“But where I had the advantage of you, of course, was in knowing beforehand that it could not be Mr. Alda himself. We preserve his quietness here, but that is not the same thing as keeping his secrets. He lives a life in which not even an Englishman could find anything underhand or controversial, he has nothing to hide and nothing to fear, and he would not care how many English people came investigating him, provided they didn’t hinder his work. For the same reasons, it could not be any other Czech or Slovak, official or unofficial.”
He had reached this point, when there was a knock on the outer door. Mirek got up from his place and looked enquiringly at his chief.
“Let him in,” said Ondrejov, settling his solid body more complacently in his wooden arm-chair, and his chin more contentedly into his chest. “Let’s see who’s the first.”
Every head turned to watch the doorway; and into it, all the more belligerently for his considerable inward disquiet, marched Paul Newcombe. He looked quietly round the circle, caught the excitement that burned in them all, and was alarmed, caught the glow and animation of Tossa’s face, and was reassured. He halted, uncertain what to make of them.
“You left a message for me at the hotel. I was only out for a walk.”
“Come in, Mr. Newcombe, come in. Mirek, find Mr. Newcombe a chair. You’re just in time,” pursued Ondrejov amiably, “to hear me conclude that the only person who could possibly have an interest in preventing an Englishman from finding Mr. Alda was someone connected with the circumstances in which he left England, someone who had gained by that case, and stood to lose by any reappraisal. In fact, another Englishman.”
“I know absolutely nothing about this affair,” Paul said loudly and aggressively, his bull head lowered in an instant. “I came from Vienna only because of Tossa, and that’s all I care about. But I can account for every minute I’ve spent in this country.”
“Ah, but you need not, Mr. Newcombe. Sit down, and be easy. You were never a very likely suspect. Now if it had been Terrell’s murder, I might have wondered… But in any case you have accounted for yourself quite adequately,” said Ondrejov, grinning like a happy demon, “simply by being here—and alive.”
“We have, then, our hypothetical Englishman. Can we give him any distinguishing features? A face? Not exactly, but an office or a status, perhaps, yes. He was connected with Mr. Alda’s life and work in England. He gained by his leaving England. That, at least, was my theory.
“Now, thanks to Miss Barber, I know much more about Welland, how he came into the case, what his motives were, what sort of man he was. We know that he went to the Marrion Institute, and proposed that he, being here on the spot, should investigate what he believed to be Terrell’s murder. He saw it as something they owed to the dead man, and to justice itself. Now I ask you, how could any of those in authority openly deprecate his zeal? They could not. In any case it seems he would not have agreed to drop his quest. I invite you to look closely at Mr. Welland, for I think he is worth it. There is every sign that he was a good, conscientious and honest man. And what follows? He would have insisted on investigating to the bitter end, and I think he would have made the truth known, no matter what that truth turned out to be. Which would not have suited X at all, for X alone knew exactly what was there to be uncovered.”
“I hope,” said Alda drily, “that you can make that good. For I tell you plainly, I am still in the dark.”
“Well, let me theorise, it was all I could do then, and what Miss Barber has told me since fits in with my theory. As for you, you do not know only because you do not care. You will see!
“Given, then, a devoted avenger who means to know the truth, and will not be stopped by persuasion, and cannot for shame’s sake be stopped by a prohibition, what is to be done? Use him! Let him find Alda, and then both he and Alda can be eliminated, and there’s an end of it. Let him find Alda, yes, but only if it can be ensured that he shall report his whereabouts only in the right quarter. It seemed to me that X must be in a position to know all about that interview at the Institute, and also to give orders to Welland concerning this case, to say in effect: ‘You will preserve absolute secrecy, reporting only to me’, and be trusted and obeyed. ‘Security’ is such a useful word, and can blanket so many personal meannesses.
“Now see what Miss Barber has told us about the last words Welland ever spoke to her. ‘He couldn’t have known…’ He? Obviously the expected he, the defecting scientist, the one who was thought to have things to hide, and had nothing, except his personal privacy. ‘—no one else knew…’ No one else but the one, or the ones, to whom he had already reported, the ones who had the right to know! He said it himself, and then he understood what it meant, and he cried: ‘Impossible!’ Impossible that his superior, the person, or one of the persons, for whom he was working, could also be his murderer. But he knew then that it was not impossible, that it was the truth.
“Such was my theory. And if this was true, then both Miss Barber and Mr. Felse were in danger after that death, simply because they had been present, and he might have confided something to them. Fortunately the circumstances made it possible for me to place Miss Barber in safety by holding her on suspicion. You would have made things much more difficult for me if you had told the truth the first time, but luckily you did not. And this, again, enabled me to inform the British Embassy that she was being held. You will surely understand how very curious I was to see exactly who would turn up to take charge of her…”
It was not a knock this time, only the sudden, rather high-pitched, imperious English voice in the outer room. Ondrejov drew in a long, contented breath, knowing this one, and knowing him the most expendable.
“Another chair, Mirek.” He rubbed his hands; how convenient that he had been able to secure all the time he wanted, simply by deflecting Major Kriebel’s most avid attention to the salvage operations already under way in Zbojská Dolina. “Ah, Counsellor! Come in, come in! You received my message, then.”
Charles Freeling closed the door after him with quiet precision, to show how perfectly he was in control of both his own reactions and the right manipulation of inanimate things.
“I should have been here earlier, but I had some trouble hiring a car. I preferred to come in person. Am I to take it that the matter is now cleared up, and Miss Barber no longer under restraint? Or is it intended to charge her?”
He took his stand, significantly, at her side, even laid his fingers delicately on her shoulder in reassurance. She did not even notice; she was clinging to Dominic’s hand, but she was watching Ondrejov, with wonder and delight, her newly released and exuberant senses sharing his slightly mischievous but utterly human pleasure in his game.
“No, there will be no charge against her, Mr. Freeling. I am in process of uncovering the murderer of Mr. Welland, by elimination. I hope you will join us for the remainder of my exposition. We had reached the point of demonstrating that the murderer must be an Englishman, and one in a position of authority.”
Freeling’s eyebrows soared. Ondrejov was meant to notice them, and to appreciate, if it was not beyond him, the neat, satirical smile that accompanied their elevation. “I hope, I do hope, Lieutenant, that I am not your man?”
It was an attractive idea, in its way, and even just barely possible. Was it too much to conceive that a devoted and orthodox public servant might feel called upon to wipe out a less devoted and less orthodox one, in order to keep a discreditable case from being reviewed to England’s embarrassment? It would have made a nice ending. A pity!