The Siamese Twin Mystery (30 page)

He paused again, moving his tongue in his dry mouth. The Inspector was staring at him in bewilderment.

“What on earth
are
you talking about?” croaked Dr. Holmes.

“This, Doctor. Where we first went off the track was in our blind assumption that this case presented only one instance of a frame-up—Mark Xavier’s frame-up of Mrs. Xavier; in our assumption that the knave-of-diamonds clue in Dr. Xavier’s murder really had been left by Dr. Xavier.”

“You mean, El,” demanded the Inspector, “that the lawyer
didn’t
find a half-jack in his brother’s hand that night in the study?”

“Oh, he found the half-jack all right,” said Ellery wearily, “and that’s the crux of the matter. Mark also assumed that his brother John had left the half-jack as a clue to the murderer. It was, like ours, an utterly false assumption.”

“But how could you know that?”

“By a fact I’ve just recollected. Dr. Holmes after examining the body of his colleague stated that Dr. Xavier had been a diabetic, that because of his pathological condition r
igor mortis
had set in very early, in a matter of minutes rather than hours. We knew that Dr. Xavier had died at about one o’clock in the morning. Mark Xavier had found the body at two-thirty. By that time
rigor
had long been complete, then. Now Dr. Xavier’s right hand was clenched, holding the six of spades, when we found the body in the morning, and the left hand was spread out on the desk, flat, palm down, fingers stiff and straight. But if
rigor
had set in a few minutes after death, then those hands must have been
in that same condition
when Mark Xavier found the body an hour and a half after his brother died!”

“Well?”

“But don’t you see?” cried Ellery. “If Mark Xavier found his brother’s right hand clenched and the left hand rigidly flat, then he could not
unclench
the right hand or
clench
the left without breaking the stiff dead fingers or leaving clear signs of the enormous pressure necessary to be exerted. If he had to manipulate the dead hands, he had also to leave them as they were. There’s no question, then, but that Mark found John’s right hand clenched and left hand unclenched, as
we
found them. Now we know that Mark substituted the six of spades for the jack of diamonds. In what hand therefore must the jack of diamonds have been when Mark made the substitution?”

“Why, the right, the clenched hand, of course,” muttered the Inspector.

“Exactly. The jack of diamonds was in Dr. Xavier’s right hand; all Mark had to do was go through the same procedure you yourself went through, dad, when you took the six out of the dead man’s hand; that is, merely separate the stiff clenched fingers sufficiently to make the card drop out. Then he inserted the six and forced the fingers back the infinitesimal fraction of an inch into the clutching position. He simply couldn’t have found the jack in John’s left hand, for that would mean that he would have had to unclench the left hand and leave it flat against the desk—impossible without, as I say, leaving brutal signs of the act, which did not exist upon examination of the body.”

He stopped and for a moment there was only the terrifying crackle above their heads. Occasionally in the past few moments there had been a dull thud on the floor above. Now there was another. … But they scarcely heard. They were in the grip again of fascinated interest.

“But what—” began Miss Forrest, rocking to and fro.

“Don’t you see it yet?” said Ellery almost cheerfully. “Dr. Xavier was right-handed. I’ve proved long ago that a right-handed man tearing a card in two would tear with his right, crumple with his right—or if he didn’t crumple, at least throw the discarded half away with his right, since it made no difference which half he retained and which he threw away, both halves being exactly the same. This would leave the automatically retained half in his
left.
But I’ve demonstrated that the retained half must have been in Dr. Xavier’s right when Mark found him. Therefore Dr. Xavier had never torn that card at all. Therefore someone else had torn that jack and left it in his right hand.
Therefore that half-jack,
meant to incriminate the twins,
was also a frame-up,
and the twins must be held entirely innocent of the murder of Dr. Xavier.”

They were too stupefied to smile or show relief or do anything but gape at him. It did seem a small matter, Ellery thought, with death lurking for them all, innocent and guilty, beyond the closed door above.

“Since the first frame-up,” he went on quickly, “was arranged before two-thirty, before Mark blundered upon the scene of the crime, I think we have a perfect right to assert that the first frame-up of the Carreau boys by means of the jack of diamonds had been arranged by the murderer. Unless we go into the farfetched theory that
that
framer wasn’t the murderer either, that that framer came before Mark but followed the murderer; in other words, that there were
two
framers besides the murderer.” He shook his head. “Much too fantastic. The framer of the twins was the murderer.”

“This business about the
rigor
proving that it was the murderer and not Dr. Xavier who left the jack of diamonds accusing the twins,” said the Inspector dubiously, interested despite himself, “sounds a—well, a little arbitrary to me. It doesn’t sound very convincing.”

“That?” Ellery smiled in his desperate effort to take their minds off the flames. “Oh, I assure you it’s fact, not theory. I can confirm it. But before I do that I want to point out that logically another question then arose: was the murderer of Mark Xavier the same as the murderer of his brother? Despite the overwhelming probability that the same individual committed both crimes, we had no logical right to assume it. I didn’t assume it. I proved it to my own satisfaction.

“For what was the state of affairs just before Mark’s murder? The man had lapsed into unconsciousness just before he could reveal what he claimed was the name of his brother’s murderer. Dr. Holmes asserted that there was every chance the wounded man would recover consciousness in a few hours. Everyone was present to hear that assertion. Who therefore was in the greatest danger should Mark recover consciousness? Obviously, if we are to recognize the most elementary truth about cause and effect, the person who thought he was going to be unmasked by the dying man; that is, the person with the guilty conscience, Dr. Xavier’s murderer. Consequently I say that, under these special and weighty circumstances, it would be flying in the face of reason to doubt that it was John Xavier’s murderer who crept into Mark’s bedroom the other night and poisoned him to keep him forever silent. And, mind you, this is true whether Mark
really
knew who the murderer was or not! The mere threat was sufficient to force the murderer’s hand.”

“No quarrel with that,” muttered the Inspector.

“Actually, we have confirmation of this. Let’s suppose the alternative: that there were two murderers, that the killer of Mark was a different person from the killer of John. Would such a second killer have chosen the worst possible time to commit his crime?—worst possible, I say, since he knew that Mark was under guard by a professional detective, and armed to boot? No, the only person who would have risked this danger was someone who
had
to risk it; who had to kill Mark not any time, but that very night, before Mark could come back to his senses and speak up. So I say, and I don’t think there can be any logical or psychological weakness in the argument, that we are dealing with only one criminal.”

“Nobody’s questioned that. But how can you confirm your conclusion that it was the murderer, not Dr. Xavier, who left the jack of diamonds accusing the boys?”

“I was coming to that. I don’t have to confirm it, really. We’ve the murderer’s own confession that he framed the twins after killing Dr. Xavier.”

“Confession?” They all gaped with the Inspector at that.

“Of action rather than speech. I daresay most of these good folk would be astonished to learn that after Mark Xavier’s death someone tampered with the lock of the cabinet in which was secreted the deck of cards found on Dr. Xavier’s desk.”

“What?” said Dr. Holmes, astonished. “I didn’t know that.”

“We didn’t advertise it, Doctor. But after Xavier’s murder someone monkeyed with the lock of the wall cabinet in the living room. What was in the wall cabinet? The deck of cards which had come from the scene of Dr. Xavier’s murder. What was the only significant thing about the deck of cards which would, for any reason whatever, justify some one’s tampering with the lock of the cabinet? The fact that its jack of diamonds was missing. But
who knew
that the jack of diamonds was missing from the first deck? Only two persons: Mark Xavier and the murderer of Dr. John Xavier. But Mark Xavier was dead. Therefore the tampering was done by the murderer.

“Now what could the murderer’s motive in tampering with that cabinet have possibly been? Did he want to steal or destroy the cards? No.”

“How the devil can you say that?” growled the Inspector.

“Because everyone in the house knew there was only one key to the cabinet, that the cabinet contained only the cards, and most important that the sole key was in your possession, dad.” Ellery chuckled grimly. “How does that prove the murderer didn’t want to steal or destroy the cards? It leads to the proof. If the murderer wanted to get his claws on that deck,
why didn’t he take the key from you
while he had you unconscious, helpless on the floor of Mark Xavier’s bedroom? The answer is that he
didn’t
want the key,
didn’t
want to get into the cabinet,
didn’t
want to steal or destroy the cards!”

“All right, even if that’s so—for heaven’s sake why did he tamper with the cabinet at all if he didn’t want to get in?”

“A very pertinent question. The only possible alternative is that he merely wanted to
call attention
to the deck of cards. There was even a confirmation of this: his whole effort to break into a metal cabinet with a puny little fire tool showed that his intentions were directional rather than acquisitive.”

“Ill be damned,” said Smith huskily.

“No doubt. At any rate it was evident that the whole thing was a blind, a ruse, a device to call our attention to the first deck, to get us to re-examine it and discover that the jack was missing. But who could have had motive to call our attention to the missing jack? The twins, whom the missing jack accused? Had they tampered with the cabinet it could only have been with the determination to destroy the deck. I’ve just proved that the purpose of the tamperer was to call attention to the deck—the last thing in the world the twins, had they been guilty, would have wanted. Therefore the twins didn’t tamper with the lock. But I’ve also shown that the one who tampered with the lock was the murderer. Therefore, again, the twins—one or both of them—were not the murderer. Therefore, finally, the twins were framed by the murderer … which is what I set out, eons ago, to demonstrate.”

Mrs. Carreau sighed. The Carreau boys were staring at Ellery with naked worship in their eyes.

Ellery rose and began to stride about restlessly. “Who
was
the murderer—this framer-murderer?” he demanded in a strident, unnatural voice. “Was there any sign, any evidence, any clue that might point to the criminal’s identity? Well, there was; and I’ve just figured it out—when,” he added lightly, “it’s too late to do anything about it but pat myself on the back.”

“Then you know!” cried Miss Forrest

“Certainly I know, my dear girl.”

“Who?” croaked Bones. “Who was the damned—” He glared about, his bony fists quivering. His gaze lingered longest on Smith.

“The murderer, aside from the general insipidity of trying to create fantastic clues which in the normal course of events no one would have been able to interpret,” continued Ellery hastily, “made one extremely bad mistake.”

“Mistake?” The Inspector blinked.

“Ah, but what a mistake! Forced upon the murderer by outraged Nature—a most inevitable mistake, a mistake which resulted from an abnormality. In killing Mark and chloroforming the Inspector, this person”—he paused—“stole the Inspector’s ring.”

They stared at the old gentleman stupidly. Dr. Holmes said in a thick voice: “What—another?”

“It was a most inoffensive little ring,” said Ellery dreamily, “a plain gold wedding band worth not more than a few dollars. Yes, Doctor, another of those piquant thefts of valueless rings the story of which both you and Miss Forrest related rather reluctantly on the night of our arrival. Queer, isn’t it, that such a peculiar and seemingly irrelevant fact should have tripped the murderer up?”

“But how?” The Inspector coughed through a begrimed handkerchief which he was holding to his mouth and nose. The others were all wrinkling their noses and stirring with a new uneasiness; the air was foul.

“Well, why was the ring stolen?” cried Ellery. “Why was Miss Forrest’s, and Dr. Holmes’s? Any suggestions?”

No one replied.

“Come, come,” jeered Ellery, “lighten the last hour with a game of wits. I’m sure you can see some of the possible motives.”

His cutting voice brought their heads about again. “Well,” said Dr. Holmes in a mutter, “it couldn’t be that they were stolen for their value, Queen. You’ve pointed that out yourself.”

“Quite right.” And blessings on your quick head, Ellery thought, for keeping the ball rolling. “Nevertheless, thank you. Anyone else? Miss Forrest?”

“Why …” She licked her dry lips; her eyes were extraordinarily bright. “It couldn’t have been for—well, sentimental reasons, Mr. Queen. None of the rings had any but the most personal value, I’m sure. I mean—to the owner. Certainly none to the thief.”

“A neat way of putting it,” applauded Ellery. “You’re quite right, Miss Forrest Come, come, don’t relax! Make this interesting.”

“Could it be,” ventured Francis Carreau timidly, “that one of the rings in the house had a—well, a hidden cavity or something that contained a secret or a poison of some kind?”

“I was just thinking that,” said Julian, coughing.