寓所谜案30

Twenty-nine

I don’t know how long I sat there—only a few minutes in reality, I sup-pose. Yet it seemed as though an eternity had passed when I heard thedoor open and, turning my head, looked up to see Melchett entering theroom.

He stared at Hawes asleep in his chair, then turned to me.

“What’s this, Clement? What does it all mean?”

Of the two letters in my hand I selected one and passed it to him. Heread it aloud in a low voice.

“My dear Clement,—It is a peculiarly unpleasant thingthat I have to say. After all, I think I prefer writing it. Wecan discuss it at a later date. It concerns the recent pecula-tions. I am sorry to say that I have satisfied myself beyondany possible doubt as to the identity of the culprit. Painfulas it is for me to have to accuse an ordained priest of thechurch, my duty is only too painfully clear. An examplemust be made and—”

He looked at me questioningly. At this point the writing tailed off in anundistinguishable scrawl where death had overtaken the writer’s hand.

Melchett drew a deep breath, then looked at Hawes.

“So that’s the solution! The one man we never even considered. And re-morse drove him to confess!”

“He’s been very queer lately,” I said.

Suddenly Melchett strode across to the sleeping man with a sharp ex-clamation. He seized him by the shoulder and shook him, at first gently,then with increasing violence.

“He’s not asleep! He’s drugged! What’s the meaning of this?”

His eye went to the empty cachet box. He picked it up.

“Has he—”

“I think so,” I said. “He showed me these the other day. Told me he’dbeen warned against an overdose. It’s his way out, poor chap. Perhaps thebest way. It’s not for us to judge him.”

But Melchett was Chief Constable of the County before anything else.

The arguments that appealed to me had no weight with him. He hadcaught a murderer and he wanted his murderer hanged.

In one second he was at the telephone, jerking the receiver up and downimpatiently until he got a reply. He asked for Haydock’s number. Thenthere was a further pause during which he stood, his ear to the telephoneand his eyes on the limp figure in the chair.

“Hallo—hallo—hallo—is that Dr. Haydock’s? Will the doctor come roundat once to High Street? Mr. Hawes. It’s urgent … what’s that?… Well, whatnumber is it then?… Oh, sorry.”

He rang off, fuming.

“Wrong number, wrong number—always wrong numbers! And a man’slife hanging on it. HALLO—you gave me the wrong number … Yes—don’twaste time—give me three nine—nine, not five.”

Another period of impatience—shorter this time.

“Hallo—is that you, Haydock? Melchett speaking. Come to 19 High Streetat once, will you? Hawes has taken some kind of overdose. At once, man,it’s vital.”

He rang off, strode impatiently up and down the room.

“Why on earth you didn’t get hold of the doctor at once, Clement, I can-not think. Your wits must have all gone wool gathering.”

Fortunately it never occurs to Melchett that anyone can possibly havedifferent ideas on conduct to those he holds himself. I said nothing, and hewent on:

“Where did you find this letter?”

“Crumpled on the floor—where it had fallen from his hand.”

“Extraordinary business—that old maid was right about its being thewrong note we found. Wonder how she tumbled to that. But what an assthe fellow was not to destroy this one. Fancy keeping it—the most dam-aging evidence you can imagine!”

“Human nature is full of inconsistencies.”

“If it weren’t, I doubt if we should ever catch a murderer! Sooner orlater they always do some fool thing. You’re looking very under theweather, Clement. I suppose this has been the most awful shock to you?”

“It has. As I say, Hawes has been queer in his manner for some time, butI never dreamed—”

“Who would? Hallo, that sounds like a car.” He went across to the win-dow, pushing up the sash and leaning out. “Yes, it’s Haydock all right.”

A moment later the doctor entered the room.

In a few succinct words, Melchett explained the situation.

Haydock is not a man who ever shows his feelings. He merely raised hiseyebrows, nodded, and strode across to his patient. He felt his pulse,raised the eyelid and looked intently at the eye.

Then he turned to Melchett.

“Want to save him for the gallows?” he asked. “He’s pretty far gone, youknow. It will be touch and go, anyway. I doubt if I can bring him round.”

“Do everything possible.”

“Right.”

He busied himself with the case he had brought with him, preparing ahypodermic injection which he injected into Hawes’s arm. Then he stoodup.

“Best thing is to run him into Much Benham—to the hospital there. Giveme a hand to get him down to the car.”

We both lent our assistance. As Haydock climbed into the driving seat,he threw a parting remark over his shoulder.

“You won’t be able to hang him, you know, Melchett.”

“You mean he won’t recover?”

“May or may not. I didn’t mean that. I mean that even if he does recover—well, the poor devil wasn’t responsible for his actions. I shall give evid-ence to that effect.”

“What did he mean by that?” asked Melchett as we went upstairs again.

I explained that Hawes had been a victim of encephalitis lethargica.

“Sleepy sickness, eh? Always some good reason nowadays for everydirty action that’s done. Don’t you agree?”

“Science is teaching us a lot.”

“Science be damned—I beg your pardon, Clement; but all this nambypambyism annoys me. I’m a plan man. Well, I suppose we’d better have alook round here.”

But at this moment there was an interruption—and a most amazing one.

The door opened and Miss Marple walked into the room.

She was pink and somewhat flustered, and seemed to realize our condi-tion of bewilderment.

“So sorry—so very sorry—to intrude—good evening, Colonel Melchett.

As I say, I am so sorry, but hearing that Mr. Hawes was taken ill, I felt Imust come round and see if I couldn’t do something.”

She paused. Colonel Melchett was regarding her in a somewhat disgus-ted fashion.

“Very kind of you, Miss Marple,” he said dryly. “But no need to trouble.

How did you know, by the way?”

It was the question I had been yearning to ask!

“The telephone,” explained Miss Marple. “So careless with their wrongnumbers, aren’t they? You spoke to me first, thinking I was Dr. Haydock.

My number is three five.”

“So that was it!” I exclaimed.

There is always some perfectly good and reasonable explanation forMiss Marple’s omniscience.

“And so,” she continued. “I just came round to see if I could be of anyuse.”

“Very kind of you,” said Melchett again, even more dryly this time. “Butnothing to be done. Haydock’s taken him off to hospital.”

“Actually to hospital? Oh, that’s a great relief! I am so very glad to hearit. He’ll be quite safe there. When you say ‘nothing to be done,’ you don’tmean that he won’t recover?”

“It’s very doubtful,” I said.

Miss Marple’s eyes had gone to the cachet box.

“I suppose he took an overdose?” she said.

Melchett, I think, was in favour of being reticent. Perhaps I might havebeen under other circumstances. But my discussion of the case with MissMarple was too fresh in my mind for me to have the same view, though Imust admit that her rapid appearance on the scene and eager curiosity re-pelled me slightly.

“You had better look at this,” I said, and handed her Protheroe’s unfin-ished letter.

She took it and read it without any appearance of surprise.

“You had already deduced something of the kind, had you not?” I asked.

“Yes—yes, indeed. May I ask you, Mr. Clement, what made you comehere this evening? That is a point which puzzles me. You and ColonelMelchett—not at all what I should have expected.”

I explained the telephone call and that I believed I had recognizedHawes’s voice. Miss Marple nodded thoughtfully.

“Very interesting. Very providential — if I may use the term. Yes, itbrought you here in the nick of time.”

“In the nick of time for what?” I said bitterly.

Miss Marple looked surprised.

“To save Mr. Hawes’s life, of course.”

“Don’t you think,” I said, “that it might be better if Hawes didn’t re-cover? Better for him—better for everyone. We know the truth now and—”

I stopped—for Miss Marple was nodding her head with such a peculiarvehemence that it made me lose the thread of what I was saying.

“Of course,” she said. “Of course! That’s what he wants you to think!

That you know the truth—and that it’s best for everyone as it is. Oh, yes, itall fits in—the letter, and the overdose, and poor Mr. Hawes’s state ofmind and his confession. It all fits in—but it’s wrong….”

We stared at her.

“That’s why I am so glad Mr. Hawes is safe—in hospital—where no onecan get at him. If he recovers, he’ll tell you the truth.”

“The truth?”

“Yes—that he never touched a hair of Colonel Protheroe’s head.”

“But the telephone call,” I said. “The letter — the overdose. It’s all soclear.”

“That’s what he wants you to think. Oh, he’s very clever! Keeping the let-ter and using it this way was very clever indeed.”

“Who do you mean,” I said, “by ‘he’?”

“I mean the murderer,” said Miss Marple.

She added very quietly:

“I mean Mr. Lawrence Redding….”

 

分享到：