'No, no, Mr Venables. Just an expression of opinion. Would you like to hear just how this little racket was worked?'
'You are certainly determined to tell me.'
'It's very well organized. Financial details are arranged by a debarred solicitor called Mr Bradley. Mr Bradley has an office in Birmingham. Prospective clients visit him there, and do business. That is to say, there is a bet on whether someone will die within a stated period. Mr Bradley, who is fond of a wager, is usually pessimistic in his prognostications. The client is usually more hopeful. When Mr Bradley wins his bet, the money has to be paid over promptly – or else something unpleasant is liable to happen. That is all Mr Bradley has to do – make a bet. Simple, isn't it?
'The client next visits the Pale Horse. A show is put on by Miss Thyrza Grey and her friends, which usually impresses him in the way it is meant to do.
'Now for the simple facts behind the scenes.
'Certain women, bona fide employees of one of the many consumer research concerns, are detailed to canvass a particular neighbourhood with a questionnaire. 'What bread do you prefer? What toilet articles and cosmetics? What laxative, tonics, sedatives, or indigestion mixtures?' People nowadays are conditioned to answering quizzes. They seldom object.
'And so to – the last step. Simple, bold, successful! The only action performed by the originator of the scheme in person. He may be wearing a mansion-flat-porter's uniform, he may be the man calling to read the gas or the electric meter. He may be a plumber, or an electrician, or a workman of some kind. Whatever he is, he will have what appear to be the proper credentials with him if anyone asks to see them. Most people don't. Whatever role he is playing, his real object is simple – the substitution of a preparation he brings with him for a similar article which be knows (by reason of the C.R.C. questionnaire) that his victim uses. He may tap pipes, or examine meters, or test water pressure – but that is his real object. Having accomplished it, he leaves, and is not seen in that neighbourhood again.
'And for a few days perhaps nothing happens. But sooner or later, the victim displays symptoms of illness. A doctor is called in, but has no reason to suspect anything out of the ordinary. He may question what food or drink, etc., the patient has taken, but he is unlikely to suspect the ordinary proprietary article that the patient has taken for years.
'And you see the beauty of the scheme, Mr Venables? The only person who knows what the head of the organization actually does – is the head of the organization himself. There is no one to give him away.'
'So how do you know so much?' demanded Mr Venables pleasantly.
'When we have suspicions of a certain person, there are ways of making sure.'
'Indeed? Such as?'
'We needn't go into all of them. But there's the camera, for instance. All kinds of ingenious devices are possible nowadays. A man can be snapped without his suspecting the fact. We've got some excellent pictures, for instance, of a uniformed flat porter, and a gas man and so on. There are such things as false moustaches, different dentures, etc., but our man has been recognized, quite easily – first by Miss Katherine Corrigan, alias Mrs Mark Easterbrook, and also by a woman called Edith Binns. Recognition is an interesting thing, Mr Venables. For instance, this gentleman here, Mr Osborne, is willing to swear he saw you following Father Gorman in Barton Street on the night of the seventh of October about eight o'clock.'
'And I did see you!' Mr Osborne leaned forward, twitching with excitement. 'I described you – described you exactly!'
'Rather too exactly, perhaps,' said Lejeune. 'Because you didn't see Mr Venables that night when you were standing outside the doorway of your shop. You weren't standing there at all. You were across the street yourself – following Father Gorman until he turned into West Street, and you came up with him and killed him…'
Mr Zachariah Osborne said:
'What?'
It might have been ludicrous. It was ludicrous! The dropped jaw. The staring eyes…
'Let me introduce you, Mr Venables, to Mr Zachariah Osborne, pharmacist, late of Barton Street, Paddington. You'll feel a personal interest in him when I tell you that Mr Osborne, who has been under observation for some time, was unwise enough to plant a packet of thallium salts in your potting shed. Not knowing of your disability, he'd amused himself by casting you as the villain of the piece; and being a very obstinate, as well as a very stupid man, he refused to admit he'd made a bloomer.'
'Stupid? You dare to call me stupid? If you knew – if you'd any idea what I've done – what I can do – I -'
Osborne shook and spluttered with rage.
Lejeune summed him up carefully. I was reminded of a man playing a fish.
'You shouldn't have tried to be so clever, you know,' he said reprovingly. 'Why, if you'd just sat back in that shop of yours, and let well alone, I shouldn't be here now, warning you, as it's my duty to do, that anything you say will be taken down and -'
It was then that Mr Osborne began to scream.
Chapter 24
'Look here, Lejeune, there are lots of things I want to know.'
The formalities over, I had got Lejeune to myself. We were sitting together with two large tankards of beer opposite us.
'Yes, Mr Easterbrook? I gather it was a surprise to you.'
'It certainly was. My mind was set on Venables. You never gave me the least hint.'
'I couldn't afford to give hints, Mr Easterbrook. You have to play these things close to your chest. They're tricky. The truth is we hadn't a lot to go on. That's why we had to stage the show in the way we did with Venables' cooperation. We had to lead Osborne right up the garden path and then turn on him suddenly and hope to break him down. And it worked.'
'Is he mad?' I asked.
'I'd say he's gone over the edge now. He wasn't to begin with, of course, but it does something to you, you know. Killing people. It makes you feel powerful and larger than life. It makes you feel you're God Almighty. But you're not. You're only a nasty bit of goods that's been found out. And when that fact's presented to you suddenly your ego just can't stand it. You scream and you rant and you boast of what you've done and how clever you are. Well, you saw him.'
I nodded. 'So Venables was in on the performance you put up,' I said. 'Did he like the idea of cooperating?'
'It amused him, I think,' said Lejeune. 'Besides, he was impertinent enough to say that one good turn deserves another.'
'And what did he mean by that cryptic remark?'
'Well, I shouldn't be telling you this,' said Lejeune, 'this is off the record. There was a big outbreak of bank robberies about eight years ago. The same technique every time. And they got away with it! The raids were cleverly planned by someone who took no part in the actual operation. That man got away with a lot of money. We may have had our suspicions who it was, but we couldn't prove it. He was too clever for us. Especially on the financial angle. And he's had the sense never to try and repeat his success. I'm not saying any more. He was a clever crook but he wasn't a murderer. No lives were lost.'
My mind went back to Zachariah Osborne. 'Did you always suspect Osborne?' I asked. 'Right from the beginning?'
'Well, he would draw attention to himself,' said Lejeune. 'As I told him, if he'd only sat back and done nothing, we'd never have dreamed that the respectable pharmacist, Mr Zachariah Osborne, had anything to do with the business. But it's a funny thing, that's just what murderers can't do. There they are, sitting pretty, safe as houses. But they can't let well alone. I'm sure I don't know why.'
'The desire for death,' I suggested. 'A variant of Thyrza Grey's theme.'
'The sooner you forget all about Miss Thyrza Grey and the things she told you, the better,' said Lejeune
