The Mad Hatter Mystery

8. Mr Arbor's Aura

Dr Fell hung his cloak over the back of the chair: Then he squeezed himself into the chair and arranged his various ridges of stomach.

'I don't know whether I ought to let you do this,' said, Hadley. 'I don't want the, General to think we're both mad. And for the love of God try to control your deplorable sense of humour. This is serious business.' He massaged his chin uncomfortably. 'You see, General, in his own way Doctor Fell is invaluable. But he gets his ideas of police procedure from the cinema, and he is under the impression that he can act any sort of part. Whenever I let him question anybody in my presence he tries to give an imitation of me. The result sounds like a schoolmaster with homicidal mania trying to find out what fourth-former spread the axle grease on the, stairs when the headmaster was coming down to dinner

Dr Fell grunted. 'Ha,' he said. 'Your analogy, while classical, supports me rather than you. It seems to me, Hadley, that you are the one who is going about grimly determined to discover who put the barrister's wig on the cabhorse. I'm exactly the detective you want. Besides schoolboys; are much more ingenious than that. Now, an outhouse of medium weight, carefully substituted for the statue of the headmaster on the night before the public unveiling of the latter'

General Mason shook his head. 'Personally,' he observed, frowning at his cigar, 'I remember my own schoolboy holidays in France. And I have always maintained that there is nothing more edifying than the experiment of placing a red lamp over the door of, the mayor's house in a district full of sailors. Ahem!'

'Go ahead,' Hadley said, bitterly. 'Have a good time. I suppose if this case hadn't wound up in a murder you'd be stealing hats yourself, and thinking up new places to hang them!'

There was a knock at the door.

`Pardon me,' said a calm, slightly edged voice. `I've knocked several times, and there seemed to be no answer. You sent for me, I think.'

Rampole had been wondering what to expect from the enigmatic Mr Julius Arbor. He remembered Sir William's description earlier that afternoon: 'Reserved, scholarly, a trifle sardonic.' The, American had been vaguely expecting someone tall and thin and swarthy, with a hooked nose. The man who entered now, slowly drawing off his gloves and looking about with cool curiosity, was somewhat swarthy. And in every movement he, was austere. But that was all.

Mr Arbor was not above middle height, and he was inclined towards pudginess. He was perfectly dressed, too well dressed: there was a white pique edging to the front of his waistcoat, and a small pearl pin in his tie… His face was flattish, with heavy black eyebrows; and the rimless eye-glasses were such delicate shells that they seemed to blend with his eyes.

'Am I addressing Chief Inspector Hadley?' he inquired.

'Good day,' said Dr Fell, waving his hand affably. 'I'm in charge of the investigation, if that's what you mean. Sit down. I presume you're Mr Arbor.'

Arbor shifted his umbrella from the crook of one arm to hang it over the other; he moved across to the chair, inspected it for dust, and sat down.

'That's better,' said the doctor. 'Now we can begin.' From his pocket he took his battered cigar-case and extended it. 'Smoke!'

`Thank you no' the other answered. He waited until Dr Fell had replaced the disreputable, case. Then he produced an elaborately chased silver cigarette-case of his own, containing long and slender cigarettes with a cork tip. Snapping on a silver lighter, he applied it to a cigarette with nicety.

Dr Fell studied him sleepily, hands folded over his stomach. Arbor seemed to grow a trifle restless. He cleared his throat.

'I do not wish to hurry you, Inspector,' he said at length, `but I should like to point out that I have been put to considerable inconvenience this afternoon. If you will tell me what you wish to know, I shall be happy to assist you in any way I can?

Dr Fell nodded. `Got any Poe manuscripts?' he inquired, rather like a customs officer asking for contraband.

The question was so sudden that Arbor stiffened. A faint frown ruffled his swarthy forehead. 'I don't think I quite understand you. At my home in New York I certainly have a number of first editions of Edgar Allan Poe, and a few of the manuscript originals. But I scarcely think they would be of interest to you. I understand you wished to question me concerning a murder.'

`Oh, the murder!' grunted Dr Fell, with a careless wave of his hand. `Never mind that.'

`Indeed?' said Arbor. `I had supposed that the police might have some curiosity concerning it. However, that is none of my affair. I must remark, with Pliny "Quot homines, tot sententiae'.'

`It wasn't Pliny,' said the doctor, testily. `That's an inexcusable blunder. And if you must use that deplorable platitude, try to pronounce it correctly. The "o" in homines is short, and there's no long. nasal sound to the "en" in sententiae But never mind that. What do you know about Poe?'

Hadley was making weird noises in the corner. Mr Arbor's flattish face had stiffened; the aura about him conveyed anger.

`I am not sure,' he said, quietly, `that I know what you are driving at or whether this is an elaborate joke. If so, kindly tell me.?

'I'll put it this way, then. Are you interested in Poe? If you were offered the authentic manuscript of one of his stories would you buy it?'

This sudden swoop to the practical put Arbor right again. There was a trace of a smile on his face.,

`Now I see, Mr Hadley,' he said to Dr Fell. `This tribunal, then, was called because of Sir William Bitton's stolen manuscript. I was a bit puzzled at first.' He smiled again, a mere wrinkle on his pudgy face. Then he considered. 'Yes, I should certainly buy a Poe item if it were offered to me.'

`H'm, yes. You know there has been a theft at Bitton's house, then?'

`Oh yes. And you, Inspector, know that I am stopping at Bitton's home. I should say,' Arbor corrected himself, impassively, `I was stopping there. To-morrow I shall remove

myself to the "Savoy".'

`Why?'

`Let's be frank, Mr Inspector. I am aware of what. Bitton thinks. I am not insulted. We must accept these little things. But I dislike awkwardness. You see; or don't you?'

`Do you know the nature of the manuscript that was stolen?'

`Perfectly. In point of fact, I had some intention of intending to buy it?

'He told you about it, then, did he?'

The flattish face was a polite mask of deprecation. `You know he didn't. But Bitton is like a child, if I may say so. I have heard him let fall enough mysterious hints at the dinner table for even his family to guess the nature of his find. However, I knew all about the manuscript before I left the States.'

He chuckled. It was the first human, sound Rampole had heard out of him.

`I dislike commenting on the infantile nature of some of these gentlemen, but I fear Doctor Robertson, who had been Bitton's confidant, was indiscreet'

Dr Fell thoughtfully took the handle of his stick, which was lying across the desk, and poked at the crossbow bolt. Then he glanced up amiably.

`Mr Arbor, would you have stolen that manuscript, if you were given the opportunity?'

Across the room Rampole saw the despairing expression on Hadley's face. But Arbor was not in the least perturbed.

'No, Inspector, I don't think I would,' he replied. `It would entail so much awkwardness, you see. And I dislike violating hospitality in that fashion. Don't misunderstand me. I have no moral scruples, and it might seriously be questioned as to whether Bitton has any right to it at all.'

`But suppose somebody offered to sell you that manuscript, Mr Arbor?'

Arbor took off his delicate eyeglasses and polished them with a white silk handkerchief. He was easy, smug, and half smiling now. The black eyebrows were wrinkled with amusement.

'Let me tell you a story, Inspector. The police should know; it, to support, my claim in case it is — ah — successful.' Before I came to England I went to Philadelphia and looked up Mr Joseph McCartney, of Mount Airy Avenue, who owns the property on which the manuscript was found. For the fact that it was found there I had the testimony of three honest labouring men. I laid my case with a tolerable degree of frankness before Mr McCartney. He was the owner. I informed him that if he would give me three months' written option on that manuscript, wherever it might be, I would hand him one thousand dollars in cash. There was also — another agreement. It specified that, if the manuscript proved to be what I wanted (the decision to rest with me), I should pay him four thousand dollars for a complete sale.'

'Actually, Mr Arbor, what is the manuscript worth?' Dr Fell asked, leaning forward.

`I should be willing to go as high as, say, ten thousand pounds.'

General Mason, who had been scowling and pulling at his imperial, interrupted. `But, my God! man, that's fantastic! No Poe manuscript… '

'I venture to predict,' Arbor said, placidly, `that this one would. It is the first analytic detective story in the history of the world. It antedates Poe's own Murders in the Rue Morgue. Dr Robertson informs me that even from an artistic point of view it surpasses Poe's other three Dupin crime tales…, I could name you offhand three fellow collectors who would go as high as twelve or fifteen. And I enjoy thinking what it would fetch at auction — where, I need not tell you, I intend to place it'

Dr Fell cleared his throat with a rumbling noise.

`How do you know this? Have you seen the manuscript?'

'I have the word of Dr Robertson, the greatest living authority on Poe. He only told me all this because — well, Inspector, my wine-cellar is considered excellent. And even Imperial Tokay is cheap at the price. Of course, he regretted his indiscretion next day; he had promised Bitton, and he begged me to take no action. I was sorry.'

`Then,' said Dr Fell, `it wasn't a mere matter of a find you were interested in? You were after this, manuscript to sell it?

'It was, my dear Inspector. The manuscript — wherever it is — happens to belong to me. I may remind you. Shall I, go on?'

By all means'

`My business with Mr McCartney was easily settled,' Arbor continued comfortably. `He seemed staggered. It was incredible to him that any written document could be worth five thousand dollars. I found in Mr McCartney a great reader of sensational fiction…. My next move — you follow it, Inspector?’

`You got yourself, invited to Bitton's house,' grunted Dr Fell.;

`Not exactly. I had a standing invitation there. As a rule, I do not stay with friends when I am in London. I own a cottage in the suburbs, at which I often stay in summer; and in winter I go to a hotel. But, you see, I had to be tactful. He was a friend.

`I could not, of course, say to him, "Bitton, I think you have a manuscript of mine. Hand it over." That would have been distasteful, and, I thought, unnecessary. I expected him to show me his find voluntarily. Then I would lead up to my subject by gradual degrees, explain the unfortunate " circumstances, and make him a fair offer. '

`Now, Inspector — and gentlemen — that was difficult. You know Bitton? Ah. I knew him as a headstrong, stubborn, f and secretive fellow; rather a monomaniac on cherishing his discoveries. But I had not expected him to be quite so difficult. He did not speak of his find, as I had expected. For some days I hinted. I thought he was merely obtuse, and I fear my hints grew so outrageously broad that they puzzled even his family. But I am aware now that he must have known, and suspected me. He merely kept his mouth more tightly closed. It was distasteful to me — but I was coming to the point where I should have to claim my rights.' Under the law,' said Arbor, his leisurely voice growing suddenly harsh, `I was not required to pay him a penny for my property.!’

'The sale had not been concluded between you and Mc Cartney, had it?' inquired Dr Fell.;

Arbor shrugged. `Virtually. I had my option. Of course, I was not willing to hand over five thousand dollars on a manuscript I had never seen, even on the word of Dr Robertson; and a manuscript, besides, which might conceivably have been lost or destroyed by the time I came to claim it. However, to all intents and purposes it was mine.'

`Did you tell Bitton you were the owner, then?'

Arbor's nostrils tightened with anger. `Obviously not. Or would he have been so mad as to do what he did — seek the aid of the police when it was stolen?

`But before that. Consider the difficulty of my position. I began to see that, if I asked him outright, this — ah — this, lunatic might make all sorts of trouble. He would probably refuse, and question my rights. My rights could be proved; but it would mean delay and, all sorts of unpleasantness. He might maintain he, had lost the manuscript, and that would be worse.'

Mr Arbor's aura conveyed an acute spasm of anguish at this thought. General Mason coughed, and Dr Fell contrived to twist his moustache with a hand that hid his mouth.

`And at this juncture,' continued the other, `everything blew up. The manuscript was stolen. And I, you notice, I was the loser.

`Now, gentlemen.' He sat back and gazed about, fixing the eye of each in turn. `Now you will understand why I have gone into such thorough explanations, and why I wish to establish the ownership of that manuscript. Bitton undoubtedly thinks I stole it. I am not particularly concerned with what he thinks; but I cannot have the police thinking so.’

`I was away over the week-end during which the manuscript was stolen, and I arrived back only this morning. I was visiting Mr and Mrs Spengler, some friends of mine who live close to that cottage of my own I mentioned, at Golders Green. "Ah," says the cunning Bitton; "an alibi." And he has the impudence to telephone them in order to confirm it. "Ah," he says then; "it was done by somebody in his employ."

`Now, all this might be at least remotely possible in Bitton's wild imagination. But why, in the name of Heaven, should I go to all the trouble of stealing a manuscript which was already mine?'

There was a silence. Hadley, who had perched himself on the edge of the desk, nodded.

`I suppose, Mr Arbor,' he said, `you are prepared to prove this claim of yours?'

`Naturally. An agreement between Mr McCartney and myself was drawn up by my lawyer in New York and duly attested. A copy of this agreement is now filed with my solicitors in London.'

Hadley lifted his shoulders. `In that case, Mr Arbor, there is nothing more to, be said. Sir William simply took a chance that his discovery would go unnoted.' Hadley spoke coldly and levelly. `Even if you had abstracted the manuscript, to avoid trouble at Sir William's hands, the law could do nothing.’

Mr Arbor's aura radiated a sort of sputter, like a muffled wireless-key.

`We'll let that pass,' be observed, with an effort. `The absurdity of your suggestion is as evident as — ah your somewhat noticeable manners. That a man of my well-known standing. 'The aura sputtered again. Then Mr Arbor recovered himself. 'It would amuse some, of my associates in New York,' he said. `Ha, ha. Ha. Very amusing. But, as I think we agreed to begin with, perfectly legal.'

'Not if it concerned.a murder,' said Dr Fell.

There was an abrupt and rather terrible silence.

The doctor had spoken in a casual tone. In the stillness they could all hear the last rattle of coals falling in the grate, and, very faintly, the thin sudden note of a bugle from the parade-ground.

Arbor had been gathering his coat about him to rise, and his hand jerked on the lapel. `I–I beg your pardon?' he said.

`I said, "Not if it concerned a murder,"' Dr Fell repeated in a louder voice. `Don't get up, Mr Arbor. Were going to talk about the murder now. That doesn't surprise you, does it?' His half-closed eyes opened wide. `Don't you know who was murdered, Mr Arbor?' he pursued.

`I–I heard them talking over there,' the other answered, regarding his interrogator fixedly.;'I think I heard somebody say his name was Drakell or Driscoll or something of the sort.'

`The name was Driscoll, Philip Driscoll. He was Sir William Bitton's nephew.'

Whatever sort of effect Dr Fell had hoped to produce, there was no question about an effect. Arbor's swarthy face turned white; literally white, for mottled blotches stood out against; his pallor. The thin eyeglasses jerked on his nose, and he covered them with a shaking hand. Undoubtedly Arbor had a weak heart. The effect was as much physical as nervous.

`You must — you must excuse me, gentlemen, he muttered. His voice grew stronger. `I it was the shock of hearing the name of — somebody — I did know. This — this Driscoll, was he a small young man, with — let me see — with reddish hair?'

`Yes,' said Dr Fell. `You did know him, then?'

'I met him — ah- Sunday before last, at dinner in Bitton's house. It was the day. I arrived. I hadn't caught his last name. They all called him Phil; that's how I remembered. How did he die?'

`He was stabbed with this crossbow bolt,' said Dr Fell, picking it up. `It comes from Bitton's house.'

The other said, `Most interesting — ' in a way that sounded like a horrible burlesque. But he was better now. `I don't want you to think, gentlemen, that I know anything of the poor boy's murder because I seemed — ah — upset when you mentioned it. After all, murderers don't do that, do they? `It would be too easy if they did. A person with courage enough to use one of those vicious-looking things isn't apt to faint when it's produced afterwards.. Bitton… poor devil. Does he know?'

`He knows, Mr Arbor. But about young Driscoll: you can't think of any reason for his murder?'

`My dear sir, no! No, of course not. I only met him once, at that dinner. I haven't seen him since.'

`He was killed, at the Traitors' Gate out there,' pursued Dr Fell, nodding, `and his body thrown on the steps. I don't suppose you noticed anything suspicious while you were there?'

`No. What I — er — wanted to tell you when I first came in was that it was only by chance I was detained here at all. You see, I wanted to examine that copy of Sir Walter Raleigh's History o f the World which is on display at the Bloody Tower, in the room where he wrote it. I arrived here shortly after one o'clock, and went directly to the Bloody Tower. I presented my card to the warder on duty, and asked whether I might make a detailed examination. He said he was sorry, but that it was a part of the Tower exhibits and that I couldn't handle it without a written order from the resident governor or deputy governor. Even then, he said, it was doubtful whether I could get the order. But I asked to be directed to where I might find either one. He sent me across the way… '

`Inside the ballium wall?' Hadley interrupted.

'Yes. To a row of buildings facing up towards; the Green and the parade-ground. But it was foggy, and there were several doors, and I was uncertain. When I hesitated, a man came out of one of the doors.'

`A man in knickerbockers and a cap?' Dr Fell inquired.

`I don't know. Er — yes, I believe he did wear knickerbockers I recall it because they seemed a bit absurd on such a day. But it was foggy, and I could not swear to it. I spoke to him to find out which door I should use, but he brushed past me without listening. Then another warder hailed me and told me that visitors were not permitted on the side of the grounds where I was walking. I explained. He then said he was positive neither of the persons I wanted to see were in their quarters at the time.'

`Quite correct,' said General Mason, dryly.

`But surely, gentlemen!' Arbor protested, wetting his lips, `surely you can't be interested…. You are? Well, let me see. I returned to the Bloody Tower and tried the judicious use of a bank-note. It was not accepted. So I determined to leave. On my way out to Water Lane I collided with a young lady who had just come under the arch of the gate from Water Lane and was walking very rapidly up the incline that goes towards the parade-ground.!

'Could you describe this young lady?'

'No, I'm afraid 'not. I scarcely glanced at her. All I remember is that she was in a great hurry, and that she wore some sort of fur collar, and that she seemed ah uncommonly solid. It gave me a jar when we bumped. My wristwatch was a bit loose, and I thought it had slipped off. Well, I walked through the arch of the Bloody Tower, into Water Lane…. ‘

'Now, Mr Arbor, for the Lord's sake think! Think! Was there anybody near the railing around Traitors' Gate then? Did you see anybody standing there?'

Arbor sat back. `I begin to see the drift,' he answered, nervously. 'I didn't go close to the rail, or look over. But there was nobody standing near it, Inspector. Nobody!'

`And could you remember the time then?'

'I can tell you the time precisely,' said the other. `It was just twenty-five minutes to two.'