The Eight of Swords

The bishop, who all this time had been staring at the windows, turned heavily. His face looked dull and uncertain.

'Is all this necessary?' he asked. 'I confess, doctor, that I am — much troubled. And confused. Villainy— ah — in general I have always regarded as an abstract thing, like a chemical reaction. Seeing it here…'

'Nevertheless, we have got to talk about it. Those remarks between Spinelli and Langdon, especially the things they didn't say, were the most revealing clues we have had up to this time. I am interested now not so much in what things were said, as why they were said.

H'm.' A thoughtful sniff rumbled in the doctor's nose. 'For instance, Langdon's insistent statement that a lady from what he calls 'your charming community' was prepared to run away with Depping. True or untrue— why did he say it? Definitely he had some purpose, in desiring that everybody should know he knew it. I don't think we can doubt that Langdon knew a great deal more about Depping than he was willing to tell us. But he chose that little item to parade before us.'

To throw suspicion on a woman, one would think,' suggested the bishop. To let us know he knew more about the murder than he was wilting to tell.'

'And yet I doubt it. Surely it leads in another direction as well… It's an unpleasant business, but I think we shall have to listen to a little gossip and opinion. Humph, brr-r, yes. Preferably strong-minded gossip and opinion. Inspector, will you step outside and tell the buder to ask Mrs. Standish to step downstairs? We haven't yet heard her views. And I lack something. I know who the murderer, is, but—'

The bishop.lifted his head. 'You know, doctor?'

'I'm afraid I do. I knew it this afternoon. You see,' Dr. Fell's hands slid out and played with the silver inkstand, 'you see, the murderer made one terrific slip, which has not received the proper attention… Never mind. We can discuss that later. Stop a bit, Inspector! Before you go, in case Spinelli and Langdon should get through their conversation prematurely, you must have your instructions.'

'Yes, sir?' said Murch gruffly.

'When Spinelli comes back to this room, you will be informed that neither you nor your constable will be needed further tonight. Both of you will leave here, ostentatiously…' 'Ah! And follow Spinelli?'

'Tut, tut, Nothing of the kind. Those uniforms of yours would be spotted half a mile, especially if Spinelli has reason to believe he is under surveillance. The constable will go home. You, after pretending to do so, will take a long way round and go to the Guest House. This is merely a guess of mine, but we shall have to play a long chance.'

Murch stroked his moustache. 'But there's nobody at the Guest House, sir! You be and sent the man Storer away to the 'Bull'—'

'Exactly. You won't go inside, but keep in concealment close to the house, and watch what may happen. Meanwhile…'

He turned to Hugh Donovan, and smiled quizzically. 'You look like a stout young fellow who could take care of himself if it came to trouble. So I’ll tell you why I wanted you here to listen to what we've heard tonight. You've — hum — studied academic criminology, they tell me.' He coughed meaningly, and as Hugh met the glance over the doctor's spectacles he knew that this fat bandit knew his own particular guilty secret. 'Would you like to try a little practical work?'

'Would I!' said Hugh fervently.

'Think you could follow Spinelli wherever he went, and keep out of sight?'

'Absolutely.'

'I don't like to do this, but you're the only person here who might conceivably do it. And before you agree, I want to impress on you exactly what you're doing.' Dr. Fell looked sharply at him, at the bishop, and at the scowling Inspector Murch. 'If I'm right, you see, that man Spinelli is going to walk straight into a death trap.'

He waited to let that statement sink in, and for his listeners to use their imaginations on it. The bright, hot library had become full of suggestion.

In other words, my boy, this placid little rustic corner — where nobody has any motive — contains a killer who would just as soon put a bullet into you as into Spinelli. A killer possibly without deep intelligence, but a quick thinker with an incredible amount of nerve. I can't say for certain whether Spinelli will try the same tactics as he tried with Depping, but I believe he will. And if he attempts it at all, it will have to be immediately, because I've forced his hand; he has got to leave England, and he must act at once… Do you understand?'

'Enough to try it, doctor.'

'Very well.' He turned and nodded towards the closed portieres over the doorway at the far end of the library. 'I don't want Spinelli to see you when he comes back. Go into the billiard-room there, and keep watch behind those curtains. Well maneuver him out the same way he came in: through the windows to the terrace. The terrace runs all the way round this side of the house, including the billiard-room, and there's a door opening on it from there. When you see Spinelli leave, slip out the door from the billiard-room to the terrace, and follow. Whatever you do, for God's sake don't lose him. That's all. Very well, Inspector; go and see if you can find Mrs. Standish.'

Hugh was already feeling the excitement of the thing, as though it had been a game. He had a wholesome love of play-acting, and he could not even yet bring himself to believe that following people was anything else. If he had not seen that dead man… but the image flashed across his mind as he put his hand on the portieres at the end of the room. It was effective.

There was a bright moon that night. Its light fell into the dark billiard-room through a row of diamond-paned windows high up on the wall to the right, and there were other windows at the far end. In the right-hand wall there was also a glass-panelled door standing open on the terrace. Like the library, this room was high and narrow. He could dimly see the billiard table in the middle, and the marking-board and racks of cues against the wall.

It was cool here, after the stuffy air of the other room. The portieres had a sound-deadening effect; he could hear his father's voice only faintly as the bishop expounded something to Dr. Fell. Parting the curtains about half an inch, he groped into the shadows after a chair. Cool here, and a faint breeze. The glass door moved slightly; a swish of trees went murmuring round the house; and the thin line of light from between the portieres trembled across the billiard table. This, it occurred to him, would be an excellent house in which to play any sort of game that entailed wandering about in the dark; say that noble pastime called sardines. Which suggestion turned his thoughts inevitably to Patricia Standish and the pleasures of darkness. But he had to attend to business. Discovering a chair, he had just drawn it up to the opening between the curtains when a new voice rose, commanding and majestic, from the library.

'I do not ask to know what this means,' it proclaimed; 'but I demand to know what it means. Certain remarks and hints have been made to me, which, in justice to the memory of dear, dear Septimus — to say nothing of poor, poor Betty — I will have explained. Furthermore…'

Hugh peered through the opening. Standing before Dr. Fell was the handsome and aggressive figure of Maw Standish. Her chin was up, her ash-blonde head and square face determined; she was a Matterhom in white lace, staring down over the icy slopes of herself. She stood with her arm round the shoulders of a pretty little brown- haired girl who, Maw's gesture indicated, was Betty Depping. Betty Depping looked tired, and nervous, and, most of all, embarrassed. Instinctively Hugh liked her. In appearance she would not have qualified for the name of Ginch: despite her neatness, her pale fine face, and dark blue eyes set rather wide apart, she looked sturdy and capable. Her lips were full, but her chin strong. The brown hair was drawn back severely behind her ears, and — had he been closer — Hugh would have expected to find a freckle or two round her nose. As she glanced at Maw Standish, there was in her eyes a sort of weary cynicism. You felt that she would never shed many tears; but that they would be bitter ones.

Her presence complicated matters. Hugh could only see the back of Dr. Fell's head, but he could imagine the doctor rumbling and scowling at bringing in Depping's daughter at this juncture. However, Maw Standish was giving nobody a chance to protest.

furthermore,' she continued, shaking Betty by way of emphasis in spite of the girl's efforts to free herself, 'I demand to know the reason why this house

has been filled with objectionable people. In the drawing-room at this minute — at this very minute' said Maw Standish, as though that made the fact more sinister, 'there is a horrible creature with a fawn-colored hat and a red pin stripe in his suit. Why must this house be filled with objectionable people? Think of the dear, dear bishop's feelings. Think of my own feelings. I am sure the dear, dear bishop must be outraged…'