The Red House Mystery
it possible a murder could be intended without any more preparation
than the changing into a different suit in which to escape. The thing
was too childish. Also, if Robert was to be murdered, why go out of the
way to announce his existence to you all—even, at the cost of some
trouble, to Mrs. Norbury? What did it all mean? I didn’t know. But I
began to feel now that Robert was an incident only; that the plot was a
plot of Cayley’s against Mark—either to get him to kill his brother, or
to get his brother to kill him—and that for some inexplicable reason
Mark seemed to be lending himself to the plot.” He was silent for a
little, and then said, almost to himself, “I had seen the empty brandy
bottles in that cupboard.”
“You never said anything about them,” complained Bill.
“I only saw them afterwards. I was looking for the collar, you
remember. They came back to me afterwards; I knew how Cayley would feel
about it.... Poor devil!”
“Go on,” said Bill.
“Well, then, we had the inquest, and of course I noticed, and I suppose
you did too, the curious fact that Robert had asked his way at the
second lodge and not at the first. So I talked to Amos and Parsons.
That made it more curious. Amos told me that Robert had gone out of his
way to speak to him; had called to him, in fact. Parsons told me that
his wife was out in their little garden at the first lodge all the
afternoon, and was certain that Robert had never come past it. He also
told me that Cayley had put him on to a job on the front lawn that
afternoon. So I had another guess. Robert had used the secret
passage—the passage which comes out into the park between the first and
second lodges. Robert, then, had been in the house; it was a put-up job
between Robert and Cayley. But how could Robert be there without Mark
knowing? Obviously, Mark knew too. What did it all mean?”
“When was this?” interrupted Bill. “Just after the inquest—after you’d
seen Amos and Parsons, of course?”
“Yes. I got up and left them, and came to look for you. I’d got back to
the clothes then. Why did Mark change his clothes so secretly?
Disguise? But then what about his face? That was much more important
than clothes. His face, his beard—he’d have to shave off his beard—and
then—oh, idiot! I saw you looking at that poster. Mark acting, Mark
made-up, Mark disguised. Oh, priceless idiot! Mark was Robert....
Matches, please.”
Bill passed over the matches again, waited till Antony had relit his
pipe, and then held out his hand for them, just as they were going into
the other’s pocket.
“Yes,” said Bill thoughtfully. “Yes.... But wait a moment. What about
the ‘Plough and Horses’?” Antony looked comically at him.
“You’ll never forgive me, Bill,” he said. “You’ll never come
clue-hunting with me again.”
“What do you mean?”
Antony sighed.
“It was a fake, Watson. I wanted you out of the way. I wanted to be
alone. I’d guessed at my x, and I wanted to test it—to test it every
way, by everything we’d discovered. I simply _had_ to be alone just
then. So—” he smiled and added, “Well, I knew you wanted a drink.”
“You _are_ a devil,” said Bill, staring at him. “And your interest when
I told you that a woman had been staying there—”
“Well, it was only polite to be interested when you’d taken so much
trouble.”
“You brute! You—you Sherlock! And then you keep trying to steal my
matches. Well, go on.”
“That’s all. My _x_ fitted.”
“Did you guess Miss Norris and all that?”
“Well, not quite. I didn’t realize that Cayley had worked for it from
the beginning—had put Miss Norris up to frightening Mark. I thought
he’d just seized the opportunity.”
Bill was silent for a long time. Then, puffing at his pipe, he said
slowly, “Has Cayley shot himself?”
Antony shrugged his shoulders.
“Poor devil,” said Bill. “It was decent of you to give him a chance.
I’m glad you did.”
“I couldn’t help liking Cayley in a kind of way, you know.”
“He’s a clever devil. If you hadn’t turned up just when you did, he
would never have been found out.”
“I wonder. It was ingenious, but it’s often the ingenious thing which
gets found out. The awkward thing from Cayley’s point of view was that,
though Mark was missing, neither he nor his body could ever be found.
Well, that doesn’t often happen with a missing man. He generally gets
discovered in the end; a professional criminal; perhaps not—but an
amateur like Mark! He might have kept the secret of _how_ he killed
Mark, but I think it would have become obvious sooner or later that he
_had_ killed him.”
“Yes, there’s something in that.... Oh, just tell me one thing. Why did
Mark tell Miss Norbury about his imaginary brother?”
“That’s puzzled me rather, too, Bill. It may be that he was just doing
the Othello business—painting himself black all over. I mean he may
have been so full of his appearance as Robert that he had almost got to
believe in Robert, and had to tell everybody. More likely, though, he
felt that, having told all of you at the house, he had better tell Miss
Norbury, in case she met one of you; in which case, if you mentioned
the approaching arrival of Robert, she might say, ‘Oh, I’m certain he
has no brother; he would have told me if he had,’ and so spoil his
joke. Possibly, too, Cayley put him on to it; Cayley obviously wanted
as many people as possible to know about Robert.”
“Are you going to tell the police?”
“Yes, I suppose they’ll have to know. Cayley may have left another
confession. I hope he won’t give me away; you see, I’ve been a sort of
accessory since yesterday evening. And I must go and see Miss Norbury.”
“I asked,” explained Bill, “because I was wondering what I should say
to—to Betty. Miss Calladine. You see, she’s bound to ask.”
“Perhaps you won’t see her again for a long, long time,” said Antony
sadly.
“As a matter of fact, I happen to know that she will be at the
Barringtons. And I go up there to-morrow.”
“Well, you had better tell her. You’re obviously longing to. Only don’t
let her say anything for a day or two. I’ll write to you.”
“Righto!”
Antony knocked the ashes out of his pipe and got up.
“The Barringtons,” he said. “Large party?”
“Fairly, I think.”
Antony smiled at his friend.
“Yes. Well, if any of ’em _should_ happen to be murdered, you might
send for me. I’m just getting into the swing of it.”