This rattled him to the marrow. Whatever his game, I cannot believe he thought it would lead him to a felon’s grave.
“Very well,” he said quietly.
“From the moment you boasted that a thousand people had seen you kill Sir Caradoc Price, I was reasonably certain that you intended to lead us astray. Guilty men do not make such boasts.”
Jenks shook his head but said nothing. Holmes resumed.
“Now then, sir, you know the play of
“That means nothing! In the shock of it all, I confused the goblets!”
“Wait, please! My inquiries this evening also reveal a complete alibi for you at the Garrick’s Head, covering the time when poison would have been put into either goblet, had it been used on stage. You have not spoken of that alibi—even to me. You assumed, correctly, that the police would check any alibi that you give them but they would not search London to find one on your behalf. To that extent, your scheme was moderately clever but not fool-proof.”
There was still no response. Jenks stared back, like a ferret in a cage.
“Moreover,” said Holmes gently, “you allowed your hastily-written and abusive letters to be found in this room. Had you had more time, you would have dealt more skilfully with your allegations of blackmail.”
“There was blackmail!”
“Indeed, I am sure there was, but not quite as you describe it. Now then, in my experience the first thing a suspect would do, on hearing that Sir Caradoc had been found murdered and knowing that he had fifteen minutes before the police arrived, would be to sneak up these stairs and search this room for those threatening letters. They were easy enough for Bradstreet to uncover.”
“I did not think of it!”
“No,” said Holmes, “you did not think of retrieving them because they had not been sent. What you thought of was to write these venomous little notes—unless you already had them in waiting—to sneak up here and plant them among his papers. You knew they were bound to be discovered.”
“Prove it!”
Holmes laughed amiably,
“Why should I bother? You had previously announced before members of the cast that Sir Caradoc had cheated you of your matinee benefits and given you notice. I daresay that was true. As a result, I am told, you said you would murder him with pleasure. Did he cheat you, by the way?”
“He did!”
“Do you still have his letters to that effect?”
“I threw them in the fire. It seemed the best place for them, at the time.”
“What a pity. Conveniently, Caradoc is no longer here to prove you wrong. Many people had cause to dislike him. You, it seems, were the only one with cause to wish him dead.”
“What of that?”
Holmes shrugged.
“Unlike Dr Crippen, your alibi may save you as soon as you summon Mr Roscoe of the Garrick’s Head to the witness-box. If the case goes that far. What you will have done meantime is to make nonsense of the police investigation. In the end, of course, you may prove to be the one person who certainly cannot have poisoned Caradoc’s wine. The critical time would be between a few minutes to nine o’clock and five minutes past or so, when Roland Gwyn took possession of the properties for the last act. Until ten past nine or even later you were not near the stage. From then until the final curtain, by which time Sir Caradoc was certainly poisoned and very probably dead, you were on public view in the final scene.”
Holmes gave him a moment to come to his senses and then concluded.
“In the light of all this, I think you may dispense with my services, except in so far as you may be charged with obstructing the police investigation.”
Carnaby Jenks struggled to his feet.
“Sit down, if you please, Mr Jenks!”
Jenks sat down. Holmes became reminiscent.
“In my experience, when a man or woman takes on the guilt of another in this fashion, it is to protect a close member of the family or a lover. Madge Gilford appears hysterically distressed over the death of Caradoc. William Gilford seems anxious but remarkably composed.”
“There is no reason that he should not.”
“One moment,” said Holmes courteously. “William Gilford also has an alibi. It is supported by very respectable teachers at Toynbee Hall and by the stage-door keeper here. The goblet of wine was already on the stage when he arrived at the theatre. It is evident that he could not possibly have tampered with it before it was taken on.”
“Then I do not understand what all this is about.”
“It is about perfection, Mr Jenks. Gilford’s alibi is almost too perfect. And you have added to its perfection, if such a thing were possible. Why would you do that? Why these scribbled notes? Why the silence over an alibi of your own that you could have produced so easily? Why the boast in your note to me that you had killed Caradoc before a thousand witnesses? You see?”
I offered up a prayer that Holmes was not about to reveal what we had discovered in the dressing-room. I need not have worried.
“You are surely drawing suspicion upon yourself in order to protect someone else. I conclude that you took action at once, on hearing of Caradoc’s death and before knowing of Gilford’s alibi. The notes must be written and in place before the arrival of Bradstreet and Hopkins. Who were you protecting? Are you quite sure you cannot tell me the relation in which William Gilford or his wife stands to you?”
There was a terrible silence and the poor fellow seemed to wrestle with his soul. The pulse in his throat told me that we were near the truth.
“What will happen?” he whispered at length. “What will you do?”
“I am not a policeman, Mr Jenks. You have summoned me here to help you. Unfortunately, you have made my task extremely difficult. I have believed almost from the first that you have brought me here to shield someone else. Young William Gilford, I daresay, and possibly Madge. Now, will you tell me what he is to you? You are walking the plank and you are almost at the end of it. The parish records or the register of Trinity College should yield the answer I seek. I would rather have it from you. Now!”
There was a long pause. At last the answer came, the first calm words the haggard player had spoken.
“Very well, Mr Holmes. I know nothing of Caradoc’s death. The truth is that I was born out of wedlock. William Gilford is more then thirty years my junior but his grandfather adopted me for reasons I will not specify. When the young people came to London a year or so ago, Madge Gilford was very much taken with the theatre, which I had shown her. It was a new thing to her, a child’s fairyland. She was too genteel for it, but at the request of the couple, I found her a place here as wardrobe mistress. William was the breadwinner but Madge was quick with a needle and something like this would occupy her. It seemed innocent enough. I thought it would be safe. That is all I have done.”
Then, to my dismay, Carnaby Jenks began to weep.
“And your sister, to whom you refer in your letters?” Holmes inquired gently.
Jenks shook his head without looking up.
“A dear friend, that is all. One who helped me and who has suffered by that evil man. I will not say more. Roland Gwyn, the stage manager, is the person who can tell you, if he thinks it right.”
This time, I knew that Jenks would keep his vow of silence. He was shaken but resolute. Sherlock Holmes was always of the opinion that Jenks intervened that night, when Caradoc was found dead, in fear of what he thought young William Gilford might have done, rather than from knowledge of it.
So it was that we made the acquaintance of Roland Gwyn. He was a man of short but wiry build and greater strength than might appear. I think he was no more than forty, but like Caradoc, he had made his way to London
