'But — Bitton wasn't an' indulgent uncle. Quite to the contrary. He was always quarrelling with his nephew on some point or other. And why? Because he was so fond of him.
He had no son of his own. He had risen from small beginnings, and he wanted to see the boy exhibit some of his own violent energy. And do you think Driscoll didn't know that? Ha!' said the doctor, snorting. `Of course he did. The old man might squeeze the purse strings tighter than a slip knot.' But: Driscoll knew he was the old man's favourite. And when it came to the last. I rather suspect Driscoll figured conspicuously in the old man's will Didn't he, General Mason?'
`I happen to know,' the General said, rather guardedly, `that he wasn't forgotten.'
`So, Hadley, are you really mad enough to think the; boy would have endangered all that? Why, that manuscript was literally Bitton's most cherished possession. You saw how he gloated. If Driscoll had stolen it, and he ever had the faintest suspicion Driscoll had stolen it, out the boy would have gone for ever. You know Bitton's temper and, above all, his stubbornness. And what had Driscoll to gain? At most a few pounds from Arbor. Why should Arbor, a good man of business, give money to a thief for his own property? He would simply smile in that mincing way of his. 'A thousand guilders? Come, take fifty! Or I might tell your uncle where you got this manuscript.' — No, Hadley. The last thing in the world Driscoll would have done would have been to dare steal it. The person he feared most, I tell you, was his uncle.'
Hadley nodded thoughtfully
'Yes. Yes,' he said, `that's true. But why are you so aggressive on the point?'
Dr Fell sighed. He was very much relieved.
`Because, if you understand that, you're half-way, along the right track. I..' Wearily he raised his eyes to the door at another of the inevitable knocks. He went on vigorously: `But I was going to say that I absolutely refuse to listen to another witness this afternoon. It's past six and the pubs are open.'
A very tired looking Sergeant Betts entered.
`I've just been talking to the other visitors, sir,' he said to Hadley. `And I'm afraid it's been a long job. They all wanted to talk, and I had to listen for fear of missing something. But not one of them knew anything whatever, so I let them go Was that correct sir?'
`Yes. But keep those names and addresses in case you need them.' Wearily Hadley passed a hand over his eyes. He hesitated, and then looked at his watch. `'H'm. Well, it's getting late, sergeant, and we'll run along. I'll take charge of these articles on the table.'
He took down his overcoat and donned it slowly.
`Well, gentlemen,' said General Mason, `that seems to be all for the moment. And I think we could all deal with a large brandy and soda. If you'll do me the honour to come up to my rooms…?'
Hadley hesitated; but he looked at his watch again, and shook his head.
`Thanks, General. It's good of you, but I'm afraid I can't. I have to get back to the Yard; I've the devil's own lot of routine business, you know, and I've taken far too much time as it is. I shouldn't be handling the affair at all.' He frowned. `Besides, I think it's best that none of us go up. Sir William will be waiting for you, General. You know him best and you had better tell him everything. About Arbor, you see.?
'Hum! I'm bound to admit I don't like the job,' the other said. `But I suppose you're right.'
`Tell him we shall probably pay him a visit in Berkeley Square to-night, and to be sure everybody is at home.' Oh — yes. And the newspapers. There will be reporters here soon, if they're not being held outside already. For the Lord's sake don't say anything yourself. Just say, 'I have no statement to make at the present time,' and refer them to Sergeant Hamper.'
He was already gathering up the objects which had been in Driscoll's pocket. Rampole handed him an old newspaper from the top of a bookcase; he wrapped the crossbow bolt inside it and stowed it away in the breast pocket of his overcoat.
`Right you are. But at least,' said the general, `let me give you a stirrup cup before you go.' He went to the door and spoke a few words. In a remarkably short time the impassive Parker appeared, bearing a tray with a bottle of whisky, a siphon, and four glasses.
`Well,' he continued, watching the-soda foam as Parker mixed the drinks, `this has been an afternoon. It it weren't for poor Bitton and the damnable closeness of this thing, I should even call it entertaining. But I'm bound to say I can't make head or tail of it.'
`You wouldn't call it entertaining,' Hadley asserted, moodily, `if you had my job. And yet — I don't know.' There was a wry smile under his clipped moustache. He accepted a glass and stared into it. `I've been thirty years in this game, General. And yet I can't help getting something like a quickened pulse when I see 'Scotland Yard has been called in on the case.' What's the magic in the damned name?' I don't know. I'm a part of it. Sometimes I am it. But I'm still as intrigued as a naive old dodderer like Dr Fell.'
`But I always thought you were dead against amateurs„' said the General. `Of course you can hardly call the doctor, an amateur, but… '
Hadley shook his head. `Sir Basil Thomson, one of the greatest men the Yard ever had, used to say that a detective had to be jack of all trades and a master of none. The only thing I regret about the doctor here is the deliberate way he patterns himself after the detectives in sensational fiction; of which, by the way, he's an omnivorous, reader. His silences. His mysterious 'Aha's!' his….’
`Thank you,' rumbled Dr Fell, satirically. He had put on his cloak and his long shovel-hat. Stumping round near the door, he accepted a glass from Parker. `Hadley,' he continued, `that's an outworn maxim, and a baseless slur on a noble branch of literature. You say that the detective in fiction is mysterious and slyly secret. All right; but he only reflects real life. What about the genuine detective? He is the one who looks mysterious, says 'Aha!' and assures everybody that there will be an arrest within twenty-four hours.. In other words, he has all the pose, whether he has the knowledge or not. But, like the fictional detective, very sensibly he doesn't tell what he thinks, for the excellent and commonplace reason that he may be wrong.'
`All right,' said Hadley, — resignedly. 'If you like. Well, good health, gentlemen..!' He drained his glass and put it down. `I' suppose, doctor, this is a preamble to some mysterious predictions of yours?'
`I hadn't thought of doing so,' he replied. `But as a matter of fact, I will give you three hints about what I think. I won't elaborate them' — his scowl became ferocious as he saw Hadley's grin `because I may be wrong. Ha!'
`I thought so. Well, number one?'
`Number one is this. There was some dispute about the time Driscoll died. The only period in which we seem absolutely to be able to fix it lies between one-thirty when he was seen by Parker lighting a cigarette at the rail in front of Traitors' Gate, and ten minutes to two, which is the time
Doctor Watson said he died. Mr Arbor, coming into Water Lane at twenty-five minutes, to two, was positive there was nobody near the rail.'
`I don't see any implication there,' General Mason said, after a pause; `unless it's the implication that Arbor was lying. What's your second hint?'
`The second hint,' Dr Fell answered, `concerns that crossbow bolt. It was, as you saw, filed sharp into a deadly weapon. Now you are assuming, quite naturally, that this filing was done by the murderer.' We have also noticed that the same hand had started to file off those words, Souvenir de Carcassonne, but had stopped with three letters neatly effaced, and gone no farther…. Why weren't those other letters effaced? When we found the body, we were of course bound to learn of the bolt Mrs Bitton purchased at Carcassonne, and, since the victim was Driscoll, it would be too monstrous to assume a mere coincidence. I repeat: why weren't those letters effaced?'
`Yes,' said Hadley. `I'd thought of that point, too. I hope you're sure of the answer. I'm not. And the third hint?'
By this time Dr Fell, and the black ribbon of his eyeglasses, quivered to his chuckle.
`And the third hint,' he said, `is very short. It is a simple query. Why did Sir William's hat fit him?'
With a capacious tilt of his head he swallowed off his drink, glanced blandly, about the group, pushed open the door, and shouldered out into the mist.
10. Eyes in a Mirror
