he? Credentials — I don't doubt it. But, according to Blake here, our young friend Serpos had credentials too, and devilish good ones, as the Reverend Somebody of Something in Somerset. Stone spins this yam about L’ s death. '
H.M. seemed bothered by an invisible fly. 'Yarn,' he said. 'Well, it'll be easy enough to cable Pittsburgh and find out. If he's not connected with the police department, and if L. really didn't die there, then Stone tried a long shot on an awful risky story. But I say, son: why don't you believe Stone's story?'
'I don't know,' Charters admitted slowly. 'But — damn it all, man! Don't you see for yourself? It's thin. It's pasteboardy. It hasn't got any body. It sounds wrong.'
'Uh-huh. But that's because you're romantic, Charters.'
'My God,' said Charters.
'Yes, but you are, though,' said H.M. argumentatively. He got out his black pipe and pointed it. 'With all the hard shell you ought to have acquired, that's just what you are. The legend dazzles you. It obscures sense. Now, suppose we'd heard a different story. Suppose L. had been found dyin' in a garret in Vienna, with the windows open on the sunset and the Hapsburg arms in the Cathedral roof — shut up, curse you! I'm tellin' this — you'd be inclined to believe it just because it'd probably be ruddy nonsense. L. was a business man, and a good one. He had to be. But because he was found dyin' in a good substantial no-nonsense city like Pittsburgh or Manchester or Birmingham, if it brings it any closer to you; because he choked off in a good comfortable hotel room, from goin' without his overshoes in spring weather, instead of consumption or a knife-thrust from behind a curtain; because there were no Strauss waltzes or dyin' murmurs in delirium: then it strikes you as all very fishy. Oh, I admit it's disappointin'. I'm disappointed. Stone was disappointed. But that's no reason why we should think it's all a pack of lies.'
Charters regarded him coolly.
'Sorry. Very well, then. I'll give you solid reasons. First, if L. doesn't exist, Hogenauer's offer to betray him turns into complete nonsense.'
'So,' said H.M.
'Next,' Charters went on brusquely, after a curious pause while H.M. sucked noisily at his empty pipe, 'don't forget Stone's account of the mysterious daughter, L.'s daughter. The lost daughter L. wants to find; and whom Stone does find in the wife of Larry Antrim planted conveniently on our doorstep. Betty Antrim is L.'s daughter! — rot! You've been talking about my melodramatic mind. What about yours? At between my Strauss waltzes and your lost daughters, I'd back a good tune any day in the week…. Who's to know she's L.'s daughter?'
'Well, she might, for one,' suggested H.M. He sputtered behind his pipe. 'Now, now, son, don't get your back up. I admit it's touche on that point. But, if she is his daughter, we got a valuable witness to Stone's credibility right under this roof.'
Evelyn spoke thoughtfully. 'What, by the way, do you think of Stone's theory of the murder?'
H.M. opened one eye.
'Stone's theory of the murder, hey? Ho ho ho. So he's got one too? You didn't include that, Ken. What is it?'
'Stone isn't satisfied with the idea that the strychnine and bromide bottles were switched; that fake labels were pasted over each, that Mrs. Antrim gave Hogenauer a dose of strychnine by mistake; and that afterwards the real murderer put the bottles back in their right places. He thinks it was a long-distance job, which the murderer wanted you to believe was managed from this house by someone who had access to the shelves. Stone's argument is that the murderer couldn't have known in advance what Antrim would prescribe…'
'Sound enough,' said H.M. He seemed curiously intent. 'Well?'
'He maintains that Mrs. Antrim gave Hogenauer an honest dose of bromide. The murderer, learning about this comes here and burgles the house. He fills up the big bromide container with real bromide he's bought at the chemist's; and then' he pinches a heavy dose of strychnine out of the poison-bottle. He put some sort of gummy substance on the real labels, and shoves the strychnine-bottle a little out of line. Later we are intended to assume (as Mrs. Antrim did assume) that the switching of bottles, and switching them back again, was done by somebody with free and easy access to the shelves. But actually it was done by an outsider from far away. Actually Hogenauer, by this theory, took home a harmless bottle of bromide. The change was effected next day, when the murderer called at Hogenauer's house… But Stone's theory is based on the idea that Keppel did the dirty. And we know that, whoever else it might have been, it wasn't Keppel.'
H.M.'s disconcerting stare remained fixed. 'I see,' he growled softly.
'You see what? Did you think of it?'
'Oh, yes. Yes,' he replied almost tenderly, 'I did think of it; it was the very first thing I thought of. Uh-huh. It can't be overlooked. It jumps to the eye. It — anyhow, it may interest you to know that there's corroboration of that.'
'Corroboration?'
'Yes. We'd better join the ends of this thing, grumbled H.M., fitting his fingers together. 'There are two sides to it, you know. We haven't been idle either in gatherin' evidence. While you two have been out enjoyin' yourselves, and having a rare old time, I've done a lot of soft-shoe work. Remember, we've had the whole crew of witnesses here for several hours. Dr. and Mrs. A. have been thoroughly hauled over the coals. So has Bowers. So has Serpos’
'What do you think of Serpos, by the way?'
'Ho ho ho,' said H.M. After that sudden rather ghostlike burst of mirth, he peered at me sourly. 'We'll come to Serpos. In good time. Stop interruptin' me, curse you! I want to tell you what happened here last night.. I mean the night Hogenauer came to get his bromide… by the testimony of Dr. and Mrs. A.
'Here's what happened. It's confirmed by the maid-servant, wench by the name o' Jenny Dawson: local gal, and so far as I can see, pretty trustworthy. Hogenauer arrived here about nine-thirty, driven by Bowers in Hogenauer's hired car. He was admitted by the maid. Now, Antrim's evening consultin'-room hours are seven to nine. It was past closing-time, but Hogenauer thought the doctor would see him. The doctor did. Antrim stuck his head out of this room, and told Hogenauer to come in.
'Next we have Antrim's testimony,' pursued H.M., a long sniff rumbling in his nose. 'He says Hogenauer asked to be given a 'going-over,' to see whether he was in shape to stand a mental or physical strain-evidently in preparation for the little clairvoyant experiment that was to take place the next night. Burn me, we oughta have realized this feller Hogenauer is thorough about even his lunacies! Antrim says he hadn't an idea what sort of `physical or mental strain' Hogenauer meant. He says the feller was organically sound, but that his nerves were shot to blazes. He thought Hogenauer had better have a mild nerve sedative: in fact, he says, Hogenauer himself suggested bromide. Hogenauer could 'a' got it at any chemist's, of course, without botherin' a doctor; but this happened to be convenient.
'Well, just at that moment Mrs. Dr. Antrim opened the door of this room. She wouldn't have barged in, naturally; but it was long after hours and she thought there wasn't anybody in here except her husband. Whereupon Antrim said, `While you're here, light o' my life,' or words to that effect, `you might put up a quarter of an ounce of sodium bromide.' Now, the average dose of bromide is 5 to 30 grains. There's 60 grains to a dram, and 8 drams to an ounce. A teaspoon, roughly speakin' holds something less than a dram. So that, puttin' up this quantity of a quarter of an ounce with instructions to take half a teaspoonful at a time, Antrim had given Hogenauer enough bromide for four stiff doses.
'`In any case,' Antrim said, `you might put up a quarter of an ounce of sodium bromide.' This is confirmed by Antrim himself, by Mrs. Antrim, and by the maid-who happened to be passing in the hall when the door was open.
'Happened to be passing,' I said. 'That's, fortunate.'
H. M. peered at me over his spectacles. 'Son, I'm afraid you got a nasty suspicious mind,' he said querulously. 'Sure she was out in the hall. But it seems that our friend Bowers, who'd been given permission to wait in the hall, was trying to click with the maid. And she wasn't havin' any. So she hung about near this door so she could knock on it and make an excuse to go in in case the enemy made a sudden flank-attack. Hey?
'Meantime, Mrs. Antrim's got her commission. She goes into the dispensary,' H.M. pointed towards the half- open door across the room, 'and takes down the big bromide-container: or what she thinks is the bromide container: we won't argue yet. She puts a quarter of an ounce of sodium-bromide into a half-ounce bottle. She brings it out, and hands it to Hogenauer, and he puts it in his pocket. Then Mrs. Antrim goes out — end of her testimony. For about fifteen minutes longer Hogenauer and Antrim sit talking — Antrim's testimony. Then
