“With us,” she corrected.
“It is the same thing, sweetheart. Do you know if he is going to give us a long visit?”
“I hope so,” she replied. “Mr. Polton said that he had got through his arrears of work and had this afternoon free.”
“Then,” said I, “perhaps he will give us the elucidation that he promised me some time ago. I am devoured by curiosity as to how he unravelled the web of mystification that the villain, Bendelow, spun round himself.”
“So am I,” said she; “and I believe I can hear his footsteps on the stair.”
A few moments later Thorndyke entered the room, and having greeted us with quiet geniality, seated himself in the easy chair by the table and regarded us with a benevolent smile.
“We were just saying, Sir,” said I, “how very kind it is of you to allow your chambers to be invaded by a stray cripple and his—his belongings.”
“I believe you were going to say ‘baggage,’ ” Marion murmured.
“Well,” said Thorndyke, smiling at the interpolation, “I may tell you both in confidence that you were talking nonsense. It is I who am the beneficiary.”
“It is a part of your goodness to say so, Sir,” I said.
“But,” he rejoined, “it is the simple truth. You enable me to combine the undoubted economic advantages of bachelordom with the satisfaction of having a family under my roof; and you even allow me to participate in a way, as a sort of supercargo, in a certain voyage of discovery which is to be undertaken by two young adventurers, in the near future—in the very near future, as I hope.”
“As I hope, too,” said I, glancing at Marion, who had become a little more rosy than usual and who now adroitly diverted the current of the conversation.
“We were also wondering,” said she, “if we might hope for some enlightenment on things which have puzzled us so much lately.”
“That,” he replied, “was in my mind when I arranged to keep this afternoon and evening free. I wanted to give Stephen—who is my professional offspring, so to speak—a full exposition of this very intricate and remarkable case. If you, my dear, will keep my cup charged as occasion arises, I will begin forthwith. I will address myself to Stephen, who has all the facts firsthand; and if, in my exposition, I should seem somewhat callously to ignore the human aspects of this tragic story—aspects which have meant so much in irreparable loss and bereavement to you, poor child—remember that it is an exposition of evidence, and necessarily passionless and impersonal.”
“I quite realize that,” said Marion, “and you may trust me to understand.”
He bowed gravely, and, after a brief pause, began:
“I propose to treat the subject historically, so to speak; to take you over the ground that I traversed myself, recounting my observations and inferences in the order in which they occurred. The inquiry falls naturally into certain successive stages, corresponding to the emergence of new facts, of which the first was concerned with the data elicited at the inquest. Let us begin with them.
“First, as to the crime itself. It was a murder of a very distinctive type. There was evidence, not only of premeditation in the bare legal sense, but of careful preparation and planning. It was a considered act, and not a crime of impulse or passion. What could be the motive for such a crime? There appeared to be only two alternative possibilities; either it was a crime of revenge or a crime of expediency. The hypothesis of revenge could not be explored, because there were no data excepting the evidence of the victim’s daughter, which was to the effect that deceased had no enemies, actual or potential; and this evidence was supported by the very deliberate character of the crime.
“We were therefore thrown back on the hypothesis of expediency, which was, in fact, the more probable one, and which became still more probable as the circumstances were further examined. But having assumed, as a working hypothesis, that this crime had been committed in pursuit of a definite purpose which was not revenge, the next question was: What could that purpose have been? And that question could be answered only by a careful consideration of all that was known of the parties to the crime: the criminal and the victim and their possible relations to one another.
“As to the former, the circumstances indicated that he was a person of some education, that he had an unusual acquaintance with poisons, and such social position and personal qualities as would enable him to get possession of them; that he was subtle, ingenious, and resourceful, but not farsighted, since he took risks that could have been avoided. His mentality appeared to be that of the gambler, whose attention tends to be riveted on the winning chances, and who makes insufficient provision for possible failure. He staked everything on the chance of the needle-puncture being overlooked and the presence of the poison being undiscovered.
“But the outstanding and most significant quality was his profound criminality. Premeditated murder is the most atrocious of crimes, and murder for expediency is the most atrocious form of murder. This man, then, was of a profoundly criminal type, and was most probably a practicing criminal.
“Turning now to the victim, the evidence showed that he was a man of high moral qualities: honest, industrious, thrifty, kindly and amiable, and of good reputation—the exact reverse of the other. Any illicit association between these two men was, therefore, excluded, and yet there must have been an association of some kind. Of what kind could it have been?
“Now, in the case of this man, as in that of the other, there was one outstanding fact. He was a sculptor. And not only a sculptor, but an artist in the highest class of waxwork. And not only this. He was probably the only artist of this kind
