Sorme shrugged:
What is my position?
I will tell you. A man named Austin Nunne has inherited sadistic tendencies from his father's side of the family. He is sent to see a psychiatrist, who places his case history on report. A year later, he is suspected of killing a youth in Hamburg. He returns to England and becomes known in certain circles as a man of peculiar tastes. Finally, he murders a series of East End prostitutes, killing with increasing frequency. A week before the police finally come into the open with him, he makes your acquaintance and becomes infatuated with you. You are not homosexual; his frustration leads to more murders. Do I make the position clear to you?
Sorme said levelly:
Quite. If Austin is the killer, then I'm indirectly responsible?
Stein shook his head.
I am not saying that you are responsible, indirectly or otherwise. What I am saying is that you can help the police if you want to.
How?
Tell them, in detail, about your contacts with him in the past week.
Sorme said, shrugging:
I'll do that, willingly. But they won't find anything of interest. To begin with, I believe you're wrong in thinking Austin's infatuated with me. He's been inclined to make me a sort of father confessor. But what he's confessed hasn't been murder.
No? Then what?
Stuff about being bored, useless, futile, and all the rest. Secondly, if his sexual tastes are very sinister, he's taken care not to let me find out. He gives me the impression of glossing over many things… things about his sex life. But then, he knows I don't share his tastes; perhaps he doesn't want to obtrude them on me.
Stein said:
But you agree with me that it seems very likely that he is the murderer?
I… I wouldn't go so far as to deny it. But I don't think it very likely.
And yet when you began to defend a murderer to me yesterday…
The priest interrupted suddenly:
Franz, wouldn't it be better if you took Gerard to some other room to ask him these questions? I can't help, and I'd rather not be involved.
Stein said, with concern:
I apologise if we tire you, Larry. We…
The priest interrupted:
You don't tire me. But I suspect you want me to act as a witness, and I don't want to act as a witness. I'm too old to start appearing in courtrooms, and I don't want policemen taking statements from me.
Stein said politely:
I'm sorry, Larry. But you are wrong. I shall not ask you to act as a witness. I want you here to support me. Your friend will listen to you…
The priest said:
I don't understand…
Stein said earnestly:
Let me explain. I think Mr Sorme here knows that Austin Nunne is the man we want. I think he has suspected it for several days. I think he feels he owes loyalty to his friend, and has invented excuses for murder. I want you to tell him: there can be no excuse for murder…
The priest said tiredly:
I don't understand. You say the police are certain that Austin is the murderer. In that case, it's up to them to find evidence or get a confession. But even if Austin had confessed openly to Gerard, I don't see that would be of any use in court. It would be an unsupported testimony. If Gerard can help you and he wants to, well and good. But don't ask me to interfere.
Sorme said:
Look, Doctor Stein, let me explain what I feel. If Austin's guilty, I don't want to help convict him. But if he's innocent, I don't want to help him escape. I don't see why I should be dragged in at all.
Stein stabbed his forefinger at Sorme; he said:
You don't want to be involved! And supposing Nunne was released tomorrow — what do you suppose would happen? He would kill again.
Sorme said:
You are assuming that he is the killer.
You know he is the killer.
All right. Suppose for a moment he is the killer. Why should he kill again? He'd be the first suspect in every sexual murder committed in London for the next ten years. He'll feel a constant watch being kept on him. Do you think he'd kill under those circumstances?
Stein smiled faintly, and leaned back in his chair. He seemed to feel the conversation was getting somewhere at last.
All right. You are right. The police would watch him day and night, waiting for evidence. He would probably leave the country. Wherever he goes, the police know about him. He is really a man on the run. Sooner or later he will kill again. It is inevitable. Nervous tension, fear, a feeling of persecution. If he kills again, you will be responsible. Think carefully about this. He is your friend. But he is also a murderer. If he is convicted, he may be judged insane and sent to a criminal lunatic asylum. If he is released, he has two enemies to fight — his own impulse to kill, and the feeling of being constantly watched. Would he not be better in a mental home?
Stein spoke persuasively; Sorme was aware he was using all the force of his personality to charm. He began to regret that he had started to argue. It was difficult not to be persuaded. He averted his face, aware that his indecision was showing there. He shrugged, saying doubtfully:
I don't know.
Stein smiled suddenly.
Will you let me show you something?
Sorme glanced up at him.
What?
It would not take long.
Sorme looked at the priest. His eyes were closed; he seemed to be asleep. His white face had withdrawn from the situation. Sorme said:
All right. Where is it?
Stein stood up.
Wait here for me a moment, if you don't mind. I have a phone call to make. Then we can go.
He went out of the room. Sorme stood looking at the door, wondering if he was standing outside, listening. After a moment, he went to the door and opened it softly. There was no one in the passageway.
When he turned round again, the priest was looking at him. He smiled embarrassedly saying:
I don't entirely trust him, father.
He is honest.
Is he? What do you think he wants to show me?
The body, perhaps. I don't know.
Sorme said, with disgust:
I hope not!
A strange excitement stirred his stomach and loins. He sat in the chair Stein had vacated. He said:
I'm sorry to put you in this position, father.
It is your problem, Gerard.
But — you see how I feel? I can't betray Austin, no matter what he's done. Even if what Stein says is true — that Austin would be better off in Broadmoor…
You feel you owe him too much loyalty?
No, it's not that. I talked to him this morning. He's not insane. He's like me — he has problems that need all
