mentioned, at Golders Green. 'Ah,' says the cunning Bitton; 'an alibi.' And he has the impudence to telephone them in order to confirm it. 'Ah,' he says then; 'it was done by somebody in his employ.'
`Now, all this might be at least remotely possible in Bitton's wild imagination. But why, in the name of Heaven, should I go to all the trouble of stealing a manuscript which was already mine?'
There was a silence. Hadley, who had perched himself on the edge of the desk, nodded.
`I suppose, Mr Arbor,' he said, `you are prepared to prove this claim of yours?'
`Naturally. An agreement between Mr McCartney and myself was drawn up by my lawyer in New York and duly attested. A copy of this agreement is now filed with my solicitors in London.'
Hadley lifted his shoulders. `In that case, Mr Arbor, there is nothing more to, be said. Sir William simply took a chance that his discovery would go unnoted.' Hadley spoke coldly and levelly. `Even if you had abstracted the manuscript, to avoid trouble at Sir William's hands, the law could do nothing.’
Mr Arbor's aura radiated a sort of sputter, like a muffled wireless-key.
`We'll let that pass,' be observed, with an effort. `The absurdity of your suggestion is as evident as — ah your somewhat noticeable manners. That a man of my well-known standing. 'The aura sputtered again. Then Mr Arbor recovered himself. 'It would amuse some, of my associates in New York,' he said. `Ha, ha. Ha. Very amusing. But, as I think we agreed to begin with, perfectly legal.'
'Not if it concerned.a murder,' said Dr Fell.
There was an abrupt and rather terrible silence.
The doctor had spoken in a casual tone. In the stillness they could all hear the last rattle of coals falling in the grate, and, very faintly, the thin sudden note of a bugle from the parade-ground.
Arbor had been gathering his coat about him to rise, and his hand jerked on the lapel. `I–I beg your pardon?' he said.
`I said, 'Not if it concerned a murder,'' Dr Fell repeated in a louder voice. `Don't get up, Mr Arbor. Were going to talk about the murder now. That doesn't surprise you, does it?' His half-closed eyes opened wide. `Don't you know who was murdered, Mr Arbor?' he pursued.
`I–I heard them talking over there,' the other answered, regarding his interrogator fixedly.;'I think I heard somebody say his name was Drakell or Driscoll or something of the sort.'
`The name was Driscoll, Philip Driscoll. He was Sir William Bitton's nephew.'
Whatever sort of effect Dr Fell had hoped to produce, there was no question about an effect. Arbor's swarthy face turned white; literally white, for mottled blotches stood out against; his pallor. The thin eyeglasses jerked on his nose, and he covered them with a shaking hand. Undoubtedly Arbor had a weak heart. The effect was as much physical as nervous.
`You must — you must excuse me, gentlemen, he muttered. His voice grew stronger. `I it was the shock of hearing the name of — somebody — I did know. This — this Driscoll, was he a small young man, with — let me see — with reddish hair?'
`Yes,' said Dr Fell. `You did know him, then?'
'I met him — ah- Sunday before last, at dinner in Bitton's house. It was the day. I arrived. I hadn't caught his last name. They all called him Phil; that's how I remembered. How did he die?'
`He was stabbed with this crossbow bolt,' said Dr Fell, picking it up. `It comes from Bitton's house.'
The other said, `Most interesting — ' in a way that sounded like a horrible burlesque. But he was better now. `I don't want you to think, gentlemen, that I know anything of the poor boy's murder because I seemed — ah — upset when you mentioned it. After all, murderers don't do that, do they? `It would be too easy if they did. A person with courage enough to use one of those vicious-looking things isn't apt to faint when it's produced afterwards.. Bitton… poor devil. Does he know?'
`He knows, Mr Arbor. But about young Driscoll: you can't think of any reason for his murder?'
`My dear sir, no! No, of course not. I only met him once, at that dinner. I haven't seen him since.'
`He was killed, at the Traitors' Gate out there,' pursued Dr Fell, nodding, `and his body thrown on the steps. I don't suppose you noticed anything suspicious while you were there?'
`No. What I — er — wanted to tell you when I first came in was that it was only by chance I was detained here at all. You see, I wanted to examine that copy of Sir Walter Raleigh's History o f the World which is on display at the Bloody Tower, in the room where he wrote it. I arrived here shortly after one o'clock, and went directly to the Bloody Tower. I presented my card to the warder on duty, and asked whether I might make a detailed examination. He said he was sorry, but that it was a part of the Tower exhibits and that I couldn't handle it without a written order from the resident governor or deputy governor. Even then, he said, it was doubtful whether I could get the order. But I asked to be directed to where I might find either one. He sent me across the way… '
`Inside the ballium wall?' Hadley interrupted.
'Yes. To a row of buildings facing up towards; the Green and the parade-ground. But it was foggy, and there were several doors, and I was uncertain. When I hesitated, a man came out of one of the doors.'
`A man in knickerbockers and a cap?' Dr Fell inquired.
`I don't know. Er — yes, I believe he did wear knickerbockers I recall it because they seemed a bit absurd on such a day. But it was foggy, and I could not swear to it. I spoke to him to find out which door I should use, but he brushed past me without listening. Then another warder hailed me and told me that visitors were not permitted on the side of the grounds where I was walking. I explained. He then said he was positive neither of the persons I wanted to see were in their quarters at the time.'
`Quite correct,' said General Mason, dryly.
`But surely, gentlemen!' Arbor protested, wetting his lips, `surely you can't be interested…. You are? Well, let me see. I returned to the Bloody Tower and tried the judicious use of a bank-note. It was not accepted. So I determined to leave. On my way out to Water Lane I collided with a young lady who had just come under the arch of the gate from Water Lane and was walking very rapidly up the incline that goes towards the parade-ground.!
'Could you describe this young lady?'
'No, I'm afraid 'not. I scarcely glanced at her. All I remember is that she was in a great hurry, and that she wore some sort of fur collar, and that she seemed ah uncommonly solid. It gave me a jar when we bumped. My wristwatch was a bit loose, and I thought it had slipped off. Well, I walked through the arch of the Bloody Tower, into Water Lane…. ‘
'Now, Mr Arbor, for the Lord's sake think! Think! Was there anybody near the railing around Traitors' Gate then? Did you see anybody standing there?'
Arbor sat back. `I begin to see the drift,' he answered, nervously. 'I didn't go close to the rail, or look over. But there was nobody standing near it, Inspector. Nobody!'
`And could you remember the time then?'
'I can tell you the time precisely,' said the other. `It was just twenty-five minutes to two.'
9. The Three Hints
It was the placid Hadley who was momentarily jarred out of his calm then. `But look here!' he protested, `the police surgeon said he died at a quarter to….'
'Hold on!' bellowed Dr Fell. He struck the top of the desk such a sharp blow with his cane that the sheet of mauve notepaper fluttered, off. `That's what I was hoping and waiting for. And to think I never took this man's testimony of the murder before! I nearly passed it up; My friend, I am grateful. I am profoundly grateful… Now, you're absolutely positive of that time, are you?'
`Positive. As I told you, my encounter with the young lady had jarred my watch. I stepped back into the door of the Wakefield Tower to see whether it was in danger of slipping off, and I noted the time just before I walked down to Water Lane.'
`Get out your watches, gentlemen,' rumbled Dr Fell, `and let's compare notes. Eheu! So! it's a quarter past six.
That's what I have, anyhow. What about the rest of you?' `Quarter past six,' said General Mason. `Thirteen and a half minutes past,' said Rampole.
