The Master Detective Part 20

"I have not found any one who was intimate with him in private."

"I see; kept politics and his private life entirely separate,"

said Quarles.

"I am not prepared to say that," I answered. "I have not had time to hunt up anybody on the private side yet, and I do not think it will be necessary. One of the men I saw was Reynolds, of the War Office. I was advised to go and see him, as he was supposed to know Bridwell well. He did not have much good to say about him. It seems that for some time past there has been a leakage of War Office secrets, that in some unaccountable way foreign powers have obtained information, and suspicion has pointed to Bridwell being concerned. So far as I can gather, nothing has been actually proved against him, and I pointed out that his intimate knowledge of European affairs made him rather a marked man. Reynolds, however, was very definite in his opinion, spoke as if he possessed knowledge which he could not impart to me. He was not surprised to hear of Bridwell's death. When I spoke of murder he was rather skeptical, remarked that in that case Bridwell must have been double-dealing with his paymasters, and had paid the penalty; but it was far more likely to be suicide, he thought, and said it was the best thing, the only thing, in fact, which Bridwell could do. I have no doubt Reynolds knew that some action had been taken which could not fail to show Bridwell that he was suspected."

Quarles nodded, evidently much interested.

"This view receives confirmation from the movements of Fisher," I went on. "He left Harrow last night--must have gone almost directly after he received the packet. He only occupies furnished rooms in Harrow, and the landlady tells me that during the year he has had them he has often been away for days and even weeks at a time. Announcing his return, or giving her some instructions, she has received letters from him from Berlin, Madrid, Rome, and Vienna. That is significant, Professor."

"It is. Did she happen to mention any places in England from which she has heard from him?"

"Yes, several--York, Oakham, Oxford, and also from Edinburgh."

"She did not mention any place in Suss.e.x?"

"No, I think not."

"It would appear then that Fisher could have had nothing to do with Bridwell's legitimate political business or he would certainly have spent some time in the const.i.tuency. Well, Wigan, what do you make of the case?"

"I think it is fairly clear in its main points," I answered. "Bridwell has been selling information to foreign powers, and would naturally deal with the highest bidders. Fisher is a foreign agent, and having received valuable information yesterday, left England with it at once. The two men who came to dinner represented some other power, came no doubt by appointment to receive information, but probably knew that their host was dealing doubly with them. Bridwell's commercial ingenuity in the matter has been his undoing, hence his death. Whether Masini was attached to Fisher, or to the schemes of the other two, it is impossible to say, but I believe he was an accomplice on one side or the other."

"I built up a similar theory, Wigan; not with the completeness you have, of course, because I knew nothing of the suspicions concerning Bridwell, but when I had made it as complete as I could, I began to pick it to pieces. It fell into ruins rather easily, and you do not help me to build it again."

"It seems to me the main facts cannot be got away from," I said.

"Zena a.s.sisted in the ruining process by saying, 'Cherchez la femme.'"

"You see, Murray, you do not account for the woman and the bag,"

said Zena.

"They are extraneous incidents belonging to his private life. It is remarkable how distinct he kept his private from his political life."

"Very remarkable," Quarles said. "Yet the woman is also a fact, and she seems to me of the utmost importance. We must account for her, and your explanation brings me no sense of satisfaction. Let me tell you how I began to demolish my theory, Wigan. I started with Masini. Now, he seemed honest to me. He was very ready to repeat Fisher's exact words, and the very fact of my asking for them would have made him suspicious and put him on his guard had he possessed any guilty knowledge, whether it concerned Fisher or the two visitors. Further, had he been in league with the two visitors and knew they had murdered his master, he would hardly have been so ready to block suspicion in other directions. He would not have said his master's visitors came chiefly from his const.i.tuency, and he certainly would not have scouted the idea of a woman caller. He would have welcomed such a suggestion, fully appreciating how valuable a woman would be in starting an inquiry on a false trail."

"But you mustn't attribute to an Italian servant all the subtlety you might use under similar circ.u.mstances," I said.

"I am showing you how I picked my own theory to pieces," he answered. "I next considered the visitors. I a.s.sumed they were there for an unlawful purpose--your facts go to show that my a.s.sumption was right--and I asked myself why and how they had murdered Bridwell. If he were a schemer with them, there would be no need to murder him, no need to silence him; were he to talk afterwards he would only injure himself, not them. If they were there to force papers from their host, it seems unlikely that he would be so unsuspicious of them that he would have asked them to dinner, and, even if he were, a moment must have come during, or after dinner, when they must have shown their hand. A man who deals in this kind of commerce does not easily trust people. Bridwell's suspicions would certainly have been aroused; he would in some measure, at any rate, have been prepared, and we should have found some signs of a struggle."

"I admit the soundness of the argument," I answered. "For my part I incline to Reynolds' opinion that it was suicide after all."

"Oh, no; it was murder," said Quarles.

"A tablet--" I began.

"I know it was murder," returned the professor sharply, "and the manner of it has presented the chief difficulty I have found in demolishing my theory altogether. Bridwell was poisoned by an injection. The hypodermic needle was inserted under the hair at the back of the head, here in the soft part of the base of the skull, the hair concealing the small mark it made. I believe the secret of the poison used is forgotten, but you may read of it in books relating to the Vatican of old days and concerning the old families of Italy. I might mention the Borgias particularly. So you see my difficulty, Wigan. The crime literally reeked of Italy, and we had two Italians amongst our dramatis personae."

"A significant fact," I said.

"Of course I am letting the doctor know of my discovery; that is the good turn I shall do him. He will be considered quite smart over this affair.

Now consider this point. It would surely have been very difficult, once the host's suspicions had been aroused, to make the injection without a struggle on the victim's part."

"No suspicion may have been aroused," I said. "Masini has told us of a map. The murderer might have been leaning over his victim examining it."

"That is true. You pick out the weak point," said Quarles.

"Even then there would have been some sort of struggle, surely," said Zena. "The poison can hardly act instantaneously."

"Practically it does," Quarles answered. "I have read of it, of the different methods of its administration, and of its results, and no doubt any one acquainted with old Italian ma.n.u.scripts would be able to get more detailed information than I have; but it produces almost instant paralysis, acts on the nerve centers, and stops the heart's action, leaving no trace behind it. What straggle there was could be overcome by the pressure of a man's hand upon the victim's chest, to keep him from rising from his seat, for instance. I found signs of such a detaining hand on Bridwell's shirt front. Of course, Wigan, while pulling my theory to pieces I knew nothing of your facts about Bridwell, but now that I do know them, the theory is not saved from ruin. Have you ever watched trains rushing through a great junction--say Clapham Junction?"

"Yes; often."

"And haven't you noticed how the lines, crossing and recrossing one another, seem to be alive, seem to be trying to draw the train to run upon them, to deviate it from its course, until you almost wonder whether the train will be able to keep its right road? There seems to be great confusion; yet we know this is not so. We know those many lines are mathematically correct. If you want to keep your eye on the main line, you mustn't be misled by the lines which touch and cross it, which seem to belong to it, until they suddenly sweep off in another direction. In this Bridwell affair we have to be careful not to be misled by cross lines, and I grant there are many. You say the woman is an extraneous episode; but is she? She left a bag, which is not to be found. Had Masini known of her existence I do not think he would have denied all knowledge of her, for the reasons I have already given, and I argue that her visit to the flat was timed to occur when the servant was out, so that he should know nothing about her. The hall porter knew nothing; about a lady visiting the flat at any time, so we must a.s.sume the woman was not a constant visitor. Moreover, we know that she had something to hide, some secret, or she would not have ceased speaking directly she found she was addressing a stranger. She probably belonged to Bridwell's private life.

Now Zena says, 'Cherchez la femme,' but there is no need to look for her; she forces herself upon our notice. We know that Bridwell was alive at seven o'clock: we know his visitors did not leave him until eight. It is hardly conceivable that the woman came to the flat after that to commit a crime, impossible to believe that she would leave her bag there to be evidence against her, and then telephone about it to a man she knew to be dead. We may dismiss from our minds any idea that she committed murder."

"I can see a possibility of immense subtlety on her part," I said.

"That is to be deceived by a crossing line, which ought not to deceive you, which leads only into a siding," said Quarles. "We have to remember that there was a bag, and that it has disappeared"

"She may have made a mistake and left it somewhere else," said Zena.

"I think we may be sure it was left there, because she states distinctly where it was left--on the Chesterfield. There was something in her mind to fix the place. Moreover, she says, 'Better not send it.' Very significant, that. Bridwell is to keep it until she comes again.

Therefore there was some person she would not have know of her visit to the flat, some person who might possibly find out if the bag were returned. I suggest that person was her husband."

"I think you have struck the side line," I remarked.

"Let me continue to build on the private life of Mr. Bridwell," Quarles went on. "I find a foundation in his literary work--no mean work, absorbing a great part of his life. There would be constant need to refer to libraries, to pictures and other works of art, some of them in private collections. A great deal of this work could be done by an a.s.sistant.

Shall we say the name of this a.s.sistant was Fisher? I observe you do not think it likely."

"I certainly do not."

"But a secret agent engaged in stealing Government information would hardly advertise his movements to his landlady; he would surely have been more secret than that. On the other hand, the places Fisher mentions have famous libraries and picture galleries. What would a secret agent want at Oxford? A man bent on research would be going to the Bodleian. Country seats with famous works of art in their galleries would account for Fisher's presence in other places mentioned by the landlady."

"Is it not strange the Italian servant knew nothing about this wonderful a.s.sistant?" I said.

"No doubt Bridwell usually saw him in town, at his club, or elsewhere, or communicated with him through the post; but on this occasion Masini was purposely sent to be out of the way when the lady came. We know there was some need for secrecy, and I suggest that Bridwell was in love with another man's wife. In pa.s.sing, I would point out that the answer Fisher sent back bears out my idea of the a.s.sistantship."

"It may," I answered.

"Now Bridwell's work on the Italian Renaissance no doubt has much information concerning the Vatican, and much to say about the prominent Italian families. As a student, Bridwell would be likely to know all about the romances of poisoned bouquets, gloves, prepared sweetmeats, and the rest of the diabolical cunning which existed."

"But we know that he didn't kill himself," I said.

"Exactly. We have to find some one who shared the knowledge with him. Let me go back to the missing bag for a moment. Since it was on the Chesterfield, Bridwell must have seen it. What would he do with it? What would you have done with it, Wigan? I think you would have just put it on a side table or in a handy drawer; yet it had gone. The fact of its disappearance stuck in my mind from the first, although I did not at once see the full significance of it. On the cover of the telephone directory there were two or three numbers scribbled in pencil; I made a note of them with the idea that the woman might be traced that way. However, arguing that a man would be likely to know the telephone number of a woman he was in love with, and have no necessity to write it down, I took no trouble in this direction. I went to see Bridwell's solicitor instead.

I led him to suppose that I was interested in the study of the Renaissance, and asked him if Bridwell had had a companion during his wanderings in Italy three years ago. For part of the time, at any rate, he had--a partner rather than a companion, a man named Ormrod--Peter Ormrod. I knew the name at once, because Ormrod has written many articles for the reviews, and all of them have been about Italy in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. Ormrod's telephone number is 0054 Croydon, and he is married, and I think it was his wife who spoke to you over the telephone. My theory is that Ormrod had discovered that his wife was in love with his friend, and used his knowledge of this poisoning method, which could not be detected, remember, to be revenged. I think he came to the flat that evening after Bridwell's guests had gone, perhaps he expected to find his wife there. I do not think he quarreled with his false friend. I think he showed great friendliness, talked a little of the past perhaps; and then, in examining some book or paper, leant over his friend as he sat at the table, and the deed was done. If the bag was lying on a side table he saw it and took it away; if it was lying in a drawer no doubt he found it while he was looking for letters from his wife to Bridwell, or for her photograph--anything which would connect her name with Bridwell. Somehow, he found it and took it away. There is no one else who would be likely to take it."

This was the solution. It was proved beyond all doubt that Bridwell had been dealing in Government secrets, and changes had to be made to ensure that the information he had sold should be useless to the purchasers; but this crime had nothing to do with his murder. The denouement was rather startling. When we went to Ormrod's house next day we found that he had gone. His wife, after fencing with us a little, was perfectly open. She had arranged to go away with Bridwell and had visited him that day to talk over final arrangements. It was the first time she had ever been to the flat. Yesterday, a telegram had come for her husband. He opened it in her presence, and told her he was going away at once, and for good.

Then he gave her the bag, saying he had found it in Bridwell's rooms on the previous evening. Bridwell was dead, that was why he was going away.