A Question of Proof (24 page)

The superintendent touched his cap and moved away. Nigel went slowly up to his room and, taking
out
the object which he had found in the common room, proceeded to make a thorough examination of it. Then he slipped it under his mattress: one could take no chances now; if its owner got it back again and destroyed it, he could snap his fingers in Nigel’s face. He rather wished he had shown it to the superintendent. And yet, no, that would have deprived him of his triumph. Nigel had a weakness for consummating a case in the most spectacular way possible; it was a kind of extravagant repayment to himself for all the wearisome business that preceded. He thought again. Not this time; he must forgo part of his spectacle. Had one of those hypothetical observers, so dear to the heart of Thomas Hardy, been present in Nigel Strangeways’ bedroom at that moment, he would have seen on his face emotions highly unsuited to a detective on the threshold of success – pity, regret, indecision, pensive brooding, determination. After a little he looked at his watch and went hurriedly downstairs. A short search in the school and he had found an object similar to the one removed from the common room and put it carefully back in the place of the other. Then he waited for the masters to come out from lunch.

When they entered, it became evident that there had been some controversy during lunch over the Stevens II outrage. ‘Tan the little blighter’s hide for him,’ said Gadsby, ‘nothing like teaching ’em a lesson. But I should let it stop there, Tiverton, really I would.’

‘We can scarcely afford any more scandals just now, certainly,’ remarked Wrench.

Griffin turned rather distractedly to Nigel; he clearly did not know his cue. ‘Look here, Strangeways, you’re not an interested party. Tiverton says Stevens ought to be kicked out because of this bogus fire-alarm business. It happened once before and Vale said if it happened again the offender would be expelled, but –’

‘It seems awfully silly, making such a fuss over a trifling thing like this, when – well, I mean to say, murder rather puts everything else in the shade,’ stammered Sims.

‘That is obvious enough,’ said Tiverton acidly, ‘but our job is to run this school and keep discipline; we can’t let them get away with anything just because a murder’s been committed.’

‘One merely suggests that it’s a bit gratuitous expelling boys when half of them will be taken away by their parents anyhow,’ said Wrench in his most irritating voice.

‘Like throwing the rats out of the sinking ship,’ smiled Griffin.

Nigel, gazing modestly down his nose, meditated on the curiosities of human nature. Here was a body of quite ordinary men, seriously discussing a boy’s delinquency, with a fellow creature lying murdered, scarcely cold, as the papers would say, a few yards off. It was the normal working of their defence mechanism, of course. In proportion to the seriousness with which each of them was taking
Stevens
’ escapade, one could estimate the depth of his reaction to the murder. Tiverton evidently felt it most acutely; Wrench, probably, next, for cynicism and flippancy were his type of protection against the stirrings of the heart. Nigel became aware that Gadsby was speaking to him. It was one of Gadsby’s most irritating characteristics, to ask a rhetorical question and single out some individual for an answer.

‘Well, I really am not qualified to express an opinion. But I think it might be allowed to wait over till this evening. You see, I want to have a reconstruction of the crime – the first crime – at two-thirty.’

There was a sensible tightening of the atmosphere, a feeling as though the ghost they had been trying to exorcise was at the door again. Gadsby was the first to speak. ‘A reconstruction of the crime? You mean you’ve not found out yet –?’

‘Don’t be a fool,’ said Griffin, ‘you don’t suppose Evans and Mrs. Vale really did it, do you?’

Gadsby bridled. ‘I never said I did. But, damn it all, somebody must have. And they
have
been arrested.’

‘It’s just a blind, is it – their arrest?’ said Tiverton slowly. His brown, tight-drawn face appeared expressionless.

‘Not exactly that,’ said Nigel equivocally, ‘the police have a very good case against them, I’m afraid. They never take action unless they have, you know. Of course, it may be that Armstrong has been badgered into it. I imagine the chief constable has been getting pretty impatient.’

Griffin laughed grimly. ‘I should think it’s about as easy to badger Armstrong into doing anything against his will as to barrack a Lancashire opening batsman into scoring runs.’

Wrench leaned forward. ‘What’s this about a reconstruction of the crime?’

‘I’m asking every one – all of you, that is – to go through the same actions as you did at the beginning of the sports.’

‘And what’s the big idea?’

‘Not a very big one, I fear,’ said Nigel mildly, ‘but I want to get the relative positions clear, and there’s a chance that something may turn up, some loophole we’ve not noticed before.’

‘Is this a sort of Hamlet stunt, the murderer going to rush off calling for lights and so on?’ said Wrench with a sneer. ‘You have a very ingenuous mind for a detective, Strangeways.’

‘Are the boys to take part in this – er – reconstruction?’ said Sims.

‘No. That will not be necessary.’

‘Which means,’ said Tiverton, ‘that you suspect one of us in this room to be the murderer.’

Nigel looked him full in the eyes for a moment. ‘That is an unwarrantable inference. I hope to expose the method of the crime by my reconstruction. There’s no doubt that the murderer was a person fully cognisant of the workings of the school. I can’t go further than that at present.’

There was an awkward silence, broken finally by
Gadsby
. ‘Aren’t you rather frightened, then, rubbing shoulders all day with a murderer? I wonder he doesn’t have a go with you,’ he said with gruesome jocularity.

‘Perhaps he considers it unnecessary,’ said Wrench.

Nigel disregarded the impolite innuendo. ‘I can’t say I’m terribly frightened, though I must admit I keep a revolver under my pillow. I’ve rubbed shoulders with criminals before, and it was generally they who suffered the most.’

The mention of the revolver created a minor sensation. It brought home to them the state of spiritual blockade in which they had been living for a whole week. Though it was not before their eyes, it seemed more solid and vivid than had the body of Percival Vale with the little rivulet of crimson down the back. Gadsby, with his usual infelicity, put the general thought into words:

‘Somehow brings the thing home to a fullah – that, don’t it? I mean, about Strangeways’ revolver –’

‘We don’t all inhabit fools’ paradises,’ interrupted Wrench sharply.

Gadsby ignored him. ‘It’s amazing how small things stick in one’s head, don’t you think, Tiverton? I remember –’

Wrench interrupted again. ‘Like fish bones in one’s throat.’ He took out his watch. ‘Nearly two. Just about this time a week ago one of us was getting set to commit a murder. I wonder how he feels about it now.’

Tiverton jerked in his chair and exclaimed, ‘For God’s sake, Wrench, try to behave like a normal human being and not like a Greek chorus.’

Nigel rose. ‘May I ask you all, then, from two-fifteen onward to go through exactly the same actions as you did last Wednesday.’ He looked impassively towards the corner where Wrench was sitting. ‘Exactly the same actions.’ Wrench turned his face away a little. ‘I shall take Evans’ part myself. That reminds me. Will you give me the stopwatch he had, Griffin? What was the exact time the race took?’

Griffin told him the record and after a little fumbling in one of the lockers produced the watch. Nigel turned to Sims. ‘Could I have just a word with you?’

Four pairs of ears were strained to their uttermost as the two went out into the passage, but all they could hear was:

‘Look here, Sims, I want you to –’

There was silence for a few moments after the voices had died away. Gadsby made one or two attempts to resuscitate the conversation, then he also went out, ‘to prime himself for the ordeal,’ Wrench said.

‘What do you think of our private investigator now?’ asked Griffin.

Tiverton considered. ‘Well, he doesn’t seem to have done much so far; he’s supposed to be examining the case in the interests of the school, yet here he is practically accusing us to our faces of harbouring a murderer on the staff.’

‘You mean, if he has found the murderer here, he ought to drop the case and go away with the solution under his hat? A highly immoral suggestion to my mind,’ commented Griffin.

Wrench broke in. ‘I say, what is the superintendent driving at now? You know all those questions he’s been asking this morning, about where we were standing during the sports and what we were doing after them. It’s rather perplexity-making’ – Griffin shuddered –’ I mean, it was obvious, wasn’t it, that the murder was committed before the sports.’

‘Apparently not,’ said Tiverton grimly, ‘otherwise, why this reconstruction of Strangeways’?’

‘I wonder what he wants with that watch?’ said Griffin.

‘And with Sims?’ said Wrench.

At about ten minutes after two Armstrong ran Nigel to earth on the hayfield. Armstrong was evidently boiling over with news, but he postponed it for a moment to ask, ‘What are you doing with all those deck chairs, Mr. Strangeways, sir? Going to set up as a Lido proprietor?’

Nigel acknowledged the jest politely. ‘No, I am building something to represent the haystack. You are looking very cheerful, aren’t you?’

‘Just been having another talk with our Rosa.’ He paused provocatively, but Nigel refused the gambit, so he continued in slightly deflated tones: ‘I went to Strang’s first. No luck with the tent-pegs, of course,
but
one of their men noticed Tiverton move two of the chairs a bit nearer to the tent.’

Nigel stopped working. ‘Which two chairs?’

‘The ones Mr. and Mrs. Vale were to occupy, as far as I can gather from his description. He’s coming up this afternoon to verify it.’

‘And Rosa?’

The superintendent rubbed his hands. ‘Ah, there, sir, I think I have the advantage of you. You may be able to get round these boys, Mr. Strangeways, sir, but that type of girl – why, I know ’em like I know the back of my hand.’

‘For shame, Mr. Armstrong, for shame.’

Armstrong emitted a sound which, coming from anyone less elephantine, would be called a giggle. ‘Be that as it may, sir, she’s come across with something now, all right.’

‘I trust you were not brutal to the poor little thing.’

‘No, no. She didn’t need no pressing, as you might say. You see, I know that class of girl. I said to myself that young Wrench is probably getting tired of her, or else he’ll be laying off her for other reasons, now’s the time to find out how much she really knows. Spiteful she is, see, and she wouldn’t mind what she said about Wrench if she thought he’d done with her.’

‘Can we cut the psychology? There’s not much time.’

‘Well, I got it out of her that Wrench believed Wemyss knew about their affair, had seen him snooping about
once
just after he’d left her. A fair spitfire she is, Mr. Strangeways; as good as suggested that Wrench had done in young Wemyss to silence him. That’s a pretty enough confirmation of motive, isn’t it?’

‘Hm. Doesn’t sound a very reliable witness to me. Spite plus film-fed fantasy equals any amount of lies you like. However … I wonder what he’s saying to her now.’

Armstrong started.

‘Yes. I told them all to go through exactly the same actions from two-fifteen that they went through on the day of the crime. Embarrassing for our Mr. Wrench when you come to think of it! Still, he may not take it literally. We shall see. Ah, things are beginning to start.’

They could see Griffin, in the middle of the field, carrying a large revolver and going through a series of pantomime gestures over a row of imaginary hurdles. By his side, Mould, the groundsman, scratched alternately his head and the seat of his trousers. Nigel finished his business with the deck chairs, and walked with the superintendent towards the place where the race had started.

‘Now, keep your eyes skinned,’ he said, ‘watch very carefully. You observe, I have nothing up my sleeve.’

Armstrong made an offensive noise. ‘Watch? Who am I supposed to watch?’

‘Every one.’

Five minutes passed. Masters began to emerge from the school building. Griffin approached Nigel, looking
expectant
. ‘You’re late on your lines,’ he said, ‘you’ve got to say “Who were you thinking of shooting?” ’

‘Who were you thinking of shooting?’

‘That moron Mouldy’s gone and put out one too many sets of hurdles. Business with revolver. First juvenile lead and walking gentleman attempt to retire up left but are intercepted by Gadsby, comic relief. Where is Gadsby, by the way?’

‘You’ve got a good memory. There he is, just coming out.’

‘He’s missed his cue badly. You’d better cut that bit and go on to humorous dialogue with Tiverton, down right.’

Nigel went.

‘What do we call this in the profession, I wonder,’ said the irrepressible Griffin, ‘a post-mortem dress rehearsal. You know, it’s rather an eerie business for us. Still, I cannot disappoint muh public and I think you Eenglish policemen are too sweet.’

At this point Sims joined their group.

Armstrong muttered something. ‘A damnfool business, if you ask me, sir. What Mr. Strangeways hopes to get out of it, I don’t know. Only seems to have half his mind on it, too.’

He pointed to where Nigel was talking in a distrait manner with Tiverton.

‘Mm,’ said Griffin, ‘you’d think he was listening for something – angel voices, perhaps. Still, I’d put a packet on your distinguished coadjutator; he’s the dark horse for me. About time we started the race;
we’re
all here. No, we’re not. Where the devil is Wrench?’

Nigel came up to them. Armstrong and Griffin got the shock of their lives when they saw his face. Heaven knows, one might have expected a good number of emotions on it, but not what they saw – not, at this point, sheer astonishment. The astonishment gave way to a look almost of consternation. Then a blind as it were was drawn down over it, and he was standing beside them as impassive as ever.