The Eight of Swords

'Steady on,' said Dr. Fell quietly. His dull eyes opened wide for a moment. 'There's a lavatory just off here. Would you care to, humph, retire for a minute or two. Eh?'

The other rose. At Dr. Fell's gesture, a mystified Inspector Murch followed to stand at the door. During the heavy silence of the room, when he had gone, Dr.

Fell glanced round the group. He picked up a pencil, placed it against his arm, and made a motion of one pressing a plunger.

'Let him alone,' he said gruffly. 'Hell be with us shortly.'

All during this recital, the bishop had been sitting with his head in his hands. He straightened up, and said, 'This is sickening. I–I never realized…'

'No,' said Dr. Fell. 'It isn't pleasant when you really see it at close range, is it? Far different from looking at criminals all preserved and ticketed behind glass cases; and reading the Latin tides on the reptile exhibits with your handkerchief to your nose? I've found that out. I found it out long ago, for my sins. But I ought to have warned you that you will never see clearly to the heart of any crime until you can honestly repeat, 'There but for the grace of God—' '

Mr. Theseus Langdon again took his jump, but this time with more ease.

'Come!' he said persuasively. 'I am afraid I must insist, in justice to my client, that we must not place too much credence in what he says at this time. If you will allow me to join him and speak to him in private, as my prerogative is…?'

'Sit still,' rumbled Dr. Fell. He made only a slight gesture with his pencil, but Langdon subsided.

Spinelli was soothed and urbane when he returned, though a muscle seemed to jump in his shoulder. He stared round with a toothy smile; apologized, and lowered himself with a sort of stage grace into another chair. After a time he went on:

'I was — ha, ha — speaking of poor Nick Depping the first time I saw him. He said, They tell me you're a man of some education. You don't look it. But sit down.' That was how I came to know him, and, take my word for it, I knew him pretty well. So I entered his organization…'

'Stop a bit!' said Dr. Fell. 'I thought you told us a while ago that you refused—?'

The other smirked. 'Oh, I had outside interests. Listen! I still think I'm as smart as he was; yes, and as well educated too, by God, though you mugs wouldn't believe it…' His wrist jerked viciously as he lit another cigarette. 'Never mind. He found it out, and I went to the Big House. But in the meantime I was his sparring partner for what he thought of books, and I read his fortune in that taroc pack until I knew it better than he did. Mind, I expected him to go far. He used to call me the court astrologer, and once he nearly shot me when he was drunk. If it hadn't been for the drinking, and for one outstanding weakness—'

'What was that?'

'Women. He blew in plenty of money on them. If it hadn't been for that… yet,' said Spinelli, who seemed to be jabbed by an ugly memory, 'he honest-to-God had a real fascination for them. They fell for him. I told him once, when I'd had a few drinks myself, 'I'm a better man than you, Nick; by God, I am. But they don't seem to fall for me. It's your money.' But, somehow…' Spinelli fingered his sideburns. 'I used to hate that conceited old rat because the women did go after him, and they wouldn't admit it. They'd pretend to laugh at him in public. But he — he hypnotized them, or something. Why can't I have his luck?' he demanded, almost at a whine. 'Why won't they go for me? He even had one high class dame with a Park

Avenue manner, even if she did come from Ninth Avenue — and stuck to her — and she stuck to him; until he threw her over…'

Spinelli checked himself, as though he had just remembered something. He glanced at Langdon.

'You were saying—?' prompted Dr. Fell.

'I was telling you.' He drew a deep breath. 'I got sent to the Big House. But he was blowing in his money. And if he'd kept his head, and not thrown it around everywhere, he'd have been worth about six million, instead of only fifty thousand pounds in your money.'

Dr. Fell opened one eye. He wheezed thoughtfully, and then said in a gentle voice:

'That's very interesting, my friend. How do you happen to know he left an estate of fifty thousand pounds?'

Nobody moved. Spinelli's eyes remained fixed and glazed. At length he said:

'Trying to trip me up, are you? Suppose I won't answer?'

They could hear his harsh breathing. Dr. Fell lifted his cane and pointed with it across the table.

'I wish you would endeavor to get it through your head, my friend, that there is at present quite enough evidence to hang you for the murder of Depping… Didn't I mention that?'

'No, by God, you didn't! You said-'

'That I wouldn't press the passport charge; that's all.'

'You can't bluff me. This dick,' he nodded at Murch, 'told me this morning I was supposed to have visited Nick Depping last night. Well, I didn't. Show me that servant who says I came to visit him, and I'll prove he's a liar. You can't bluff me. And, if you try, I’ll be damned if I tell you what did happen.'

Dr. Fell sighed. 'You'll try to avoid telling it anyway, Fm afraid. So I shall have to tell you, and I am afraid you'll hang anyway. You see, there are points of. evidence against you which Inspector Murch neglected to mention. We don't think you were the man who rang Depping's doorbell and went upstairs at all. The evidence against you concerns that visit you paid to his house late on the same night — during the rainstorm— when you followed him back after he'd tried to kill you.'

Spinelli jumped to his feet. He said shrilly: 'By Christ, if any squealer—'

'You'd better listen to me, I think. Personally, I don't care a tuppenny farthing what happens to you. But if you value your own neck… Ah, that's better.'

There was something rather terrifying in the wide-open stare of the doctor's eyes. He got his breath again, and went on:

'While you were in prison at Sing Sing, Depping left the States. He was tired of his new toy called racketeering, tired of making his fortune — just as later he tired of the publishing business. He cut loose from Mayfree and returned to England.' Dr. Fell glanced at the bishop. 'You remember remarking this morning, Bishop Donovan, how Mayfree suddenly lost all his power and influence about five years ago? Umph, yes. I think Spinelli has provided us with a reason. You, Spinelli… After you got out of prison, you went in with Mayfree; you discovered his influence was gone; and you very prudently deserted also. Then you came to England…'

'Listen, you,' said Spinelli, jabbing his forefinger into his palm. 'If you think I came over here to find Depping — if anybody thinks that — it's a lie: I swear it's a lie. I was only — on a vacation. Why shouldn't I? It was an accident. I—'

'That's the odd part of it,' Dr. Fell observed reflectively; 'I think it was. I think it was completely by accident that you ran across your old friend Depping, while you were looking for fresh fields in England. Although, of course, you had prudendy provided yourself with a solicitor in case of trouble. Somebody recommended you the same solicitor who had been recommended to Depping; rather a natural thing in the fraternity… Of course, Mr. Langdon may have told you about Depping…''

Spinelli's lip twisted. 'No fear. Say, no fear of him telling about a good thing! I didn't know he had anything to do with Depping, until—' He checked himself. A sharp glance passed between him and Dr. Fell; it was as though they read each other's thoughts. But the doctor did not press the obvious lead. Besides, Langdon was sputtering.

'This,' he said, with a sort of gulp, 'all this is outrageous? Insufferable. Dr. Fell, I must ask to be excused from this conference. I cannot any longer sit and listen to insults which—'

'Park yourself,' said Spinelli coolly, as the other got up, 'or you'll wish you had… Got any other remarks, Dr. What's your name?'

'Hmf, yes. You found Depping posing as a respectable country gentleman. It struck you as a heaven-sent opportunity to exercise those peculiar talents of yours — eh?'

'I deny that.'

'You would, naturally. Let us say that you wanted to present your compliments to Depping and arrange a meeting to chat about old times. But the terms of the meeting, as suggested by Depping, roused suspicions in your none-too-trusting nature. He didn't ask you to his house, for this chat. A meeting in a lonely neighborhood, beside the river half a mile from the inn where you were stopping; and so far away from where Depping lived that, if your