Walter S. Masterman

“ Allery was standing beside him with an inscrutable smile on his face.
“I came to look for you as we have finished, and I thought you might like a nightcap before turning in.”
“Thanks, I will come along,” said Collins. “I never saw Sir James to speak to. He had a remarkable face. A strange mixture of hardness and sympathy. The mouth is hard as a rock, but the eyes are sympathetic.” ”

“ It was obvious to anyone that Eric Sanders and Mabel had come to an understanding, though a definite engagement so soon after the death of Sir James was repugnant to her.
On the other hand, so long as she had had to fight a battle with her father on behalf of Eric, she had been passionately devoted to him; but now that all opposition had ceased at the gates of the vault, and things had become easy, she almost resented the air of ownership with which Eric treated her. Woman-like she did not like being regarded as being cheaply won. ”

“ Collins drew Sinclair aside.
“Let her go,” he said, “and have her watched. It may be useful.”
“Very good,” said he. To Mrs. Simmons, he said, “You can go, but you must give us your address, you will be wanted as a witness at the inquest. Don’t talk about the affair at all. Do you understand?”
“Thank you, sir, I will go and pack,” said she gratefully.
Collins watched her go.
“What do you make of her?” he said.
“She seemed quite straightforward; I think she’s told us the truth.”
Collins gave a laugh. “Yes,” he said. “The truth, but not the whole truth. She’s a clever old woman.” ”

“ But Collins had gone to the old man for another reason. John was standing with his back to a looking-glass, and Collins could see the room. He saw two things, a look of intense annoyance on the face of Sanders, and an expression on Mabel’s face in which gratitude was mixed with relief.
“Mr. Collins is right,” she said. “That is the explanation. I am sure there is nothing else in it. Now don’t worry any more about it.”
“Thank you, sir, thank you, Miss Mabel, it has relieved me a lot,” and the old man went out.
“Well done, Collins,” said Allery, “you have disposed of the ghost in quick time. ”

“ Collins thought for a moment.
“Well, you probably don’t know, but it is quite close to Sir James Watson’s place—in fact, it is the station for it.”
“Really?” said Sinclair. “Then of course you know it well?”
“If you are really going there I will run you down in my car. You might like to see Sir James’ place.”
The men looked at each other.
“I would like to see inside your head, and find out what there is there,” said Sinclair. “You’ve something concealed.”
Collins laughed. “That’s just what I was thinking. What are you after? Well, we will each keep his own counsel.” ”

“ James Watson.”
Sinclair sat long over this letter. What a vista of happenings did it conjure up. He was a plain man. Why did not Sir James write plainly, give the name of the criminal straight out and save further bother? Why all this mystery? What had happened in that grim library in the afternoon? Oh, bother it all, what a maze of evidence. If only it had been a straightforward murder, with plenty of blood and clues as in a detective story.
No; he would not tell Collins. ”

“ As for you, Sinclair, I expect loyalty from you at any rate.”
Sinclair replied with some stiffness.
“I shall not take any action without consulting you, sir, and I may be quite wrong.”
“Very well,” said Boyce, with a gesture of dismissal.
Alone together Collins and Sinclair went to the latter’s room.
“What an ass that man is,” said Collins. “He hasn’t the brains of a rabbit.”
“I wonder,” said the other, “whether he is quite the fool you think him.”
“What are your plans?”
“Do you know a place called Wilton-on-Sea?” said Sinclair. Collins looked keenly at him. ”

“ Sinclair started like a tired man, but as he went on he warmed to his tale.
“Collins was a deep scoundrel, but like all such he had two weaknesses. He was so vain that he could not leave things alone, he must try daring experiments, and he regarded all mankind as fools. That was where he made his great mistake. I don’t expect we shall ever know the truth, for I am certain he will never be taken alive. ”

“ An aged and lachrymose aunt had turned up from somewhere, and was acting chaperon.
The old nurse had been relegated to what the aunt called her proper place. Collins had completely won the heart of the old nurse with an easy courtesy which is neither patronage nor familiarity, and she had sworn by him ever since he had taken them to the theatre. On that occasion he had, with great tact, laid himself out to amuse the old lady, while Mabel was left to her sulky Eric, which accentuated the contrast. ”

“ Sanders, who had not said a word after his last rebuff, sprang to his feet. “I’ll go and see to it.”
“Good. Can you drive? No, the chauffeur must do that. I will go, no, no, that won’t do, I must telephone.”
“I’ll go,” said Sanders quietly. “If you’ll tell me where to go.”
Sinclair looked doubtful. “It’s dangerous your dealing with a man who will stick at nothing. Have you a revolver?”
“Yes,” said Sanders blushing at the recollection which it conjured up, of the night he had unworthy suspicions of Mabel.
“Can you shoot? You are dealing with a crack shot.” ”

“ Then there came the complication of Boyce and Jackson. I saw he was dead set on getting this man proved guilty, as he was sure we should never get the real man.”
“Do you mean to say he was going to get an innocent man convicted?” said Mabel, in horror.
“Not convicted. He would merely be put back in an asylum, and I can assure you it happens far oftener than the public know, that an innocent man has to suffer. The police argue that they have got hold of a man with a terrible past, and that even if he is not the actual culprit he deserves to be put away. ”

“ When not engaged professionally, he was a keen sportsman, and enjoyed life to the full.
He was entirely devoid of ‘side’ or ‘swank.’
Sinclair was a very different type. He was more like the Scotland Yard officer of real life than of fiction. After successful work in India, he had applied for and obtained his post. He had just a detective’s training and education. He made no pretensions to be other than a trained official with no particular brilliance, and he was glad to have the help of his friend, who had brains and not his experience.
Collins always came to Sinclair without ceremony. ”

“ Collins went to the old servant with a quick movement and took his hand.
“Now listen to me, John. I will tell you exactly what happened. You have been allowing yourself to brood over your old master’s death, and it has got on your nerves. You were probably thinking of him because the house was quiet, and when you came into the dining-room, the sun was shining right on to the portrait of Sir James, and you imagined he was standing on the rug. It is really quite a common thing. It’s what we call hallucination. You must not let it worry you. ”

“ I don’t think there is any doubt that we have got the right man.”
“I am perfectly sure you haven’t,” said Collins.
Boyce turned to him. “Of course it will be a disappointment to you. I know you always like something out of the way, with mystery and special features. What do you think, Sinclair?”
“I don’t know, sir, I don’t know what to say. I don’t somehow think he is our man.”
“I am quite sure he is; he’s got to be. You understand. And I expect loyal support from my Department,” said Boyce, with decision.
“It won’t do, Boyce, old fellow,” said Collins. ”

“ Collins, the cleverest scoundrel we have had for a generation.”
“Mr. Collins,” said Mabel, and there was pain in the voice. “I will never believe that. You must be mad.”
Allery rose with a grim look on his face. “You have said too little or too much. We must know what you mean.”
The temporary numbness passed from Sinclair and he was the man of action.
“Yes, yes, of course, everything, but not now. We must act at once. You must trust to my word. I shall want all your help. First, have you a car, and a driver?”
His energy infected the others.
“There’s our car,” said Mabel. ”

“ A man may have tried blackmail or to extract some secret, and fired by accident. Here again the position of the body and the whole arrangement of the room are against such an idea.”
“Then there is only murder?” said Boyce.
“Not quite,” said the other. “There is first the work of a madman.”
“But that is nevertheless murder,” said Sinclair.
“Yes; but we then have to proceed on an entirely different basis. If this is the work of a lunatic, it explains the telephone messages and the newspaper article. It is just the sort of thing that a madman with an inordinate vanity would do. ”

“ He does not introduce into the story a vast but invisible secret society with branches in every part of the world, with ruffians who can be brought in to do anything or underground cellars that can be used to hide anybody. He does not mar the pure and lovely outlines of a classical murder or burglary by wreathing it round and round with the dirty and dingy red tape of international diplomacy; he does not lower our lofty ideals of crime to the level of foreign politics. He does not introduce suddenly at the end somebody’s brother from New Zealand, who is exactly like him. ”

“ Sanders looked at him doubtfully.
“But I tell you, Mabel was talking with a man in her bedroom.”
“You make me sick with your insinuations. How do you know it was a man? A woman can imitate a man’s voice as a man can a woman’s.”
Sanders was in perplexity, and slowly put the revolver on the table. Without any sudden movement Collins picked it up. “Is this yours?” he asked casually.
“No,” said Sanders. “It belonged to Sir James. I found it here among his papers.”
“Sir James was very fond of pistols,” said the other, “he had one in London, too.” ”

“ Collins! This is awful; surely there must be some ghastly mistake!”
“You must be brave,” said Allery, “and wait for Mr. Sinclair’s explanation.”
A sound was heard outside as the car shot out into the night.
“Too long a start,” said Sinclair, looking at his watch.
John had been hovering at the door, and now came forward.
“Can I be of any service, Miss?” he said.
“No, thank you, John,” said she, “except you can tell the servants to keep absolutely silent about anything that is happening. They will all know in time. Meanwhile I depend on their loyalty.” ”

“ He waited a moment with the receiver in his hand. “Hullo, Superintendent Sinclair here. That you, Miles?—good. Get the best car at once, and come here with two men. Armed, you understand. I take full responsibility. Must ring off, I’m waiting for the Yard.”
The bell tinkled, and he got through.
He issued rapid orders.
When he put up the receiver, he turned to the others.
“There’s one point in our favour. He doesn’t know he’s suspected. He has always regarded everyone as a fool. But he’s a clever rogue if ever there was one, and he’ll take some catching.” ”

“ We are not astonished to discover that there is an actor on the stage, as we are (or ought to be) astonished to discover that there is a corpse in the summer-house. We do not feel a momentary incredulity when we are told that the play was written by a playwright, as we do feel (or ought to feel) when we are told that the crime was committed by a curate. We watch a great actor performing Hamlet so well that (if we have luck) we lose for an instant the sense that he is a great actor ”

“ Lewis came in.
“Well?” said Sinclair.
“The Home Secretary is not in the House or at the Home Office. They do not know where he is.”
“Call up his house,” said Sinclair, irritated.
“Better not,” said Collins. “If there’s nothing in it we don’t want to look fools, and if there has really been murder done the less known the better. I’ll tell you what—I have my car outside. Let’s run up to his house in Leveson Square. You can make some excuse. You often want to see him.” ”

“ This desire to be deceived is really peculiar to detective romance. It is in another sense that we say the same thing of other types of romance. It is sometimes said that when we go to the theatre we pay to be deceived. But we are not really deceived; we do not think that the dramatist intends something that he does not intend; we do not think the actor is doing something that he is not doing. We only forget, or half forget, for a moment, in the continuity and consistency of certain events, the fact that they come from a dramatist and an actor. ”

“ Collins, you are not in the Police Force?”
“I am a barrister by profession,” he replied, “and had gone there with Superintendent Sinclair, who is an old friend of mine. Now, can I do anything for you before I go? You will forgive a stranger saying so, but you seem so entirely alone. Oh, I know you have the most loyal and faithful servants,” he added hastily, “but you don’t seem to have a friend to help you. Haven’t you some relation I can wire for?”
“I have no near relative. We have led a very secluded life. You see we are so much in town. My father had many acquaintances, but no real friends. ”

“ The blinds were drawn at the house in Leveson Square, and a crowd was still gazing up at the blank windows. There is always something gruesome in drawn blinds, and the policeman standing at the door added to the air of mystery and dark deeds.
Collins and Sinclair, refreshed by an excellent breakfast, arrived in Collins’ car. ”