be, and pretending to be a workman of some kind? That must have been the knowledge that made her dangerous. If she recognized him, he may have recognized her – and he may have realized that she had recognized him. If she'd passed on that particular item to Father Gorman, then it was vital that Father Gorman should be silenced at once before he could pass it on.'
He looked at me.
'You agree, don't you? That must have been the way of it.'
'Oh yes,' I said. 'I agree.'
'And you've an idea, perhaps, who the man is?'
'I've an idea, but -'
'I know. We haven't got a particle of evidence.'
He was silent a moment. Then he got up.
'But we'll get him,' he said. 'Make no mistake. Once we know definitely who it is, there are always ways. We'll try every damned one of them!'
Chapter 23
It was some three weeks later that a car drove up to the front door of Priors Court.
Four men got out. I was one of them. There was also Detective-Inspector Lejeune and Detective-Sergeant Lee. The fourth man was Mr Osborne, who could hardly contain his delight and excitement at being allowed to be one of the party.
'You must hold your tongue, you know,' Lejeune admonished him.
'Yes, indeed, Inspector. You can count on me absolutely. I won't utter a word.'
'Mind you don't.'
'I feel it's a privilege. A great privilege, though I don't quite understand -'
But nobody was entering into explanations at this moment.
Lejeune rang the bell and asked for Mr Venables.
Looking rather like a deputation, the four of us were ushered in.
If Venables was surprised at our visit, he did not show it. His manner was courteous in the extreme. I thought again, as he wheeled his chair a little back so as to widen the circle round him, what a very distinctive appearance the man had. The Adam's apple moving up and down between the wings of his old-fashioned collar, the haggard profile with its curved nose like a bird of prey.
'Nice to see you again, Easterbrook. You seem to spend a lot of time down in this part of the world nowadays.'
There was a faint malice in his tone, I thought. He resumed:
'And – Detective-Inspector Lejeune, is it? That rouses my curiosity, I must admit. So peaceful in these parts, so free from crime. And yet, a detective-inspector calls! What can I do for you, Detective-Inspector?'
Lejeune was very quiet, very suave.
'There is a matter on which we think you might be able to assist us, Mr Venables.'
'That has a rather familiar ring, does it not? In what way do you think I can assist you?'
'On October seventh – a parish priest of the name of Father Gorman was murdered in West Street, Paddington. I have been given to understand that you were in the neighbourhood at that time – between seven- forty-five and eight-fifteen in the evening, and you may have seen something that may have a bearing on the matter?'
'Was I really in the neighbourhood at that time? Do you know, I doubt it, I very much doubt it. As far as I can recall I have never been in that particular district of London. Speaking from memory, I do not even think I was in London at all just then. I go to London occasionally for an interesting day in the sale rooms, and now and then for a medical checkup.'
'With Sir William Dugdale of Harley Street, I believe.'
Mr Venables stared at him coldly.
'You are very well informed, Inspector.'
'Not quite so well as I should like to be. However, I'm disappointed that you can't assist me in the way that I hoped. I think I owe it to you to explain the facts connected with the death of Father Gorman.'
'Certainly, if you like. It is a name I have never heard until now.'
'Father Gorman had been called out on that particular foggy evening to the deathbed of a woman nearby. She had become entangled with a criminal organization, at first almost unwittingly, but later certain things made her suspect the seriousness of the matter. It was an organization which specialized in the removal of unwanted persons – for a substantial fee, naturally.'
'Hardly a new idea,' murmured Venables. 'In America -'
'Ah, but there were some novel features about this particular organization. To begin with, the removals were ostensibly brought about by what might perhaps be called psychological means. What is referred to as a 'death wish,' said to be present in everyone, is stimulated -'
'So that the person in question obligingly commits suicide? It sounds, if I may say so, Inspector, too good to be true.'
'Not suicide, Mr Venables. The person in question dies a perfectly natural death.'
'Come now. Come now. Do you really believe that? How very unlike our hard-headed police force!'
'The headquarters of this organization are said to be a place called the 'Pale Horse.''
'Ah, now I begin to understand. So that is what brings you to our pleasant rural neighbourhood; my friend Thyrza Grey, and her nonsense! Whether she believes it herself or not, I've never been able to make out. But nonsense it is! She has a silly mediumistic friend, and the local witch cooks her dinners (quite brave to eat them – hemlock in the soup any moment!). And the three old dears have worked up quite a local reputation. Very naughty, of course, but don't tell me Scotland Yard, or wherever you come from, take it all seriously?'
'We take it very seriously indeed, Mr Venables.'
'You really believe that Thyrza spouts some high-falutin' nonsense, Sybil throws a trance, and Bella does black magic, and as a result somebody dies?'
'Oh no, Mr Venables – the cause of death is simpler than that -' He paused a moment.
'The cause is thallium poisoning.'
There was a momentary pause -
'What did you say?'
'Poisoning – by thallium salts. Quite plain and straightforward. Only it had to be covered up – and what better method of covering up than a pseudo-scientific, psychological setup – full of modern jargon and reinforced by old superstitions. Calculated to distract attention from the plain fact of administration of poison.'
'Thallium.' Mr Venables frowned. 'I don't think I've ever heard of it.'
'No? Used extensively as rat poison, occasionally as a depilatory for children with ringworm. Can be obtained quite easily. Incidentally there's a packet of it tucked away in a corner of your potting shed.'
'In my potting shed? It sounds most unlikely.'
'It's there all right. We've examined some of it for testing purposes -'
Venables became slightly excited.
'Someone must have put it there. I know nothing about it! Nothing at all.'
'Is that so? You're a man of some wealth, aren't you, Mr Venables?'
'What has that got to do with what we are talking about?'
'The Inland Revenue have been asking some awkward questions lately, I believe? As to source of income, that is.'
'The curse of living in England is undoubtedly our system of taxation. I have thought very seriously of late of going to live in Bermuda.'
'I don't think you'll be going to Bermuda just yet a while, Mr Venables.'
'Is that a threat, Inspector? Because if so -'
