Death at the Opera

chapter xvi: solution

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Mrs. Bradley went to the lodgings where Calma Ferris had once lived, and spent an hour and a half in writing a detailed account of the case, as she saw it, against Cutler, in connection with the murder of Susie Cozens. She sent the statement to the Chief Constable of the County, who passed it on to Inspector Breardon.

The charge of murdering Susie Cozens was preferred, and the charge of attempted murder of Noel Wells was dropped. At the trial, an under-housemaid was called who was prepared to back up Mrs. Cozens’s statement that Cutler had called at the Manor House that evening and had asked to see Susie. As it was shown that, unless he had met Susie earlier in the day, he could not possibly have known that she would be at the squire’s house that afternoon, the jury found him guilty of the murder, and his subsequent appeal failed.

Having despatched the letter, Mrs. Bradley took out the small cards and played three varieties of Patience; then she took out a scribbling-block and began to write on it every characteristic of Calma Ferris which had impressed itself upon her mind.

“She was inoffensive.

“She had financed the production of The Mikado.

“She had damaged Mr. Smith’s Psyche.

“She had annoyed Miss Camden by keeping a girl in instead of allowing her to play in the school netball team.

“She had been given a chief part in the opera, and, in consequence, Miss Camden had been left out of the cast.

“She was conscientious.

“She was hardworking.

“She was painstaking.

“She was so colourless herself that she expected other people to be much more colourful than they were.

“She knew that Alceste Boyle and Frederick Hampstead were lovers.

“She had seen Hurstwood embracing Miss Cliffordson.

“It does not appear that she knew of the sittings which Moira Malley gave Mr. Smith for the Psyche.

“Nobody gained anything by her death, except certain persons above mentioned, who were relieved from immediate embarrassment, perhaps, but who cannot bave thought that they would suffer indefinitely if they were betrayed to the Headmaster by Miss Ferris.

“Apart from the persons above mentioned she had no enemies, so far as I can discover.

“She was killed during the First Act of the opera, before she had made any appearance on the stage.

“She was a failure at the dress-rehearsal.

“She greatly improved at a subsequent rehearsal.

“At this subsequent rehearsal the actors were not in costume.

“At the dress-rehearsal Alceste Boyle demonstrated how the part of ‘Katisha’ should be played. On the night of the opera Alceste Boyle took the part which Calma Ferris should have taken.

“Therefore, in two respects, the dress-rehearsal and the actual performance were alike, i.e., both were done in costume and complete make-up.

“Therefore, in the same two respects, the dress-rehearsal was unlike any other rehearsal.

“Both the dress-rehearsal and the final show were performed with Alceste Boyle instead of Calma Ferris in the part of ‘Katisha.’

“But at the dress-rehearsal Alceste Boyle took the part over when Calma Ferris had done it badly, because she wished to help and instruct her.

“Whereas, at the final performance, Alceste Boyle took the part because Calma Ferris was not there to take it.

“And Calma Ferris was not there to take it because Calma Ferris was dead.”

Mrs. Bradley re-read what she had written, tore off the last sheet, which was still attached to the scribbling-block, clipped the sheets together, and put them on one side. Then she addressed herself to the virgin sheet on the block and began again:

“Calma Ferris was drowned.

“The people who knew she went to the water-lobby the first time to bathe her face are:

“Hurstwood,

“Miss Camden,

“Little Maisie Something, the call-boy,

“Mr. Smith (perhaps, He may not have known which water-lobby she used, as there is another on the same side of the building),

“Alceste Boyle (perhaps. She does not admit it.)

“The people who knew she went to the water-lobby a second (?) time to bathe her face were (?)

“But she must have gone a second time.”

Mrs. Bradley tore the sheet off, laid it with the others, and began again:

“The murderer must be

“1. Prompt to act. This would be so in the case of Hurstwood, Moira Malley, Miss Camden. This would not be so in the case of Mr. Smith.

“2. Somebody who was offering to render assistance, i.e., first aid, to Miss Ferris. This could have been Moira Malley; Miss Camden; possibly, but not probably, Hurstwood; possibly, but most improbably, Mr. Smith.

“3. A conversationalist. Something had to be done to distract Miss Ferris’s attention from the fact that the bowl was filling up. Of all the people who appear to be most nearly concerned, I cannot imagine Hurstwood, Moira Malley nor Mr. Smith producing a flow of prattle. Miss Camden might, but somehow I cannot imagine it from what I know of her.

“4. Somebody who can act a part and preserve a face of brass. There was that dreadful interval to get through. Calma Ferris, dead. The possibility that at any moment the body might be discovered. It must have been a time of dreadful strain. Moira Malley and Hurstwood were both upset. Mr. Smith did not appear to be—at least, nobody has suggested that he was. Miss Camden was in the audience.

“It looks like Miss Camden, except that, evidence or no evidence, I feel certain she would have given herself away. Smith, of course, is an artist. ‘Art for Art’s sake ’ and so on. Oh…?”

Light had come.

Mrs. Bradley tore the sheet off, and laid it with the others. Then she rang for milk and biscuits, and began to write a letter:—

“My Dear Friend,” she wrote,

“I should like to come and see you if I may. I have solved the mystery of Calma Ferris’s death, and I think you might be interested to hear my conclusions. As I know your motive for removing the poor woman from the cast of The Mikado, I am convinced that you have committed your last crime against society in the interests of your art. I admire an artist, and one who is so consistently and integrally on the side of the Muses as to commit murder in their defence seems to me worthy to have been born in a less decadent and squeamish age than this in which we live. I admit myself to be decadent and squeamish in that, while I appreciate your motive, I deprecate the cruelty of robbing that inoffensive woman of her life.

“My difficulty in finding a solution to the problem has been the fact that one person besides yourself possesses most of the characteristics necessary for the commission of this particular—I was about to say ‘crime,’ but, perhaps, I had better say ‘wilful act.’ The murderer, it seemed to me, had to possess courage, willpower, initiative and tremendous self-control. I ought to have seen sooner that Miss Camden, whom I suspected for weeks, did not sufficiently possess this last characteristic. She is not particularly self-controlled. She is reckless, extravagant, unstable, and would have given herself away to everybody if she had committed the deed. No. Everything points to you. You killed Miss Ferris —I see it more clearly every minute—because you are essentially an artist. You saw Alceste Boyle perform the part of ‘Katisha’ at the dress-rehearsal. You observed that she is a particularly fine actress. You had already seen poor Calma Ferris bungle the part hopelessly. You are an old woman, and you wanted to see the part played once more—perfectly. You removed Calma. Alceste, as you foresaw, had to take the part.

“You had not premeditated the crime. Nobody could have foreseen that Mr. Smith was going to charge down the corridor, break Miss Ferris’s glasses and cut her face. You went into the water-lobby after her, I think—nobody appears to have seen you—to see whether you could be of any assistance. You saw her bending over the basin. Then Miss Camden came along the corridor, and you slipped into the nearest doorway, I suppose, and left her to render first-aid. But the little cut was deep, and when Miss Ferris had been attended to, she had to return to the dressing-room so that her make-up could be replaced.

“You took care to re-open that small, deep cut. She had to go again to the water-lobby to bathe it. This time you went along with her. You had a lump of modelling-clay for the purpose of broadening Mr. Smith’s nose, when you made him up as the ‘Mikado.’ This lump of clay you thrust into the waste-pipe. Poor Miss Ferris, blind as a bat without her glasses, did not notice what you were doing. Then you pressed the tap with one hand, dabbed her face (with Hurstwood’s handkerchief) with the other, and kept up a flow of easy, interesting, amusing chatter. Oh, that chatter! How it bothered me to think who, among those teachers or those children, could so easily have held the victim enthralled—so enthralled that she did not heed the basin filling… filling…

“It was beautifully done. And I congratulate you. You slipped into your seat—your nice seat in the middle of the third row—and you saw the first entrance of ‘Katisha.’ You felt justified in what you had lately come from doing. During the interval you touched up faces, adjusted wigs, chattered and laughed, an actress in every sense of the word. Then you returned to the audoritium for the Second Act, while that inoffensive woman—you told me yourself that she was an inoffensive woman!—do you remember?—lay out in the lobby dead.

“But to murder her because she was an inoffensive woman seems to me almost a divine gesture. She was too inoffensive to play the part as you felt it should be played, and so you murdered her, and had Alceste Boyle instead to entertain you in the character of ‘Katisha.’

“I remain for always your sincere admirer,

“Beatrice A. L. Bradley.”

She addressed the letter to Madame V. Berotti.