was discussing the marriage of this precious ewe lamb of his. He knew all the past histories, the heredities—he could tell what might for ever put an end to any idea of marriage between Helen and—somebody. So—somebody silenced him. Somebody set fire to the desk where dangerous documents might be kept; and silenced him.’
‘All right—so you say. But I say—how?’
The old man was silent, sitting deep in thought, the sunshine beating down through the leafless branches of the mulberry tree, dappling his big bald head with light and shadow. Giles prompted at last, trailing a red herring across that other name: ‘Take Rupert—’
He seemed to come awake. ‘All right, very well: take Rupert! Rupert pretends a telephone call to give him an excuse to hurry off and get there early; or perhaps even actually gets one, telling him simply that you’ve left and he may as well come along now—but either way is sure that you are out of the way. He strangles the old man, ties him to the chair, conceals the knife about himself somewhere and comes out, locking the door behind him. When the police arrive, he’s pounding on it. He suggests that it’s bolted on the inside and when the panel’s broken, is the first to thrust through his arm and pretend to draw back the bolts: which in fact, of course, never were shot at all. The lock gives way, they all tumble in and he goes with them. Chucks the key into the fire raging round the desk; and that’s all there is to it.’ He asked as a child asks, playing Hunt the Thimble: ‘Am I getting warm?’
‘Not frightfully,’ said Giles. ‘What about the stabbing, for example?’
‘The oldest trick in the crime thrillers, boy. Bends over the body pretending to be frantic with anxiety, jabs in the knife. So recently dead, there’d still be a little ooze of blood.’
‘All this in front of half a dozen policemen?’
‘In a crowded room filled with smoke; everyone excited and milling about….’
Giles clutched at a straw. ‘But the window! They heard the glass being shattered just as they were actually breaking in.’
‘They heard glass being shattered,’ said the old man. ‘Which is rather a different thing.’
‘The broken pane was still quivering.’
He shrugged again. ‘Something thrown while Rupert’s hand was through the panel—a piece of the panel itself, perhaps; it would be burnt up afterwards in the fire. Or the window broken in advance and a piece of the glass kept back for just this purpose—there was a little inside the window-sill, wasn’t there? Threw it while his hand was through the broken panel, out of sight; and a lucky shot hit the broken pane and started it vibrating again. But all that was needed was the sound.’
‘Good God!’ said Giles. He could not help a grudging admiration. ‘You certainly have it all worked out.’
‘You said it couldn’t be done. I’m only telling you one of half a dozen ways in which it could. This is the way it could have been done by Rupert.’
‘Well, all right then—Rupert. What about the note?’
‘No note, of course. An excuse to get himself out of the room.’
‘Why?’ said Giles.
‘Ah, why? To deal with the policeman? The policeman, on his beat, had seen something, perhaps?’
Giles’ scepticism began to revive a little. ‘Seen what? There was nothing to be seen. Rupert got there a bit early—so what? He makes no secret of it, he’s accounted for it anyway by saying that Uncle Gem ’phoned him. He had no reason to kill the policeman.’
‘I agree,’ said the old man, calmly. ‘And if he didn’t then no doubt he also didn’t kill Mr. Gemminy.’
‘You don’t believe this about Rupert at all?’
‘I told you—this is one way it could have been done—by Rupert.’
‘But then if he’s out—well, there really was a note saying that Helen was in danger.’
‘I dare say there was,’ said the old man.
‘But Helen wasn’t in danger.’
‘I dare say she wasn’t,’ said the old man.
‘Then—who put the note there about Helen?’
‘Helen put it there,’ said the old man.
A tough girl. A girl trained to ride and climb, to shoot straight, to throw straight—a girl beating boys at their own games. A girl in love, whose guardian disapproved of her romance and had the power to end it for ever—he who knew the secrets of so many pasts. A girl with half an hour to work in, between one interview and the next….‘Am I getting warm?’