The Old Man in the Corner
CHAPTER IX
A BROKEN-HEARTED WOMAN
The man in the corner called for another glass of milk, and drank itdown slowly before he resumed:
"Now Lord Arthur lives mostly abroad," he said. "His poor, sufferingwife died the day after he was liberated by the magistrate. She neverrecovered consciousness even sufficiently to hear the joyful news thatthe man she loved so well was innocent after all.
"Mystery!" he added as if in answer to Polly's own thoughts. "The murderof that man was never a mystery to me. I cannot understand how thepolice could have been so blind when every one of the witnesses, bothfor the prosecution and defence, practically pointed all the time to theone guilty person. What do you think of it all yourself?"
"I think the whole case so bewildering," she replied, "that I do not seeone single clear point in it."
"You don't?" he said excitedly, while the bony fingers fidgeted againwith that inevitable bit of string. "You don't see that there is onepoint clear which to me was the key of the whole thing?
"Lavender was murdered, wasn't he? Lord Arthur did not kill him. He had,at least, in Colonel McIntosh an unimpeachable witness to prove that hecould not have committed that murder--and yet," he added with slow,excited emphasis, marking each sentence with a knot, "and yet hedeliberately tries to throw the guilt upon a man who obviously was alsoinnocent. Now why?"
"He may have thought him guilty."
"Or wished to shield or cover the retreat of _one he knew to beguilty_."
"I don't understand."
"Think of someone," he said excitedly, "someone whose desire would be asgreat as that of Lord Arthur to silence a scandal round that gentleman'sname. Someone who, unknown perhaps to Lord Arthur, had overheard thesame conversation which George Higgins related to the police and themagistrate, someone who, whilst Chipps was taking Lavender's card in tohis master, had a few minutes' time wherein to make an assignation withLavender, promising him money, no doubt, in exchange for thecompromising bills."
"Surely you don't mean--" gasped Polly.
"Point number one," he interrupted quietly, "utterly missed by thepolice. George Higgins in his deposition stated that at the mostanimated stage of Lavender's conversation with Lord Arthur, and when thebookmaker's tone of voice became loud and threatening, a voice from thetop of the steps interrupted that conversation, saying: 'Your tea isgetting cold.'"
"Yes--but--" she argued.
"Wait a moment, for there is point number two. That voice was a lady'svoice. Now, I did exactly what the police should have done, but did notdo. I went to have a look from the racecourse side at those garden stepswhich to my mind are such important factors in the discovery of thiscrime. I found only about a dozen rather low steps; anyone standing onthe top must have heard every word Charles Lavender uttered the momenthe raised his voice."
"Even then--"
"Very well, you grant that," he said excitedly. "Then there was thegreat, the all-important point which, oddly enough, the prosecutionnever for a moment took into consideration. When Chipps, the footman,first told Lavender that Lord Arthur could not see him the bookmaker wasterribly put out; Chipps then goes to speak to his master; a few minuteselapse, and when the footman once again tells Lavender that his lordshipwon't see him, the latter says 'Very well,' and seems to treat thematter with complete indifference.
"Obviously, therefore, something must have happened in between to alterthe bookmaker's frame of mind. Well! What had happened? Think over allthe evidence, and you will see that one thing only had occurred in theinterval, namely, Lady Arthur's advent into the room.
"In order to go into the smoking-room she must have crossed the hall;she must have seen Lavender. In that brief interval she must haverealized that the man was persistent, and therefore a living danger toher husband. Remember, women have done strange things; they are a fargreater puzzle to the student of human nature than the sterner, lesscomplex sex has ever been. As I argued before--as the police should haveargued all along--why did Lord Arthur deliberately accuse an innocentman of murder if not to shield the guilty one?
"Remember, Lady Arthur may have been discovered; the man, GeorgeHiggins, may have caught sight of her before she had time to make goodher retreat. His attention, as well us that of the constables, had to bediverted. Lord Arthur acted on the blind impulse of saving his wife atany cost."
"She may have been met by Colonel McIntosh," argued Polly.
"Perhaps she was," he said. "Who knows? The gallant colonel had toswear to his friend's innocence. He could do that in allconscience--after that his duty was accomplished. No innocent man wassuffering for the guilty. The knife which had belonged to Lord Arthurwould always save George Higgins. For a time it had pointed to thehusband; fortunately never to the wife. Poor thing, she died probably ofa broken heart, but women when they love, think only of one object onearth--the one who is beloved.
"To me the whole thing was clear from the very first. When I read theaccount of the murder--the knife! stabbing!--bah! Don't I know enough of_English_ crime not to be certain at once that no English_man_, be heruffian from the gutter or be he Duke's son, ever stabs his victim inthe back. Italians, French, Spaniards do it, if you will, and women ofmost nations. An Englishman's instinct is to strike and not to stab.George Higgins or Lord Arthur Skelmerton would have knocked their victimdown; the woman only would lie in wait till the enemy's back was turned.She knows her weakness, and she does not mean to miss.
"Think it over. There is not one flaw in my argument, but the policenever thought the matter out--perhaps in this case it was as well."
He had gone and left Miss Polly Burton still staring at the photographof a pretty, gentle-looking woman, with a decided, wilful curve roundthe mouth, and a strange, unaccountable look in the large pathetic eyes;and the little journalist felt quite thankful that in this case themurder of Charles Lavender the bookmaker--cowardly, wicked as itwas--had remained a mystery to the police and the public.