‘And the two, Dame Beatrice?’
‘Edward James and Karla Schumann.’
‘You think we may dismiss Otto Schumann from our minds, then?’
‘That is for you to decide when you have heard what I have to say.’
Maisry called in his sergeant.
‘Shorthand – verbatim,’ he said. ‘Callum’s speed is one hundred, Dame Beatrice, if that will suit you.’
‘Admirably.’ She took out her own notebook in which she had inscribed the results of Laura’s researches. ‘My findings are the result of my secretary’s work in the public library and concern various heresies, so-called, which raised their thoughtful, learned and, occasionally, extremely popular voices against the teachings of the Church from the fourth to the thirteenth century. This is what Laura discovered.’
Maisry’s eyebrows went up and he smiled, but he did not interrupt until the flow was ended. Then he said,
‘Before we discuss what you have told us – and I agree that it is full of interesting possibilities – perhaps Callum will read back to us what he has written, pausing at all the proper names which, as a shorthand writer, he has, so far, contracted and also has spelt phonetically. We had better have the full longhand spelling, Callum, I think, in case we need to check this information against any later evidence which may come our way.’
This was done.
‘I’ll make a typed copy in triplicate, as usual, sir,’ said Callum, a long, lean, dark-visaged man of Irish ancestry. ‘Would you like it done at once?’
‘Yes. I’ll sound the buzzer if we need you in here again before Dame Beatrice leaves. And now,’ he went on, when the door had closed behind the detective-sergeant, ‘perhaps, Dame Beatrice, we could have your full analysis of these discoveries. How did you come to hit on this idea of the heresies in the first place?’
‘It really began, I think, with a remark made by James (although he says he has no recollection of making it) to Karen Schumann. He seems to have called her “a misguided little Aryan”. The more I thought this over, the more unlikely it seemed to me that he should have called her any such thing. Although she was of German parentage, she was, in all other respects, an Englishwoman, having been born, brought up and educated over here. Then I realised that the word could be spelt in two ways, and that, as it was used by James during the course of a theological discussion, the chances were greatly in favour of the second spelling, which indicates a follower of an heretical priest of Alexandria named Arius.
‘I did not pursue this theory further at the time because it seemed, in itself, pointless, for I had made up my mind that the identity of Karen Schumann’s murderer was sufficiently indicated by another factor.’
‘You thought it was Mrs Schumann,’ said Phillips, ‘while the rest of us, including the Assistant Commissioner himself, plumped for Edward James.’
‘And James is not altogether out of the picture even now,’ said Dame Beatrice. ‘I propose to attempt, with your permission and kind assistance, to banish him from it completely.’
‘How do you suggest you do that?’ enquired Maisry.
‘By having him here at headquarters for official and, I hope, alarming questioning.’
‘And you think this will exonerate him?’
‘I am sanguine that it may.’
‘Well, if you will brief us, we will put your questions to him. I hope you will agree to be present during the interview and will not hesitate to “chip in” if the interrogation is not to your liking or if you want him to clarify or expand upon any of his answers. I only hope we can eliminate him from our enquiries, but, personally, I think he’s got a good deal of explaining to do, and, of course, in spite of what you’ve told us this morning, we’re still keeping an eye on Otto Schumann for the murder of Maria Machrado. We’ve come to the conclusion that the first two killings were deliberate, and by two different hands, and that there’s a joker in the pack who committed the other three.’
CHAPTER SIX
How Should I Your True-Love Know
Oh, Tommy’s gone! What shall I do?
Away down Hilo.
Find me a man to love me true –
Tom’s gone to Hilo.’
(1)
James seemed a very different man from the cold and self-possessed schoolmaster whom Dame Beatrice had met in the headmaster’s study at the comprehensive school. He was obviously ill-at-ease when she faced him again at the police station.
‘So you have found a way to force me to see you,’ he said sullenly. ‘I thought you would.’
‘No question of force, Mr James,’ said Maisry in his smooth and gentle way, ‘but we shall be very glad of your cooperation, and Dame Beatrice, like yourself, is here at our invitation. We thought that you might prefer to visit us here in a district where you are a stranger, rather than have us go to your lodgings or to the school.’
‘Vastly considerate of you, I’m sure.’
‘Irony will get us nowhere, sir.’
‘Well, what do you want from me? Surely it’s clear to you by now that the murderer of my fiancée is a madman with a lust to kill, and that her death was no more significant to you, so far as I can understand it, than the deaths of the rest of these unfortunate women. I can’t think what help you think I can give you, and I protest, most strongly, about being dragged again into a case which you have not the wits to solve.’
The words, in themselves, were bold enough, but it was clear that they were nothing but bluster. The man looked ill and was afraid. Not only the psychiatrist but the two police officers were well aware of the fact.
‘All we want from you, Mr James, is confirmation, or the reverse, of some dates,’ said Maisry. ‘We are relying upon your special knowledge, the result of your extensive reading and research.’
James, at this, expressed open alarm.
‘What are you hinting at?’ he asked. ‘What dates? What special knowledge? I
