Sir Lyon nodded. “You saw it. Then, when he began to use it, it disappeared?”
“Not exactly disappeared, Sir Lyon,” Lord Ashley said. “It… it flickered. I… I find it difficult to explain. It is simply that I couldn’t keep my eyes on it. But I knew it was there.”
“Thank you, Commander,” said Sir Lyon. “Now, if the Court will permit, I will give my testimony. A really powerful sorcerer, such as Master Sir James or Master Sean O Lochlainn—”
“Or yourself?” Lord Darcy asked suddenly.
Sir Lyon smiled. “…Or myself, if you insist, my lord Advocate. Any powerful sorcerer could have made his sword so completely invisible as to be totally undetectable.”
“Thank you,” said Lord Darcy. “The question I wish to put before the Court is this: Is it possible that a man of Master Ewen’s limited Talent — even though it was of Master grade — could have acted out a rite of Black Magic and then covered it up to such an extent that neither Master Sean O Lochlainn nor the combined Talents of the other Masters of the Guild at the Convention could have failed to discover what he had done?”
“Absolutely impossible, my lord,” said Sir Lyon firmly.
Lord Darcy glanced back at the Benedictine priest. “What say you, Reverend Father?”
“I agree completely with Grand Master Sir Lyon,” Father Patrique said quietly.
Lord Darcy turned to look at the Marquis of London. “Is there any need at this point, my lord, to call to the Court’s attention the testimony of Master Sean O Lochlainn, Master Sorcerer, that he could detect no Black Magic involved in the murder of Master Sir James Zwinge?”
“You may proceed, my lord. If such evidence becomes necessary, Master Sean’s testimony will be called for if and when it is needed.”
“Thank you, my lord. We have” — Lord Darcy paused and looked the group over again — “then the evidence before us that Sir James Zwinge was killed by ordinary physical means. There was no Black Magic involved in the murder of Sir James Zwinge, and yet the evidence shows that he was alone in his room when he was stabbed at approximately nine o’clock and when he died half an hour later. Now, how could that be?
“I put it to you that we are far too prone to accept a magical explanation, when a simply material explanation will do.”
He leaned back in his chair, but before he could say anything, Sir Thomas Leseaux raised his hand. “If I may, my lord, I should like to say that any theory of this murder which includes thaumaturgical processes would be mathematically impossible — but I do not see how a man could have been killed in the middle of a locked room by ordinary material means.”
“That is why I must explain the Crown’s case,” said Lord Darcy. “Although, I repeat, the evidence is all before you.
“The point we have all tended to overlook is that a man need not be in the same room with another in order to kill him. There was no one else in Goodman Georges Barbour’s room when he was stabbed, true — and yet he fell so near the door that it is not only quite possible but very probable that someone standing in the hall stabbed him.”
“Come now,” said Commander Lord Ashley, “that may be possible with Goodman Georges, but it certainly does not apply to Master Sir James.”
“Oh, but it does, My Lord Commander,” Lord Darcy said. “Given the proper implement, Master Sir James might easily have been stabbed from the hallway outside his room.”
“But — through a locked door?” asked Lord John Quetzal.
“Why not?” asked Lord Darcy. “Locked doors are not impermeable. The doors to the rooms in the Royal Steward are very old — couple of centuries or more. Look at the size of the key required to open them. And then look at the size of the keyhole required to admit such a large, heavy key. Although the door to Sir James’ room was locked, its keyhole was easily large enough to admit a one-inch wide blade.”
Lord Darcy looked at Master Sean O Lochlainn. “You have a question, Master Sean?”
“That I do, my lord. I agree with you that the blade that stabbed Master Sir James came in through the keyhole. At your suggestion, I took scrapings from the keyhole and found traces of Sir James’ blood. But” — he smiled a little — “if your lordship will pardon me, I suggest a demonstration of how a man could be given a high downward stab through a keyhole.”
“I agree,” said Lord Darcy. “First, I must direct the Court’s attention to the peculiar bloodstain near the door. A full description of that bloodstain appears in the written record.”
My lord the Marquis nodded. “It does. Proceed, my lord Advocate.”
Lord Darcy turned and looked to his right at Lord Bontriomphe. “Would you ask Sir Frederique to bring in the door?”
Lord Bontriomphe reached behind him and pulled a cord. The rear door opened and Sir Frederique Bruleur, followed by an assistant, brought in a heavy oaken door. They placed it in the center of the room between the area of yellow chairs and the Marquis’ desk, and held it upright.
“This demonstration is necessary,” said Lord Darcy. “This door is exactly similar to the one on Sir James’ room. It is taken from another room of the Royal Steward Hotel. Can all of you see both sides of it? Good.
“Master Sean, would you do me the favor of playing the part of your late colleague?”
“Of course, my lord.”
“Excellent. Now, you will stand on” — he gestured — “that side of the door, so that the door handle and keyhole are on your left. For the purposes of this demonstration, I shall play the part of the murderer.” He picked up a sheet of paper from Lord Bontriomphe’s desk. “Now, let’s see. Lord Ashley, might I borrow your sword?”
Without a word, Commander Ashley drew his narrow-bladed Naval sword from its sheath and presented it to Lord Darcy.
“Thank you, Commander. You have been most helpful throughout this entire investigation.
“Now, Master Sean, if you will take your place, we shall enact this small play. You must all assume that what you are about to see actually occurred, but you must not assume that the words I use were those that were actually used. There may have been slight variations.”
Master Sean stood on one side of the door. Lord Darcy walked up to the other and rapped.
“Who is there?” said Master Sean.
“Special courier from the Admiralty,” said Lord Darcy in a high-pitched voice that did not sound like his own.
“You were supposed to pick up the envelope at the desk,” said Master Sean.
“I know, Sir James,” said Lord Darcy in the same high-pitched voice, “but this is a special message from Captain Smollett.”
“Oh, very well,” said Master Sean, “just push it under the door.”
“I am to deliver it only into your hands,” said Lord Darcy, and with that he inserted the tip of the sword blade into the keyhole.
“Just push it under,” said Master Sean, “and I’ll take it. It will have been delivered into my hand.”
“Very well, Sir James,” said Lord Darcy. He knelt and, still keeping the tip of the sword blade in the keyhole, he pushed the paper underneath the door.
Master Sean, on the other side, bent over to pick it up.
And, at that point, Lord Darcy thrust forward with the sword.
There was a metallic scrape as the sword point touched Master Sean’s chest.
Immediately Lord Darcy pulled the sword back. Master Sean gasped realistically, staggered back several feet, then fell to the floor. Lord Darcy pulled the paper from beneath the door and stood up.
“Master Sean,” he said, “happens to be wearing an excellent shirt of chain mail — which, unfortunately, Master Sir James was not.
“You see, then, what happened. Master Sir James, bending over to pick up the proffered envelope, presented his left breast to the keyhole.