“But this provides the answei to my former question, which was: Why did Khalkis keep silent about his recovery of sight? The answer is: If Grimshaw were discovered murdered, if suspicion pointed in Khalkis’s direction, he would have the alibi oi blindness to support his innocence―for it would be said that Khalkis, blind, could not have been the unknown man, the murderer of Grimshaw. The explanation of how Khalkis engineered the physical elements of his deception is simple: after he had ordered the tea-things that Friday night and Mrs. Simms had retired, he must have slipped into his overcoat and derby and stolen out of the house, met Grimshaw probably by prear-rangement, and re-entered with Grimshaw as if he were one of the two expected visitors.”
Knox had not stirred in his chair; he seemed about to speak, then blinked and maintained his silence.
“What confirmations have we of Khalkis’s plot and deceptions?” continued Ellery blithely. “For one thing, he himself fostered the idea of three people―by this instructions to Miss Brett―deliberately saying that two visitors were expected, that one of them wished to keep his identity secret. For another, he deliberately withheld the information that he had recovered his sight―a damning circumstance. For another, we know positively that Grimshaw was strangled from six to twelve hours before Khalkis died.”
“Damned funny mistake to make!” muttered the District Attorney.
“What was that?” asked Ellery pleasantly.
“I mean this business of Khalkis using the same watei to fill each of the faked cups. Pretty dumb, I’d say, considering how clever the rest of it was.”
Pepper interrupted with a boyish eagerness. “It seems to me, Chief,” he said, “with due respect for Mr. Queen’s opinion, that it may not have been a mistake after all.”
“And how do you figure that, Pepper?” asked Ellery with interest.
“Well, suppose Khalkis didn’t know that the percolator was full. Suppose he took it for granted that it was only half-full or something. Or suppose he didn’t know it was a percolator that normally held six cups when full. Either one of these suppositions would account for his seeming stupidity.”
“There’s something in that.” Ellery smiled. “Very well. Now this solution does leave certain loose ends, none of which we can settle conclusively, although we can hazard reasonable inferences. For one thing, if Khalkis killed Grimshaw, what was his motive? Well, we know that Grimshaw visited him, alone, the night before. And that this visit gave rise to Khalkis’s instructions to Woodruff, his attorney, to draw up a new will―in fact, he telephoned Woodruff late that night. Urgency, then―pressure. The new will changed the legatee of the Khalkis Galleries, a considerable inheritance, and nothing else; who this new legatee was Khalkis took scrupulous pains to keep secret―not even his attorney was to know. It isn’t far-fetched, I think, to say that Grimshaw, or possibly someone Grimshaw represented, was the new legatee. But why should Khalkis do this amazing thing? The obvious answer is blackmail, considering the character of Grimshaw and his criminal record. Don’t forget, too, that Grimshaw was connected with the profession; he had been a museum attendant, he had been jailed for the unsuccessful theft of a painting. Blackmail by Grimshaw would mean a hold on Khalkis, who is also in the profession. That to me seems the probable motive; Grimshaw had something on Khalkis, something in all likelihood connected with a shady phase of the art-business or some nefarious transaction involving an art-object.
“Now let me reconstruct the crime with this admittedly suppositional motive as a foundation. Grimshaw visited Khalkis Thursday night―during which visit we may assume that the ultimatum, or the blackmail project, was launched by the jail-bird. Khalkis, either for Grimshaw or Grimshaw’s factor, agreed to alter his will in payment―you will probably find Khalkis to have been in straitened financial circumstances, unable to pay cash. Khalkis, after instructing his lawyer to draw up a new will, either felt that the change of will would still leave him open to future blackmail, or suffered a complete change of heart: in any event, he decided to kill Grimshaw rather than pay―and this decision, incidentally, points strongly to the fact that Grimshaw was acting for himself and not for someone else, otherwise Grimshaw’s death would be of little avail to Khalkis, since there would still be someone in the background to take up the blackmail cudgels for the murdered man. At any rate, Grimshaw returned the next night, Friday, to see the new will for himself, fell into Khalkis’s trap as indicated, and was killed; Khalkis hid his body somewhere in the vicinity, perhaps, until he could permanently dispose of it. But then fate stepped in and Khalkis, from the excitement of the racking events, died of heart-failure the following morning before he was able to finish the job of permanently getting rid of the body.”
“But, look here―” began Sampson.
Ellery grinned. “I know. You want to ask me: If Khalkis killed Grimshaw and then died himself, who buried Grimshaw in Khalkis’s coffin, after the Khalkis funeral?
“Obviously, it must have been someone who discovered Grimshaw’s body and utilized Khalkis’s grave as a permanent hiding-place. Very well―why didn’t this unknown gravedigger produce the body instead of burying it secretly, why didn’t he announce his discovery? We may suppose that he suspected where the guilt lay, or perhaps had an erroneous suspicion, and took this means of disposing of the body to close the case forever―either to protect the name of a dead man or the life of a living one. Whatever the true explanation is, there is at least one person in our roster of suspects who fits the theory: the man who drew all his money from his bank and disappeared when he was specifically instructed to keep available; the man who, when the grave was unexpectedly opened and Grimshaw’s corpse found, must have seen that the jig was up, took fright, lost his nerve and fled. I refer, of course, to Khalkis’s nephew, Alan Cheney.
“And I think, gentlemen,” concluded Ellery with a smile of satisfaction that bordered on smugness, “I think that when you find Cheney you will have cleared up the case.”
Knox had the queerest look on his face. The Inspector spoke for the first time since Ellery had begun his recital. He said querulously: “But who stole the new will from Khalkis’s wall-safe? Khalkis was dead by that time―he couldn’t have done it. Was it Cheney?”