Miss Silver beamed.
‘How strange that you should ask me that. We had time for quite a nice long chat whilst we were waiting for you, and he informed me quite of his own accord that, on thinking it over, he had come to the conclusion that as Mr Harsch’s agent he was bound to act as Mr Harsch himself would have acted, quite irrespective of his own convictions, which he took pains to inform me, remained unchanged.’
‘And you had nothing to do with it, I suppose! It’s a fascinating subject, but we mustn’t dally. I want to talk about Madoc’s statement. I don’t know what arts you used to get him to make one, but you know the Chief’s always expecting to see you fly out of the window on a broomstick. But to come back to the statement – it’s a bit of a facer, isn’t it? I haven’t had time to think it out yet, but if he’s right about the distances, then Bush is out of the running as far as Harsch is concerned. And Madoc being out of the running for Ezra Pincott, that leaves us with the person who left the churchyard on the green side with Ezra hot in pursuit. Madoc says this person may have been male or female, nobody but Ezra being near enough to say which. Difficult to avoid the conclusion that Ezra did not see only that but a damning bit more, that he tried a spot of blackmail on the strength of it, and that he got himself bumped off.’
‘That is so.’
‘Well then, where do we go from there?’
‘With the Chief Inspector’s approval, I would suggest a further interrogation of Gladys and Sam. They went for a walk round the Green, probably entering the churchyard at some time after ten minutes to ten. Gladys says she did not take any notice of whether there was a shot or not, which points to their being at some distance from the church at the time. She thinks they had been getting on for ten minutes in the churchyard before Bush came out and the clock struck ten. They must have got there after Bush, as they did not see him enter the church. Now I would like very much to know whether they started out for their walk by the road which passes the houses, or whether they took the round in reverse and came back that way. If this was the case, I think it possible that they may have met the person Mr Madoc did not recognise – the person who left the churchyard almost immediately after the shot was fired.’
‘Wouldn’t they have said?’
Miss Silver coughed.
‘Anything very familiar may easily be disregarded. For instance, the church clock at Bourne chimes the quarters. How many of the people in those houses round the Green really hear it? I have asked a number of them, and they say they hardly ever notice the chimes. In the same way, I think it is possible that Gladys and Samuel might have encountered someone whom it would be quite natural to see at that time and in that place without really noticing them at all. There is a pillar-box just opposite the Rectory gate. If, let us say, Mrs Mottram, or Dr Edwards, or Miss Doncaster, or Mr Everton, or the rector, were observed either coming or going between his or her own house and this pillar-box, what would be the natural conclusion? You see, it is as easy as that – those young people would not have attached the slightest importance to such an encounter.’
Frank looked dubious.
‘I should have thought they would have mentioned it.’
Miss Silver smiled.
‘Have you found that village people are at all apt to volunteer information? That is not my experience. They may, or may not, answer a direct question, but they rarely volunteer anything. There is an instinct of secrecy which is bred into their very bones. There are well known cases where what was common knowledge on the subject of a crime has never reached the authorities even after a couple of generations. In the present case, however, we have to deal with goodnatured, artless young people, and I think a direct question or two might elicit the facts.’
Frank nodded.
‘It shall be done. Now what about these times? They run pretty fine. I’d like to go over them with you.’ He paused as the waiter took away their plates, and got out his notebook. When the stooping elderly figure had gone away down the long room, he bent the book back to make the pages stay open and leaned across the corner to Miss Silver. ‘I’ve roughed it out here from the statements. Some of the less important times are guesswork.
8.50 – Cyril gets out of the window.
9.20 – Cyril to Cut (approximate).
9.30 – Medora Brown to Cut.
9.31 – Madoc to Cut. Row between them. Organ still playing. No evidence that it was heard after this.
9.34 – Exit Medora to house, and Madoc with key.
9.35 – Cyril to bed.
Now this is where Madoc’s statement comes in.’ He wrote upon the opposite page, and then read out what he had written.
9.43 – approx. – Madoc reenters Cut. Ezra already there.
9.45 – Harsch is shot, on the second chime of the quarter.
He looked up.
‘Madoc says he stood where he was until the third chime had gone. Says he didn’t see Ezra till after that. He thinks they both of them waited as long again before they moved. Then he saw Ezra run, and come to the door and open it. Now how long would that take? Madoc was level with the main block of the church – that would give him about a hundred yards to go, and Ezra perhaps eighty. The chimes take five seconds each – say twenty seconds before either of them moves, and twenty seconds for Ezra to reach the door and get it open. Well, there he is, looking in – and it’s forty seconds since the shot was fired. What has the murderer to do in that forty seconds? He has fired the shot, and Harsch is dead. He’s got to wipe the pistol, get Harsch’s fingerprints on it, let it drop, and scoot back the way he came. None of that would take more than forty seconds, would it? Ezra might have seen him coming out of the church. I think he must have, but we’ll have to pace it and time it on the spot. Well, Ezra sees him, but he doesn’t see Ezra – he wouldn’t have come out of the church if he had. He runs for the gate on to the Green. That’s the really dangerous part of the whole show, but he’s got to risk it. There’s a diagonal path from the church door to the gate, and it’s not very far. Ezra would have to go across country or a long way round. He hears Ezra running, but he gets to the gate and slams it. But Ezra has recognised him, and presently he tries a spot of blackmail and gets bumped off. So now we don’t know who the murderer was. I don’t think it was Madoc, because, a, it would be absolutely pointless for him to incriminate himself by saying he came back if all the rest of it was a string of lies; and, b, he certainly didn’t kill Ezra, because he was under lock and key in Marbury jail.’ He looked up and grinned. ‘Nice to have something you can feel sure about, isn’t it?’
Miss Silver was giving him a very flattering attention.
‘Pray continue.’
‘Well, I don’t think it was Bush either. It can’t be if Madoc’s statement is true. And why should Madoc go out of his way to incriminate himself by admitting that he came back, unless he really couldn’t hold his tongue and let an innocent man be arrested? Which brings us back to the timetable again.
9.46 – approx. – Madoc looking into churchyard.
‘That gives him three minutes to walk back along the Cut and see Bush enter the churchyard by the main gate, and Bush one minute to come round the church and in at the side door.
9.50 – Bush finds the body.
9.52 – approx. – Gladys and Sam to the churchyard.
9.58 – Bush comes out of the church and locks the door.
How’s that?’
‘Excellent,’ said Miss Silver.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
FRANK ABBOTT BURST out laughing.
‘And it doesn’t get us anywhere at all! Exit Madoc. Exit Bush. Enter invisible murderer, sex unknown. Nobody saw him except Ezra, and Ezra is no more. Please teacher, who did it?’
Miss Silver remained silent.
He quirked an eyebrow at her and said,
‘Strictly off the record and between ourselves?’
Miss Silver coughed.
‘There is so little to go on – just a few straws in the wind – nothing that could be called evidence.’
He gazed imploringly.
‘Strictly off the record, teacher?’
She said gravely, ‘I think it was one of the people who went to the Ram on Monday afternoon.’
His eye brightened.
‘Do you include Bush?’
‘I do not think that it was Bush.’
Frank whistled.
‘Who’s left? Miss Doncaster, and possibly Everton, but there’s no evidence to show that he was ever near the Ram. Oh, by the way, the Chief has checked up on him, and it all sounds according to Cocker. Stockbroker. Gregarious friendly soul. Often said he would like to settle in the country. Shell-shocked in the blitz – bad nervous breakdown – ordered a country life. Dropped out – you know how people do in London when they retire. Sounds all right, doesn’t it?’
‘He has never had anyone down to stay,’ said Miss Silver. ‘He is said to have gone over to meet a cousin in Marbury a little while ago, but that is the only evidence of contact with friends or relatives. For a friendly, gregarious person that seems a little strange.’
‘Nervous breakdowns do leave people strange, don’t they? And, you know, it’s quite easy to drop out.’
‘That is very true.’
‘Then, for what it’s worth, Mrs Mottram gives him an alibi. She says he was with her until a quarter to ten on Tuesday night, and that the shot was fired just as he said good-bye.’
Miss Silver coughed.
‘A very good example of the unreliability of evidence. She told me the same story, but with a difference. She said Mr Everton heard the shot and thought that it was Giles shooting at a fox. He had just looked at his watch and said he must go, as it was a quarter to ten and he was expecting a trunk call.’
Frank Abbot’s eyes narrowed.
‘Not quite the same thing, as you say.’
Miss Silver coughed again.
‘Not quite. Mrs Mottram was one of the people I was thinking of just now when I said that those who live round the Green are so accustomed to hearing the chimes they no longer notice them. Just before I left her I asked whether she could remember hearing them when Mr Everton was saying good-bye, and she said she thought she could, but she wasn’t sure, because she hardly ever did notice them unless she was listening. She thought she heard something just as he went out.’
Frank Abbott frowned.
‘Something odd there, isn’t there? Everton looks at his watch and says it’s a quarter to ten and he must be going because he’s expecting a trunk call. Then he remarks on the shot – “Hullo, there’s Giles shooting at a fox!” or words to that effect. And then he says good-bye, and Mrs Mottram hears something which she thinks may have been a chime. Well, there simply wasn’t time for it to happen like that.’ He turned his wrist so that they could both see the second hand of his watch. ‘Look here – ding, ding, ding, ding – five seconds dead. The shot came just into the second chime – another two seconds. Everton has only got three seconds to hear the shot, say his piece about Giles shooting at a fox, say good-bye, and get going. Well, it simply can’t be done in time for Mrs Mottram to hear the remaining chime. The only drawback is she doesn’t seem sure enough about anything to make it worth while trying to build up a theory on what she may or may not have heard. I suppose she’s telling the truth?’
‘Certainly – as far as she knows it herself. She would make a very bad witness. Her mind is extremely inconsequent, and she would be very easily confused. We had better check the whole thing over with her again and see whether there is any variation from what she said to me.’
Frank nodded.
‘All right – so much for Everton. Now, what about Miss Doncaster? You say you think it was one of those people who went to the Ram on Monday afternoon who shot Harsch. As far as I can make out, you get there by what I can only describe as one of your broomstick methods, and it’s going to make the Chief feel very uncomfortable. You know, I’m beginning to suspect that he’s got a medieval streak under all that beef and brawn, and that there are times when he gets a shiver down his spine about you. I must watch and see if I can catch him crossing his fingers, or secreting a sprig of rowan in his pocket.’
Miss Silver reproved this levity, and received an apology.
‘All right, I’m back on the trail. Well, we do know for certain that Miss Doncaster was at the Ram. We haven’t any evidence at all that Everton was, and for the moment we’re not considering Bush. Well, that leaves you Miss Doncaster as first murderer, and I quite agree that she would do very well in the part – she’s cram full of envy, malice, and all uncharitableness. But we’re going to want something a little more specific than that. What can you do about it?’
‘Not very much,’ said Miss Silver. ‘She and her sister were at a finishing school in Germany for two years. They came back with a great enthusiasm for everything German. During their father’s lifetime they used to go every year to one of the German spas. This was discontinued on his death in 1912. About 1930 the sisters began their trips abroad again – Switzerland, the Tyrol, Germany. Miss Doncaster developed a violent admiration for Hitler – Miss Sophy says she was really very trying about him. But in 1938 Miss Mary Anne became paralysed and the trips had to be abandoned. Since the war broke out Miss Doncaster appears to have had a complete change of heart. She is by way of being very patriotic, and Hitler is never mentioned. Miss Sophy said it was really the greatest possible relief.’
Frank Abbott whistled.
‘Does she know how to use a revolver?’
‘I believe so. Mr Doncaster was fond of shooting at a mark. Miss Sophy says he made his daughters’ lives a burden to them about it, and it was very noisy and uncomfortable for the neighbours.’
‘None of which is evidence,’ said Frank Abbott gloomily. ‘Let’s see – we checked up on everybody in those houses. What was she doing on Tuesday night?’ He flicked over the leaves of his notebook. ‘Here we are! Pennycott – Doncasters. Maid in kitchen – heard nothing, didn’t go out. Invalid sister upstairs, back room – wireless on – heard nothing. Miss Doncaster – with sister except for five minutes somewhere between half-past nine and ten, when she went to the pillar-box opposite the Rectory and posted a letter – cannot fix time exactly – thinks it was nearly ten o’clock – met nobody, heard nothing. Well, there you are. As far as opportunity goes she had it. What about motive? I suppose she might have had that too. A violent enthusiasm for Hitler might have made her willing to work for the Nazis. It doesn’t seem credible, but she wouldn’t be the only one. I don’t know how it gets them, but it seems to. I suppose there wasn’t anything else – any private feud with Harsch? He hadn’t been treading on her toes?’
‘I have not heard anything. It would not, of course, be at all difficult to offend her.’
Frank burst out laughing.
‘I should call that a masterpiece of understatement!’