“His sister found it among his things and sent it on to Pym, and he engaged me, through a friend, to enquire into it. He didn’t know who I was. I thought there probably wasn’t much in it, but I took the job on for the experience.”
Tallboy nodded.
“Well, you’ve had your experience. I hope you haven’t paid as heavily for it as I have. I could see no way out of it-”
He stopped speaking, and glanced at Wimsey.
“Perhaps I’d better tell you the next bit,” said the latter. “You thought it over, and decided that Victor Dean was a wart and a scab, and would be no great loss to the world. One day, Wedderburn came along to your room, chuckling because Mrs. Johnson had caught Ginger Joe with a catapult and had confiscated it and put it in her desk. You knew you were a wonderfully good shot with any sort of missile-the kind of man who could spread-eagle a wicket from the other end of a cricket-field-and you realized how easily a man could be plugged through the skylight as he went down the iron staircase. If the blow didn’t kill him, then the fall might, and it was well worth trying.”
“You really do know all about it, then?”
“Nearly. You pinched the catapult, opening the drawer with Mrs. Johnson’s keys during the lunch-hour, and you did a few practice shots from day to day. You left a pebble there once, you know.”
“I know. Somebody came along, before I could find it.”
“Yes. Well, then, the day came for putting Dean away-a nice bright day, when all the skylights were open. You dodged about the building a good bit, so that nobody should know exactly where you were at any particular minute, and then you went up on the roof. How, by the way, did you ensure that Dean would do down the iron staircase at the right moment? Oh, yes, and the scarab? It was a very good idea to use the scarab, because if anybody found it, they would naturally think it had tumbled out of his pocket as he fell.”
“I’d seen the scarab on Dean’s desk after lunch; I knew he often kept it there. And I had The Times Atlas in my room. I sent Wedderburn down to the Vouchers for something or other, and then I rang up Dean on my telephone. I said I was speaking for Mr. Hankin from the Big Conference Room, and would Mr. Dean please come down about the Crunchlets copy and bring The Times Atlas with him from my room. While he went for it, I pinched the scarab and slipped up on to the roof. I knew it would take him a bit of time to find the atlas, because I’d buried it under a whole heap of files, and I was pretty sure he’d go by the iron staircase, because that was the nearest way from my room to the Conference Room. As a matter of fact, it might have gone wrong at that point because he didn’t come that way at all. I think he must have gone back to his own room for something after getting the atlas, but of course, I don’t know. Anyway, he came along all right and I shot at him through the skylight when he was about four steps down the staircase.”
“How did you know so exactly where to hit him?”
“Curiously enough, I had a young brother who was accidentally killed by being hit in just that place with a golf-ball. But I went and looked it up in a book at the British Museum to make sure. Apparently he broke his neck as well; I hadn’t expected that. I stayed up on the roof till the fuss was over, and then came down quietly by the stairs. I didn’t meet a soul, of course, they were all holding post-mortems and hanging round the corpse. When I knew I’d succeeded, I didn’t care. I was glad. And I tell you this, if I hadn’t been found out, I shouldn’t care now.”
“I can sympathize with that,” said Wimsey.
“They asked me for a shilling for the little beast’s wreath.” Tallboy laughed. “I’d gladly have given twenty shillings, or twenty pounds even… And then you came along… I didn’t suspect anything… till you started to talk about catapults… And then I got badly frightened, and I… and I…”
“We’ll draw a veil over that,” said Wimsey. “You must have got a bit of a shock when you found you’d slugged the wrong man. I suppose that was when you struck a light to look for Pamela Dean’s letter.”
“Yes. I knew her writing-I’d seen it in Dean’s room-and I knew her writing-paper, too. I really came round to find out whether you knew anything or whether you were just drawing a bow at a venture-that’s rather appropriate, isn’t it? Drawing a catapult at a venture would be better. When I saw that letter I felt sure there must be something in it. And Willis, too-he’d told me that you and Pamela Dean were as thick as thieves. I thought the letter might be telling you all about Dean and me. I don’t know quite what I thought, to tell you the truth. Then, when I’d found out my mistake, I got frightened and thought I’d better not try again.”
“I was expecting you. When nothing came of it, I began to think it hadn’t been you at all, but somebody else.”
“Did you know by then that the other thing was me?”
“I didn’t know it was you; you were one of several possibles. But after the Nutrax row and the £50 in notes-”
Tallboy looked up with a shy, fleeting smile.
“You know,” he said. “I was horribly careless and incompetent all through. Those letters-I ought never to have sent them from the office.”
“No; and the catapult. You should have taken the trouble to make your own. A catapult without finger-prints is something very unusual.”
“So that was it. I’m afraid I’ve made an awful mess of everything. Couldn’t even do a simple murder. Wimsey-how much of this will have to come out? Everything, I suppose? Even that Vavasour girl…?”
“Ah!” said Wimsey, without replying to the question. “Don’t talk about the Vavasour girl. I felt a cad about that. You know. I did tell you not to thank me.”
“You did, and it frightened me badly, because you sounded as if you meant it. I knew then that it hadn’t been an accident about the catapult. But I hadn’t an idea who you were till that infernal cricket match.”
“I was careless then. But that damned fellow Simmonds rapping me on the funny-bone got my goat. You didn’t fall for my impressive arrest then?”
“Oh, yes, I did. I believed in it implicitly and put up the most heartfelt thanksgivings. I thought I’d got off.”
“Then what brought you round here tonight?’
“Miss Meteyard. She got hold of me last night. She said she’d believed first of all that you and Bredon were the same person, but now she thought you couldn’t be. But she said that Bredon would be dead sure to split on me by way of currying favour with the police, and I had better get out in time.”
“She said that? Miss Meteyard? Do you mean to say she knew all about it?”
“Not about the Nutrax business. But she knew about Dean.”
“Good God!” Wimsey’s natural conceit received a shattering blow. “How in Heaven’s name did she know?”
“Guessed. Said she’d once seen me look at Dean when I didn’t know she was there-and apparently he had once let out something to her. Apparently she’d always thought there was something odd about his death. She said she’d made up her mind not to interfere either way, but after your arrest she decided you were the bigger crook of the two. She could stand Lord Peter Wimsey doing a proper investigation, but not Mr. Dirty Bredon squealing to save his skin. She’s an odd woman.”
“Very. I’d better forget about all this, hadn’t I? She seems to have taken the whole thing very coolly.”
“She did. You see, she knew Dean. He tried to blackmail her once, about some man or the other. You wouldn’t think it to look at her, would you?” said Tallboy, naively. “There was nothing much in it, she said, but it was the kind of thing old Pym would have been down on like a sledgehammer.”