A Blunt Instrument

Chapter Fifteen

The Sergeant, who had been looking at Glass in utter incredulity, glanced quickly towards the door and got up. "What the - What is all this, Chief?" he demanded.

Glass turned his head, regarding Hannasyde sombrely. "Is the truth known, then, to you?" he asked. "If it be so, I am content, for my soul is weary of my life. I am as job; my days are swifter than a post: they flee away, they see no good."

"Good Lord, he's mad!" exclaimed the Sergeant.

Glass smiled contemptuously. "The foolishness of fools is folly. I am not mad. To me belongeth vengeance and recompense. I tell you, the wicked shall be turned into hell!"

"Yes, all right!" said the Sergeant, keeping a wary eye on him. "Don't let's have a song and dance about it!"

"That'll do, Hemingway," said Hannasyde. "You were wrong, Glass. You know that you were wrong."

"Though hand join in hand the wicked shall not be unpunished!"

"No. But it was not for you to punish."

Glass gave a sigh like a groan. "I know not. Yet the thoughts of the righteous are right. I was filled with the fury of the Lord."

The Sergeant grasped the edge of the desk for support. "Holy Moses, you're not going to tell me Ichabod did it?" he gasped.

"Yes, Glass killed both Fletcher and Carpenter," replied Hannasyde.

Glass looked at him with a kind of impersonal interest. "Do you know all, then?"

"Not all, no. Was Angela Angel your sister?"

Glass stiffened, and said in a hard voice: "I had a sister once who was named Rachel. But she is dead, yea, and to the godly dead long before her sinful spirit left her body! I will not speak of her. But to him who led her into evil, and to him who caused her to slay herself I will be as a glittering sword that shall devour flesh!"

"Oh, my God!" muttered the Sergeant.

The blazing eyes swept his face. "Who are you to call upon God, who mock at righteousness? Take up that pencil, and write what I shall tell you, that all may be in order. Do you think I fear you? I do not, nor all the might of man's law! I have chosen the way of truth."

The Sergeant sank back into his chair, and picked up the pencil. "All right," he said somewhat thickly. "Go on."

Glass addressed Hannasyde. "Is it not enough that I say it was by my hand that these men died?"

"No. You know that's not enough. You must tell the whole truth." Hannasyde scanned the Constable's face, and added: "I don't think your sister's name need be made public, Glass. But I must know all the facts. She met Carpenter when he was touring the Midlands, and played for a week at Leicester, didn't she?"

"It is so. He seduced her with fair words and a liar's tongue. But she was a wanton at heart. She went willingly with that man of Belial, giving herself to a life of sin. From that day she was as one dead to us, her own people. Even her name shall be forgotten, for it is written that the wicked shall be silent in darkness. When she slew herself I rejoiced, for the flesh is weak, and the thought of her, yea, and her image, was as a sharp thorn."

"Yes," Hannasyde said gently. "Did you know that Fletcher was the man she loved?"

"No. I knew nothing. The Lord sent me to his place where he dwelt. And still I did not know." His hands clenched on his knees till the fingers whitened. "When I have met him he has smiled upon me, with his false lips, and has bidden me good-evening. And I have answered him civilly!"

The Sergeant gave an involuntary shiver. Hannasyde said: "When did you discover the truth?"

"Is it not plain to you? Upon the night that I killed him! When I told you that at 10.02 I saw the figure of a man coming from the side gate at Greystones I lied." His lip curled scornfully; he said: "The simple believeth every word: but the prudent man looketh well to his going."

"You were an officer of the Law," Hannasyde said sternly. "Your word was considered to be above suspicion."

"It is so, and in that I acknowledge that I sinned. Yet what I did was laid upon me to do, for none other might wreak vengeance upon Ernest Fletcher. My sister took her own life, but I tell you he was stained with her blood! Would the Law have avenged her? He knew himself to be safe from the Law, but me he did not know!"

"We won't argue about that," Hannasyde said. "What happened on the evening of the 17th?"

"Not at 10.02, but some minutes earlier did I see Carpenter. At the corner of Maple Grove did I encounter him, face to face."

"Carpenter was the man Mrs. North saw?"

"Yes. She was not lying when she told of his visit to Fletcher, for he recounted all to me, while my hand was still upon his throat."

"What was his object in going to see Fletcher? Blackmail?"

"Even so. He too had been in ignorance, but once, before he served his time, he saw Fletcher at that gilded den of iniquity where my sister displayed her limbs to all men's gaze, in lewd dancing. And when he was released from prison, and my sister was dead, there was none to tell him who her lover was, except only one girl who recalled to his memory the man he had once seen. He remembered, but he could not discover the man's name until he saw a portrait of him one day in a newspaper. Then, finding that Ernest Fletcher was rich in this world's goods, he planned in his evil brain to extort money from him by threats of scandal and exposure. To this end, he came to Marley, not once but several times, at first seeking to enter by the front door, but being repulsed by Joseph Simmons who, when he would not state his business with Fletcher, shut the door upon him. It was for that reason that he entered by the side gate on the night of the 17th. But Fletcher laughed at him, and mocked him for a fool, and took him to the gate, and drove him forth. He went away, not towards the Arden Road, but to Vale Avenue. And there I met him."

He paused. Hannasyde said: "You recognised him?"

"I recognised him. But he knew not me until my hand was at his throat, and I spake my name in his ear. I would have slain him then, so great was the just rage consuming me, but he gasped to me to stay my hand, for my sister's death lay not at his door. I would not heed, but in his terror he cried out, choking, that he could divulge the name of the guilty man. I hearkened to him. Still holding him, I bade him tell what he knew. He was afraid with the fear of death. He confessed everything, even his own evil designs. When I knew the name of the man who had caused my sister's death, and remembered his false smile and his pleasant words to me, a greater rage entered into my soul, so that it shook. I let Carpenter go. My hand fell from his throat, for I was amazed. He vanished swiftly, I knew not whither. I cared nothing for him, for at that moment I knew what I must do. There was none to see. My mind, which had been set whirling, grew calm, yea, calm with the knowledge of righteousness! I went to that gate, and up the path to the open window that led into Fletcher's study. He sat at his desk, writing. When my shadow fell across the floor, he looked up. He was not afraid; he saw only an officer of the Law before him. He was surprised, but even as he spoke to me the smile was on his lips. Through a mist of red I saw that smile, and I struck him with my truncheon so that he died."

The Sergeant looked up from his shorthand notes. "Your truncheon!" he ejaculated. "Oh, my Lord!"

"The time?" Hannasyde asked.

"When I looked at the clock, the hands stood at seven minutes past ten. I thought what I should do, and it seemed to me that I saw my path clear before me. I picked up the telephone that stood upon the desk, and reported the death to my sergeant. But that which is crooked cannot be made straight. I was a false witness that speaketh lies, and through my testimony came darkness and perplexity, and the innocent was brought into tribulation. Yea, though they are enclosed in their own fat, though they are sinners in the sight of the Lord, every one, it was not just that they should suffer for my deed. I was troubled, and sore-broken, and my heart misgave me. Yet it seemed to me that all might remain hidden, for you who sought to unravel the mystery were astonished, and knew not which way to turn. But when the fingerprints were discovered to be those of Carpenter's hand, I saw that my feet had been led into a deep pit from which there could be no escape. When it was divulged to the Sergeant where Carpenter abode, I was standing at his elbow. I heard all, even that he dwelt in a basement room, and was become a waiter in an eating-house. The Sergeant gave me leave to go off duty, and I departed, wrestling with my own soul. I hearkened to the voice of the tempter, but a man shall not be established by wickedness. Carpenter was evil, but though he deserved to die, it was not for that reason that I killed him."

"You were the Constable the coffee-stall owner saw!" the Sergeant said.

"There was such a stall; I doubt not that the man saw me. I passed him as though upon my beat; I came to the house wherein Carpenter dwelt; I saw the light shining through the blind in the basement. I went down the area steps. The door at the bottom was not locked. I entered softly. When I walked into his room Carpenter was standing with his back to me. He turned, but he had no time to utter the scream I saw rising to his lips. Yet again I had his throat in my hands, and he could not prevail against me. I slew him as I slew Fletcher, and departed as I had come. But Fletcher I slew righteously. When I killed Carpenter I knew that I had committed the sin of murder, and my heart was heavy in me. Now you would arrest Neville Fletcher in my stead, but he is innocent, and it is time that the lip of truth be established." He turned towards the Sergeant, saying harshly: "Have you set down faithfully what I have recounted? Let it be copied out, and I will set my name to it."

"Yes, that will be done," Hannasyde said. "Meanwhile, Glass, you are under arrest."

He stepped back a pace to the door, and opened it. "All right, Inspector."

"Do you think I fear you?" Glass said, standing up. "You are puny men, both. I could slay you as I slew the others. I will not do it, for I have no quarrel with you, but set no handcuffs about my wrists! I will be free."

A couple of men who had come in at Hannasyde's call took him firmly by the arms. "You come along quiet, Glass," said Sergeant Cross gruffly. "Take it easy now!"

Sergeant Hemingway watched Glass go out between the two policemen, heard him begin to declaim from the Old Testament in a fanatical sing-song, and mopped his brow with his handkerchief, bereft for once of all power of speech.

"Mad," Hannasyde said briefly. "I thought he was verging on it."

The Sergeant found his voice. "Mad? A raving homicidal lunatic, and I've been trotting around with him as trusting as you please! My God, it gave me gooseflesh just to sit there listening to him telling his story!"

"Poor devil!"

"Well, that's one way of looking at it," said the Sergeant. "What about the late Ernest and Charlie Carpenter? Seems to me they got a pretty raw deal. And all for what? Just because a silly bit of fluff who was no better than she should be ran off with one of them, and was fool enough to kill herself because of the other! I don't see what you've got to pity Ichabod for. All that'll happen to him is that he'll be sent to Broadmoor, an expense to everybody, and have a high old time preaching death and destruction to the other loonies."

"And you call yourself a psychologist!" said Hannasyde.

"I call myself a flatfoot with a sense of justice, Super," replied the Sergeant firmly. "When I think of the trouble we've been put to, and that maniac ticking us off right and left for being ungodly - well, I daren't let myself think of it for fear I'll go and burst a blood-vessel. What was it first put you on to it?"

"Constable Mather's saying that Brown hadn't taken up his pitch when he passed up Barnsley Street. That, coupled with the conflicting evidence of the pair at the other end of the street, made me suddenly suspicious. The presence of a policeman on the occasions of both murders was the common factor I spoke of. But I admit it did seem to me in the wildest degree improbable. Which is why I didn't tell you anything about it until I'd worked it out a bit more thoroughly. As soon as I began to think it over, all sorts of little points cropped up. For instance, there was the letter from Angela Angel which we found in Carpenter's room. Do you remember the quotations from the Bible in it? Do you remember when we discovered Angela's photograph in Fletcher's drawer that Glass wouldn't look at it, but said something in rather an agitated way about her end being as bitter as wormwood? The more I thought about it the more certain I felt that I'd hit on the solution. When I traced Carpenter's old agent this morning, and got a list of the towns Carpenter visited on that tour his brother spoke of, all I did was to inquire of the police at each one whether a family of the name of Glass lived, or had ever lived, there. As soon as I discovered some Glasses living at Leicester, and heard from the local Superintendent that there had been a girl attached to the family who had run off with an actor some years ago, I knew I was right on to it. All things considered, I thought it wisest to come straight down here and confront Glass with what I knew - before he took it into his head to murder you," he added, twinkling.

"Well, that was nice of you, Chief," said the Sergeant, with exaggerated gratitude. "And what about me getting myself disliked by Brown, and wasting my time watching young Neville try on his uncle's hats?"

"Sorry, but I didn't dare let Glass suspect I might be getting on to his trail. I must notify Neville Fletcher that the mystery is cleared up."

"You needn't bother," replied the Sergeant. "He's lost interest in it."

Hannasyde smiled, but said: "All the same, he must be told what's happened."

"I wouldn't mind betting he'll think it's a funny story. He hasn't got any decency at all, let alone proper feelings. However, I won't deny he dealt with Ichabod better than any of us. You tell him I'm expecting a bit of wedding-cake."

"Whose wedding-cake?" demanded Hannasyde. "Not his own?"

"Yes," said the Sergeant. "Unless that girl with the eyeglass has got more sense than I give her credit for." He was interrupted by the entrance into the room of the Constable on duty, who announced that Mr. Neville Fletcher wanted to speak to him.

"Talk of the devil!" exclaimed the Sergeant.

"Show him in," said Hannasyde. "He's on the phone, sir."

"All right, put the call through."

The Constable withdrew, Hannasyde picked up the receiver, and waited. In a few moments Neville's voice was wafted to him. "Is that Superintendent Hannasyde? How lovely! Where can I buy a special licence? Have you got any?"

"No," replied Hannasyde. "Not our department. I was just coming up to see you, Mr. Fletcher."

"What, again? But I can't be bothered with murder cases now. I'm going to get married."

"You aren't going to be bothered any more. The case is over, Mr. Fletcher."

"Oh, that's a good thing! We've really had quite enough of it. Where did you say I can buy a special licence?"

"I didn't. Do you want to know who murdered your uncle?"

"No, I want to know who keeps special licences!"

"The Archbishop of Canterbury."

"No, does he really? What fun for me! Thanks so much! Goodbye!"

Hannasyde laid down the instrument, a laugh in his eyes.

"Well?" demanded the Sergeant.

"Not interested," Hannasyde replied.