Dr Fell grunted. 'Ha,' he said. 'Your analogy, while classical, supports me rather than you. It seems to me, Hadley, that you are the one who is going about grimly determined to discover who put the barrister's wig on the cabhorse. I'm exactly the detective you want. Besides schoolboys; are much more ingenious than that. Now, an outhouse of medium weight, carefully substituted for the statue of the headmaster on the night before the public unveiling of the latter'
General Mason shook his head. 'Personally,' he observed, frowning at his cigar, 'I remember my own schoolboy holidays in France. And I have always maintained that there is nothing more edifying than the experiment of placing a red lamp over the door of, the mayor's house in a district full of sailors. Ahem!'
'Go ahead,' Hadley said, bitterly. 'Have a good time. I suppose if this case hadn't wound up in a murder you'd be stealing hats yourself, and thinking up new places to hang them!'
There was a knock at the door.
`Pardon me,' said a calm, slightly edged voice. `I've knocked several times, and there seemed to be no answer. You sent for me, I think.'
Rampole had been wondering what to expect from the enigmatic Mr Julius Arbor. He remembered Sir William's description earlier that afternoon: 'Reserved, scholarly, a trifle sardonic.' The, American had been vaguely expecting someone tall and thin and swarthy, with a hooked nose. The man who entered now, slowly drawing off his gloves and looking about with cool curiosity, was somewhat swarthy. And in every movement he, was austere. But that was all.
Mr Arbor was not above middle height, and he was inclined towards pudginess. He was perfectly dressed, too well dressed: there was a white pique edging to the front of his waistcoat, and a small pearl pin in his tie… His face was flattish, with heavy black eyebrows; and the rimless eye-glasses were such delicate shells that they seemed to blend with his eyes.
'Am I addressing Chief Inspector Hadley?' he inquired.
'Good day,' said Dr Fell, waving his hand affably. 'I'm in charge of the investigation, if that's what you mean. Sit down. I presume you're Mr Arbor.'
Arbor shifted his umbrella from the crook of one arm to hang it over the other; he moved across to the chair, inspected it for dust, and sat down.
'That's better,' said the doctor. 'Now we can begin.' From his pocket he took his battered cigar-case and extended it. 'Smoke!'
`Thank you no' the other answered. He waited until Dr Fell had replaced the disreputable, case. Then he produced an elaborately chased silver cigarette-case of his own, containing long and slender cigarettes with a cork tip. Snapping on a silver lighter, he applied it to a cigarette with nicety.
Dr Fell studied him sleepily, hands folded over his stomach. Arbor seemed to grow a trifle restless. He cleared his throat.
'I do not wish to hurry you, Inspector,' he said at length, `but I should like to point out that I have been put to considerable inconvenience this afternoon. If you will tell me what you wish to know, I shall be happy to assist you in any way I can?
Dr Fell nodded. `Got any Poe manuscripts?' he inquired, rather like a customs officer asking for contraband.
The question was so sudden that Arbor stiffened. A faint frown ruffled his swarthy forehead. 'I don't think I quite understand you. At my home in New York I certainly have a number of first editions of Edgar Allan Poe, and a few of the manuscript originals. But I scarcely think they would be of interest to you. I understand you wished to question me concerning a murder.'
`Oh, the murder!' grunted Dr Fell, with a careless wave of his hand. `Never mind that.'
`Indeed?' said Arbor. `I had supposed that the police might have some curiosity concerning it. However, that is none of my affair. I must remark, with Pliny "Quot homines, tot sententiae'.'
`It wasn't Pliny,' said the doctor, testily. `That's an inexcusable blunder. And if you must use that deplorable platitude, try to pronounce it correctly. The "o" in homines is short, and there's no long. nasal sound to the "en" in sententiae But never mind that. What do you know about Poe?'
Hadley was making weird noises in the corner. Mr Arbor's flattish face had stiffened; the aura about him conveyed anger.
`I am not sure,' he said, quietly, `that I know what you are driving at or whether this is an elaborate joke. If so, kindly tell me.?
'I'll put it this way, then. Are you interested in Poe? If you were offered the authentic manuscript of one of his stories would you buy it?'
This sudden swoop to the practical put Arbor right again. There was a trace of a smile on his face.,
`Now I see, Mr Hadley,' he said to Dr Fell. `This tribunal, then, was called because of Sir William Bitton's stolen manuscript. I was a bit puzzled at first.' He smiled again, a mere wrinkle on his pudgy face. Then he considered. 'Yes, I should certainly buy a Poe item if it were offered to me.'
`H'm, yes. You know there has been a theft at Bitton's house, then?'
`Oh yes. And you, Inspector, know that I am stopping at Bitton's home. I should say,' Arbor corrected himself, impassively, `I was stopping there. To-morrow I shall remove
myself to the "Savoy".'
`Why?'
`Let's be frank, Mr Inspector. I am aware of what. Bitton thinks. I am not insulted. We must accept these little things. But I dislike awkwardness. You see; or don't you?'
`Do you know the nature of the manuscript that was stolen?'
`Perfectly. In point of fact, I had some intention of intending to buy it?
'He told you about it, then, did he?'
The flattish face was a polite mask of deprecation. `You know he didn't. But Bitton is like a child, if I may say so. I have heard him let fall enough mysterious hints at the dinner table for even his family to guess the nature of his find. However, I knew all about the manuscript before I left the States.'
He chuckled. It was the first human, sound Rampole had heard out of him.
`I dislike commenting on the infantile nature of some of these gentlemen, but I fear Doctor Robertson, who had been Bitton's confidant, was indiscreet'
Dr Fell thoughtfully took the handle of his stick, which was lying across the desk, and poked at the crossbow bolt. Then he glanced up amiably.
`Mr Arbor, would you have stolen that manuscript, if you were given the opportunity?'
Across the room Rampole saw the despairing expression on Hadley's face. But Arbor was not in the least perturbed.
'No, Inspector, I don't think I would,' he replied. `It would entail so much awkwardness, you see. And I dislike violating hospitality in that fashion. Don't misunderstand me. I have no moral scruples, and it might seriously be questioned as to whether Bitton has any right to it at all.'
`But suppose somebody offered to sell you that manuscript, Mr Arbor?'
Arbor took off his delicate eyeglasses and polished them with a white silk handkerchief. He was easy, smug, and half smiling now. The black eyebrows were wrinkled with amusement.
'Let me tell you a story, Inspector. The police should know; it, to support, my claim in case it is — ah — successful.' Before I came to England I went to Philadelphia and looked up Mr Joseph McCartney, of Mount Airy Avenue, who owns the property on which the manuscript was found. For the fact that it was found there I had the testimony of three honest labouring men. I laid my case with a tolerable degree of frankness before Mr McCartney. He was the owner. I informed him that if he would give me three months' written option on that manuscript, wherever it might be, I would hand him one thousand dollars in cash. There was also — another agreement. It specified that, if the manuscript proved to be what I wanted (the decision to rest with me), I should pay him four thousand dollars for a complete sale.'