The Red House Mystery (14 page)

Suddenly he jumped up, his face alight. "Bill, I've got it!" he cried.

"What?"

"The shadow on the wall! I was looking at the shadow on the wall. Oh,
ass, and ten times ass!"

Bill looked uncomprehendingly at him. Antony took his arm and pointed to
the wall of the passage.

"Look at the sunlight on it," he said. "That's because you've left the
door of that room open. The sun comes straight in through the windows.
Now, I'm going to shut the door. Look! D'you see how the shadow moves
across? That's what I saw the shadow moving across as the door shut
behind him. Bill, go in and shut the door behind you quite naturally.
Quick!"

Bill went out and Antony knelt, watching eagerly.

"I thought so!" he cried. "I knew it couldn't have been that."

"What happened?" said Bill, coming back.

"Just what you would expect. The sunlight came, and the shadow moved
back again all in one movement."

"And what happened yesterday?"

"The sunlight stayed there; and then the shadow came very slowly back,
and there was no noise of the door being shut."

Bill looked at him with startled eyes.

"By Jove! You mean that Cayley closed the door afterwards as an
afterthought and very quietly, so that you couldn't hear?"

Antony nodded.

"Yes. That explains why I was surprised afterwards when I went into
the room to find the door open behind me. You know how those doors with
springs on them close?"

"The sort which old gentlemen have to keep out draughts?"

"Yes. Just at first they hardly move at all, and then very, very
slowly they swing to well, that was the way the shadow moved, and
subconsciously I must have associated it with the movement of that sort
of door. By Jove!" He got up, and dusted his knees. "Now, Bill, just to
make sure, go in and close the door like that. As an afterthought, you
know; and very quietly, so that I don't hear the click of it."

Bill did as he was told, and then put his head out eagerly to hear what
had happened.

"That was it," said Antony, with absolute conviction. "That was just
what I saw yesterday." He came out of the office, and joined Bill in the
little room.

"And now," he said, "let's try and find out what it was that Mr. Cayley
was doing in here, and why he had to be so very careful that his friend
Mr. Gillingham didn't overhear him."

Anthony's first thought was that Cayley had hidden something; something,
perhaps, which he had found by the body, and but that was absurd. In the
time at his disposal, he could have done no more than put it away in a
drawer, where it would be much more open to discovery by Antony than if
he had kept it in his pocket. In any case he would have removed it by
this time, and hidden it in some more secret place. Besides, why in this
case bother about shutting the door?

Bill pulled open a drawer in the chest, and looked inside.

"Is it any good going through these, do you think?" he asked.

Antony looked over his shoulder.

"Why did he keep clothes here at all?" he asked. "Did he ever change
down here?"

"My dear Tony, he had more clothes than anybody in the world. He just
kept them here in case they might be useful, I expect. When you and I
go from London to the country we carry our clothes about with us. Mark
never did. In his flat in London he had everything all over again which
he has here. It was a hobby with him, collecting clothes. If he'd
had half a dozen houses, they would all have been full of a complete
gentleman's town and country outfit."

"I see."

"Of course, it might be useful sometimes, when he was busy in the
next room, not to have to go upstairs for a handkerchief or a more
comfortable coat."

"I see. Yes." He was walking round the room as he answered, and he
lifted the top of the linen basket which stood near the wash basin and
glanced in. "He seems to have come in here for a collar lately."

Bill peered in. There was one collar at the bottom of the basket.

"Yes. I daresay he would," he agreed. "If he suddenly found that the one
he was wearing was uncomfortable or a little bit dirty, or something. He
was very finicking."

Antony leant over and picked it out.

"It must have been uncomfortable this time," he said, after examining it
carefully. "It couldn't very well be cleaner." He dropped it back again.
"Anyway, he did come in here sometimes?"

"Oh, yes, rather."

"Yes, but what did Cayley come in for so secretly?"

"What did he want to shut the door for?" said Bill. "That's what I don't
understand. You couldn't have seen him, anyhow."

"No. So it follows that I might have heard him. He was going to do
something which he didn't want me to hear."

"By Jove, that's it!" said Bill eagerly.

"Yes; but what?"

Bill frowned hopefully to himself, but no inspiration came.

"Well, let's have some air, anyway," he said at last, exhausted by the
effort, and he went to the window, opened it, and looked out. Then,
struck by an idea, he turned back to Antony and said, "Do you think
I had better go up to the pond to make sure that they're still at it?
Because—"

He broke off suddenly at the sight of Antony's face.

"Oh, idiot, idiot!" Antony cried. "Oh, most super-excellent of Watsons!
Oh, you lamb, you blessing! Oh, Gillingham, you incomparable ass!"

"What on earth—"

"The window, the window!" cried Antony, pointing to it.

Bill turned back to the window, expecting it to say something. As it
said nothing, he looked at Antony again.

"He was opening the window!" cried Antony.

"Who?"

"Cayley, of course." Very gravely and slowly he expounded. "He came in
here in order to open the window. He shut the door so that I shouldn't
hear him open the window. He opened the window. I came in here and found
the window open. I said, 'This window is open. My amazing powers of
analysis tell me that the murderer must have escaped by this window.'
'Oh,' said Cayley, raising his eyebrows. 'Well,' said he, 'I suppose you
must be right.' Said I proudly, 'I am. For the window is open,' I said.
Oh, you incomparable ass!"

He understood now. It explained so much that had been puzzling him.

He tried to put himself in Cayley's place—Cayley, when Antony had first
discovered him, hammering at the door and crying, "Let me in!" Whatever
had happened inside the office, whoever had killed Robert, Cayley knew
all about it, and knew that Mark was not inside, and had not escaped by
the window. But it was necessary to Cayley's plans—to Mark's plans
if they were acting in concert—that he should be thought so to have
escaped. At some time, then, while he was hammering (the key in his
pocket) at the locked door, he must suddenly have remembered—with what
a shock!—that a mistake had been made. A window had not been left open!

Probably it would just have been a horrible doubt at first. Was the
office window open? Surely it was open! Was it?.... Would he have time
now to unlock the door, slip in, open the French windows and slip out
again? No. At any moment the servants might come. It was too risky.
Fatal, if he were discovered. But servants were stupid. He could get
the windows safely open while they were crowding round the body. They
wouldn't notice. He could do it somehow.

And then Antony's sudden appearance! Here was a complication. And Antony
suggesting that they should try the window! Why, the window was just
what he wanted to avoid. No wonder he had seemed dazed at first.

Ah, and here at last was the explanation why they had gone the longest
way round and yet run. It was Cayley's only chance of getting a start
on Antony, of getting to the windows first, of working them open somehow
before Antony caught him up. Even if that were impossible, he must get
there first, just to make sure. Perhaps they were open. He must get away
from Antony and see. And if they were shut, hopelessly shut, then he
must have a moment to himself, a moment in which to think of some other
plan, and avoid the ruin which seemed so suddenly to be threatening.

So he had run. But Antony had kept up with him. They had broken in the
window together, and gone into the office. But Cayley was not done yet.
There was the dressing-room window! But quietly, quietly. Antony mustn't
hear.

And Antony didn't hear. Indeed, he had played up to Cayley splendidly.
Not only had he called attention to the open window, but he had
carefully explained to Cayley why Mark had chosen this particular window
in preference to the office window. And Cayley had agreed that probably
that was the reason. How he must have chuckled to himself! But he was
still a little afraid. Afraid that Antony would examine the shrubbery.
Why? Obviously because there was no trace of anyone having broken
through the shrubbery. No doubt Cayley had provided the necessary traces
since, and had helped the Inspector to find them. Had he even gone as
far as footmarks in Mark's shoes? But the ground was very hard. Perhaps
footmarks were not necessary. Antony smiled as he thought of the big
Cayley trying to squeeze into the dapper little Mark's shoes. Cayley
must have been glad that footmarks were not necessary.

No, the open window was enough; the open window and a broken twig or
two. But quietly, quietly. Antony mustn't hear. And Antony had not
heard.... But he had seen a shadow on the wall.

They were outside on the lawn again now, Bill and Antony, and Bill was
listening open-mouthed to his friend's theory of yesterday's happenings.
It fitted in, it explained things, but it did not get them any further.
It only gave them another mystery to solve.

"What's that?" said Antony.

"Mark. Where's Mark? If he never went into the office at all, then where
is he now?"

"I don't say that he never went into the office. In fact, he must have
gone. Elsie heard him." He stopped and repeated slowly, "She heard him,
at least she says she did. But if he was there, he came out again by the
door."

"Well, but where does that lead you?"

"Where it led Mark. The passage."

"Do you mean that he's been hiding there all the time?" Antony was
silent until Bill had repeated his question, and then with an effort he
came out of his thoughts and answered him.

"I don't know. But look here. Here is a possible explanation. I don't
know if it is the right one I don't know, Bill; I'm rather frightened.
Frightened of what may have happened, of what may be going to happen.
However, here is an explanation. See if you can find any fault with it."

With his legs stretched out and his hands deep in his pockets, he lay
back on the garden-seat, looking up to the blue summer sky above him,
and just as if he saw up there the events of yesterday being enacted
over again, he described them slowly to Bill as they happened.

"We'll begin at the moment when Mark shoots Robert. Call it an accident;
probably it was. Mark would say it was, anyhow. He is in a panic,
naturally. But he doesn't lock the door and run away. For one thing, the
key is on the outside of the door; for another, he is not, quite such a
fool as that. But he is in a horrible position. He is known to be on bad
terms with his brother; he has just uttered some foolish threat to him,
which may possibly have been overheard. What is he to do? He does
the natural thing, the thing which Mark would always do in such
circumstances. He consults Cayley, the invaluable, inevitable Cayley.

"Cayley is just outside, Cayley must have heard the shot, Cayley will
tell him what to do. He opens the door just as Cayley is coming to see
what is the matter. He explains rapidly. 'What's to be done, Cay?
what's to be done? It was an accident. I swear it was an accident. He
threatened me. He would have shot me if I hadn't. Think of something,
quick!'

"Cayley has thought of something. 'Leave it to me,' he says. 'You clear
out altogether. I shot him, if you like. I'll do all the explaining. Get
away. Hide. Nobody saw you go in. Into the passage, quick. I'll come to
you there as soon as I can.'

"Good Cayley. Faithful Cayley! Mark's courage comes back. Cayley
will explain all right. Cayley will tell the servants that it was an
accident. He will ring up the police. Nobody will suspect Cayley—Cayley
has no quarrel with Robert. And then Cayley will come into the passage
and tell him that it is all right, and Mark will go out by the other
end, and saunter slowly back to the house. He will be told the news by
one of the servants. Robert accidentally shot? Good Heavens!

"So, greatly reassured, Mark goes into the library. And Cayley goes to
the door of the office.... and locks it. And then he bangs on the door
and shouts, 'Let me in!'"

Antony was silent. Bill looked at him and shook his head.

"Yes, Tony, but that doesn't make sense. What's the point of Cayley
behaving like that?"

Antony shrugged his shoulders without answering.

"And what has happened to Mark since?"

Antony shrugged his shoulders again.

"Well, the sooner we go into that passage, the better," said Bill.

"You're ready to go?"

"Quite," said Bill, surprised.

"You're quite ready for what we may find?"

"You're being dashed mysterious, old boy."

"I know I am." He gave a little laugh, and went on, "Perhaps I'm being
an ass, just a melodramatic ass. Well, I hope I am." He looked at his
watch.

"It's safe, is it? They're still busy at the pond?"

"We'd better make certain. Could you be a sleuthhound, Bill—one of
those that travel on their stomachs very noiselessly? I mean, could you
get near enough to the pond to make sure that Cayley is still there,
without letting him see you?"

"Rather!" He got up eagerly. "You wait."

Antony's head shot up suddenly. "Why, that was what Mark said," he
cried.