Craig succeeded this time in interrupting me. “I never saw him before,” he said. “He told my father that he knew a man I had known in school. And he could have known him. If he went to school in America…”
“Oh, he did,” cried Anna interrupting, too. “He did. That was why he knew so much. He spoke such good English; nobody ever would have dreamed that he spoke German even better. He-that was why it was all my fault, Mr. Craig. He knew all about the family. I used to write to him, since he was very young. I told him. That was why he came to Balifold. He went back to Germany, you see, just before the war began. He worked for the Bund movement here. I didn’t know that, then. He knew from me, though, how Mr. Brent felt about Germany. He knew a man called Frederic Miller, and he told him that Mr. Brent might donate some money. That was before the war; that was before Mr. Brent changed and no longer liked German ideas. This Frederic Miller, he went back to Germany, too. But Peter knew that there had been checks. He knew Mr. Brent wouldn’t want anybody to know what he had done. It’s all my fault,” she began to sob again. “I started it. I told him about the money and the family. So when he escaped from the submarine and managed to get on land unobserved, he remembered me and the Brents. He came to Balifold and waited till I went to town on my day off and found me; and he asked me all about the family. Then he asked me about friends of Mr. Craig’s and I remembered a name. He really had gone to school in America, and he was so American! Are you going to arrest me? It’s all my fault. But I was afraid. You see, I knew there would be trouble. I knew he wanted something. He-he asked me how Mr. Brent felt about Germany, and he said he ought to be able to get some money out of him… But I tried to stop him. I met him in the meadow one night and told him I was going to the police and tell them who he was. He wouldn’t let me. He had a gun. I don’t think he meant to kill me; he only meant to frighten me. But I ran; in the darkness I ran into the trees and then he… The nurse was up above, her figure showed, moving against the light. He must have thought it was me. But he didn’t mean to kill her. Or me. He didn’t mean to shoot to kill. It was only to frighten me. So I wouldn’t talk. And I didn’t. I was afraid.”
I turned to Nugent. “What was his motive then?”
“He talked a little,” said Nugent. “Before he was taken away. Not much, but he will talk more. His motive was to save himself; that was the first motive. The Brents were an influential family; if he could hole in at the Brent house for awhile, and get hold of some money, he could escape without being interned. As it was, he was in danger. He met Brent at the inn, and managed to introduce himself as a friend of a friend of Craig’s. Craig wasn’t here then. By the time he came Huber was well established and Craig accepted him as a friend of some fellow he knew.”
“Naturally,” said Craig. “I didn’t question it. My father seemed to be on quite good terms with him.”
“They were on good terms at first. I believe that Huber thought he could still play on your father’s sympathies for Germany. He must have thought so, for eventually there was a blow-up. He came out in his true colors as a German sympathizer; your father said he was no longer a German sympathizer. They had words and your father threatened to kick him out and to expose him to the police. At least, I think that happened…”
“Yes,” said Anna. “Oh, yes. Then Peter asked Mrs. Brent to get hold of the checks if they had not been destroyed. They hadn’t been and she did.”
Alexia had been standing across the room, near the window. She said suddenly, “I was a fool. He… I did take the checks. But I kept them myself. I didn’t quite trust him.”
“How much exactly did you know of the murder, Mrs. Brent?” said Nugent.
“I knew nothing,” said Alexia instantly. “Nothing at all.” She walked slowly toward the door. “May I go now, Lieutenant?” she said. “I’m sure I have nothing to tell you and I’d like to go home…”
“Certainly,” said Nugent unexpectedly. “A man is waiting outside to take you. Oh, and by the way, Mrs. Brent, please give him your entire statement. Thank you.” He opened the door for her and said coolly, “I’ll see you later, Mrs. Brent.”
He closed the door just as a uniformed trooper in the hall started forward.
But it was a week, as it happened, before Alexia was prevailed upon to turn state’s evidence, and she never admitted complicity in the murders, and there was no way, then or ever, to prove what she had known. It was fairly clear though that she must have known, or guessed Peter’s part in it. Certainly she had been in the meadow the night Chivery was killed. Certainly she had taken and hidden the Frederic Miller checks which Peter (telling Conrad Brent that they were actually in his own possession) held as a club over Conrad’s head when Conrad discovered Peter’s real identity and threatened to expose him. We never knew whether or not Peter admitted his real identity and the manner of his arrival at Balifold; but certainly Conrad guessed it from some chance allusion of Peter’s or some word or look. The clipping convinced us of that. But from that time on it was, as Nugent and Craig had said, kill or be killed. For Conrad couldn’t bear to let anyone know that (before the war and mistakenly) he had donated money to the Bund. And added to that was his growing suspicions that Alexia had fallen in love with Peter. Jealousy, pride, and fear, all had combined to make an overwhelming motive for murder.
I never thought, though, that he intended to kill Peter Huber. I thought that he intended to wound him, to get hold of the checks, and then to turn him over to the police. But then he shot Craig instead. And then Peter knew that he must act.
But the wind was rather taken out of my sails when I discovered that both Nugent and Craig had that day begun strongly to suspect Peter Huber. Nugent, because the Hollywood address Peter had given him was a real address but no one had heard of Peter Huber. And Craig because Alexia was in love with Peter and he had proved it, after a fashion, by asking Alexia to marry him. At first he had merely wished to protect Drue from Alexia. Alexia had the whip hand and hated Drue, and it seemed safer for Drue for him to appear to fall in with Alexia’s claims upon him. He didn’t think that Alexia was really in love with him; he thought that her pretension was merely pretension and that therefore there must be a motive for it. And what better motive than in covering the real state of affairs because there was danger if the real state of affairs came to light. Which summed up to Peter Huber.
When Craig couldn’t get to the Chivery cottage without help, he thought of trying to trap Peter.
“Chivery had told me of the paper in his book; but not enough. I was afraid to tell the police for fear that, somehow, it implicated Drue. Then I thought that if Peter Huber was the murderer he would want that paper. I don’t know how Huber knew that Chivery had it; perhaps we’ll never know, but my guess is that he adroitly pumped Chivery; he’d missed the paper, of course; he knew where he must have left it; somehow he decided that Chivery had found it, as he had. So he had to get rid of Chivery; Claud was always inept and blundering; perhaps, somehow, he blundered there. At any rate, he was killed. And I knew that if I told the nurse-Miss Keate, she would come instantly to get the paper.”
I must say I was taken aback. “You…” I began.
Craig had a definite expression of apology-as well he might. “I thought you’d be safe,” he explained. “I detained Peter after you’d gone. I kept him until I thought you’d had plenty of time to get the paper. Then I got up and followed Peter. Sure enough, he came straight here. I was a little behind him; I was stronger, once I got started, than I thought I’d be, but still I was pretty wobbly. But Nugent…”