This, it is to be understood, is what I told them to do. My own plans were different; but let me proceed. At just twelve o'clock Herbert was to leave the Governor's Room; and Martin, having changed into his own clothes at the rectory and driven back at this time, should be waiting for him, with the motor-bicycle, in the road before the prison. Whereupon Herbert would deliver to his cousin the keys, the lamp, and the written proof of the vigil, and Martin should return afoot to the Hall. Herbert should take the motor-bicycle, drive to the rectory, change his clothes, and also return — apparently after having taken only a drive through the countryside to relieve his feelings on the night of his cousin's ordeal.
My own design, I need not say, was: first, to provide an absolute and undeniable alibi for myself; and, second, to make the murder of Martin seem the work of Herbert. To this end I played strongly on family pride, which is in its own way a very admirable sentiment. I suggested that, even though the strict letter of the ordeal were broken, its spirit could be preserved. Herbert could open the iron box inside the vault, but he must not examine any of its contents. He must, instead, put them all into his pocket, and deliver them to Martin when they met at midnight outside the prison. Returning to the Hall, Martin could examine them at his leisure. If, on the morrow, Mr. Payne protested that he had removed from the iron box in the vault anything which should not be removed, Martin could credibly plead a blunder. A harmless blunder, since his conduct had in any event proved the purpose of the ordeal, viz. that he had spent the hour in the Governor's Room.
My own course of action was clear. When Martin arrived at the rectory not later than nine-thirty, he could be disposed of there. I regretted that I could not make his death entirely painless; but a blow from an iron bar would render him unconscious while the neck was broken and the other injuries prepared. He could then be conveyed without suspicion in my car to the Hag's Nook, and arranged under the wall. The almanac had prophesied dark and wet weather, which proved to be a true prediction. After doing this, I should repair to Dr. Fell's. Having already suggested a party to watch the window of the Governor's Room, I felt that I could have no better alibi. When-at midnight-the light was extinguished in the Governor's Room, exactly on time, the uneasiness of the watchers would be set at rest. They would decide that Martin had come safely through his vigil. Shortly thereafter I should take my leave. Herbert, I knew, would wait patiently before the prison for as long as I liked, since he expected his cousin; and he would not let himself be seen.
The longer I delayed, the better. When I left Dr. Fell's I should leave my car and join Herbert. I should inform him that, unfortunately, in my absence from the rectory his cousin had drunk himself into a bad state — a statement which his conduct would admirably bear out — and that it was necessary for Herbert to accompany me there and assist in getting Martin on his feet before Miss Starberth grew alarmed.
With the keys, the lamp, and the contents of the iron box, he would return with me to the rectory. There was no need for subterfuge in his case; a bullet would suffice. Later on in the night I could safely return to the prison and make sure that Herbert had overlooked nothing. I had tried to find an excuse for causing him to open the balcony door, but I feared lest he grow suspicious, and determined to accomplish this result myself.
What actually happened I need scarcely recapitulate. Although in one instance (which I shall indicate) my calculations went awry. I think I may say that presence of mind rescued me from a dangerous situation. It was only chance which defeated me. Herbert was seen by the butler while he was packing the change of clothes in the bag; this indicated flight. Martin — whom they thought to be Herbert — was seen driving away, down a back lane, on the motor-bicycle; another indication of flight. Miss Starberth happened to come out into the hall (unforeseen chance) when Herbert, posing as Martin, was leaving the house. But he was seen only from the rear, at a distance and in dim light; when addressed, he merely mumbled something to simulate drunkenness, and thus escaped undetected. Not once were either of these two directly addressed or confronted when assuming the identities of each other. When Budge took up the bicycle-lamp to Martin's room, where Herbert waited, he did not give it to anyone, as he has remarked; he merely left it outside the door. When Budge, in going to obtain the bicycle-lamp, Saw Martin on the bicycle, it was in the obscurity of night riding away.
I applied lethal measures to Martin. I confess that it was with a hesitation that I did so, for he was almost tearfully wringing my hand and thanking me for rescuing him from what he dreaded most. But a sudden blow, when he was bending over the spirits-decanter, and I felt stimulated to my work. He was a very light weight. I am counted a powerful man, and I had not the slightest difficulty later. A rear lane, behind Yew Cottage, took me to the vicinity of the prison; I arranged the body under the balcony and beside the well, and returned to Dr. Fell's. Though I had toyed with the idea of driving the spikes of the well through the body, as a more realistic detail and to confirm the ancient tale of Anthony's death, I abandoned it as being a trifle too apt, a trifle too studied a vindication of the Starberth curse.
My only fear was now that Herbert should get out of the house safely. Without wishing to speak ill of the dead, I think I may say that he was a dull, cloddish fellow, not overquick in an emergency. He had even been backward in taking up my plan, having several strong and almost bitter arguments with Martin about it…. In any event, Dr. Fell tells me that, while waiting in his garden for the stroke of eleven, I overreached myself. My agitation, and my somewhat inessential question, "Where is Herbert?" at the critical period of the wait, caused him some speculation; but I dare assert that I had been through a period of strong emotional tension, and such manifestations were only to have been expected.
I now can discuss another effort of vile and devilish chance to overthrow me. I refer, of course, to the ten minute difference in the clocks. For some time I have puzzled as to why, since Herbert shut off his lamp ten minutes too soon and thus almost precipitated catastrophe — I have puzzled, I say, as to why he had arrived in the Governor's Room almost on the stroke of the real eleven say, o'clock. But I saw my answer anticipated, by Dr. Fell's questioning of the servants at the Hall. Herbert carried a watch which was fast. But while he was waiting in Martin's room he not unnaturally kept his eyes on the clock there. He had ordered the housemaid to set all the clocks right, according to his own time, and he assumed she had done so. There was, as Dr. Fell discovered, a large clock with the right time in Martin's room. Thus Herbert left the Hall by the right time in the Governor's Room he had only his watch, and he left by the wrong time.
At this point, through no fault of my own reasoning, but due sheerly to chance, the young American (for whom I have the highest respect) had been roused to a dangerous pitch of emotional tension. He determined on a dash across the meadow. I tried to dissuade him; it would have been fatal had he run into Herbert leaving the prison, would have proved my own undoing. Seeing, therefore that it was useless to stop him, I followed. The spectacle of a hatless clergyman pounding through a thunderstorm like a boy at a country frolic did not go unobserved by Dr. Fell, but my mind was on other matters. And I saw running what I had hoped for, and what was only natural — he was running towards the Hag's Nook, and not towards the gate of the prison.
Thereupon ensued the inspiration upon which I cannot pride myself, since it is a part of my character and no development of my own. I perceived how this danger could be turned into an advantage. I ran-as was natural for a man with nothing on his conscience — towards the prison gate. I had carefully cautioned Herbert that, while he must show his light in going into the prison, he must under no circumstances show it in going out; some stranger might observe him meeting Martin in the lane, and wonder. It was timed with an accuracy I can only regard as the fruit of my own labours. What with the night and the rain, he American was lost; and I had ample time to meet Herbert. I made sure he had the documents. I told him briefly standing there in the wild night, that he had miscalculated — happy invention! — that he was ten minutes too early, and Martin had not yet left the rectory. I told him further that the suspicions of the watchers were aroused and that they were all about us. He must hurry back to the rectory on foot, and by devious ways. I was genuinely afraid that he might show his light, so I jerked it from his hand, intending to get rid of it in the wood.