The Attic Murder by S. Fowler Wright (me reader .txt) 📖

doubt that we have identified the man who controlled and financed both the frauds upon the London & Northern Bank, and the somewhat different activities of the gang which you have, for the moment, scattered and frightened by the arrest and conviction of Tony Welch.

“The occupation selected by Banks for the world to see was of a kind which might be expected from the abilities which such a man must possess. It enabled him to keep in friendly touch with your own department, to obtain much knowledge which he could use if suspicion approached his friends, and to have a legitimate excuse if he should be overseen among criminal associates.

“It enabled him, in particular, to obtain the appointment from the London & Northern Bank of investigation of the very frauds which he financed and directed, and, in particular, it must have enabled him, while following Sir Reginald’s instructions to place Miss Weston where she could cultivate the acquaintance of William Rabone, to warn him of her intentions, so that it would be unlikely that he would give her any dangerous confidences.

“It is reasonable to suppose that he became doubtful of William Rabone’s loyalty — the bank inspector may have become alarmed at the vigour of the investigations which Sir Reginald’s energy had instituted — and that he visited him in that secret manner with the object of reassurance, or of finally disposing of a man whose confession would have been ruinous to himself.

“Rabone may — but this is no more than a guess — have mentioned that an escaped convict was in the house, and have so made his fate more certain, as it showed that there was another man on whom suspicion might naturally fall.

“I suppose that it was with that object that ranks robbed the man he had murdered, which he could otherwise have had no occasion to do, and so caused the moment’s delay which enabled Miss Weston to arrive on the scene before he had disappeared.

“Had Mr. Hammerton acted in a less natural — or less innocent — way, he might now be awaiting trial for a crime in which he had no part whatever.”

Inspector Combridge listened to this theory of the crime with the close and critical attention of one who was expert in the details of such deductions, and who desired nothing so much as that the truth should be found, by whatever means.

He had no professional jealousy of Mr. Jellipot, with whom he had been previously associated in investigation of the criminal practices of Professor Blinkwell, in which they had learned a mutual respect and friendship, but he had the caution of one who has blundered twice already in a business in which such blunders cannot be lightly condoned.

“It sounds plausible,” he said, “when you put it like that; but what about the crime having been the work of a left-handed man?”

“I suggest that Banks deliberately used his left hand, so that suspicion might fall upon Mr. Entwistle, rather than himself.”

“And you think he would risk Entwistle giving him away when he found himself threatened with the capital charge for a murder with which he had had nothing to do?”

“Yes. I think he did. And I think the course of events showed that he could have done it with safety, so long as Mr. Entwistle had no cause to think that he was instigating or assisting the prosecution; or probably anything more than a vague guess — if that — as to who the actual criminal was.”

“But I don’t think he anticipated that Mr. Entwistle would be prosecuted, or perhaps even suspected. He would have preferred that it should remain an unsolved mystery, or been attributed to Hammerton’s desperate need for funds — robbery leading to murder, as it so frequently does. It was only as an additional insurance against detection that he struck with the razor in his left hand.

“To use an apposite metaphor, he did not wish the lightning to come in his direction, but he provided a lightning-conductor, in the person of Mr. Entwistle, as a precaution against it if it should.

“He must have gone quietly up the stairs of number thirteen, a house where many feet would pass with little notice during the night, and knowing that he could make a good excuse if he were observed to enter.

“Had he not been noticed by one of the women on the lower floor as he left, and had not Miss Weston followed him to the window by which he retreated, he would not have thought that it would be conducive to his own security to encourage the idea of Mr. Entwistle’s guilt… And, of course, even then he would not have done so, had he known of the alibi by which the accusation could be rebuffed.

“Had Mr. Entwistle been in his room that night, I doubt whether he would have improved his position by accusing Banks, even had he been prepared to defend himself on those lines. He would have had to denounce Banks in his capacity as the alleged head of a criminal gang, and to explain his knowledge of, and association with him, so that the motive of the murder might be established, and in the end he would most probably have been wrongly convicted himself as a party to, if not as the actual perpetrator of the crime. He might have succeeded in involving Banks, had his accusations been credited, but he would have done no good for himself.

“I think any solicitors — and certainly those he had instructed — would have advised him that he had a better chance of acquittal if he should deny everything, and throw the onus of legal proof entirely upon the prosecution.

“He was saved by the fact that he was not in his room that night; and Banks has only come to his present jeopardy because I have been able to convey to Mr. Entwistle the fact that he has been what is, I believe, colloquially known as double-crossed by one whom he should have been able to trust.”

The Inspector considered this, and saw two flaws in a reconstruction with which he was otherwise inclined to agree.

“There’s Bigland’s evidence,” he said. “You must get over that.”

“I don’t think that’s a point about which we should worry much. I never did take it very seriously, beyond that it showed that Miss Weston really had gone down the stairs in the night, which there had never been any reason to doubt.

“Did you ever know an authentic case of a man lying awake all night? No doubt there are such, but the number of people who think they have done so must be a hundred times as numerous. He may have told the truth as far as he knew. Actually, if he were restless, and inclined to wake easily, he would be more likely to notice a woman’s step, which was unusual upon those stairs, than that of a man, which was an accustomed sound.”

“Yes, I should say that’s likely enough,” the Inspector answered, “but what do you make of Banks risking the murder with Miss Weston in the next room? He knew she was in the house. He almost certainly knew where she slept. He had received her report that she had followed someone — probably himself — over the slates before.”

“I agree about that,” Mr. Jellipot conceded readily, “but there are one or two points which may be taken into consideration, and which diminish its force.

“In the first place, I suppose that his position was desperate. If Rabone told him, as he probably did, that it was too late to argue; perhaps even that he had already written to his general manager, and so giving him no more than a few hours to clear out, he must have known that it was then or never, and anger against the man who had resolved to betray him may have strengthened the impulse of self-preservation which urged the crime.

“But it is probable that he may not have regarded Miss Weston as so great a danger to his security as she proved to be.

“He may have planned to kill his victim by a blow so sudden that no cry would have left his lips. The ferocity of the two cuts supports this conclusion, and it is probable that his purpose was only defeated by his own subtlety. The first stroke almost reached to where the larynx would have been severed beyond the possibility of an articulate cry, and had it been struck with the full force of his right — that is with his accustomed — hand it is probable that William Rabone would have fallen without a sound which could have been heard by a woman presumably asleep in the next room.

“And if, as was normally probable, she had been asleep, and almost certainly undressed at that hour, he might have thought that there would be little danger that she could have followed him promptly enough even to detect the window to which he fled. And against that remote risk he provided, as far as circumstances allowed, when he struck a left-handed blow.”