Drury Lane’s Last Case

18 Contradiction in Terms

Dr. Alonzo Choate’s tufted jaw waggled toward his chest; his eyes opened to their widest dimensions, and he goggled at Joe Villa. Dr. Sedlar blinked a little; then he turned quickly pale, and little bunches of muscle ridged themselves along his lean jawline like the spinal column of a hairless animal.

“I say,” he began harshly, “that’s a bit thick.” He glared at Villa. “You swine,” he snarled, “that’s not true, and you know it!”

Villa’s beady eyes glittered. “Come off that perch, Yer Lordship. You know damn’ well you’re the guy hired me to swipe that book!”

For a moment it seemed as if the Englishman contemplated physical assault upon the malignant dark visage of the Italian. No one spoke. To Lane, to Patience, to Rowe, to Inspector Thumm, Villa’s accusation had come only as a mild shock; and they waited quietly, allowing the drama to play itself out. Dr. Choate seemed paralyzed.

Dr. Sedlar sighed at last, the blood returning to his thin cheeks. “This is, of course, utterly preposterous,” he smiled. “The man is either a maniac or a willful liar.” He studied the faces about him, and lost his smile. “Lord,” he cried, “you don’t really believe him?”

Villa snickered; he seemed very sure of himself.

“Pipe down, rat,” said the Inspector softly. “The funny part of it is, Dr. Sedlar, that this isn’t the first time we’ve been told you were a man who used the name of Dr. Ales.”

Sedlar drew himself up. “I am beginning to think that this is a damnable conspiracy. Dr. Choate, what do you know about this?”

The curator passed a trembling hand over his goatee. “Well, really... I don’t know what to think. This is the first I’ve heard—”

“And who is this other person who has accused me of being “—the Englishman’s eyes flickered—” Dr. Ales?”

“Crabbe, Mrs. Saxon’s librarian. He says that on May sixth you visited the Saxon house, giving the name of Dr. Ales.”

“May sixth?” said Dr. Sedlar haughtily. “You see what utter rot this is, Inspector. On May sixth, as you may discover by cabling my former associates at the Kensington Museum, I was in London. In fact, on May seventh I attended a farewell banquet there in my honor.”

Beneath the Inspector’s politely inquiring air there was deep bafflement. “Well, I s’pose that lets you out, then. On the Crabbe count.” His bleak eyes flashed suddenly. “But how about the day of the theft in the museum?”

“I tell you that’s the guy!” screamed Villa in a rage.

“Damn you, Joe, shut up,” said Thumm fiercely. “Well, Doctor?”

The Englishman shrugged. “I’m afraid I’m stupid, Inspector. I don’t understand the question. Surely you know that on the day this — this creature invaded the Britannic Museum I was on the high seas?”

“That would be swell if it were true. But it’s not!”

Dr. Choate gasped. Dr. Sedlar blinked for the third time, and his monocle fell to his breast. “What do you mean?” he said slowly.

“This Dr. Ales rifled the Jaggard cabinet on these premises on May twenty-seventh...”

“Bah!” roared Dr. Choate. “I think this has gone far enough. I see no point in badgering Dr. Sedlar further. His boat from England did not make port until midnight of the twenty-eighth and didn’t dock until the morning of the twenty-ninth. So you see it’s impossible, even in theory, for him to have been the man who stole — I beg your pardon, Doctor! — the 1599 Jaggard.”

Dr. Sedlar said nothing. He acknowledged the curator’s heated defense with a faint smile and looked inquiringly at the Inspector.

Thumm frowned. “That’s the queer part of it, Dr. Choate. If that were true, I’d kick our friend Villa in the slack of the pants and forget the whole thing. But it isn’t. Because Sedlar here wasn’t on that boat!”

“Not on the boat!” gasped the curator. “Dr. Sedlar, what — why—?”

The Englishman’s shoulders sagged and a tired look crept into his eye. But he still said nothing.

“Well, were you, Dr. Sedlar?” asked Thumm quietly.

Dr. Sedlar sighed. “I see now how an innocent man may become entangled in a web of incriminating circumstances... No, Doctor, I was not on that boat, as the Inspector says. Although how he found—”

“Checked up on you. You left England on the Carinthia Friday, May seventeenth, which docked in New York Harbor on Wednesday May twenty-second. That means you were in New York a full week earlier than you pretended. That makes you a damned good possibility, I’ll tell you!”

“I see,” murmured the Englishman. “Most distressin’, to be sure. Yes, that’s quite correct, gentlemen. I arrived in New York a week earlier than I publicly announced. But still I fail to see—”

“What’s the game? Why’d you lie?”

Dr. Sedlar smiled. “An ugly word, Inspector. I see that I’m on what you Americans so vigorously term ‘the spot.’” He leaned suddenly against Dr. Choate’s desk and folded his arms. “You’re entitled to an explanation. I know Dr. Choate will forgive the prevarication, but the point is that I wanted a week in New York to myself. Had I announced my arrival, I should have been constrained to get in touch with the Britannic at once, which would have hampered my movements. To avoid the necessity of — ah — rather tedious explanations, I simply said that I’d crossed a week later than I did in actuality.”

“What was this week’s vacation in the city for?”

“That, Inspector,” replied Dr. Sedlar with a courteous smile, “I’m afraid I must refuse to answer. It was purely a personal affair.”

“Oh, yeah?” sneered Thumm. “I thought—”

Mr. Drury Lane said gently: “Come, come, Inspector, a man has a right to a certain amount of privacy, you know. I see no purpose in heckling Dr. Sedlar. He has explained away a curious detail—”

Joe Villa bounced to his feet, his features writhing with passion. “Sure! I knew it!” he screeched. “Sure you’ll believe him! But I tell you ’at’s the guy hired me to pull the Saxon job an’ the guy I tailed here that day! Gonna let him get away with it?”

“Sit down, Joe,” said the Inspector wearily. “All right, Doctor; only I’m telling you right now it looks screwy to me.”

Sedlar nodded a little stiffly. “I’m sure you’ll find it all a mistake. At that time I shall of course expect an apology.” He screwed the monocle back under his eyebrow and stared icicles at Thumm.

“If I may ask a question,” said Patience in a charming voice in the silence. “Dr. Sedlar, do you know this man who calls himself Ales?”

“Child—” began Lane.

“Oh, it’s perfectly all right, sir,” said the Englishman with a smile. “Miss Thumm no doubt has the right to ask. No, I can’t say I do. It strikes a faintly reminiscent note—”

“He used to write for The Stratford Quarterly,” said Rowe suddenly.

“Ah! No doubt that’s why I thought I had heard it somewhere.”

“And now,” interrupted the curator, coming nervously forward, “I’m sure we’ve had enough of accusations and recriminations. Inspector, I suggest we all forget today’s little unpleasantness. I see no point in pressing a charge against this man Villa—”

“No, no,” agreed Dr. Sedlar politely. “No harm done at all.”

“Here, wait a minute,” objected Coburn, the policeman. “I’ve got my duty, gentleman. This man’s got a charge of attempted burglary against him, an’ I can’t just let him go. And then he’s just confessed to breakin’ into Mrs. Saxon’s mansion...”

“Good heavens,” sighed Patience to her young companion. “We’re getting mixed up again. My head’s spinning.”

“There’s something uncommonly rotten about all this, darling,” muttered the young man. “All right, Pat, not darling! But I feel there’s just one little key to the whole business, a clarifying element—”

Joe Villa stood very still, his vulturous head swaying from side to side, his little eyes gleaming darkly.

“Well—” began Thumm doubtfully.

“Inspector,” murmured Lane. Thumm looked up. “One moment, please.” The old gentleman took him aside and for a moment they conferred in low tones. Thumm continued to look doubtful; then he shrugged his shoulders and beckoned to Coburn. The officer reluctantly relinquished his grip on Villa and stalked over to listen with a grim expression to the Inspector’s gruff voice. The others looked on in silence.

Finally Coburn said: “Well, okay, Inspector, but I’ll have to hand in my report just the same.”

“Sure. I’ll make it all right with your lieutenant.”

Coburn saluted and pounded away.

Joe Villa sighed and relaxed against the table. Thumm left the room in search of a telephone, ignoring the instrument on the desk. The curator began an earnest murmur of conversation with Dr. Sedlar. Mr. Drury Lane dreamily regarded a crisp old engraving of the Droeshout portrait on Dr. Choate’s wall. As for Patience and Rowe, they stood shoulder to shoulder without speaking. It was as if they all waited for something to happen.

The Inspector stamped back. “Villa,” he said shortly. The thief snapped to attention. “You’re my baby. Come along.”

“Where... where you takin’ me?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.” The scholars had stopped talking and were regarding Thumm with anxious, solemn eyes. “Dr. Sedlar, you remaining here?”

“I beg your pardon?” murmured the Englishman, astonished.

“We’re taking a little jaunt out to this Dr. Ales’s house,” explained the Inspector with a sly smile. “I thought you might like to come along.”

“Hey—” croaked Villa.

Dr. Sedlar frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t quite understand.”

“Dr. Sedlar and I have many things to go over today,” said Dr. Choate frigidly.

“Quite so.” Lane moved suddenly. “Inspector, please. I shudder to think of what Dr. Sedlar will think of our American hospitality after this ghastly affair. By the way, Doctor, where are you stopping in the event we need you in an... ah... emergency?’

“At the Hotel Seneca, Mr. Lane.”

“Thank you. Come along, Inspector. Patience, Gordon, I suppose we can’t shake you off, eh?” The old gentleman chuckled. “Ah, inquisitive youth,” and he shook his head sadly and moved toward the door.