Trial and Error (3 page)

As to contact with the great world, this was limited on Mr Todhunter's part to a few middle-aged or elderly cronies with whom he played bridge one or two evenings a week when there was no good music to be listened to through his earphones, to the Children's Clinic where, at the dictates of conscience, he spent half a dozen repellent hours every week doing voluntary work connected with the scrofulous skins of the youthful Richmond poor, and to his visit each Wednesday afternoon to the literary offices of the
London Review;
for Mr Todhunter, whose tastes were scholarly, had a sound if somewhat finicky critical intellect and contributed a column each Friday to the book pages of the
London Review
upon some suitable volume of biography or historical research. Indeed these Wednesday visits to Fleet Street and the happy half-hour he spent in the editor's room fingering the dozens of books awaiting review or chatting with Ferrers himself made up the high spots of Mr Todhunter's life.

It was therefore at this juncture that Mr Todhunter, following his usual habit, decided to consult the views of others. In this case, however, the consultation must be surreptitious. He therefore invited a carefully selected group of men to dinner and, over the port, cunningly introduced his subject. The unanimity with which his guests, all of them men of impeccable correctitude, had settled upon murder as the solution of his problem, had come as a shock; and Mr Todhunter was not at all sure that the Rev. Jack Denney, that well-known and popular cricketing parson, would not have joined with the others if he could have forgotten his cloth after another round of the decanter sufficiently to say what he really thought as a man.

Mr Todhunter had been shocked; but he had also been impressed. Murder had never entered his head at all. Some vague deed of an unspecified benevolent nature had been in his mind, the only clear thing being that it must be of benefit to his fellow creatures. But now that he came to consider it, murder filled this particular bill quite admirably. The removal of some human menace to the peace or unhappiness of the world would be a deed as useful to mankind as any, and what could be more spectacular?

This being so, had his advisers been right in recommending him to steer clear of political assassination?

Mr Todhunter may have been in the habit of consulting other people before he made up his mind, but this does not mean that his subsequent decision coincided with the advice he received. Very often he was convinced in exactly the opposite way. This of course does not make the advice any less helpful. On this very important matter, however, Mr Todhunter found himself unable to decide.

There were excellent academic arguments. For an altruistic murder his situation was ideal. Indeed in his more glamorous moments, during the evenings, for instance, sipping very slowly his one glass of port, which, in defiance of his doctor, he continued to allow himself, Mr Todhunter was able to see himself as dedicated to a great cause—the man who could alter history, the ruthless servant of humanity. That was most interesting and great comfort to a man with only a few months to live. But in practice . . . well, murder is a nasty business. And when Mr Todhunter remembered what a very nasty business it was, he would cast around once more for some other form of coup by which he could benefit his fellow creatures in a particularly striking way. And he would not be able to find one.

And so by degrees Mr Todhunter did come to accept the idea of murder. It took him two or three weeks, and his thoughts went round in many circles before they came to rest. But once there they remained. Murder it was to be.

Or rather, political assassination. For on this point, too, Mr Todhunter had practically made up his mind. After all, as a benefit to mankind a political assassination, if one can find just the right candidate, is practically unbeatable; and there was certainly no lack of suitable candidates. Whether it came to rubbing out Hitler or bumping off Mussolini or even putting Stalin on the spot, the progress of humanity would receive an equal jolt forward.

Having arrived thus at the stage of considering himself a dedicated shotgun in the hand of humanity, Mr Todhunter determined to take further advice. It was essential that he should not be wasted; his aim must be directed truly and firmly at the most worthy objective. It was necessary therefore to take the very best opinion on the matter. And, considering the question in all its aspects, Mr Todhunter could imagine no better opinion than that of Mr A. W. Furze. He therefore rang up Mr Chitterwick, who claimed some slight acquaintance with Furze, and with much cunning arranged for an introduction to that gentleman.

Three days later the introduction materialised into an invitation to take lunch with Mr Furze at his club. Mr Todhunter accepted with gratitude.

CHAPTER II

Furze rubbed his massive head.

“Do I understand, then,” he said carefully, “that you are offering to murder anyone whom I recommend?”

“Tee-hee,” cackled Mr Todhunter. “Well, if you put it so bluntly, yes.”

“It's best, I think, to have these things quite plain.”

“Oh, undoubtedly, undoubtedly.”

Furze ate a few more mouthfuls with a thoughtful air. Then he glanced round the club dining room. The walls were still there, the elderly waiters, the baron of beef on the cold table, everything seemed quite normal except his guest.

“Then let me sum up what you've told me. You're suffering from an incurable disease. You've only got a few more months to live. But you feel quite fit. You want to use the situation to do some good in the world, of a kind that a man not in your position could hardly do. And you've come to the conclusion that a judicious murder would best meet the case. Is that correct?”

“Well, yes. But as I told you, the idea was not mine; I had a few men to dinner a few weeks ago and put the case to them, of course in a hypothetical way. Except for a clergyman, they all agreed on murder.”

“Yes. And now you want my advice whether to go out to Germany and assassinate Hitler?”

“If you'd be so good.”

“Very well, then. Don't.”

“Don't?”

“Don't. For one thing, you'd never get near him. For another, you'd only make bad worse. Hitler isn't nearly so impossible as his successor might be. And the same applies to Mussolini, Stalin and even Sir Stafford Cripps. In other words, keep off dictators, actual or potential.”

Mr Todhunter seemed inclined to argue. “Don't you think that the man who shot Huey Long did more good for America than Roosevelt himself has?”

“Perhaps I do. And Sinclair Lewis has pointed the moral. But that was an isolated case. The movement collapsed with Huey Long's removal. Hitlerism wouldn't collapse if Hitler were killed. In fact the Jews in Germany would probably find themselves worse off still.”

“That,” said Mr Todhunter reluctantly, “is more or less what these fellows said the other night.”

“They showed sense. By the way, Chitterwick doesn't know all you've been telling me?”

“Oh no, not a thing. He believed, like the others, that we were discussing a supposititious case.”

Furze permitted himself to smile. “Don't you think that if they'd known it was a real case, they wouldn't have advised murder quite so readily?”

“Oh, I'm sure of that,” Mr Todhunter grinned, not without a touch of malice. He took a very small sip of claret. “You see, it was just because I knew I shouldn't get a genuine opinion otherwise that I pretended it was a supposititious case.”

“Yes, quite so. And Chitterwick suspected nothing when you asked him for the introduction to me?”

“Why should he suspect anything? I told him I'd always admired your work and would like to ask you to lunch and have a talk. Instead of which, you very kindly asked me.”

“Well,” said Furze, “the thing I don't understand is why the devil you want my advice at all. This is the sort of thing a man has to worry out for himself. Why ask me to take the responsibility of advising you on anything so crazy?”

Mr Todhunter leaned across the table, his head poised in front of his bony shoulders, more like that of a tortoise than ever.

“I'll tell you,” he said earnestly. “Because I'd formed the opinion that you aren't afraid of responsibility. Nearly everyone is. I am myself. And furthermore, I believed that anything a little crazy, as you describe it, might appeal to you.”

Furze gave a sudden shout of laughter, startling a waiter. “By Jove, I believe you're right there too.”

“And thirdly,” pursued Mr Todhunter seriously, “because you're one of the few people I know of who are really doing some good in the world.”

“Oh, nonsense,” Furze contradicted. “There are plenty of people working in a quiet way, without any thanks or recognition. You'd be surprised.”

“I should,” said Mr Todhunter drily. “In any case, I know through Chitterwick what you've been doing ever since the war, for the Middleman's League-oppressed middle classes and so on. And I know how much solid good you've done, if all these things like insurance for blackcoat workers and so on that they've been putting through Parliament lately are chiefly due to you, as Chitterwick says. So you seemed to me the obvious person to advise me on my own position and tell me if there's any way I can use it for the general good,”

“That's all nonsense of course. There are dozens of us working on this tack alone and still more trying to get things done on sensible lines for the unemployed. There's plenty of altruism about still, thank heaven, though goodness knows how long it will last. But as for your own case, if you really want me to advise you. . .”

“Yes?” said Mr Todhunter eagerly.

“Go off and have as good a time as you can and forget all about Hitler and everyone else.”

For a moment Mr Todhunter looked disappointed, and his head drew back as if into its shell. Then once again it shot forward.

“Yes, I understand. That's your advice. And now tell me what you'd do if you were in my place.”

“Ah,” said Furze, “That's quite different. But I think, if you don't mind, that I won't. After all, I've never met you before, have I? I'm sure Chitterwick is quite right in all he says of you, but I really can't put myself in the position later of having been an accessory before the fact.”

Mr Todhunter sighed. “Yes, I quite see your point. And of course the idea sounds quite fantastic. It was very good of you to listen to me at all.”

“Not at all. Most interesting. You'll have cheese, won't you? The green cheddar here is usually quite eatable.”

“No, thank you. I'm afraid cheese invariably disagrees with me.”

“Really? That's a pity. By the way, are you interested in cricket? I was at Lord's last Wednesday, and--”

“How very odd. So was I. A magnificent finish, wasn't it? And that reminds me, you and I once played against each other.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. I was in the Valetudinarian team that came down to Winchester the year you were keeping wicket, during the war.”

“The old Crocks? Were you really? I remember that match very well. Then you must have known Dick Warburton?”

“Very well indeed. We went to Sherborne the same year.”

“Oh, you were at Sherborne? I've got a young cousin there now.”

There are persons, ill informed and ignorant, who aver that public-school career never did any good to anyone. How wrong is this idea may be gathered from the case of Mr Todhunter which is now being cited. For after about ten minutes of this sort of thing Mr Todhunter, reverting to the main issue, posed his question once more.

“No truthfully, Furze, what would you do in my place?”

And this time he received an answer.

For Furze, mellowed by the public-school spirit, rubbed his massive head once more and delivered himself as follows:

“Well, don't be influenced by anything I say, but I think that if I were in your position I should look round for someone who was making life a burden to half a dozen people, whether out of malice of just wrongheadedness—a blackmailer, say, or some rich old bully who will neither die nor hand out a dime in advance to a pack of semistarving descendants—and . . . well, as I said, these things don't bear talking about.”

“Dear me, this is very odd,” cried Mr Todhunter, much struck. “That's exactly what those fellows the other night advised.”

“Well,” grinned Furze,
“verb. sat.,
no doubt,
sap.”
Then he remembered that his guest was a man under sentence of death and cancelled the grin.

As for all this earnest talk about altruistic murder, Furze never took a word of it seriously. And that is just where Furze made a big mistake.

2

For Mr Todhunter took it very seriously indeed.

He had been impressed by Furze and was ready to attach much more weight to his advice than to the advice of his own friends; as indeed one usually is in the case of strangers. In any case Mr Todhunter now abandoned political assassination as his gesture; and could they have known it, no doubt Hitler and Musolini would have breathed more freely in consequence.

But he was still a Man with a Mission. The only problem now was to find an adequate subject for treatment.

How that treatment was to be applied Mr Todhunter did not for the moment wish to consider. From such gruesome details his mind shrank. Perhaps, too, his instinctive caution kept him from a frank realisation of all the unpleasantness which murder involves. Up to this point Mr Todhunter was regarding the whole thing in an entirely academic way, and the word itself remained to him little more than a word. On the other hand, he did go so far as to congratulate himself, not without astonishment, upon the qualities of pluck and decision which he must possess which Mr Todhunter had hitherto never dreamed might be his. The realisation that they were, gratified him a good deal.

Academic though Mr Todhunter's purpose might be, one thing he realised quite clearly: he must have a victim.

Not without some reluctance Mr Todhunter roused himself to go forth and look for one, walking very carefully on account of his aneurism.

3

However bravely one may be determined to commit a helpful murder, it is not so easy to find a victim. One cannot very well approach one's friends and say:

“Look here, old fellow, can you tell me anyone who ought to be murdered? Because I'm prepared to do the job.”

And even if one did, the chances are that the friend would not be able to assist. After all, the number of people whom the average person would like to see murdered is very small; and when these are winnowed down to the number who actually deserve murdering, the result is surprisingly often negative.

Enquiries therefore have to be exceedingly circumspect. Mr Todhunter's personal feeling was that a nice juicy blackmailer would suit the bill best, but here again there are difficulties, for blackmailers are elusive creatures. Unlike almost any other person today, they seek no publicity. And if one asks one's friends point-blank whether, by any chance, they are being blackmailed, they would almost certainly resent it.

Mr Todhunter did think at one time that he had got on the track of a promising writer of anonymous letters, but the malice of the lady whom the victim roundly named as their author was directed against one person alone, and the final proof rested in the office of the king's proctor, who seemed wishful to shield her; so on the whole Mr Todhunter thought he had better not oblige.

By the end of a month Mr Todhunter was becoming so worried that several times he quite forgot to take his digestive tablets after a meal. Here he was, all ready to commit murder, and there was simply no response to his unspoken appeal. And time was getting on. Soon he would be so busy expecting to die at any moment that he would simply have no time to spare for murdering. It was most disturbing.

In this dilemma Mr Todhunter at last decided, having thought it over for several hours, to invite Mr Chitterwick round for an evening's conversation and quietly pump him.

4

“Even in July,” remarked Mr Todhunter affably, ‘it's sometimes nice to see a fire.”

“Oh, certainly,” agreed Mr Chitterwick, stretching out his plump little legs to the blaze. “The evenings are really quite chilly.”

Mr Todhunter prepared to be cunning.

“I thought that was a highly interesting discussion we had at dinner last month,” he said in a careless voice.

“Oh yes, extremely. About the pollination of fruit trees, you mean?”

Mr Todhunter frowned. “No after that. About murder.”

“Oh, I see. Yes, of course. Yes.”

“You belong to a Crime Circle, don't you?”

“Yes, I do. We have some quite distinguished members,” said Mr Chitterwick with pride. “Our president's Roger Sheringham, you know.”

“Oh yes. Now I expect,” said Mr Todhunter still more carelessly, “that in the course of your discussions you hear of a good many people who ought to be murdered?”

“Ought to be murdered?”

“Yes, you remember we were discussing last month people who ought to be murdered. I expect you come across a good many?”

“No,” said Mr Chitterwick in a puzzled voice. “I don't think we do, really.”

“But you're aware of several blackmailers, no doubt?”

“No, I can't say that we are.”

“Not even any dope kings or white slavers?” asked Mr Todhunter a little wildly.

“Oh no, nothing like that. We only discuss murder, you know.”

“You mean; murders that have been committed already?”

“Yes, of course.” Mr Chitterwick looked surprised.

“I see,” mumbled Mr Todhunter, much disappointed. He looked gloomily at the fire.

Mr Chitterwick shifted in his chair. He had disappointed his host, though he could not quite understand how, and that made him feel remorseful.

Mr Todhunter was brooding gloomily on Hitler once more, as the only man whom he knew really to deserve being murdered. Or Mussolini, of course. Those Abyssinians . . . the Jews . . . yes, it would be a great gesture. Someone might even put a statue up to him after he was dead. That would be nice. But his death would probably come from being trampled under the heavy boots of infuriated Nazis, like that assassin at Marseilles. No, that would not be so nice.

He turned back to his guest.

“Don't you know a single person who ought to be murdered?” asked Mr Todhunter with disapproval.

“Well—er—no,” Mr Chitterwick had to apologise. “I'm afraid I don't.” He wondered why his host should appear to set so much store by his acquaintance with potential murderees but hardly liked to ask.