The life, while pleasant and pastoral, was hardly stimulating. I was a gentleman, but-like all others — I wished to be a rich and roving gentleman. It was necessary, however, to keep a curb upon my appetites so that my sermons might be really instructive and sincere; I say with pride that I kept the parish accounts straight, and only once-on pain of severe necessity, when a serving-girl of the county threatened scandal for being attacked — did I tamper with these. But I wish to live a more pleasant life; say, in continental hotels, with many servants and a fling at amorousness now and then.
In my talk with Dr. Fell. I have learned that he knows almost everything. I had made the same deductions from old Anthony Starberth's diary — which Mr. Timothy Starberth kindly showed me-as Dr. Fell made over three years later. I determined that there must be money hidden in the well at the Hag's Nook. If it were negotiable-jewels or bullion, say — I could presently resign and disappear.
I need not dwell on this part. Chance, vile chance, entered again. Why does God permit such things? I had found the cache, and to my delight it proved to be precious stones. Through my earlier experiences I was aware of a trustworthy man in London who could engineer sales at Antwerp in a most satisfactory fashion…. I dislike that word "engineer." It destroys what some have been so kind as to call the Addisonian purity of my prose style; but let it stand…. Let me say again, I found the stones. I estimated that their value might be conservatively placed at about five thousand pounds.
It was (I remember it distinctly) the afternoon of the eighteenth of October when I made this discovery. As I was on my knees in the hiding-place, prying open the iron box which contained these stones; and shielding my candle from outside observation, I thought that I heard a noise in the well outside. I was just in time to see the rope quivering, and a thin leg disappear from the mouth of the opening, and I heard Mr. Timothy Starberth's unmistakable laugh. Undoubtedly he had noticed something amiss in the well. He had climbed down, seen me at work, and was now going up to laugh. I may here say that he had always a most inexplicable dislike, nay, hatred, for the church and all holy things, and his attitude had at times amounted almost to blasphemy. He, of all people, could work me the most harm. Even if he had not seen my find (and I did not doubt he had) his mirth at finding me thus employed would wreck all my hopes.
Here I must point out a curious feature of my own character. There are times when I seem absolutely to lose control over my reflex actions, and when I seem almost to enjoy inflicting physical pain. Even as a child I had buried rabbits alive and torn the wings from flies. In maturity this often amounts to a certain bewildered activity — which I find difficult to remember, and strive to conceal, and which has often frightened me… But let me go on. I found him standing at the top of the well, waiting for me when I came up, his riding-clothes soaking wet. He was doubled up in laughter and slapping his knee with his crop. The precious box was buttoned up in my coat; in my hand I had the small crowbar.
When his elaborate laughter had turned him almost with his back to me, I struck. I took delight in striking him many times, even after he had fallen. I cannot boast that at this time the plan I conceived was at full maturity; but it took shape presently, and I resolved to turn the Starberth legend of broken necks to profitable use.
I broke his neck with the iron bar, and left him in a thicket at twilight, whistling his horse near me.
My fright may be readily imagined when, later on and in a calmer moment, I learned that he was not dead and wished to see me. Dr. Fell has just recently told me that it was this fact which first made him suspicious of me — i.e., that Timothy Starberth should ask for me to be summoned to his bedside, and that I should see him alone: My natural agitation after that interview, which I could scarcely conceal, did not go unnoticed by Dr. Fell. Mr. Starberth told me — in brief — what Dr. Fell already outlined to us all the other day, namely the plan for putting a statement of my guilt into the vault of the Governor's Room, so that a conviction for murder should hang over my head throughout three years. When I heard him tell me this, I did not know what course to pursue. I thought of flying at his throat, but that would only mean a cry and instant apprehension. Given three years, I thought, and I could surely find a means of circumventing his purpose. When I returned to the others, I was careful to implant in their minds the belief that the old man was mad — lest, in an unguarded moment, he should betray me before he died.
Nor need I discuss here the many plans I evolved for stealing that paper. They came to nothing. Instead of being able to resign and leave Chatterham, I was now powerless. In three years, certainly, I might put a deal of ground between myself and Lincolnshire, but there was this overwhelming reason against flight:
If I disappeared, an inquiry would be instituted for Thomas Saunders. It must inevitably be revealed that the real Thomas Saunders was dead — unless, of course, I could step forward whenever they searched for me, and stop investigations. If I were free, without this murder charge in the Governor's Room vault hanging over me, I could always step forward: I could be merely Thomas Saunders resigned from his pastorate. But if I were Thomas Saunders the fugitive — as I must be always — then they would discover what had happened to the real clergyman from Auckland and I should be thought guilty of foul play against him. In either case, I should be faced with a murder charge if I disappeared then. The only course was in some fashion to purloin that paper from the safe.
I therefore set about making a confidant of young Mr. Martin Starberth before his departure for America. Without being accused of lack of modesty, I think I may say that my powers of personality, are sufficient to make a staunch friend of whomever I choose. I did this with Martin, whom I found a trifle conceited and headstrong, but otherwise a very amiable young man. He told me about the keys to the vault, the conditions, everything concerning his duties on the evening of his twenty-fifth birthday. Even at that date, some two years ago, he was uneasy. As time went on, I saw by his letters from America that the fear had become almost pathological (if I may use the word), and that I might turn to good account both this fact and the well-known devotion of his cousin Herbert to the more brilliant Martin. My purpose was, of course, to gain possession of the paper; it was unfortunate that I should be compelled to kill Martin in so doing — indeed, I liked the young man — and, as a corollary, to encompass the death of his cousin Herbert; but it will be seen that my position was precarious.
I have already indicated that my plan rested, upon Martin's fear and Herbert's hero-worship, but there was a third element. These two young men were, in general build and appearance, surprisingly alike. At a distance, one might easily be mistaken for the other.
Taking them into my confidence, I disclosed the arrangement. It would not be necessary for Martin to subject himself to the terrors of such a vigil. On the designated night, immediately after dinner, they should go to their respective rooms; and lest either of them be intruded upon to disclose the trick — Martin should make it clear that he wanted no interruptions. Herbert should dress himself in Martin's clothes, and Martin in Herbert's. To avoid a waste of time in resuming identities when the vigil was over (I suggested), Herbert should pack a suit of his and one of Martin's own clothes in a bag, and give it to Martin. This Martin should strap on the rear of Herbert's motor-bicycle, and immediately set out on the bicycle, by a back lane, for the rectory. At the appropriate time Herbert should set out for the Governor's Room, taking Martin's keys and going through the instructions as set down by the Starberth tradition.