merely killed one man, my friend; you've killed two. Shall I ring up Bristol and prove it? Shall I call the police, too? Or will you protect me and give me some of that money? Eh?
''Shall I prove it? Listen; they don't answer. Yes, they do. Here they are now. It's a police inspector on the wire. Speak up, my friend, and decide. (This is L. speaking. Would you like to know the truth about the money?)' And Charters, sweatin' blind, decides.
'I've wondered to myself-' said H.M., and stopped. 'Do you understand a little better now? If Charters had been a devil, he'd have killed Serpos. I think I'd 'a' done it. And it was twistin' around awful uncertain in my mind as to what he'd do. There was a cliff behind, and a dark night over us. But Charters couldn't do it. He was only stumblin' and blunderin' about in his own mind.
'That was the situation when all of you came back to the house. You can see what I was tryin' to do with my questions now. I didn't pound anybody, except where I knew there was somethin' bearin' directly on the truth to be got. I kept off obvious paths, when I knew they wouldn't lead anywhere. I whittled it all down to showin' Charters in his own mind and soul that I knew the truth. He must have got a nasty shock when he learned L. was dead — from the lips of L.'s own daughter, livin' right here beside him, unbeknownst, all the time. He got a whole coruscatin' whirl of nasty shocks; I saw to that. But he wouldn't see it, or pretended he wouldn't see it. The gentleman murderer gritted his teeth and kept his bat straight.
'It was all neat and sharp and severe; we were fightin' it out between us, and he knew it; until I did what hadda be done. You remember his face when he read that slip of paper? He never kept a stiffer lip or a straighter bat, but you remember his face? He walked out of that house as he'll walk out of your lives. Cheer up. Forget the goblins. For this is the beautiful parish of Hammersmith, and this is your weddin' day.'
'There is just one thing,' I said, 'that you've got to tell us
'Watch out for that truck!' yelled Stone. 'Oh, holy —!'
I dodged the oncoming lorry, which was like a charging bull elephant, as Hammersmith traffic engulfed us, and the sky over Hammersmith was serene. But one question I was determined to have answered.
And it stuck in my mind all through the hectic rush that followed. Over most of those events I pass quickly. We had wired ahead for my clothes to be taken to H.M.'s house in Brook Street, so that we should lose no time: Sandy Armitage, my best man, is a reliable sort, and I knew that all the packing arrangements I should have made would be attended to. Things, I admit, took on a somewhat dream-like quality; for a man is inclined to forget murders and the affairs of darkness on his wedding day; but that infernal question stuck in my mind.
I pass over the scene when three grimy, unshaven, unpresentable people deposited the bride on the steps of her own house in Mount Street, just as the triumphant clocks of the wedding day were chiming eleven. Evelyn's father had even come down the steps in such a state of apoplectic rage that no comment could be passed. I say that I pass over the scene, but I cannot help remarking that it is the first time I ever saw a major-general dancing on the pavement. Also, I pass over the scenes at H.M.'s house when we were getting ready. Stone had to have a morning coat, and the only thing that would fit him was one belonging to H.M.'s butler, who is short and stocky. I missed connections with Sandy, but he left a message that all was ready; that he was going on to the church; and that he would like to wring my neck.
Yet the car sped us out again, and down into an effulgent Whitehall. I knew now that we should reach the church before Evelyn.
'We're going to do it!' said Stone, with the tense expression of one waiting for an execution. He pointed to Big Ben as we swept past it. 'One minute to the half-hour! We-'
'And before we do,' I said, 'there's one thing that'll stump you, H.M. There's one thing you can't explain.'
'You want to bet?' said H.M., feeling at his collar. He hates formal clothes, and has often been known to say so.'What is it?'
'Well, as an example of the cussedness of all human affairs. You said that all the small things in this case, like a kit of burglar's tools and a slip in a phone conversation and a counterfeit note — all those details-had their place in the narrative. But there's one that doesn't.'
'What one?'
'A book of sermons,' I said, 'and a clergyman's outfit. The clergyman's outfit I was compelled to wear, and the book of sermons I was compelled to carry. Damn it, fate has designed this business so far; but if you can explain the presence of a book of sermons and a cler — '
It was at this point that I stopped the car, and Sandy Armitage hopped on the running-board.
'Thank God you're here,' he said. 'I'll wait till afterwards before I knock your block off, but everything's wrong. Your presence may smooth matters out. It'll go well enough now. We've been having trouble with the parson's nerves — '
'The parson? What's wrong with the parson?'
'You know,' said Sandy. 'The great pal of the general's, the one he brought over from Canada, and hasn't seen in twenty years, to tie the knot. Well, the parson's been having the hell of a time. It seems he was coming up from Plymouth on the boat-train last night, and two low-down master criminals — a man and a woman-set on him, and… Well, he spent the night in jail in Bristol, and General Cheyne's only just got him out. He's wild. He's mad. He says he doesn't know these crooks' names, but that he's going to devote his life to tracking them down; and if he ever sees them again — '
