'Actually, Mr Arbor, what is the manuscript worth?' Dr Fell asked, leaning forward.
`I should be willing to go as high as, say, ten thousand pounds.'
General Mason, who had been scowling and pulling at his imperial, interrupted. `But, my God! man, that's fantastic! No Poe manuscript… '
'I venture to predict,' Arbor said, placidly, `that this one would. It is the first analytic detective story in the history of the world. It antedates Poe's own Murders in the Rue Morgue. Dr Robertson informs me that even from an artistic point of view it surpasses Poe's other three Dupin crime tales…, I could name you offhand three fellow collectors who would go as high as twelve or fifteen. And I enjoy thinking what it would fetch at auction — where, I need not tell you, I intend to place it'
Dr Fell cleared his throat with a rumbling noise.
`How do you know this? Have you seen the manuscript?'
'I have the word of Dr Robertson, the greatest living authority on Poe. He only told me all this because — well, Inspector, my wine-cellar is considered excellent. And even Imperial Tokay is cheap at the price. Of course, he regretted his indiscretion next day; he had promised Bitton, and he begged me to take no action. I was sorry.'
`Then,' said Dr Fell, `it wasn't a mere matter of a find you were interested in? You were after this, manuscript to sell it?
'It was, my dear Inspector. The manuscript — wherever it is — happens to belong to me. I may remind you. Shall I, go on?'
By all means'
`My business with Mr McCartney was easily settled,' Arbor continued comfortably. `He seemed staggered. It was incredible to him that any written document could be worth five thousand dollars. I found in Mr McCartney a great reader of sensational fiction…. My next move — you follow it, Inspector?’
`You got yourself, invited to Bitton's house,' grunted Dr Fell.;
`Not exactly. I had a standing invitation there. As a rule, I do not stay with friends when I am in London. I own a cottage in the suburbs, at which I often stay in summer; and in winter I go to a hotel. But, you see, I had to be tactful. He was a friend.
`I could not, of course, say to him, "Bitton, I think you have a manuscript of mine. Hand it over." That would have been distasteful, and, I thought, unnecessary. I expected him to show me his find voluntarily. Then I would lead up to my subject by gradual degrees, explain the unfortunate " circumstances, and make him a fair offer. '
`Now, Inspector — and gentlemen — that was difficult. You know Bitton? Ah. I knew him as a headstrong, stubborn, f and secretive fellow; rather a monomaniac on cherishing his discoveries. But I had not expected him to be quite so difficult. He did not speak of his find, as I had expected. For some days I hinted. I thought he was merely obtuse, and I fear my hints grew so outrageously broad that they puzzled even his family. But I am aware now that he must have known, and suspected me. He merely kept his mouth more tightly closed. It was distasteful to me — but I was coming to the point where I should have to claim my rights.' Under the law,' said Arbor, his leisurely voice growing suddenly harsh, `I was not required to pay him a penny for my property.!’
'The sale had not been concluded between you and Mc Cartney, had it?' inquired Dr Fell.;
Arbor shrugged. `Virtually. I had my option. Of course, I was not willing to hand over five thousand dollars on a manuscript I had never seen, even on the word of Dr Robertson; and a manuscript, besides, which might conceivably have been lost or destroyed by the time I came to claim it. However, to all intents and purposes it was mine.'
`Did you tell Bitton you were the owner, then?'
Arbor's nostrils tightened with anger. `Obviously not. Or would he have been so mad as to do what he did — seek the aid of the police when it was stolen?
`But before that. Consider the difficulty of my position. I began to see that, if I asked him outright, this — ah — this, lunatic might make all sorts of trouble. He would probably refuse, and question my rights. My rights could be proved; but it would mean delay and, all sorts of unpleasantness. He might maintain he, had lost the manuscript, and that would be worse.'
Mr Arbor's aura conveyed an acute spasm of anguish at this thought. General Mason coughed, and Dr Fell contrived to twist his moustache with a hand that hid his mouth.
`And at this juncture,' continued the other, `everything blew up. The manuscript was stolen. And I, you notice, I was the loser.
`Now, gentlemen.' He sat back and gazed about, fixing the eye of each in turn. `Now you will understand why I have gone into such thorough explanations, and why I wish to establish the ownership of that manuscript. Bitton undoubtedly thinks I stole it. I am not particularly concerned with what he thinks; but I cannot have the police thinking so.’
`I was away over the week-end during which the manuscript was stolen, and I arrived back only this morning. I was visiting Mr and Mrs Spengler, some friends of mine who live close to that cottage of my own I mentioned, at Golders Green. "Ah," says the cunning Bitton; "an alibi." And he has the impudence to telephone them in order to confirm it. "Ah," he says then; "it was done by somebody in his employ."
`Now, all this might be at least remotely possible in Bitton's wild imagination. But why, in the name of Heaven, should I go to all the trouble of stealing a manuscript which was already mine?'
There was a silence. Hadley, who had perched himself on the edge of the desk, nodded.
`I suppose, Mr Arbor,' he said, `you are prepared to prove this claim of yours?'
`Naturally. An agreement between Mr McCartney and myself was drawn up by my lawyer in New York and duly attested. A copy of this agreement is now filed with my solicitors in London.'
Hadley lifted his shoulders. `In that case, Mr Arbor, there is nothing more to, be said. Sir William simply took a chance that his discovery would go unnoted.' Hadley spoke coldly and levelly. `Even if you had abstracted the manuscript, to avoid trouble at Sir William's hands, the law could do nothing.’
Mr Arbor's aura radiated a sort of sputter, like a muffled wireless-key.
`We'll let that pass,' be observed, with an effort. `The absurdity of your suggestion is as evident as — ah your somewhat noticeable manners. That a man of my well-known standing. 'The aura sputtered again. Then Mr Arbor recovered himself. 'It would amuse some, of my associates in New York,' he said. `Ha, ha. Ha. Very amusing. But, as I think we agreed to begin with, perfectly legal.'
'Not if it concerned.a murder,' said Dr Fell.
There was an abrupt and rather terrible silence.
The doctor had spoken in a casual tone. In the stillness they could all hear the last rattle of coals falling in the grate, and, very faintly, the thin sudden note of a bugle from the parade-ground.
Arbor had been gathering his coat about him to rise, and his hand jerked on the lapel. `I–I beg your pardon?' he said.
`I said, "Not if it concerned a murder,"' Dr Fell repeated in a louder voice. `Don't get up, Mr Arbor. Were going to talk about the murder now. That doesn't surprise you, does it?' His half-closed eyes opened wide. `Don't you know who was murdered, Mr Arbor?' he pursued.
`I–I heard them talking over there,' the other answered, regarding his interrogator fixedly.;'I think I heard somebody say his name was Drakell or Driscoll or something of the sort.'
`The name was Driscoll, Philip Driscoll. He was Sir William Bitton's nephew.'