“Let me enlarge on this latter point. There were, as we now know, three people present that night. Whoever later made it appear by the tea-cups that only two had been present, obviously knew that three had been present, and who they were. But observe. He wanted the police to believe that only two had been present; therefore each of the three men actually there must be made to preserve silence, or the deception would be unsuccessful. Now the planter of the two-present idea could depend, at the time he laid the false trail between Tuesday and Friday, on the silence of two of the three men―Grimshaw, murdered, and Khalkis, dead of natural causes. That left only the third man, Mr. Knox, as a potential informer whose information would break down the two-present deception. Yet, despite Mr. Knox’s remaining alive, healthy, and unmolested, the plotter deliberately went ahead with his deception. In other words, he felt that he could depend on Mr. Knox’s remaining silent. Is this clear so far?”
They nodded, alert to every syllable. Knox was watching Ellery’s lips with a curious intentness. “But how could the planner have been able to depend on Mr. Knox’s silence?” continued Ellery crisply. “Only if he knew the whole story of the Leonardo, only if he knew that Mr. Knox possesses the painting under circumstances of an illicit nature. Then, and then only, could he be certain that Mr. Knox in self-protection would keep quiet about having been the third man in the Khalkis house last Friday night.”
“Smart, young man,” said Knox.
“For once.” Ellery did not smile. “But the most significant feature of this analysis is still to come. For who could know the whole story of the stolen Leonardo and your connexion with it, Mr. Knox?
“Let us eliminate.
“Khalkis, by his own letter, had told no one, and he is now dead.
“You, Mr. Knox, have told no one except a single person―and we can eliminate him by pure logic: you told your expert―the expert who yesterday examined the painting for you and pronounced it the work of someone other than Leonardo Da Vinci; but you told him only last night―too late for him to have planted the clues! The clues were planted before last night, since I found them yesterday morning. This eliminates your expert, the only one who knows of your possession of the painting through you, Mr. Knox . . . . This may seem unnecessary analysis; your expert scarcely enters the picture; certainly it is beyond reason that he is the criminal; yet I choose to be very careful to make my point on the basis of irrefutable logic.”
He stared glumly at the wall. “Who is left? Only Grimshaw, and he is dead. But―according to your related story of Grimshaw’s own words that night at Khalkis’s, Mr. Knox, Grimshaw said he had told only one person―the only other person “in the world”, I believe was your transmission of Grimshaw’s statement, whom he had told about the stolen painting. That single person was Grimshaw’s partner, by his own admission. And that single person is therefore the only outsider who knew enough about the story of the stolen painting and your possession of it to have planted the false clue of the three used tea-cups, for one thing, and to have been able to depend upon your silence, for another!”
“Right, right,” muttered Knox.
“What is the conclusion from this?” went on Ellery in colourless tones. “Grimshaw’s partner being the only individual who could have planted the false clues, and the murderer being the only individual who had reason to plant the false clues―Grimshaw’s partner then must be the murderer. And, according to Grimshaw’s own story, Grimshaw’s partner was the man who accompanied him to his Hotel Benedict room the night before the fatal events―and the man who, we may presume, met Grimshaw after you and Grimshaw emerged from the Khalkis house last Friday night, at which time he could have learned all about the offer of the new will, the promissory note, and everything else that had transpired during the visit to Khalkis.”
“Of course,” said the Inspector reflectively, ‘that’s progress, but it really doesn’t get us anywhere at this time. The man who accompanied Grimshaw last Thursday night might have been anyone. We have no description of him, son.”
“True. But at least we have clarified certain issues. We know where we are going.” Ellery ground out his cigarette, looking at them wearily. “One significant point I have thus far deliberately omitted to discuss. And that is―that the murderer was fooled: Mr. Knox didn’t keep silent. Now, why didn’t you keep silent, Mr. Knox?”
“Told you that,” said the banker. “The Leonardo I have isn’t a Leonardo at all. Practically worthless.”
“Precisely. Mr. Knox talked because he had discovered that the painting is practically worthless―to put it crudely, he has an “out” for himself and feels free to confess the entire story. But he has told his story only to ourselves, gentlemen! In other words, the murderer, Grimshaw’s partner, still believes we know nothing about the painting, still believes that the Khalkis solution, if we snatch at his false clues, is acceptable to us. Very well―we shall oblige him in one thing and disoblige him in another. We cannot publicly accept the Khalkis solution―we know it to be wrong. But we want to feed our murderer, give him rope, see what he will do next, perhaps trap him in some way by forcing him to continue―how shall I put it?―to continue doing things. Therefore, let us give out the Khalkis solution, then publicize Miss Brett’s testimony which burst the bubble of the Khalkis solution; in all this, let us say nothing about Mr. Knox’s coming forward with his story―not one word. The murderer will believe then that Mr. Knox has kept silent, will continue to depend upon his silence, as it were, having no inkling that the painting is not a genuine Leonardo worth a million dollars.”
“He’ll be forced to cover himself up,” muttered the District Attorney. “He’ll know we’re still hunting a murderer. Good idea, Ellery.”
“We run no risk of frightening our quarry,” continued Ellery, “by exposing the Khalkis solution as false on the basis of Miss Brett’s new testimony. The murderer will be constrained to accept this, because after all he took the risk from the beginning that someone would observe the discrepancy in the appearance of the tea-cups. The fact that someone did observe the discrepancy will appear to him an unlucky but not necessarily disastrous circumstance.”
“How about Cheney’s disappearance?” asked Pepper.
Ellery sighed. “Of course, my very brilliant inference that Alan Cheney buried Grimshaw’s body was based entirely on the hypothesis that Khalkis, his uncle, was the murderer. We now have reason to believe, with the new facts, that Grimshaw was buried by the same person who murdered him. In any event, we cannot ascribe any reason, on the basis of available data, to Cheney’s disappearance. That will have to wait.”
An inter-office communicator buzzed and the Inspector rose to answer it. “Send him in. Keep the other outside.” He turned to Ellery. “Well, there’s your man, son,” he said. “Weekes brought him.”
Ellery nodded. A man opened the door to admit the tall shambling figure of Demetrios Khalkis, decently and soberly attired; but the hideous vacant grin distorted his lips and he looked more idiotic than ever. They could see Weekes, the butler, his derby clutched to his old chest, sitting uneasily in the Inspector’s anteroom; the outer door opened and greasy Trikkala shuffled in with an inquiring look on his face; someone shut the door of the office from the anteroom.
“Trikkala,” said Ellery, “ask this imbecile if he has brought what he was told to bring.”
Trikkala, at whose entrance Demmy’s face had lighted, fired a clatter of words at the grinning idiot. Demmy nodded vigorously, holding up the packet.