II came into the AC’s room at the Yard to find Taverner finishing the recitalof what had apparently1 been a tale of woe2.
“And there you are,” he was saying. “I’ve turned the lot of them insideout—and what do I get—nothing at all! No motives3. None of them hard up.
And all that we’ve got against the wife and her young man is that he madesheep’s eyes at her when she poured him out his coffee!”
“Come, come, Taverner,” I said. “I can do a little better than that foryou.”
“You can, can you? Well, Mr. Charles, what did you get?”
I sat down, lit a cigarette, leaned back and let them have it.
“Roger Leonides and his wife were planning a getaway abroad nextTuesday. Roger and his father had a stormy interview on the day of theold man’s death. Old Leonides had found out something was wrong, andRoger was admitting culpability5.”
Taverner went purple in the face.
“Where the hell did you get all that from?” he demanded. “If you got itfrom the servants—”
“I didn’t get it from the servants. I got it,” I said, “from a private inquiryagent.”
“What do you mean?”
“And I must say that, in accordance with the canons of the best detectivestories, he, or rather she—or perhaps I’d better say it—has licked the po-lice hollow!
“I also think,” I went on, “that my private detective has a few morethings up his, her or its sleeve.”
Taverner opened his mouth and shut it again. He wanted to ask so manyquestions at once that he found it hard to begin.
“Roger!” he said. “So Roger’s a wrong ’un, is he?”
I felt a slight reluctance6 as I unburdened myself. I had liked Roger Le-onides. Remembering his comfortable, friendly room, and the man’s ownfriendly charm, I disliked setting the hounds of justice on his track. It waspossible, of course, that all Josephine’s information would be unreliable,but I did not really think so.
“So the kid told you?” said Taverner. “She seems to be wise toeverything that goes on in that house.”
“Children usually are,” said my father drily.
This information, if true, altered the whole position. If Roger had been,as Josephine confidently suggested, “embezzling” the funds of AssociatedCatering and if the old man had found it out, it might have been vital to si-lence old Leonides and to leave England before the truth came out. Pos-sibly Roger had rendered himself liable to criminal prosecution8.
It was agreed that inquiries9 should be made without delay into the af-fairs of Associated Catering7.
“It will be an almighty10 crash, if that goes,” my father remarked. “It’s ahuge concern. There are millions involved.”
“If it’s really in Queer Street, it gives us what we want,” said Taverner.
“Father summons Roger. Roger breaks down and confesses. Brenda Le-onides was out at a cinema. Roger has only got to leave his father’s room,walk into the bathroom, empty out an insulin phial and replace it with thestrong solution of eserine and there you are. Or his wife may have done it.
She went over to the other wing after she came home that day—says shewent to fetch a pipe Roger had left there. But she could have gone over toswitch the stuff before Brenda came home and gave him his injection.
She’d be quite cool and capable about it.”
I nodded. “Yes, I fancy her as the actual doer of the deed. She’s coolenough for anything! And I don’t really think that Roger Leonides wouldthink of poison as a means—that trick with the insulin has something fem-inine about it.”
“Plenty of men poisoners,” said my father drily.
“Oh, I know, sir,” said Taverner. “Don’t I know!” he added with feeling.
“All the same I shouldn’t have said Roger was the type.”
“Pritchard,” the Old Man reminded him, “was a good mixer.”
“Let’s say they were in it together.”
“With the accent on Lady Macbeth,” said my father, as Taverner depar-ted. “Is that how she strikes you, Charles?”
I visualized11 the slight, graceful12 figure standing13 by the window in thataustere room.
“Not quite,” I said. “Lady Macbeth was essentially14 a greedy woman. Idon’t think Clemency15 Leonides is. I don’t think she wants or cares for pos-sessions.”
“But she might care, desperately16, about her husband’s safety?”
“That, yes. And she could certainly be—well, ruthless.”
“Different kinds of ruthlessness …” That was what Sophia had said.
I looked up to see the Old Man watching me.
“What’s in your mind, Charles?”
But I didn’t tell him then.
II
I was summoned on the following day and found Taverner and my fathertogether.
Taverner was looking pleased with himself and slightly excited.
“Associated Catering is on the rocks,” said my father.
“Due to crash at any minute,” said Taverner.
“I saw there had been a sharp fall in the shares last night,” I said. “Butthey seem to have recovered this morning.”
“We’ve had to go about it very cautiously,” said Taverner. “No direct in-quiries. Nothing to cause a panic—or to put the wind up our abscondinggentleman. But we’ve got certain private sources of information and theinformation is fairly definite. Associated Catering is on the verge17 of acrash. It can’t possibly meet its commitments. The truth seems to be thatit’s been grossly mismanaged for years.”
“By Roger Leonides?”
“Yes. He’s had supreme18 power, you know.”
“And he’s helped himself to money—”
“No,” said Taverner. “We don’t think he has. To put it bluntly, he may bea murderer, but we don’t think he’s a swindler. Quite frankly19 he’s justbeen—a fool. He doesn’t seem to have had any kind of judgement. He’slaunched out where he ought to have held in—he’s hesitated and retreatedwhere he ought to have launched out. He’s delegated power to the last sortof people he ought to have delegated it to. He’s a trustful sort of chap, andhe’s trusted the wrong people. At every time, and on every occasion, he’sdone the wrong thing.”
“There are people like that,” said my father. “And they’re not really stu-pid either. They’re bad judges of men, that’s all. And they’re enthusiasticat the wrong time.”
“A man like that oughtn’t to be in business at all,” said Taverner.
“He probably wouldn’t be,” said my father, “except for the accident ofbeing Aristide Leonides’ son.”
“That show was absolutely blooming when the old man handed it overto him. It ought to have been a gold mine! You’d think he could have justsat back and let the show run itself.”
“No,” my father shook his head. “No show runs itself. There are alwaysdecisions to be made—a man sacked here—a man appointed there—smallquestions of policy. And with Roger Leonides the answer seems to havebeen always wrong.”
“That’s right,” said Taverner. “He’s a loyal sort of chap, for one thing. Hekept on the most frightful20 duds—just because he had an affection for them—or because they’d been there a long time. And then he sometimes hadwild impractical21 ideas and insisted on trying them out in spite of theenormous outlay22 involved.”
“But nothing criminal?” my father insisted.
“No, nothing criminal.”
“Then why murder?” I asked.
“He may have been a fool and not a knave,” said Taverner. “But the res-ult was the same—or nearly the same. The only thing that could save Asso-ciated Catering from the smash was a really colossal23 sum of money bynext” (he consulted a notebook) “by next Wednesday at the latest.”
“Such a sum as he would inherit, or thought he would have inherited,under his father’s will?”
“Exactly.”
“But he wouldn’t be able to have got that sum in cash.”
“No. But he’d have got credit. It’s the same thing.”
The Old Man nodded.
“Wouldn’t it have been simpler to go to old Leonides and ask for help?”
he suggested.
“I think he did,” said Taverner. “I think that’s what the kid overheard.
The old boy refused point blank, I should imagine, to throw good moneyafter bad. He would, you know.”
I thought that Taverner was right there. Aristide Leonides had refusedthe backing for Magda’s play—he had said that it would not be a box officesuccess. Events had proved him correct. He was a generous man to hisfamily, but he was not a man to waste money in unprofitable enterprises.
And Associated Catering ran to thousands, or probably hundreds of thou-sands. He had refused point blank, and the only way for Roger to avoidfinancial ruin was for his father to die.
Yes, there was certainly a motive4 there all right.
My father looked at his watch.
“I’ve asked him to come here,” he said. “He’ll be here any minute now.”
“Roger?”
“Yes.”
“Will you walk into my parlour, said the spider to the fly?” I murmured.
Taverner looked at me in a shocked way.
“We shall give him all the proper cautions,” he said severely24.
The stage was set, the shorthand writer established. Presently thebuzzer sounded, and a few minutes later Roger Leonides entered theroom.
He came in eagerly—and rather clumsily—he stumbled over a chair. Iwas reminded as before of a large friendly dog. At the same time I decidedquite definitely that it was not he who had carried out the actual processof transferring eserine to an insulin bottle. He would have broken it,spilled it, or muffed the operation in some way or the other. No, Clem-ency’s, I decided25, had been the actual hand, though Roger had been privyto the deed.
Words rushed from him.
“You wanted to see me? You’ve found out something? Hallo, Charles. Ididn’t see you. Nice of you to come along. But please tell me, Sir Arthur—”
Such a nice fellow—really such a nice fellow. But lots of murderers hadbeen nice fellows—so their astonished friends had said afterwards. Feel-ing rather like Judas, I smiled a greeting.
My father was deliberate, coldly official. The glib26 phrases were uttered.
Statement … taken down … no compulsion … solicitor….
Roger Leonides brushed them all aside with the same characteristiceager impatience27.
I saw the faint sardonic28 smile on Chief-Inspector Taverner’s face, andread from it the thought in his mind.
“Always sure of themselves, these chaps. They can’t make a mistake.
They’re far too clever!”
I sat down unobtrusively in a corner and listened.
“I have asked you to come here, Mr. Leonides,” my father said, “not togive you fresh information, but to ask for some information from you—in-formation that you have previously29 withheld30.”
Roger Leonides looked bewildered.
“Withheld? But I’ve told you everything—absolutely everything!”
“I think not. You had a conversation with the deceased on the afternoonof his death?”
“Yes, yes, I had tea with him. I told you so.”
“You told us that, yes, but you did not tell us about your conversation.”
“We—just—talked.”
“What about?”
“Daily happenings, the house, Sophia—”
“What about Associated Catering? Was that mentioned?”
I think I had hoped up to then that Josephine had been inventing thewhole story; but if so, that hope was quickly quenched31.
Roger’s face changed. It changed in a moment from eagerness to some-thing that was recognizably close to despair.
“Oh, my God,” he said. He dropped into a chair and buried his face in hishands.
Taverner smiled like a contented32 cat.
“You admit, Mr. Leonides, that you have not been frank with us?”
“How did you get to know about that? I thought nobody knew—I don’tsee how anybody could know.”
“We have means of finding out these things, Mr. Leonides.” There was amajestic pause. “I think you will see now that you had better tell us thetruth.”
“Yes, yes, of course. I’ll tell you. What do you want to know?”
“Is it true that Associated Catering is on the verge of collapse33?”
“Yes. It can’t be staved off now. The crash is bound to come. If only myfather could have died without ever knowing. I feel so ashamed—so dis-graced—”
“There is a possibility of criminal prosecution?”
Roger sat up sharply.
“No, indeed. It will be bankruptcy34 — but an honourable35 bankruptcy.
Creditors36 will be paid twenty shillings in the pound if I throw in my per-sonal assets, which I shall do. No, the disgrace I feel is to have failed myfather. He trusted me. He made over to me this, his largest concern—andhis pet concern. He never interfered37, he never asked what I was doing. Hejust—trusted me … And I let him down.”
My father said drily:
“You say there was no likelihood of criminal prosecution? Why then hadyou and your wife planned to go abroad without telling anybody of yourintention?”
“You know that too?”
“Yes, Mr. Leonides.”
“But don’t you see?” He leaned forward eagerly. “I couldn’t face himwith the truth. It would have looked, you see, as if I was asking for money.
As though I wanted him to set me on my feet again. He—he was very fondof me. He would have wanted to help. But I couldn’t—I couldn’t go on—itwould have meant making a mess of things all over again—I’m no good. Ihaven’t got the ability. I’m not the man my father was. I’ve always knownit. I’ve tried. But it’s no good. I’ve been so miserable38—God! you don’t knowhow miserable I’ve been! Trying to get out of the muddle39, hoping I’d justget square, hoping the dear old man would never need to hear about it.
And then it came—no more hope of avoiding the crash. Clemency—mywife—she understood, she agreed with me. We thought out this plan. Saynothing to anyone. Go away. And then let the storm break. I’d leave a let-ter for my father, telling him all about it—telling him how ashamed I wasand begging him to forgive me. He’s been so good to me always—you don’tknow! But it would be too late then for him to do anything. That’s what Iwanted. Not to ask him—or even to seem to ask him for help. Start againon my own somewhere. Live simply and humbly40. Grow things. Coffee—fruit. Just have the bare necessities of life—hard on Clemency, but sheswore she didn’t mind. She’s wonderful—absolutely wonderful.”
“I see.” My father’s voice was dry. “And what made you change yourmind?”
“Change my mind?”
“Yes. What made you decide to go to your father and ask for financialhelp after all?”
Roger stared at him.
“But I didn’t!”
“Come now, Mr. Leonides.”
“You’ve got it all wrong. I didn’t go to him. He sent for me. He’d heard,somehow, in the City. A rumour41, I suppose. But he always knew things.
Someone had told him. He tackled me with it. Then, of course, I brokedown … I told him everything. I said it wasn’t so much the money—it wasthe feeling I’d let him down after he’d trusted me.”
Roger swallowed convulsively.
“The dear old man,” he said. “You can’t imagine how good he was to me.
No reproaches. Just kindness. I told him I didn’t want help, that I pre-ferred not to have it—that I’d rather go away as I’d planned to do. But hewouldn’t listen. He insisted on coming to the rescue—on putting Associ-ated Catering on its legs again.”
Taverner said sharply:
“You are asking us to believe that your father intended to come to yourassistance financially?”
“Certainly he did. He wrote to his brokers42 then and there, giving theminstructions.”
I suppose he saw the incredulity on the two men’s faces. He flushed.
“Look here,” he said, “I’ve still got the letter. I was to post it. But ofcourse later—with—with the shock and confusion, I forgot. I’ve probablygot it in my pocket now.”
He drew out his wallet and started hunting through it. Finally he foundwhat he wanted. It was a creased43 envelope with a stamp on it. It was ad-dressed, as I saw by leaning forward, to Messrs Greatorex and Hanbury.
“Read it for yourselves,” he said, “if you don’t believe me.”
My father tore open the letter. Taverner went round behind him. I didnot see the letter then, but I saw it later. It instructed Messrs Greatorexand Hanbury to realize certain investments and asked for a member ofthe firm to be sent down on the following day to take certain instructionsre the affairs of Associated Catering. Some of it was unintelligible44 to me,but its purpose was clear enough. Aristide Leonides was preparing to putAssociated Catering on its feet again.
Taverner said:
“We will give you a receipt for this, Mr. Leonides.”
Roger took the receipt. He got up and said:
“Is that all? You do see how it all was, don’t you?”
Taverner said:
“Mr. Leonides gave you this letter and then you left him? What did youdo next?”
“I rushed back to my own part of the house. My wife had just come in. Itold her what my father proposed to do. How wonderful he had been! I—really, I hardly knew what I was doing.”
“And your father was taken ill—how long after that?”
“Let me see—half an hour, perhaps, or an hour. Brenda came rushingin. She was frightened. She said he looked queer. I—I rushed over withher. But I’ve told you all this before.”
“During your former visit, did you go into the bathroom adjoining yourfather’s room at all?”
“I don’t think so. No—no, I am sure I didn’t. Why, you can’t possiblythink that I—”
My father quelled45 the sudden indignation. He got up and shook hands.
“Thank you, Mr. Leonides,” he said. “You have been very helpful. Butyou should have told us all this before.”
The door closed behind Roger. I got up and came to look at the letter ly-ing on my father’s table.
“It could be a forgery,” said Taverner hopefully.
“It could be,” said my father, “but I don’t think it is. I think we’ll have toaccept it exactly as it stands. Old Leonides was prepared to get his son outof this mess. It could have been done more efficiently46 by him alive than itcould by Roger after his death—especially as it now transpires47 that no willis to be found and that in consequence Roger’s actual amount of inherit-ance is open to question. That means delays—and difficulties. As thingsnow stand, the crash is bound to come. No, Taverner, Roger Leonides andhis wife had no motive for getting the old man out of the way. On the con-trary—”
He stopped and repeated thoughtfully as though a sudden thought hadoccurred to him: “On the contrary….”
“What’s on your mind, sir?” Taverner asked.
The Old Man said slowly:
“If Aristide Leonides had lived only another twenty-four hours, Rogerwould have been all right. But he didn’t live twenty-four hours. He diedsuddenly and dramatically within little more than an hour.”
“H’m,” said Taverner. “Do you think somebody in the house wanted Ro-ger to go broke? Someone who had an opposing financial interest? Doesn’tseem likely.”
“What’s the position as regards the will?” my father asked. “Who actu-ally gets old Leonides’ money?”
Taverner heaved an exasperated48 sigh.
“You know what lawyers are. Can’t get a straight answer out of them.
There’s a former will. Made when he married the second Mrs. Leonides.
That leaves the same sum to her, rather less to Miss de Haviland, and theremainder between Philip and Roger. I should have thought that if thiswill isn’t signed, then the old one would operate, but it seems it isn’t sosimple as that. First the making of the new will revoked49 the former oneand there are witnesses to the signing of it, and the ‘testator’s intention.’ Itseems to be a toss-up if it turns out that he died intestate. Then the widowapparently gets the lot—or a life interest at any rate.”
“So if the will’s disappeared Brenda Leonides is the most likely person toprofit by it?”
“Yes. If there’s been any hocus-pocus, it seems probable that she’s at thebottom of it. And there obviously has been hocus-pocus, but I’m dashed if Isee how it was done.”
I didn’t see, either. I suppose we were really incredibly stupid. But wewere looking at it, of course, from the wrong angle.
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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woe
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motives
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motive
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culpability
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reluctance
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catering
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prosecution
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inquiries
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almighty
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visualized
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graceful
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standing
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essentially
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clemency
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desperately
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verge
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supreme
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frankly
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frightful
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impractical
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outlay
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colossal
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severely
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decided
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glib
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impatience
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sardonic
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previously
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withheld
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quenched
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contented
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collapse
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bankruptcy
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honourable
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creditors
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interfered
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miserable
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muddle
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humbly
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rumour
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brokers
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creased
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unintelligible
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quelled
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| v.（用武力）制止，结束，镇压( quell的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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efficiently
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| adv.高效率地，有能力地 | |
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transpires
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| （事实，秘密等）被人知道( transpire的第三人称单数 )； 泄露； 显露； 发生 | |
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exasperated
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| adj.恼怒的 | |
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revoked
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| adj.[法]取消的v.撤销，取消，废除( revoke的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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