The Library Paradox (3 page)

‘Really,’ put in Arthur, whose mind had wandered away during this discourse, but who was brought back to earth suddenly by the words ‘Old Testament’, a topic which fascinates him. ‘I should have said that the Bible portrays the Hebrews as a much persecuted people. I mean, enslaved by the Egyptians, exiled to Babylon, invaded by the Greeks, conquered by the Romans; it never seemed to stop.’

‘But think of the older stories; Dinah and the Hivites, for example, or the Amalekites, or the Canaanites,’ sighed the professor, ‘and all the other nations the Hebrews were commanded to destroy … in Deuteronomy 7, is it not? Certainly, these conquests are depicted as a necessary struggle for the survival of the chosen people, but it is all easily open to many interpretations. Ralston interpreted – but he was never crude. He would never, for
instance, have made scholarly use of the popular notion amongst ignorant Christians that “the Jews killed Jesus”. Instead, he taught a course on early Christianity in which he gave an analysis of the role of Saint Paul as a dissident Jew within his own community; something which would quietly sustain his thesis by focusing on what he considered the quintessentially Jewish procedure for gaining influence, while fully respecting the nuances of history and the beauties and glories of Christianity. His teachings were always outwardly irreproachable, and in fact the students unanimously claim that they learnt an enormous amount from him. However, he allowed himself to be much more inflammatory and demagogic in his newspaper and magazine articles, something which would not have been acceptable within the college walls.’

‘And were not the newspaper articles harmful for his scholarly reputation?’ I asked.

‘For his reputation as an individual, perhaps, but not as a scholar,’ he replied. ‘His articles were invariably serious and carefully thought-out works. His political views may have been dangerous, radical and to some extent even rabble-rousing, but he expressed them very solidly. His strong suit, he always claimed, was logic. He was particularly apt to phrase his theses in terms of deductions and syllogisms, so as to make them appear infallible. As a matter of fact, he was sincerely fascinated by logic as a science, and followed lectures on the subject.’

‘That is how I became acquainted with him,’ explained Professor Hudson. ‘He followed the introductory courses
on logic several years ago, and continued to come back occasionally for the more advanced levels. He was quite good actually; he took the trouble to work out the problems to the last detail and he penetrated the language and style of reasoning as well as the best of the students. I’ve talked over one of his pet topics many a time over dinner: the role of morality in the sciences, and in logic in particular. He very much enjoyed constructing complicated paradoxes, which somehow proved his moral or historical point. I could not accept his views, but I was invariably forced to respect his insight and the solidity with which he constructed his arguments. He was a highly intelligent man, and his articles were incomparably better than the average journalistic fare. It is really a great pity that …’

He stopped, frowning. Mr Sachs rolled his eyes. Professor Taylor sighed.

‘Do you think we could actually dig a specific motive out of all this?’ I asked.

‘We all agree that Professor Ralston’s activities in this domain were aggressive and reprehensible, and they certainly earned him many enemies,’ observed Professor Taylor. ‘But it is hard to imagine that someone can have been provoked by them to the point of murder. And why now?’

‘There was something,’ said Professor Hudson. ‘I don’t know what its bearing on the case may be, but it is certain that Professor Ralston was very concerned about it in the last days preceding his unfortunate demise. I cannot tell you exactly what it is, because he did not really tell me, and
I am not even certain of how much he himself knew. But on the very day before his death, he was fulminating at the table about some new development in the Dreyfus affair. Professor Taylor has also published articles on the affair, following the news of his scandalous secret trial, something over a year ago, was it not? But his views on the subject are diametrically opposite to those Ralston entertained.’

‘That is very interesting,’ I said, looking at Professor Taylor. But he did not appear to have much to contribute.

‘He said nothing to me of this “latest development”,’ he grumbled, looking at me as though to gauge the extent of my ignorance of the topic to which he referred, which, alas, was complete. Newspapers find their way only sporadically into my hands, though Arthur reads them rather regularly, and my knowledge of current world news is no better than that of most young mothers with babies in the nursery.

‘Alfred Dreyfus,’ explained Professor Hudson, having obviously understood the state of affairs, ‘was a captain in the French Army, who was accused in November 1894 of spying for the Germans, after the discovery of a letter containing classified information found in a waste-paper basket in the German embassy. The letter in question was not signed, and the judgement was based on an absurd and controversial comparison of handwritings. He was court-martialled, and condemned to be publicly dishonoured and deported to perpetual solitary confinement in the Devil’s Island prison off the coast of French Guyana, where he remains to this day. He has never ceased for a moment to declare his innocence, and his family – together
with a handful of lawyers, journalists and other associates – is working as energetically as possible to discover the true culprit and obtain a reopening of the case. They have made but little progress, unfortunately, until now. However, from what Ralston said to me the day before his death, something new appears to have turned up. Ralston had involved himself deeply in the public commentaries on the case from the start, and as far as it was in his power as a kind of intellectual journalist, he did what he could to sway public opinion against Captain Dreyfus. As a matter of fact, it would appear that Dreyfus was selected to be the culprit, on totally unsatisfactory evidence, simply because he was Jewish. His enemies and detractors in the French press have been generic anti-Semites for the most part, led by that rabid creature Drumont and his inflamed Parisian newspaper,
La Libre Parole.
Well, Ralston thought that attempting to sweep anti-Dreyfusism under the general blanket of anti-Semitism was a bad thing, sufficient to convince idiots but not anyone with an independent, thinking mind. The trouble was that the very nature of the Drumont articles clearly indicated that anti-Semitism alone was the fundamental basis of conviction. So Ralston devoted himself to publishing a series of articles specifically demonstrating Dreyfus’s guilt according to a “logical” examination of the evidence. He spent time in Paris and met and disputed publicly or in print with a number of the people connected with the events. He came to know most of these people personally, and I assume it was for this reason that he always seemed to be in possession of the very
latest rumours on the case. What he learnt shortly before his death must have been something of this sort. From what he told me, I gathered that some secret document or other has turned up which some interpret as showing that the spying business is still going on even though Dreyfus has been mouldering on Devil’s Island for the last year. I dined sitting next to him on the 3rd, and he was simply steaming, rolling up his sleeves to begin the battle. Well, all I can say is that even if all this actually turns out to have some bearing on the case, in terms of motive, it still fails to shed any light whatsoever on the means.’

‘Could you make any guess as to the person who gave Professor Ralston the information?’ I asked.

‘I don’t know who gave it to him,’ he answered. ‘I wish I did, but he did not mention the name. However, I did get the impression quite strongly that he had not received it from a friend, but rather from someone who had communicated with him for the express purpose of proving him wrong, someone who was probably a strong believer in Dreyfus’s innocence. It could be that journalist, what was his name? A French Jew who stood up for Dreyfus throughout, and who exchanged a number of letters and polemical articles with Ralston after the condemnation. Ralston seemed to be permanently angry with him. I can’t remember his name. But he is very passionate about the case, and works continuously with the family on suing for a retrial. If anything new has turned up in Dreyfus’s favour, it seems likely that he would know about it, and not inconceivable that he might tell Ralston, just to thumb his nose.’

‘Ralston’s influence against the Jewish community was growing,’ said Professor Hudson. ‘That explains why it seems as though he might have had any number of enemies. It must, I suppose, be considered possible that some fanatic may have wished to put an end to him and his work, without being personally acquainted with him. The police obviously considered at first that the Orthodox Jew seen by Mr Sachs was a prime suspect of this nature. It would really be an almost unthinkable coincidence that someone else could be murdering Ralston exactly at the same moment as the curious but not entirely unbelievable visit by this unexpected personage. But to put it bluntly, the police are flummoxed by the time element. No one can understand how the man could have done it and got himself to the gate in so little time, or how someone else could have managed it without being seen.’

There was a brief silence, during which I felt, perhaps exaggeratedly, that all three gentlemen were waiting for me to explain how the thing might have happened. But nothing came to my mind, except that further investigation would be needed. I hesitated. Arthur was on the point of leaving on a trip to France – I was supposed to be spending two weeks alone with the babies …

‘This needs further investigation!’ I said.

‘We are at our wits’ end, Mrs Weatherburn,’ said Professor Hudson, leaning forward anxiously. ‘The college is suffering.’

I longed to accept the case immediately, dash to London, and set about learning about Professor Ralston, his private
life, his nasty articles, his enemies, and their apparently rather good reasons for hating him.

‘Unfortunately, I am leaving tomorrow morning to spend two weeks in Paris,’ said Arthur, not looking particularly displeased. ‘I don’t see how you can get away, Vanessa.’

I felt a minuscule pang of rebellion. Over the past few years, Arthur has ended up becoming used to my investigations, and has even, on occasion, actively lent me a helping hand. But he rightly considers murder something different and far more dangerous than the run-of-the-mill case, for one who has killed may well kill again, by choice the person who is on his track …

How could I manage it? I listened to the sounds of happy thumping and laughing echoing dimly from upstairs. I am needed here, I know it. And even if I were to go, would I really be able to help? Might not a case of murder, based, perhaps, not on personal feelings but on causes of an international and political nature, be beyond my modest capacities?

I am so taken with the babies that I sometimes fear that my horizons, never immense, have now shrunk definitively to within the four walls of their nursery, and I find myself envying Arthur, who although of course the most devoted of fathers, still allows himself the occasional jaunt to London or even to the Continent, upon important mathematical occasions, not to mention the many hours spent at his work in Trinity College.

I write honestly the thoughts and doubts that went through my mind, but I do not pretend to deny that
underneath them, I enjoyed a perfectly solid conviction that I should be setting out to London shortly, by hook or by crook. As I said before, I could no more refrain from investigating this murder than if it were being done in front of me. I looked at Arthur and he looked gravely back at me.

‘It will be difficult,’ I said politely to the visitors. ‘I must think about it. I will send you a telegram tomorrow morning.’

They took their leave, courteously abstaining from insisting. Professor Taylor actually seemed a little relieved. I then proceeded to devote myself to domestic affairs with no further mention of the case. Arthur glanced at me suspiciously but did not say anything. Together with Sarah, we bathed and fed the twins and entertained them until it was time for them to settle like little droplets into their cribs to sleep. Then we sat down to our own evening meal. It was only then that I caught a significant glance from Arthur.

‘Vanessa, dear, I really don’t see how …’ he began.

‘Oh, don’t worry about it,’ I said, hastily changing the subject.

I wonder if Dora and John would not enjoy spending a few days playing at being loving and doting aunt and uncle for a little while. After all, it might give them some practice for the future – might it not? I could send the twins down to them on the train tomorrow morning, with Sarah. With Sarah there, it should be manageable, and then, Sarah could teach Dora how to vary her husband’s diet with some of her unusual ways of preparing food, such as putting cheese and mushroom sauce over cauliflower, instead of a
juicy roast of mutton. And perhaps, seeing that Dora’s face is so exactly like mine, the twins would not suffer too much from an absence of several days at least; certainly longer than any they have ever known. Could I do it?

I shall do it! Tomorrow morning I shall send Dora a telegram, and another to Emily, to see if I may stay with her in London. And as soon as I have received answers, I shall send another to Professor Taylor. He is not expecting me to come, I think, but he shall be surprised!

I will write down everything in this diary exactly as it occurs, and it shall be for you, Arthur, to read upon your return and discover the full record of my failures or successes. For even when you are away, there is nothing I do not wish to share with you, and nothing that we can share can ever be deeper than that which we share already. If I do not want you to know that my decision is already firmly taken at this very moment, it is because you look so tranquil and happy sitting across from me, scribbling formulae in the golden glow of the lamp. I do not want you to leave England fearing for me; I do not want your stay in France to be undermined by worry. Go peacefully, and we shall see what we shall see.