The caretaker shook his head. ‘It was the poor master as did it, ma’am, right enough. He was out of his mind.’
Dorcas shrugged her shoulders. ‘If he had done it, it would have been a furious attack, there would have been oaths and cries, and the poor lady would have received a rain of blows. The medical evidence shows that death resulted from one heavy blow on the back of the skull. But let us see where the murderer could have concealed himself ready armed with the poker here in the drawing-room.’
In front of the drawing-room window were heavy curtains, and I at once suggested that curtains were the usual place of concealment on the stage and might be in real life.
As soon as I had asked the question Dorcas turned to the caretaker. ‘You are certain that every article of furniture is in its place exactly as it was that night?’
‘Yes; the police prepared a plan of the room for the trial, and since then by the solicitors’ orders we have not touched a thing.’
‘That settles the curtains then,’ continued Dorcas. ‘Look at the windows for yourself. In front of one, close by the curtains, is an ornamental table covered with china and glass and bric-à-brac; and in front of the other a large settee. No man could have come from behind those curtains without shifting that furniture out of his way. That would have immediately attracted Mrs Hannaford’s attention and given her time to scream and rush out of the room. No, we must find some other place for the assassin. Ah – I wonder if –’
Dorcas’s eyes were fixed on a large brown bear which stood nearly against the wall by the fireplace. The bear, a very fine, big specimen, was supported in its upright position by an ornamental iron pole, at the top of which was fixed an oil lamp covered with a yellow silk shade.
‘That’s a fine bear lamp,’ exclaimed Dorcas.
‘Yes,’ said the caretaker, ‘it’s been here ever since I’ve been in the family’s service. It was bought by the poor mistress’s first husband, Mr Drayson, and he thought a lot of it. But,’ he added, looking at it curiously, ‘I always thought it stood closer to the wall than that. It used to – right against it.’
‘Ah,’ exclaimed Dorcas, ‘that’s interesting. Pull the curtains right back and give me all the light you can.’
As the man obeyed her directions she went down on her hands and knees and examined the carpet carefully.
‘You are right,’ she said. ‘This has been moved a little forward, and not so very long ago – the carpet for a square of some inches is a different colour to the rest. The brown bear stands on a square mahogany stand, and the exact square now shows in the colour of the carpet that has been hidden by it. Only here is a discoloured portion and the bear does not now stand on it.’
The evidence of the bear having been moved forward from a position it had long occupied was indisputable. Dorcas got up and went to the door of the drawing-room.
‘Go and stand behind that bear,’ she said. ‘Stand as compact as you can, as though you were endeavouring to conceal yourself.’
I obeyed, and Dorcas, standing in the drawing-room doorway, declared that I was completely hidden.
‘Now,’ she said, coming to the centre of the room and turning her back to me, ‘reach down from where you are and see if you can pick up the shovel from the fireplace without making a noise.’
I reached out carefully and had the shovel in my hand without making a sound.
‘I have it,’ I said.
‘That’s right. The poker would have been on the same side as the shovel, and much easier to pick up quietly. Now, while my back is turned, grasp the shovel by the handle, leap out at me, and raise the shovel as if to hit me – but don’t get excited and do it, because I don’t want to realise the scene too completely.’
I obeyed. My footsteps were scarcely heard on the heavy-pile drawing-room carpet. When Dorcas turned round the shovel was above her head ready to strike.
‘Thank you for letting me off,’ she said, with a smile. Then her face becoming serious again, she exclaimed: ‘The murderer of Mrs Hannaford concealed himself behind that brown bear lamp, and attacked her in exactly the way I have indicated. But why had he moved the bear two or three inches forward?’
‘To conceal himself behind it.’
‘Nonsense! His concealment was a sudden act. That bear is heavy – the glass chimney of the lamp would have rattled if it had been done violently and hurriedly while Mrs Hannaford was coming downstairs – that would have attracted her attention and she would have called out, “Who’s there?” at the doorway, and not have come in looking about for her husband.’
Dorcas looked the animal over carefully, prodded it with her fingers, and then went behind it.
After a minute or two’s close examination, she uttered a little cry and called me to her side.
She had found in the back of the bear a small straight slit. This was quite invisible. She had only discovered it by an accidentally violent thrust of her fingers into the animal’s fur. Into this slit she thrust her hand, and the aperture yielded sufficiently for her to thrust her arm in. The interior of the bear was hollow, but Dorcas’s hand as it went down struck against a wooden bottom. Then she withdrew her arm and the aperture closed up. It had evidently been specially prepared as a place of concealment, and only the most careful examination would have revealed it.
‘Now,’ exclaimed Dorcas, triumphantly, ‘I think we are on a straight road! This, I believe, is where those missing banknotes lay concealed for years. They were probably placed there by Mr Drayson with the idea that
