"What are you suggesting?" repeated Nevile. Battle leaned forward.
"I'm suggesting that - on some occasion, Mrs. Audrey Strange wore that coat. It's the only reasonable way the hair and the powder could get where it did. Then you've seen that glove I produced just now? It's her glove, all right. That was the right hand, here's the left." He drew it out of his pocket and put it down on the table. It was crumpled and stained with rusty brown patches.
Nevile said with a note of fear in his voice: "What's that on it?"
"Blood, Mr. Strange," said Battle firmly. "And you'll note this, it's the left hand. Now, Mrs. Audrey Strange is left-handed. I noted that first thing when I saw her sitting with her coffee cup in her right hand and her cigarette in her left at the breakfast table. And the pen tray on her writing-table had been shifted to the left-hand side. It all fits in. The knob from her grate, the gloves outside her window, the hair and powder on the coat. Lady Tressilian was struck on the right temple - but the position of the bed made it impossible for anyone to have stood on the other side of it. It follows that to strike Lady Tressilian a blow with the right hand would be a very awkward thing to do - but it's the natural way to strike for a left-handed person ..."
"Are you suggesting that Audrey - Audrey would make all these elaborate preparations and strike down an old lady whom she had known for years in order to get her hands on that old lady's money?"
Battle shook his head.
"I'm suggesting nothing of the sort. I'm sorry, Mr. Strange, you've got to understand just how things are. This crime, first, last and all the time, was directed against you. Ever since you left her, Audrey Strange has been brooding over the possibilities of revenge. In the end she has become mentally unbalanced. Perhaps she was never mentally very strong. She thought, perhaps, of killing you, but that wasn't enough. She thought at last of getting you hanged for murder. She chose an evening when she knew you had quarrelled with Lady Tressilian. She took the coat from your bedroom and wore it when she struck the old lady down, so that it should be bloodstained. She put your niblick on the floor, knowing we would find your fingerprints on it, and smeared blood and hair on the head of the club. It was she who instilled into your mind the idea of coming here when she was here. And the thing that saved you was the one thing she couldn't count on - the fact that Lady Tressilian rang her bell for Barrett and that Barrett saw you leave the house."
Nevile had buried his face in his hands. He said now: "It's not true. It's not true! Audrey's never borne a grudge against me. You've got the whole thing wrong. She's the straightest, truest creature - without one thought of evil in her heart."
"It's not my business to argue with you, Mr. Strange. I only wanted to prepare you. I shall caution Mrs. Strange and ask her to accompany me. I've got the warrant. You'd better see about getting a solicitor for her."
"It's preposterous. Absolutely preposterous."
"Love turns to hate more easily than you think, Mr. Strange."
"I tell you it's all wrong - preposterous."
Thomas Royde broke in. His voice was quiet and pleasant.
"Do stop repeating that it's preposterous, Nevile. Pull yourself together. Don't you see that the only thing that can help Audrey now is for you to give up all your ideas of chivalry and come out with the truth?"
"The truth? You mean -"
"I mean the truth about Audrey and Adrian." Royde turned to the police officers. "You see, Superintendent, you've got the facts wrong. Nevile didn't leave Audrey. She left him. She ran away with my brother, Adrian. Then Adrian was killed in a car accident. Nevile behaved with the utmost chivalry to Audrey. He arranged that she should divorce him and that he would take the blame."
"Didn't want her name dragged through the mud," muttered Nevile sulkily. "Didn't know anyone knew."
"Adrian wrote out to me just before," explained Thomas briefly. He went on: "Don't you see, Superintendent, that knocks your motive out! Audrey has no cause to hate Nevile. On the contrary, she has every reason to be grateful to him. He's tried to get her to accept an allowance, which she wouldn't do. Naturally, when he wanted her to come and meet Kay she didn't feel she could refuse."
"You see," Nevile put in eagerly, - "that cuts out her motive. Thomas is right." Battle's wooden face was immovable.
"Motive's only one thing," he said. "I may have been wrong about that. But facts are another. All the facts show that she's guilty."
Nevile said meaningly: "All the facts showed that I was guilty two days ago!" Battle seemed a little taken aback.
"That's true enough. But look here, Mr. Strange, at what you're asking me to believe. You're asking me to believe that there's someone who hates both of you - someone who, if the plot against you failed, had laid a second trail to lead to Audrey Strange. Now, can you think of anyone, Mr. Strange, who hates both you and your former wife?"
Nevile's head had dropped into his hands again.
"When you say it like that you make it all sound fantastic!"
"Because it is fantastic. I've got to go by the facts. If Mrs. Strange has any explanation to offer -"
"Did I have any explanation?" asked Nevile.
"It's no good, Mr. Strange. I've got to do my duty."
Battle got up abruptly. He and Leach left the room first. Nevile and Royde came close behind them.
They went on across the hall into the drawing-room. There they stopped.
Audrey Strange got up. She walked forward to meet them. She looked straight at Battle, her lips parted in what was very nearly a smile.
She said very softly: "You want me, don't you?" Battle became very official.
"Mrs. Strange, I have a warrant here for your arrest on the charge of murdering Camilla Tressilian on Monday last, September 12th. I must caution you that anything you say will be written down and may be used in evidence at your trial."
Audrey gave a sigh. Her small clear-cut face was peaceful and pure as a cameo. "It's almost a relief. I'm glad it's - over!"
Nevile sprang forward.
"Audrey - don't say anything - don't speak at all."
She smiled at him.
"But why not, Nevile? It's all true - and I'm so tired."
Leach drew a deep breath. Well, that was that. Mad as a hatter, of course, but it would save a lot of worry! He wondered what had happened to his uncle. The old boy was looking as though he had seen a ghost. Staring at the poor demented creature as though he couldn't believe his eyes. Oh, well, it had been an interesting case. Leach thought comfortably.
And then, an almost grotesque anticlimax, Hurstall opened the drawing-room door and announced: "Mr. MacWhirter."
MacWhirter strode in purposefully. He went straight up to Battle. "Are you the police officer in charge of the Tressilian case?" he asked.
"I am."
"Then I have an important statement to make. I am sorry not to have come forward before, but the importance of something I happened to see on the night of Monday last has only just dawned on me."
He gave a quick glance round the room. "If I can speak to you somewhere?"
Battle turned to Leach.
"Will you stay here with Mrs. Strange?"
Leach said officially: "Yes, sir."
Then he leant forward and whispered something into the other's ear.
Battle turned to MacWhirter. "Come this way."
He led the way into the library.
"Now then, what's all this? My colleague tells me that he's seen you before - last winter?"
"Quite right," said MacWhirter. "Attempted suicide. That's part of my story." "Go on, Mr. MacWhirter."
"Last January I attempted to kill myself by throwing myself off Stark Head. This year the fancy took me to revisit the spot. I walked up there on Monday night. I stood there for some time. I looked down at the sea and across to Easterhead Bay and I then looked to my left. That is to say, I looked across towards this house. I could see it quite plainly in the moonlight."
"Yes."
"Until to-day I had not realised that that was the night when a murder was committed."
He leant forward. "I'll tell you what I saw." XVI
It was really only about five minutes before Battle returned to the drawing-room, but to those there it seemed much longer.
Kay had suddenly lost control of herself. She had cried out to Audrey: "I knew it was you. I always knew it was you. I knew you were up to something -"
Mary Aldin said quickly: "Please, Kay." Nevile said sharply: "Shut up, Kay, for God's sake." Ted Latimer came over to Kay, who had begun to cry. "Get a grip on yourself," he said kindly.
He said to Nevile angrily: "You don't seem to realise that Kay has been under a lot of strain! Why don't you look after her a bit. Strange?"
"I'm all right," said Kay.
"For two pins," said Ted, "I'd take you away from the lot of them!"
Inspector Leach cleared his throat. A lot of injudicious things were said at times like these, as he well knew. The unfortunate part was that they were usually remembered most inconveniently afterwards.
Battle came back into the room. His face was expressionless.
He said: "Will you put one or two things together, Mrs. Strange? I'm afraid Inspector Leach must come upstairs with you."
Mary Aldin said: "I'll come, too."
When the two women had left the room with the Inspector, Nevile said anxiously: "Well, what did that chap want?"
Battle said slowly: "Mr. MacWhirter tells a very odd story." "Does it help Audrey? Are you still determined to arrest her?" "I've told you, Mr. Strange. I've got to do my duty." Nevile turned away, the eagerness dying out of his face. He said: "I'd better telephone Trelawny, I suppose."
"There's no immediate hurry for that, Mr. Strange. There's a certain experiment I want to make first as a result of Mr. MacWhirter's statement. I'll just see that Mrs. Strange gets off first."
Audrey was coming down the stairs, Inspector Leach beside her. Her face still had that remote, detached composure.
Nevile came towards her, his hands outstretched. "Audrey -"
Her colourless glance swept over him. She said: "It's all right, Nevile. I don't mind. I don't mind anything."
Thomas Royde stood by the front door, almost as though he would bar the way out.
A very faint smile came to her lips. "‘True Thomas,'" she murmured. He mumbled: "If there's anything I can do -" "No one can do anything," said Audrey.
She went out with her head high. A police car was waiting outside with Sergeant Jones in it. Audrey and Leach got in.
Ted Latimer murmured appreciatively: "Lovely exit!"
Nevile turned on him furiously. Superintendent Battle dexterously interposed his bulk and raised a soothing voice: "As I said, I've got an experiment to make. Mr. MacWhirter is waiting down at the ferry. We're to join him there in ten minutes' time. We shall be going out in a motor-launch, so the ladies had better wrap up warmly. In ten minutes, please."
He might have been a stage manager ordering a company on to the stage. He took no notice at all of their puzzled faces.
Zero Hour
I
It was chilly on the water and Kay hugged the little fur jacket she was wearing closer round her.
The launch chugged down the river below Gull's Point, and then swung round into the little bay that divided Gull's Point from the frowning mass of Stark Head.
Once or twice a question began to be asked, but each time Superintendent Battle held up a large hand rather like a cardboard ham, intimating that the time had not come yet. So the silence was unbroken save for the rushing of the water past them. Kay and Ted stood together looking down into the water. Nevile was slumped down, his legs stuck out. Mary Aldin and Thomas Royde sat up in the bows. And one and all glanced from time to time curiously at the tall, aloof figure of MacWhirter by the stern. He looked at none of them, but stood with his back turned and his shoulders hunched up.
Not until they were under the frowning shadow of Stark Head did Battle throttle down the engine and begin to speak his piece. He spoke without self-consciousness and in a tone that was more reflective than anything else.
"This has been a very odd case - one of the oddest I've ever known, and I'd like to say something on the subject of murder generally. What I'm going to say is not original - actually I overheard young Mr. Daniels, the K.C., say something of the kind, and I wouldn't be surprised if he'd got it from someone else - he'd a trick of doing that!
"It's this! When you read the account of a murder - or, say, a fiction story based on murder - you usually begin with the murder itself. That's all wrong. The murder begins a long time beforehand. A murder is the culmination of a lot of different circumstances, all converging at a given moment at a given point. People are brought into it from different parts of the globe and for unforeseen reasons. Mr. Royde is here from Malaya. Mr. MacWhirter is here because he wanted to revisit a spot where he once tried to commit suicide. The murder itself is the end of the story. It's Zero Hour!"
He paused. "It's Zero Hour now."
Five faces were turned to him - only five, for MacWhirter did not turn his head. Five puzzled faces.
Mary Aldin said: "You mean that Lady Tressilian's death was the culmination of a long train of circumstances?"
"No, Miss Aldin, not Lady Tressilian's death. Lady Tressilian's death was only incidental to the main object of the murderer. The murder I am talking of is the murder of Audrey Strange."
He listened to the sharp indrawing of breath. He wondered if, suddenly, someone was afraid ...
"This crime was planned quite a long time ago - probably as early as last winter. It was planned down to the smallest detail. It had one object, and one object only: that Audrey Strange should be hanged by the neck till she was dead ..."
