“The intention was, of course, that Mr. Bendix should have Sir Eustace so connected in his mind with the chocolates that if suspicion should ever arise against any definite person, that of Mr. Bendix would be directed before long to Sir Eustace himself. For the fact of his wife's intrigue would be bound to come to his knowledge, as indeed I understand privately that it has, causing him naturally the most intense distress.”
“So that's why he's been looking haggard,” exclaimed Roger.
“Without doubt,” Mr. Chitterwick agreed gravely. “It was a wicked plot. Sir Eustace, you see, was expected to be dead by then and incapable of denying his guilt, and such evidence as there was had been carefully arranged to point to murder and suicide on his part. That the police never suspected him (that is, so far as we know), simply shows that investigations do not always take the turn that the criminal expects. And in this case,” observed Mr. Chitterwick with some severity, “I think the criminal was altogether too subtle.”
“ If that was her very involved reason for ensuring the presence of Mr. Bendix at the Rainbow Club,” agreed Miss Dammers with some irony, “her subtlety certainly overreached itself.” It was evident that not only on the point of psychology did Miss Dammers not find herself ready to accept Mr. Chitterwick's conclusions.
“That, indeed, is exactly what happened,” Mr. Chitterwick pointed out mildly. "Oh, and while we are on the subject of the chocolates, I ought to add that the reason why they were sent to Sir Eustace's club was not only so that Mr. Bendix might be a witness of their arrival, but also, I should imagine, so that Sir Eustace would be sure to take them with him to his lunch - appointment. The murderess of course would be sufficiently conversant with his ways to know that he would almost certainly spend the morning at his club and go straight on to lunch from there; the odds were enormous that he would take the box of Mrs. Bendix's favourite chocolates with him.
“I think we may regard it as an instance of the criminal's habitual overlooking of some vital point that is to lead eventually to detection, that this murderess completely lost sight of the possibility that the appointment for lunch might be cancelled. She is a particularly ingenious criminal,” said Mr. Chitterwick with gentle admiration, “and yet even she is not immune from this failing.”
“Who is she, Mr. Chitterwick?” ingenuously asked Mrs. Fielder - Flemming.
Mr. Chitterwick answered her with a positively roguish smile. "Everybody else has withheld the name of the suspect till the right moment. Surely I may be allowed to do so too.
“Well, I think I have cleared up most of the doubtful points now. Mason's notepaper was used, I should say, because chocolates had been decided on as the vehicle and Mason's were the only chocolate manufacturing firm who were customers of Webster's. As it happened, this fitted very well, because it was always Mason's chocolates that Sir Eustace bought for his - er - his friends.”
Mrs. Fielder - Flemming looked puzzled. “Because Mason's were the only firm who were customers of Webster's? I'm afraid I don't understand.”
“Oh, I am explaining all this badly,” cried Mr. Chitterwick in much distress, assuming all blame for this obtuseness. “It had to be some firm on Webster's books, you see, because Sir Eustace has his notepaper printed at Webster's, and he was to be identified as having been in there recently if the purloined piece was ever connected with the sample book. Exactly, in fact, as Miss Dammers did.”
Roger whistled. “Oh, I see. You mean, we've all been putting the cart before the horse over this piece of notepaper? ”
“I'm afraid so,” regretted Mr. Chitterwick with earnestness. “Really, I'm very much afraid so.”
Insensibly opinion was beginning to turn in Mr. Chitterwick's favour. To say the least, he was being just as convincing as Miss Dammers had been, and that without subtle psychological reconstructions and references to 'values.' Only Miss Dammers herself remained outwardly sceptical; but that, after all, was only to be expected.
“Humph!” said Miss Dammers, sceptically.
“What about the motive, Mr. Chitterwick?” nodded Sir Charles with solemnity. “Jealousy, did you say? I don't think you've quite cleared up that yet, have you?”
“Oh, yes, of course.” Mr. Chitterwick actually blushed. “Dear me, I meant to make that clear right at the beginning. I am doing this badly. No, not jealousy, I'm inclined to fancy. Revenge. Or revenge at any rate so far as Sir Eustace, was concerned, and jealousy as regards Mrs. Bendix. From what I can understand, you see, this lady is - dear me,” said Mr. Chitterwick, in distress and embarrassment, “this is very delicate ground. But I must trespass on it. Well - though she had concealed it successfully from her friends, this lady had been very much in love with Sir Eustace, and become - er - had become,” concluded Mr. Chitterwick bravely, "his mistress. That was a long time ago.
"Sir Eustace was very much in love with her too, and though he used to amuse himself with other women it was understood by both that this was quite permissible so long as there was nothing serious. The lady, I should say, is very modern and broad - minded. It was understood, I believe, that he was to marry her as soon as he could induce his wife (who was quite ignorant of this affair) to divorce him. But when this was at last arranged, Sir Eustace found that owing to his extreme financial stringency, it was imperative that he should marry money instead.
“The lady was naturally very disappointed, but knowing that Sir Eustace did not care at all for - er - was not really in love with Miss Wildman and the marriage would only be, so far as he was concerned, one of convenience, she reconciled herself to the future and, quite seeing Sir Eustace's necessity, did not resent the introduction of Miss Wildman - whom indeed,” Mr. Chitterwick felt himself compelled to add, "she considered as quite negligible. It never occurred to her to doubt, you see, that the old arrangement would hold good, and she would still have Sir Eustace's real love with which to content herself.
"But then something quite unforeseen happened. Sir Eustace not only fell out of love with her. He fell unmistakably in love with Mrs. Bendix. Moreover, he succeeded in making her his mistress. That was quite recently, since he began to pay his addresses to Miss Wildman. And I think Miss Dammers has given us a true picture of the results in Mrs. Bendix's case if not in that of Sir Eustace.
“Well, you can see the position then, so far as this other lady was concerned. Sir Eustace was getting his divorce, marriage with the negligible Miss Wildman was now out of the question, but marriage with Mrs. Bendix, tortured in her conscience and seeing in divorce from her husband and marriage with Sir Eustace the only means of solving it - marriage with Mrs. Bendix, the real beloved, and even more eligible than Miss Wildman so far as the financial side was concerned, was to all appearances inevitable. I deprecate the use of hackneyed - quotations as much as anybody, but really I feel that if I permit myself to add that hell has no fury like - - ”
“Can you prove all this, Mr. Chitterwick?” interposed Miss Dammers coolly on the hackneyed quotation.
Mr. Chitterwick started. “I - I think so,” he said, though a little dubiously.
“I'm inclined to doubt it,” observed Miss Dammers briefly.
Somewhat uncomfortable, under Miss Dammers's sceptical eye, Mr. Chitterwick explained. “Well Sir Eustace, whose acquaintance I have been at some pains to cultivate recently. ...” Mr. Chitterwick shivered a little, as if the acquaintance had not been his ideal one. “Well, from a few indications that Sir Eustace has unconsciously given me. . . . That is to say, I was questioning him at lunch today as adroitly as I could, my conviction as to the murderer's identity having been formed at last, and he did unwittingly let fall a few trifles which ...”
“I doubt it,” repeated Miss Dammers bluntly. Mr. Chitterwick looked quite nonplussed.
Roger hurried to the rescue. “Well, shelving the matter of proof for the moment, Mr. Chitterwick, and assuming that your reconstruction of the events is just an imaginative one. You'd reached the point where marriage between Sir Eustace and Mrs. Bendix had become inevitable.”
“Yes; oh, yes,” said Mr. Chitterwick, with a grateful look towards his saviour. “And then of course, this lady formed her terrible decision and made her very clever plan. I think I've explained all that. Her old right of access to Sir Eustace's rooms enabled her to type the letter on his typewriter one day when she knew he was out. She is quite a good mimic, and it was easy for her when ringing up Mr. Bendix to imitate the sort of voice Miss Delorme might be expected to have.”
“Mr. Chitterwick, do any of us know this woman?” demanded Mrs. Fielder - Flemming abruptly.
Mr. Chitterwick looked more embarrassed than ever. “Er - yes,” he hesitated. “That is, you must remember it was she who smuggled Miss Dammers's two books into Sir Eustace's rooms too, you know.”
“ I shall have to be more careful about my friends in future, I see,” observed Miss Dammers, gently sarcastic.
“An ex - mistress of Sir Eustace's eh?” Roger murmured, conning over in his mind such names as he could remember from that lengthy list.
“Well, yes,” Mr. Chitterwick agreed. “But nobody has any idea of it. That is - Dear me, this is very difficult.” Mr. Chitterwick wiped his forehead with his handkerchief, and looked extremely unhappy.
“She'd managed to conceal it?” Roger pressed him.
“Er - yes. She'd certainly managed to conceal the true state of matters between them, very cleverly indeed. I don't think anybody suspected it at all.”
“They apparently didn't know each other?” Mrs. Fielder - Flemming persisted. “They were never seen about together? ”
“Oh, at one time they were,” said Mr. Chitterwick, looking in quite a hunted way from face to face. “Quite frequently. Then, I understand, they thought it better to pretend to have quarrelled and - and met only in secret.”
“Isn't it time you told us this woman's name, Chitterwick?” boomed Sir Charles down the table, looking judicial.
Mr. Chitterwick scrambled desperately out of this fire of questions. “It's very strange, you know, how murderers never will let well alone, isn't it?” he said breathlessly. “It happens so often. I'm quite sure I should never have stumbled on the truth in this case if the murderess had only left things as they were, in accordance with her own admirable plot. But this trying to fix the guilt on another person. . . . Really, from the intelligence displayed in this case, she ought to have been above that. Of course her plot had miscarried. Been only half - successful, I should say. But why not accept the partial failure? Why tempt Providence? Trouble was inevitable - inevitable - - ”
Mr. Chitterwick seemed by this time utterly distressed. He was shuffling his notes with extreme nervousness, and wriggling in his chair. The glances he kept darting from face to face were almost pleading. But what he was pleading for remained obscure.
“Dear me,” said Mr. Chitterwick, as if at his wits' end. "This is very difficult. I'd better clear up the remaining point. It's about the alibi.
"In my opinion the alibi was an afterthought, owing to a piece of luck. Southampton Street is near both the Cecil and the Savoy, isn't it? I happen to know that this lady has a friend, another woman, of a somewhat unconventional nature. She is continually away on exploring expeditions and so on, usually quite alone. She never stays in London more than a night or two, and I should imagine she is the sort of woman who rarely reads the newspapers. And if she did, I think she would certainly not divulge any suspicion they might convey to her, especially concerning a friend of her own.
"I have ascertained that immediately preceding the crime this woman, whose name by the way is Jane Harding, stayed for two nights at the Savoy Hotel, and left London, on the morning the chocolates were delivered, for Africa. From there she was going on to South America. Where she may be now I have not the least idea. Nor, I should say, has any one else. But she came to London from Paris, where she had been staying for a week.
“The - er - criminal would know about this forthcoming trip to London, and so hurried to Paris. (I am afraid,” apologised Mr. Chitterwick uneasily, “there is a good deal of guess - work here.) It would be simple to ask this other lady to post the parcel in London, as the parcel postage is so heavy from France, and just as simple to ensure it being delivered on the morning of the lunch - appointment with Mrs. Bendix, by saying it was a birthday present, or some other pretext, and - and - must be posted to arrive on that particular day.” Mr. Chitterwick wiped his forehead again and glanced pathetically at Roger. Roger could only stare back in bewilderment.
“Dear me,” muttered Mr. Chitterwick distractedly, “this is very difficult. - Well, I have satisfied myself that - - ”
Alicia Dammers had risen to her feet and was unhurriedly picking up her belongings. “I'm afraid,” she said, “I have an appointment. Will you excuse me, Mr. President?”
“Of course,” said Roger, in some surprise.
At the door Miss Dammers turned back. “I'm so sorry not to be able to stay to hear the rest of your case, Mr. Chitterwick. But really, you know, as I said, I very much doubt whether you'll be able to prove it.” She went out of the room.
“She's perfectly right,” whispered Mr. Chitterwick, gazing after her in a petrified way. “I'm quite sure I can't. But there isn't the faintest doubt. I'm afraid, not the faintest.”
Stupefaction reigned.
“You - you can't mean . . .?” twittered Mrs. Fielder - Flemming in a strangely shrill voice.
Mr. Bradley was the first to get a grip oh himself. “So we did have a practising criminologist amongst us after all,” he drawled, in a manner that was never Oxford. “How quite interesting.”
Again silence held the Circle.
“So now,” asked the President helplessly, “what the devil do we do? ”
Nobody enlightened him.