The Infernal Device & Others: A Professor Moriarty Omnibus (55 page)

             
"Yes," Lord Arundale said. "That, concisely, is it. The crimes may, indeed, be the work of a madman, or someone with a long-festering hatred for the four murdered men because of some secret grievance. But they may also be part of an intricate plot by any of three great European powers against her majesty's government. And we must learn which of these possibilities is the truth. And we must know as soon as we can; every day's delay could be disastrous."

             
"Four men?" Holmes asked. "I know of but three."

             
"Lord John Darby was found dead about three weeks ago," Lord Arundale said. He stared down at his teacup for a moment, and then drained it and returned it to the tray. "Lord John was the younger brother of the Earl of Moncreith."

             
"I remember noting it at the time," Holmes said. "But it was reported as a natural death. Heart attack, I believe the newspaper report said."

             
"Lord John was found on the dining-room table in his flat in Tattersham Court. His throat had been cut. A silver serving platter had been placed on the floor by the table to catch the blood."

             
"Come now, that is a fascinating detail!" Holmes said, stretching a lean arm out for the cigarette box on the mantel. "May I offer you a cigarette, my lord? They are of a Virginia tobacco, made for me by K. K. Tamourlane & Sons. The weed is noxious, but I find it sharpens the mental processes."

             
"No, thank you," Lord Arundale said. "But if you wouldn't object to the smell of a cigar—"

             
"Not at all." Holmes lit a taper from the gas mantle and applied it to the tip of his cigarette while Lord Arundale took a long dun-colored cigar from a tooled-leather case and went through the ritual of preparing it for the match. "Pray continue with your recitation of the strange death of Lord John Darby," Holmes said, lighting Lord Arundale's cigar before tossing the taper into the fireplace.

             
Lord Arundale took a deep puff. "I usually reserve these for after meals," he said. "Where was I? Oh, yes. Lord John was lying on the table—a great big thing, could easily seat twelve. French, I believe. Turn-of-the-century piece. His arms were spread out to the sides, but his fists were clenched. Interesting how one remembers all the small details."

             
"You saw the body, my lord?"

             
Lord Arundale stood and walked over to the bay window. Pulling the drape aside, he stared down at the traffic below. "I
found
the damn thing!" he told Holmes.

             
"How long would you say Lord John had been dead when you found him?"

             
Lord Arundale turned to look at Holmes. "I couldn't really say," he said. "Finding corpses is not really in my line, you see. For what it's worth, my impression was that the incident was fairly recent. The blood seemed to be quite fresh."

             
"Was anyone else there at the time?"

             
"Quimby, Lord John's valet. He let me in. This was about seven-thirty in the morning. He'd been there all night. His room is off the front hall."

             
"Had he seen or heard anything during the night?"

             
"Nothing. He let Lord John in late the night before. He's not sure of the time, but estimates it at shortly before two. Then he went to bed. He had not yet gone in to awaken Lord John when I arrived the next morning, having received no instructions on the matter."

             
"No other servants?"

             
"None present. There are a maid and a cook, but they live two flights up in the servants' quarters. The building of flats is designed with a common servants' quarters on the top floor."

             
"I see," Holmes said. "What sort of nighttime security is there in the building?"

             
"There is a hall porter on each floor all night, and a uniformed commissionaire at the front door. There are two other entrances to the building, but both are locked and bolted from the inside at eight o'clock."

             
Holmes reflected silently for a minute. "I am amazed," he said, "that Lestrade has not already arrested the valet."

             
"Quimby?" Lord Arundale asked. "You think he could be guilty?"

             
"Not for an instant," Holmes said. "I am, however, amazed that Lestrade shares my opinion."

             
"The Metropolitan Police have not, as yet, been informed of the crime," Lord Arundale said.

             
Holmes leaped to his feet. "What?" he cried. "You have concealed a murder from the authorities? Come now, sir. Even a peer of the realm cannot be allowed such liberty with the Queen's justice."

             
Lord Arundale held up a hand. "Pray calm yourself," he said. "The Prime Minister has been notified; the Home Secretary, who, as you know, is in charge of the Metropolitan Police, has been notified; the Lord High Chancellor has been notified; and her majesty has been told. I think you will have to admit that the formalities have been observed—perhaps on a higher level than is usual, that is all."

             
"I see," Holmes said, resuming his seat. "And why was this unusual procedure followed?"

             
Lord Arundale returned to the sofa. "I shall explain."

             
"You have my attention, my lord."

             
"I will have to give you the complete background. I arrived at Lord John's flat that morning to take him to a special emergency meeting of the Continental Policies Committee. This is a group of some twelve men who advise the Prime Minister on matters affecting Britain's relations with the great powers of Europe. Only issues of great and immediate concern are taken up by the committee, which is composed of the leading minds in the government. The very existence of this committee is a closely held secret."

             
"I was not aware of it," Holmes commented.

             
"Your brother, Mycroft, is a member," Lord Arundale told Holmes.

             
"He is very close-mouthed about his work," Holmes replied. "Just so," Lord Arundale said. "At any rate, Quimby asked me to wait while he awakened his master.
"

             
"
In the dining room?"

             
"No, in the drawing room. But as I happened to mention that I had not yet broken my fast that morning, Quimby suggested that he have the cook prepare one of her French omelets for me while I waited. I was agreeable, and so I proceeded into the dining room, where I found Lord John."

             
"It all seems quite clear," Holmes said. "But why did you not notify the authorities? Surely the fact that the man was a member of the Continental Policies Committee is not, of itself, sufficient reason not to call the police when you find his blood-soaked corpse."

             
Lord Arundale pondered the question for a second, searching for the precise way to phrase his answer. "Lord John Darby had an older brother," he said finally, picking the words carefully, as one would pick the right gold shirt studs from a drawer full of almost identical gold shirt studs. "Midway in age between Lord John and the Earl of Moncreith. His name is Crecy. Lord Crecy Darby. It is an old family name."

             
"Yes?" Holmes said encouragingly, as Lord Arundale fell silent again.

             
"I went to school with Crecy," Lord Arundale said. "Hoxley and then Cambridge. We were determined to go into government service together. Crecy was—is—brilliant. He was going to be the first prime minister appointed before his fortieth birthday. I was to be his foreign secretary. We had the details carefully planned." Lord Arundale sighed and shook his head. "Perhaps it was hubris," he said. "But at any rate, Lord Crecy Darby went completely insane over a period of three years. Every specialist in England and on the Continent was called in, and none of them offered any hope."

             
"What form did this insanity take?"

             
"He imagined that intricate plots were being woven about him; that complete strangers on the street had been employed by some invisible agency to follow him about; that everything that happened anywhere in the world was somehow directed against him. He became extremely sly and cunning, and would listen in at doorways and stay concealed behind drapery hoping to overhear someone talking about him.

             
"His father had him sent away to a sanitarium in Basel that had a new treatment that was thought to offer some small hope.
"

             
"
What sort of therapy?" Holmes asked.

             
"I was never too clear on that," Lord Arundale said. "Something to do with hot salt baths and encouraging the patient to run about and scream, I believe. At any rate, he escaped from the sanitarium. Nothing was heard from him for two years. Then, on Crecy's thirty-second birthday, as it happens, the old earl received a communication from an attorney in Munich. Lord Crecy Darby, under the name of Richard Plantagenet, was on trial for the brutal murders of two prostitutes."

             
Holmes flipped his cigarette into the fireplace. "I remember the case," he said. "Although the true identity of the man who called himself Richard Plantagenet never came out. There was no doubt as to his guilt."

             
"None at all," Lord Arundale agreed. "He killed two streetwalkers by slitting their throats with a razor, and then mutilated their bodies in a horrible fashion. Not, I suppose, that there is a pleasant way to mutilate bodies. The trial cost the old Earl of Moncreith a fortune. He was not trying to have Crecy found innocent, you understand, but merely to see that he was spared the death penalty and that the family name remained concealed.
"

             
"
And what happened to Lord Crecy?"

             
"He was found guilty and totally insane. He was placed in the Bavarian State Prison-Hospital for the Criminally Insane at Forchheim for the rest of his life."

             
"I see," Holmes said. "And so when you saw his brother lying dead with his throat cut, you naturally assumed that Lord Crecy must have escaped and returned to England."

             
"That is correct."

             
"And to save the present earl and his family from the grief and disgrace—"

             
"I did not notify the police but went straight to the Lord Chamberlain."

             
"Who agreed with you?
"

             
"
Of course."

             
"Bah!" Holmes said. "You are not above the law, my lord— neither as a member of the nobility nor as a member of the government. Acting as you have done can only be destructive of the moral fiber of British justice. Nothing good can come of it."

             
"I have heard," Lord Arundale said, "that you do not always work within the structure of the law. Was I misinformed?"

             
Holmes gazed sternly at Lord Arundale. "I have on occasion acted outside the law," he said. "But that and setting oneself above the law are two separate and distinct things. If you act outside the law you are still subject to it through the possibility of apprehension. But if you act above the law—if a burglar, for example, could go and clear his crime with the Lord
Chamberlain first—then there is no law for you. And if there is law for some but not for others, then there is no law. For a law that is unequally applied is an unjust law, and will not be obeyed."