"Ach, let me alone, man. I told you I'd forget it" At four - thirty in the morning sleep becomes almost more important than murder.
"Come along," said Roger sternly. Grumbling, Colin went.
"Where are the doctors?" Roger asked, as they shut themselves in and sat down.
"Gone, while you were downstairs. They came up for a wee nightcap and then went off. Poor chaps, they looked whacked, both of them."
"I wonder they were able to get away so early," Roger said heartlessly.
"They'd made their report, and the inspector said he wouldn't want them any more. They've got to see the superintendent some time today. You were a very long time downstairs, Roger. Put you through it, did they?"
"Oh, they were quite kind," Roger said bitterly. "I told them how I'd committed the murder, and they just told me to run away and be a good boy and not do that sort of thing again."
"Ah!" said Colin. Evidently he did not consider this a suitable topic for jest.
"Blast you, Colin, I've got to find out who did it now. I'm not going to have you looking at me for the rest of my life as if I were a murderer. It's going to keep me up all night, and it's going to keep you up, too; so that for your infernal interference."
"Why me?"
"Because you're going to help me. So we'd better get down to it."
But they did not get down to it at once. For some minutes they sat in silence, busy with their thoughts. Then Colin looked up. "You know, Roger, say what you like, this is damned interesting. It really was murder, was it? You're convinced of that?"
"Absolutely. It must have been. The hypothetical case I put to you in the sun parlour, like a damned fool, was the real one. That chair wasn't there at all. I put it there."
"But why? That's what I can't understand. Why?"
Roger tried to explain why. "And have you blabbed it out to anyone else besides me?" asked Colin.
"No," said Roger, wincing.
"Well, what's your idea? I'll help you. Why, man, this is great stuff. I hope it wasn't wee Ronald, because I like him."
"No," Roger said slowly. "I have an idea it wasn't wee Ronald."
"But you have an idea it might have been someone else? Come on, Roger, out with it. This is grand."
"Yes, I have got an idea. Do you remember what I was saying to you in the sun parlour, about a man being actuated not by a material motive but a spiritual one?"
"Sure I do. What's in your mind?"
"Well, I was trying out a theory on you, to see how it sounded."
"It sounded all right to me. Or the way you put it, it did."
"And to me too. Colin, I'm pretty sure I know who did string up Ena Stratton."
"The dickens you do! Who?"
"Dr. Philip Chalmers," said Roger.
"Phil Chalmers?" Colin echoed incredulously. "Oh, come now, Roger. He's a grand fellow."
"It's just because he's a grand fellow that I suspect him," Roger retorted. "Or partially. You see, he hasn't any other motive."
"This is going a bit too deep for me. I don't see this at all."
"Well, look at it this way," Roger explained with energy. "Chalmers is a very old friend of the Strattons. And he's a doctor. That means that he's in a better situation than anyone else to know exactly the position with regard to Ena Stratton: that she'd make the life of any man living with her a burden and a misery to him, and that there's no hope at all of her ever getting any better. He knows, in fact, that Mrs. Stratton ought to be behind locked doors, but that she just can't be.
"Now Chalmers' particularly close friend among the Strattons is not Ronald, but David. And Chalmers, as you say, is a grand fellow. It's impossible that Chalmers shouldn't have been very worried and very upset by the fact that his great friend David is being led the hell of a life by a worthless woman. Obviously he must have been. You're with me so far, I suppose?"
"Yes, I'll grant you all that. But what next?"
"Well, briefly, that he saw an opportunity tonight of getting rid of her, and just took it."
"Ach!"
"Wait a minute. I said, he saw an opportunity. I don't for a moment suggest that Chalmers planned to get rid of Ena Stratton. He isn't that type at all. He couldn't plan a crime; certainly not a murder. But on the other hand he's a man of character. If the opportunity presented itself, I can quite see him seizing it. And you must remember that he'd seen enough this evening to stir him up to a considerable pitch of indignation on David's behalf. Mrs. Stratton did make an exhibition of herself, didn't she? And as David's friend, Chalmers was probably quite as embarrassed, altruistically, as David was on his own behalf. Perhaps a little more so. David seems to have become rather dulled to his wife's performances in public. You needn't look at me like that, Colin. It's quite conceivable."
"Well, say it was. What was the opportunity, then? How did he do it?"
"I imagine they must have been on the roof together. Perhaps they were leaning over the railing, and she was inflicting her remarkable introspections on him, as she seems to have done on most people this evening. She may even have been trying to get him to make love to her."
"Ah, come; steady now, Roger. Talk sense."
"Women have been known to do such a thing," Roger said drily. "Anyhow, let's say she goaded him just beyond that limit of endurance which we call sanity. They were somewhere near the gallows. Chalmers sees that the figure of the woman has fallen onto the roof; the straw neck wasn't strong enough to last. Instantly the idea jumps into his mind: put a woman where a woman was! He looks round. It's all perfectly safe. No one else is likely to come up; it's too cold. And once she's safely strung up, it's odds against anyone finding her for hours. Let him get out of the house on that call of his, and he's safe. She's been talking of suicide; it's bound to be put down to suicide. And then David can live a life of his own again, and half a dozen other people will be able to sleep more easily at night. And no one will regret her. It will be the best minute's work he ever did in his life."
"By the time he'd thought all that out, she'd have been down at the bar again, lapping up more double whiskies without soda."
"Idiot! All those things flash through his mind in ten seconds. There was no time to think, or he'd never have done it. Well, he inveigles her to the gallows, just underneath the noose. And then . . . For a strong man, just one second would do it, before she even realized what he was after or had time to scream out. Well?"
"Well, it's a case, I suppose," Colin said judicially.
"But not so strong as the case against me?"
"I told you I'd forgotten that. But come now, Roger, you know well enough that's all guesswork. You haven't a mite of evidence. Besides, you said 'let him get out of the house on that call of his.' But he'd gone. He wasn't here at all. We saw him go."
"And then we went into the ballroom. All of us. Chalmers could have come up again, couldn't he?"
"But, man, you're talking at random. He could have come up again, yes. But where's even a wee bit of evidence that he did?"
"As a matter of fact, Colin, there is a tiny bit of evidence. I don't say that it proves Chalmers did come up again after we'd all gone into the ballroom; but it does prove that he was on the roof some time this evening. Mrs. Williamson found his pipe in the sun parlour. Ronald identified it."
"Ach! He could have left it there any time."
"He could, yes. And he did. That's the point. I'm not suggesting that he left it there then, and the talk with Mrs. Stratton was conducted in the sun parlour. I'm suggesting that he had left it there earlier; and when he got outside the house on the way to his call, perhaps not until he was actually in his car, he felt for his pipe in the way one does and remembered that he had left it there. So he ran up for it. We know the front door was left unlatched all the evening, so there was no difficulty in getting in again. And in the sun parlour he found not only his pipe, but Mrs. Stratton too, sulking. Perhaps they did talk there, before moving up to the main roof. Anyhow, Mrs. Stratton was intense enough to make him forget his pipe all over again.