“Hang it all,” said John Bankes restlessly, “after all, he was a convicted thief.”
“Yes,” said Father Brown; “and only a convicted thief has ever in this world heard that assurance: ‘This night shalt thou be with Me in Paradise.’ ”
Nobody seemed to know what to do with the silence that followed, until Devine said, abruptly, at last:
“Then how in the world would you explain it all?”
The priest shook his head. “I can’t explain it at all, just yet,” he said, simply. “I can see one or two odd things, but I don’t understand them. As yet I’ve nothing to go on to prove the man’s innocence, except the man. But I’m quite sure I’m right.”
He sighed, and put out his hand for his big, black hat. As he removed it he remained gazing at the table with rather a new expression, his round, straight-haired head cocked at a new angle. It was rather as if some curious animal had come out of his hat, as out of the hat of a conjurer. But the others, looking at the table, could see nothing there but the detective’s documents and the tawdry old property beard and spectacles.
“Lord bless us,” muttered Father Brown, “and he’s lying outside dead, in a beard and spectacles.” He swung round suddenly upon Devine. “Here’s something to follow up, if you want to know. Why did he have two beards?”
With that he bustled in his undignified way out of the room; but Devine was now devoured with curiosity, and pursued him into the front garden.
“I can’t tell you now,” said Father Brown. “I’m not sure, and I’m bothered about what to do. Come round and see me tomorrow, and I may be able to tell you the whole thing. It may already be settled for me, and—did you hear that noise?”
“A motorcar starting,” remarked Devine.
“Mr. John Bankes’s motorcar,” said the priest. “I believe it goes very fast.”
“He certainly is of that opinion,” said Devine, with a smile.
“It will go far, as well as fast, tonight,” said Father Brown.
“And what do you mean by that?” demanded the other.
“I mean it will not return,” replied the priest. “John Bankes suspected something of what I knew from what I said. John Bankes has gone and the emeralds and all the other jewels with him.”
Next day, Devine found Father Brown moving to and fro in front of the row of beehives, sadly, but with a certain serenity.
“I’ve been telling the bees,” he said. “You know one has to tell the bees? ‘Those singing masons building roofs of gold.’ What a line!” Then more abruptly. “He would like the bees looked after.”
“I hope he doesn’t want the human beings neglected, when the whole swarm is buzzing with curiosity,” observed the young man. “You were quite right when you said that Bankes was gone with the jewels; but I don’t know how you knew, or even what there was to be known.”
Father Brown blinked benevolently at the beehives and said:
“One sort of stumbles on things, and there was one stumbling-block at the start. I was puzzled by poor Barnard being shot up at Beechwood House. Now, even when Michael was a master criminal, he made it a point of honour, even a point of vanity, to succeed without any killing. It seemed extraordinary that when he had become a sort of saint, he should go out of his way to commit the sin he had despised when he was a sinner. The rest of the business puzzled me to the last; I could make nothing out of it, except that it wasn’t true. Then I had a belated gleam of sense when I saw the beard and goggles, and remembered the thief had come in another beard, with other goggles. Now, of course, it was just possible that he had duplicates; but it was at least a coincidence that he used neither the old glasses nor the old beard, both in good repair. Again, it was just possible that he went out without them, and had to procure new ones; but it was unlikely. There was nothing to make him go motoring with Bankes at all; if he was really going burgling, he could have taken his outfit easily in his pocket. Besides, beards don’t grow on bushes. He would have found it hard to get such things anywhere in the time.
“No, the more I thought of it the more I felt there was something funny about his having a completely new outfit. And then the truth began to dawn on me by reason, which I knew already by instinct. He never did go out with Bankes with any intention of putting on the disguise. He never did put on the disguise. Somebody else manufactured the disguise at leisure, and then put it on him.”
“Put it on him!” repeated Devine. “How the devil could they?”
“Let us go back,” said
