McPhee shook off the hand and turned suddenly toward the exit, but Sergeant Coleman had taken up a position between him and the door, and he seized McPhee unceremoniously by the arm, twisting it behind his back. “Be still now,” he said. “I must advise you that anything you say may be taken down and used against you in court.”
“You go ahead and do that, see if I care,” said McPhee, struggling. “You won’t find a single thing that’ll stick to me. As for Terry, he was just out having a couple of drinks, is all. He’s no more the accomplice than I am the killer.”
“His running away would seem to argue otherwise,” said Cedric Villiers. “Why flee so precipitously if he had nothing to worry about?”
“Well, from what I hear tell, over in this country an Irishman starts off with one foot in the hole,” said McPhee, staring Villiers in the eye. “Same as the colored back home. I guess Terry figured it was smarter to find out what the cops were after before he let ’em get their paws on him. I might have done the same, in his shoes.” McPhee sounded defiant, but it was easy to see that he was shaken.
“A lot of good it’ll do him,” said Lestrade. “Wilkins will fetch him back forthwith, and he’ll have the worse time of it for his efforts. Aha, I’ll wager that’s them now.”
Sure enough, the sound of footsteps came from the stairway. We all turned to look, but even before they reached the landing, we could tell that only one person was climbing the stairs. “I’m right sorry, sir. The rogue gave me the slip in the fog,” said a sour-faced Constable Wilkins, coming through the door. “I went over to the station to start the hue and cry, and then came back to lend an ’and ’ere.”
“I knew Terry was a spry one,” said McPhee, with something like pride in his voice. “Much as I wish he was here to back me up, I’m glad he’s still free. He’ll have a chance to get his wits about him before he tells his tale.”
“We’ll have the hue and cry on him before he’s gone a mile,” said Lestrade, his jaw jutting out. “Meanwhile, Constable, I’ll ask you to place Mr. McPhee under guard. We’ll take the names and addresses of these other ladies and gentlemen, and then we can let them go to their homes. We’ve got our murderer, or his right-hand man. We’ll know which it is once we’ve had a little talk down at the station.”
“You ain’t got nobody!” bawled McPhee. “I’m an innocent man, for once!”
“So say you,” said the chief inspector, with a superior smile. “So say they all. But the Detective Branch will learn the truth, or my name’s not Lestrade!”
8
Once McPhee had been arrested, the rest of us gave our names and local addresses and made our way back home. The whole affair had taken a surprisingly short time, considering how much had occurred—the séance, the murder, the police investigation, and the arrest—the clock on the mantelpiece was pointing to just a quarter past midnight as Mr. Clemens and I led his wife and daughters downstairs to the carriage.
I noticed as I left that Martha McPhee had, for the first time in my memory, lost her composure. She sat, disconsolate looking, on the sofa in the little foyer, watching the sitters at her séance bundle up for departure. Nobody seemed to be paying her any mind. I took a moment to step over to her and offer a mild word of encouragement. “Be brave,” I said. “If Mr. McPhee is innocent, the police will have to release him. I hope it won’t be long.”
She looked up at me with an anxious expression. “I hope you’re right,” she said. “He didn’t do it, Mr. Cabot. I won’t deny that Edward has been in trouble before, but he’s never really hurt anyone. Even Mr. Clemens will tell you that.”
“I’m sure everything will come out all right,” I said. I would have said more, but Mr. Clemens nudged my elbow, and so I tipped my hat to Martha and we hurried downstairs.
When we were all seated in the carriage, Mr. Clemens said, “Well, I reckon we got more of a show than we bargained for.”
“Rather more than I hope to see again,” said Mrs. Clemens. She and her daughter Susy sat next to each other, huddling close in the chilly night air. “Dear Lord, if I’d known ahead of time what sort of dreadful business was about to happen, I’d never have set foot in that house. But who could have known that Mr. McPhee was inviting us to a murder?”
“I don’t think he knew there was going to be a murder, Mama,” said Susy. “It would be a very stupid man who would plan a murder and then invite a dozen witnesses.”
“Slippery Ed ain’t as smart as he thinks,” said Mr. Clemens. “And he’s got enough brass to start his own Marine Band and still have change left over. If anybody ever thought he could get away with it, it would’ve been Ed.”
“If it wasn’t he, who could it have been?” asked Susy. “It must have been someone in the room, mustn’t it?” Her voice was surprisingly animated. I thought she sounded far less horrified than I at the bloody affair we’d just witnessed.
“That’s the way to bet,” said Mr. Clemens. “But I tell you right now, I’ve seen enough murder to last me the rest of my life. Somebody must have put out the word that Sam Clemens doesn’t have enough to keep him busy, and whoever arranges these things decided to throw a few cadavers in my way. Well, I’ve hit
