Thanks.
He pretended to be looking for his gloves on the armchair, to make sure Maunsell was out of sight. The priest said:
You have lost something?
Oh… no. They're here in my pocket…
He went up the stairs two at a time, at once impatient and cautious.
Father Carruthers said:
Good morning, Gerard. You're soon back.
Morning, father. Hope I'm not a nuisance.
The priest was in bed; he looked ill and tired. The fire in the grate was a mass of glowing coals; Sorme observed the contrast between the room temperature and the icy coldness of the priest's hand as he took it.
You're not a nuisance. But I'm afraid I'm not too well today. We shall have to make it brief.
OK, father. Briefly, then, Stein has just been to see me about Austin.
Was he quite frank with you?
Well, no. In fact, he hardly mentioned Austin at all. That's why I wanted to see you. He says the Whitechapel killer's been arrested.
When?
About an hour ago. The phone rang while he was with me. He claimed he'd come to talk about the old man in the room above… the one who tried to set the house on fire.
The priest said slowly:
I see. Well, what do you think?
I wonder if it's some sort of a trick.
Did he question you about Austin?
No. He hardly mentioned him.
But you believe he wasn't sincere about his reason for coming to see you?
No. I don't think the police really suspect the old man. He's too old. They might as well… they might as well suspect you. If you see what I mean…
Indeed, they might! Well, so you suppose they might still be interested in Austin?
Sorme said helplessly: I just don't know, father.
I'm inclined to feel they are. Have you seen him?
Well, that's another problem. Austin seems to have disappeared. He hasn't been home for twenty-four hours. Mind, he could be at the Kensington place.
Couldn't you phone?
He's not on the phone.
I see. And what about this man who has been arrested?
Some man who attacked a woman last night in Whitechapel. A Brixton labourer. He'd blacked his face, apparently.
Ah, really?
Have you heard of him, father?
The priest said:
I have. And I'm afraid it sounds as if you're right.
Why?
Franz mentioned him to me a few days ago. He said that a man was frightening women in Whitechapel by jumping out of doorways with a black face. The police don't really believe he's the murderer. And Franz most certainly doesn't.
Why?
Because a man who jumps out of doorways and frightens women sounds a very different proposition from a murderer. He's a sadist of a sort, of course… but not the kind the police want.
But this man attacked a woman, father. He caused serious head injuries, according to Stein. It was in a room in Whitechapel, and he escaped by jumping through the window.
Indeed? Ah…
Sorme stirred uncomfortably on the edge of the bed. He unbuttoned his overcoat; the heat was making him sweat. The priest said finally:
If you are sure he attacked a woman… perhaps I am wrong.
Stein said he'd confessed to the attack, but not to the other murders.
I see. Then it sounds as if he was being quite sincere. If he was trying to deceive you, he wouldn't have admitted that the man had not confessed to the previous murders.
You mean he'd either tell me he had, or wouldn't mention it at all?
I'm afraid it sounds like that.
A shiver passed over the skin of Sorme's back. He said:
Why afraid, father? Do you think Austin's the murderer?
The priest said:
From my knowledge of Austin, it seems unlikely.
Why?
Because… I have known Austin since he was a child. I should say, I have been acquainted with him since he was a child. And his mother has talked to me about him a great deal. Do you think he could commit a murder?
The question took Sorme by surprise. After a hesitation, he said doubtfully:
That's not easy to answer. In the sense you mean, no. He's not a ruffian, he's not callous… But… I can't explain.
Try to explain, Gerard.
Sorme pulled off the overcoat, and dropped it on the bed, then unbuttoned the jacket. He wiped the sweat off his forehead. He said slowly:
You see, father, it's like this. I met him at the Diaghilev exhibition, you know…
Yes. What has that to do with it?
Quite a lot, actually. You didn't see it, did you? No. Well — it impressed me, because… it was like a fairy tale. These old costumes, designs, soft music, scent — the same scent that Austin uses, incidentally — just like another world. Well, that's Austin's world, father, the world he wants to live in. He's not a very brilliant person. He wouldn't get much out of the writings of the saints or the Church fathers. But he wants to find an ideal world all the same… You remember, I told you the same thing about his basement flat?
Yes.
I think being alive exhausts him. He can't accept reality. I can understand him because I feel the same. The reality of the world batters him. It bullies him. So he wants to see it from some beautifully detached standpoint. That's why he's so theatrical. Instead of real slums, he wants a stage set that looks like slums. Instead of real despair and defeat, he wants tragic actors raving about it. He has to simplify everything…
I see your point. But this doesn't sound like the definition of a murderer to me.
He becomes the tragic actor himself, making a gesture of defiance. Don't you see, father. He dramatises his own self-disgust. If he committed a murder, he wouldn't be a real murderer. He'd be a tragic actor playing Macbeth.
The priest said:
I'm afraid you overestimate his need for self-dramatisation. I doubt whether it would extend to actual killing.
Sorme felt confused and involved, unable to capture the thread of insight. He said finally:
I dunno, father… It's all this feeling of wanting to impose yourself on the world. Murder's the ultimate taboo. In a certain mood, it could be a kind of suicide. I think that's how Austin feels. Unless he can dramatise it, the world seems unbearably alien. He wants to do something positive to justify his existence.
The priest's face clouded. He said:
I… see what you mean. All the same… I don't know. It doesn't strike me as likely.
No, and I agree, it's no final proof that Austin would commit murder…
You should see Austin… and perhaps you should warn him.
