'Well, let's' get out,' the chief inspector suggested. 'Whatever you want to dream about, that fireplace has at least one thing to tell us. The manuscript was lying under those burnt 'Mary' letters. Driscoll burnt the manuscript before he left here on his way to the Tower. Mrs Bitton broke in at five o'clock, and destroyed the evidence against her.'
`That's right, I know,' the doctor said, wearily. `Look here. I've been several hours without a drink.; If we could find one hereabouts.?'
`Sound enough,' said the chief inspector. `Then I'll outline my case to you.'
He led the way out of the little room and down to the forlorn dining-room, where he snapped on the lights of the mosaic dome over the table. Undoubtedly, Rampole thought, that dome had come with the flat; it was of ornate ugliness, with golds and reds and blues jumbled together; and it threw a harsh, weird light on their faces. Curiously enough, the impalpable presence of the dead man was stronger here than anywhere else. It was growing on Rampole with a ghostly and horrible reality. On the mantelpiece of this dusty dining-room, a marble clock with gilt facings had stopped; stopped many days ago, for the glass face was thick with dust. But it had stopped at a quarter to two. Rampole noted the coincidence with a vivid memory of Driscoll lying white-faced and sightless on the steps of Traitors' Gate. He stared at the pieces of orange peel on the spotted cloth of the table, and shuddered.
`Sorry' he observed, with a sort of jerk and without conscious volition. `I can't drink his whisky. It doesn't seem right, somehow!
'Neither can I,' said Dalrye, quietly.
He sat down at the table and shaded his eyes with his hand.
Dr Fell turned from rummaging at the back of the sideboard, where he had found some clean glasses.
'So you feel it too, do you?' he demanded.
'Feel what?' asked the chief inspector. `Here's a bottle nearly full. Make mine strong. ' Feel what?'
`That he's here,' said Dr Fell. 'Driscoll.'
Hadley set down the bottle. 'Don't talk rot,' he said, irritably. `What are you trying to do throw a scare into us? You look as though you were beginning to tell a ghost story.'
`Listen, Hadley. I'm not talking about ghost stories. I' won't even say premonitions. But I'm talking about a wild surmise I had earlier in the evening, when we were talking to Lester Bitton. There was a tiny germ of reason in it, and it frightened me. Possibly it's stronger now because the hour's so late and we're none of us at our brightest…. By God! I'm going to take this drink and several others, because I genuinely need 'em. I advise the rest of you to do the same.'
Rampole felt uneasy. He thought he might look a fool or a coward; the strain of the day had made his thoughts more than a little muddled.
`All: right' he said, `all right. Pour a big one.' He glanced across at Dalrye, who nodded wearily.
'I think I know what you're talking about, Doctor,' Dalrye said, in a low voice. `I know I wasn't here, and I'm not sure, but I still think I know what you mean.'
`The person I’m interested in talking about,' Hadley interposed, `is Lester Bitton. You're pretty well aware, aren't you, Fell, that he's the murderer?'
The doctor was setting out glasses. He took the bottle from Hadley, waved away the other's suggestion of washing the glasses, and filled them. He said: `Suppose Bitton has an alibi? You've got almost a case to go to the jury on… unless he has an alibi. That's what's worrying me. Tell me, Mr
Dalrye, when did you last see Sir William Bitton?'
`Sir…?' Dalrye raised his head and regarded the other with puzzled eyes. `Sir William?' he repeated. `Why, at the house to-night. General Mason suggested that I go back with him, when he returned from the Tower of London.!
'Did the general tell him about who really owned the manuscript? Arbor, I mean? Or did you know about it?'
'I knew about it. Sir William goes about telling everybody,' Dalrye answered, grimly, 'that nobody knows of the, manuscript, and then proceeds to share his secret with everybody. Did he tell you that you were the first to hear of it?'
`Yes'
'He's told both the general and myself the same thing. We heard it weeks ago.'
'What did he say when Mason told him it belonged to Arbor?'
'That's the funny part. Nothing much. He just said, 'I see,' and got very quiet.' It's pretty clear that he suspected as much all along. Then he said.. '
Dalrye looked towards the door with dull eyes. It had become like a warning, repeated over and over until it grows horrible. The telephone bell was ringing again.
There was nothing in that ring that should have sent a chill through anybody. But Rampole went cold. And in the silence beneath the clamour of that insistent bell Dr- Fell said:
'I shouldn't let Miss Bitton answer that, Hadley.'
Hadley was out of the door in a moment into the study, and the door closed behind him.
While nobody moved, the rest of them could hear Sheila moving about in the kitchen down the passage Hadley did not speak for a long time on the phone. He opened the study door presently… they could hear the sharp squeak of its hinge. Then he came with slow steps down the passage, entered, and closed the dining-room door behind him.
It's all up,' he said. 'Get your coats on.'
'What is it?' the doctor asked.
The chief inspector put a hand over his eyes.
'I know what you mean now. I should have seen what sort of mood he was in when he left us. At least, I should have been warned by what Miss Bitton said. That was the way he said he wanted to die.'
Dr Fell brought his hand slowly down on the table. 'Is it…?'
'Yes,' Hadley answered, nodding. 'That's it. Lester Bitton has shot himself.'
17. Death at Bitton House
During the ride in Hadley's car to Berkeley Square, the only words spoken were questions and answers on the little Hadley had been told about the tragedy.
'It happened about ten minutes before they phoned,' he explained. 'That was the butler talking. The household had been up late, and the butler was still' sitting up; he'd been ordered to wait for Sheila Bitton's return. He was in his pantry when he heard the shot, and he ran upstairs. The door of Lester Bitton's room: was open; he smelled the smoke. Bitton was lying across the bed in his room, with the gun in his hand.'
'What happened then?' Dr Fell demanded.
'Hobbes… that's the butler… tried to wake up Sir William. But he'd taken a sleeping-draught and the door of his room was locked; Hobbes couldn't rouse him. Then Hobbes remembered Miss Bitton's talking to us, and where we were, so he phoned on the chance of getting me.'
The moist, chill air whipped through the open windscreen the tyres of the car sang, and above the roofs there were stars. It had been very quiet, Hadley's handling of the situation. Sheila Bitton had not been told of her uncle's death. They had left her there, with Dalrye to break the news when they were gone.
'I'd better not take, her back to the house,' Dalrye had said. 'She'd only be in the way and she'd get hysterical… he was her favourite. I know a great friend of hers, a girl who lives in Park Lane. I'll drive her over there and get Margaret to put her up for the, night. Then I'll join you.'
The only thing that had surprised Rampole was the doctor's insistence that Hadley should see Arbor.
'Or, on second thoughts,' the doctor had added, 'you'd better let me see him. He still thinks I'm Chief Inspector Hadley. And if we try to explain matters at this stage, when he's in terror of his life, he may suspect all kinds of a put-up job.'
`I don't care who sees him, so long as he talks,' the chief inspector replied, testily. `You can stay here and wait for him, if you like. But I'd much prefer that you came along with me. We can leave Mr Rampole to talk to him until we get back.
