Twist paused for a moment to re-light his pipe and continued:
‘Harvey Thorne was found dying on the door sill of his room, mad with rage and pain. The victim of a heart attack, according to the doctors. I draw your attention to the fact that the testimony about the wet carpet was not provided by the family, but by the domestic staff.’
Twist shot the inspector a mischievous glance.
‘And here I must confess, Hurst, that you were a great help.’ The inspector puffed out his chest, despite being perplexed. ‘Thanks to you throwing one of my envelopes onto the fire and then spilling tea on my tablecloth, I found the solution to that particular puzzle, which was staggeringly simple.
‘Let’s pose the problem another way: what could have affected the peaceful great-uncle Harvey in such a way that his heart gave out? His death threats are also very significant… Do you still not see? Come, come, my friends, there’s only one possibility: a member of his family, tired of his eccentricities, decides to destroy all his manuscripts by making a huge bonfire of them. Can you imagine the shock? The work of so many years, so many sleepless nights, his life’s work burning before his eyes! Try to put yourself in the place of that poor, unfortunate man coming back to his room to find his entire life’s work going up in flames!
‘We know from Brian that Harvey kept a supply of water in his room to help him replenish the large glass he used to concentrate his thoughts. Water, which he uses in vain to try and extinguish the roaring flames. Not a single trace of the manuscripts remains in the grate. The carpet, on the other hand, on which he’d splashed a lot of water in his attempts to fight the fire, is wet. Our man is heartbroken, literally by the mortal blow administered by one, if not all, of his relatives.
‘Mad with pain, impotent rage and vengeful fury, he rushes to the door, where he collapses in front of the others who arrive and see him there on the floor. He finds the strength to put a curse on them and threaten that they will perish in the same way they have sinned, that is to say, by fire. I don’t expect those responsible had wished for him to die, but that’s what had happened. An awkward situation. Very awkward.
‘They hastily remove all the ashes from the grate, which could betray what they’d done, but they can’t remove the wet patch on the carpet. That will be seen later by the maid, but the family won’t mention it, for obvious reasons. And that’s all there is to say about that event.
‘Now let’s move on to Brian’s predictions. There’s no doubt the man possesses some sort of gift, which I don’t wish to disparage. There are too many troubling testimonies. From my long experience, I believe that most clairvoyants are fine psychologists and remarkable observers who have found a way to exploit those qualities for money. Brian’s case is different. It’s more of an instinct, that’s to say his senses are very sharp, but he doesn’t do any analysis, simply storing away scores of little details about each person who consults him. Women, for example—.’
‘Here we go. Why not say we’re all idiots?’ protested Bessie.
Dr. Twist smiled and said gently:
‘I’d call that female intuition, dear Miss Bessie. But back to Brian. One thing that’s easy to notice, whether one’s clairvoyant or not, is budding love. The two principals are not even aware of it themselves, more often than not. But there’s a special atmosphere about them which any sensitive person can detect.
‘So that if someone announces that the two turtledoves are soon going to experience great love, that in itself creates the opportunity for them to confess their love because it’s written in the stars. What do you think, Miss Blount?’
Bessie responded with a cynical shrug of her shoulders and a slight nod of agreement.
‘So much for the first prediction,’ continued Twist, bucked up by the reaction. ‘The second one, announcing a misfortune to befall Harris Thorne, is likewise perfectly understandable in view of the circumstances. Brian is convinced that his great-uncle’s room is cursed and that its reopening will bring on a terrible cataclysm. So when his brother announces he’s going to turn it into a study, it’s hardly surprising that Brian warns him. Not to have done so would have been more of a surprise, quite frankly. At that point in time we know that relations between Harris and his wife were already stormy and they frequently had violent quarrels. At the centre of the debate was Dr. Meadows, whom the master of the house suspected of trying to seduce Sarah. All of which created considerable tension, and what was inevitably due to happen, happened.
‘The other day, my friend Hurst observed that: “To see or not to see, that is the question.” Judicious words because, while we were all lost in conjecture about what must have frightened Sarah Thorne to such a point, she hadn’t in fact, seen anything at all. She’d stared at the carpet and she’d seen nothing. It’s been proven that there was nobody in the room at that moment. Nobody, absolutely nobody. I won’t burden you with all the theories that went through my mind as I tried to prove the contrary, explaining how an intruder could have got out of there. I thought of a dozen ways, but none of them satisfactory. So I started to examine the only hypothesis left: Sarah hadn’t in fact seen anything. So, then, why had she fainted? I could only think of one explanation: she was expecting to see something in that spot, but it wasn’t there any more. Needless to say, it would have to be something of crucial importance: a question of life or death.’
Twist stopped to pick up a folder from the coffee table and pull out a sheet of paper.
‘This summarises everyone’s movements during that tragic evening. And there’s something on here which has never been cleared up. At 9.05, Sarah Thorne and you, Miss Blount, are walking near the front gate of the property when you see an unidentified person who flees. Is there anyone here who can shed light on this?’ asked Twist, staring hard at Patrick.
‘It was I,’ confessed Blue Reed, turning scarlet. ‘But I swear it’s of no importance, at least as far as it concerns any of this business. I…we…no importance.’
Dr. Twist gave a half-mischievous, half-tender smile which briefly cheered Paula up. Then he continued:
‘These notes were taken last year and already, at that time, something struck me. Something jumped out at me. Listen. “8.00… Noises of quarrel upstairs start to be heard.” That would be Harris and Sarah, who were upstairs in the study. Everyone heard them. Then: “8.30… The loud noises have stopped.” Shortly after that: “8.45 The Thornes go out. They’ve hardly left when the quarrel starts again. Mrs. Thorne returns overwrought and goes to salon. Husband rushes in and goes upstairs.”
‘No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t think of any explanation for such behaviour. They quarrel for half an hour, make up for the next quarter of an hour, go out without saying a word, and hardly has the door closed behind them when they start again. They haven’t had time to exchange one word and the dispute starts again, even worse. But nobody explodes from one second to the next, except in the theatre, and even then… To be frank, I found such behaviour to be very suspicious and… theatrical is the word. By the way, let me remind you that a wig and a false beard, both red, had disappeared from Sarah’s theatrical accessories.
‘But I’m not going to leave you in suspense as to what really happened. The quarrel between the Thornes stops suddenly at half past eight. Tragically, as it happens. Harris is a violent man, but Sarah doesn’t allow herself to be bullied. He shakes her, she pushes him away. He falls down. His head hits the base of the fireplace. Dead. The doctors who examine the body later put the time of death as just before nine. They’re mistaken, of course, their diagnosis having been affected by the fact that Harris Thorne had been seen alive at ten minutes to nine.