“Meanwhile, Leyland, there’s another man for you to watch. If there was a man who had a motive for murdering Derek Burtell, last week and not later, his name was Edward Farris.”
Here the door opened, and Mr. Quirk himself looked round it. He was about to withdraw, seeing that a conclave was in process, but Angela quickly recalled him. “Cuckoo, Mr. Quirk!” she said frivolously. “You can come in now. There’s been another triumph for Transatlantic methods.”
“Is that so?” said Mr. Quirk, unruffled. “I should be particularly glad to think that any little ratiocinations of mine had contributed to the solution of a Class One mystery. But I’ll remember my bargain, Mr. Leyland; I won’t ask you for anything more than pointers, if you can help me to keep on the straight track.”
“Why, Mr. Quirk,” answered Leyland, “I don’t think there’s any need to keep you in the dark about our latest piece of information; it will be common property soon. Bredon, I gather, didn’t care for your interpretation of the story yesterday, because you hadn’t allowed for Nigel Burtell being either the murderer or the murderer’s accomplice. He thought, then, that nobody except Nigel had any motive for getting rid of Derek. It proves now that a will was drawn up in Derek Burtell’s favour last Wednesday, which makes him a rich man, if he’s alive.”
“And if he’s dead?” asked the American, polishing his glasses.
“If he’s dead, the person who stands to gain is not his cousin, but a stranger to him—a man called Farris, who was very much in the testator’s confidence. An old great-aunt of the two cousins it was. This Farris, you can see for yourself, had abundant motive for disposing of Derek Burtell if he could.”
“Then this Nigel wouldn’t be concerned anyway in the new will?”
“Only if his cousin was still alive at the time when the old lady died, last Saturday. Then he might be.”
“It’s not an uncommon thing in the Statess,” said Mr. Quirk meditatively, “for crimes of violence to be attempted in connection with large legacies of money. In our country, it’s considered to be one of the leading incentives. But, see here, did young Burtell know that this legacy was coming to him? Because if he didn’t know that, it’s not likely he knew that there were murderers on his trail. And if he didn’t know there were murderers on his trail, why, it’s not just easy to account for his very peculiar movements at Millington Bridge.”
“And there’s this, too,” suggested Bredon. “If he knew it was his money they were after, and if they could only touch the money by murdering him before Aunt Alma died, why didn’t he take better precautions—put himself under police protection, for example? To go off on a canoe tour with only one companion, and that companion unfriendly, was surely asking for trouble.”
“I can’t say that I go all the way with you there,” replied Mr. Quirk. “Some people, if they hear that gunmen are out after them, seem to take a regular pride in trying to dodge the pursuit by their own cleverness—it’s a kind of sporting instinct, I reckon. And, mind you, a river trip isn’t such a bad way of leaving your pursuers behind, unless they’re prepared to shoot. They can’t follow you in a boat without hiring a boat, and making themselves conspicuous that way. They can’t follow you along the bank without giving you the chance to get away by landing on the wrong bank. No, I see more difficulty myself in finding out just how Derek Burtell caught on that his life was worth taking. If this will was only drawn up last Wednesday, it doesn’t seem as if auntie had been very clear in her own mind about her testamentary dispositions. And yet it was before she made up her mind that the murder seems to have happened.”
“That’s true, you know, Bredon,” said Leyland. “Put yourself in this young Farris’ place, even supposing that he’s a practised criminal—is he going to risk committing a murder when it may prove, after all, quite unnecessary?”
“It was now or never,” objected Bredon. “She was in bad health; if her health got worse, it would scarcely be decent for Farris to leave her, and if once she died, no amount of murder would secure the dibs.”
“That would have to mean,” said Leyland, “that Farris both knew Derek Burtell was the heir, and knew that he himself was the runner-up. Could he be sure of that? Could he be sure, for example, that Nigel Burtell wouldn’t be the next candidate?”
“You seem resolved to acquit Nigel now,” replied Bredon. “But it still seems to me a possible theory, in spite of Mr. Quirk’s suggestion, that Nigel was in it all.”
“What’s that?” asked Mr. Quirk sharply. “Wasn’t it Nigel who consented to impersonate Derek Burtell at Millington Bridge, the way he’d get a lead on his pursuers?”
“Yes,” returned Bredon dryly, “but did that do Nigel any harm, if at the same time he let Farris know that it was only bluff? Isn’t it possible that it was a put-up job from the start between Farris and Nigel Burtell—that Nigel was really leading his cousin on into danger, while he pretended to be shielding him? That he and Farris agreed to go shares, Nigel getting his fifty thousand in any case from the original legacy, and either he or Farris collecting Aunt Alma’s?”
“Well,” observed Mr. Quirk, “you still haven’t found your Nigel. It seems to me a very pertinent fact that it was on Saturday Mrs. Coolman died, and it was on Thursday Nigel Burtell disappeared. Say, doesn’t that look like foul play? As if Farris had been determined to take no risks, and had put both cousins out of the way before the old lady’s will took effect?”
“It’s a nice point,” said Angela. “Meanwhile, I’m getting horribly hungry for luncheon.”
XVI
Bredon Plays Patience
Leyland hurried back after luncheon
