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Alleyn smiled at him, following his glance.
“From that point of view, Dr. Roberts, most satisfactory.”
“I’m extremely glad.”
Jane Harden came in with a sheet of paper and pencil, which she gave Alleyn. She went out. Roberts watched Alleyn lay the paper on the side table and take out his steel tape measure. Fox returned.
“Telephone for Dr. Roberts, I believe, sir,” he a
“Oh — for you, is it?” said Alleyn.
Roberts went out through the anæsthetic-room.
“Shut that door, quick,” said Alleyn urgently.
Evidently he had changed his mind about making a plan. He darted like a cat across the room and bent over the frame of the anæsthetic apparatus. His fingers were busy with the nuts.
Boys stood in front of one door, Fox by the other.
“Hell’s teeth, it’s stiff,” muttered Alleyn.
The double doors from the anteroom opened suddenly, banging Inspector Boys in the broad of his extensive back.
“Just a minute, sir, just a minute,” he rumbled.
Under his extended arm appeared the face of Mr. Thoms. His eyes were fixed on Alleyn.
“What are you doing?” he said. “What are you doing?”
“Just a minute, if you please, sir,” repeated Boys, and with an enormous but moderate paw he thrust Thoms back and closed the doors.
“Look at this!” whispered Alleyn.
Fox and Boys, for a split second, glimpsed what he held in his hand. Then he bent down again and worked feverishly.
“What'll we do?” asked Fox quietly. “Go right into it — now?”
For an instant Alleyn hesitated. Then he said:
“No — not here. Wait! Work it this way.”
He had given his instructions when Roberts returned from the telephone.
“Nobody there,” he told them. “I rang up my house, but there’s no message. Whoever it was must have been cut off.”
“Bore for you,” said Alleyn.
Sister Marigold came in, followed by Thoms. Marigold saw the Yard men still in possession, and hesitated.
“Hullo, ’ullo,” shouted Thoms, “what’s all this. Caught Roberts in the act?”
“Really, Mr. Thoms,” said Roberts in a rage and went over to his apparatus.
“All right, matron,” said Alleyn, “I’m done. You want to clear up, I expect.”
“Oh, well — yes.”
“Go ahead. We’ll make ourselves scarce. Fox, you and Boys give Dr. Roberts a hand out with that cruet-stand.”
“Thank you,” said Roberts, “I’ll manage.”
“No trouble at all, sir,” Fox assured him.
Alleyn left them there. He ran downstairs and out into Brook Street, where he hailed a taxi.
In forty minutes the same taxi put him down in Wigmore Street. This time he had two plain-clothes sergeants with him. Dr. Roberts’s little butler opened the door. His face was terribly white. He looked at Alleyn without speaking and then stood aside. Alleyn, followed by his men, walked into the drawing-room. Roberts stood in front of the fireplace. Above him the picture of the little lake and the Christmas trees shone cheerfully in the lamplight. Fox stood inside the door, and Boys near the window. The anæsthetic apparatus had been wheeled over by the desk.
When Roberts saw Alleyn he tried to speak, but at first could not. His lips moved as though he was speaking, but there were no words. Then at last they came.
“Inspector Alleyn — why — have you sent these men — after me?”
For a moment they looked at each other.
“I had to,” said Alleyn. “Dr. Roberts, I have a warrant here for your arrest. I must warn you— ”
“What do you mean?” screamed Roberts. “You’ve no grounds — no proof — you fool — what are you doing?”
Alleyn walked over to the thing like a cruet. He stooped down, unscrewed something that looked like a nut and drew it out. With it came a hypodermic syringe. The “nut” was the top of the piston.
“Grounds enough,” said Alleyn.
It took the four men to hold Roberts and they had to put handcuffs on him. The insane are sometimes physically very strong.
CHAPTER XVIII
Retrospective
Saturday, the twentieth. Evening.
Two evenings after the arrest Alleyn dined with Nigel and Angela. The inspector had already been badgered by Nigel for copy and had thrown him a few bones to gnaw. Angela, however, pined for first-hand information. During di
“Was it very painful, Bathgate?” asked Alleyn.
“Er — oh — yes,” said Nigel sheepishly.
“How did you know I kicked him?” Angela inquired. “You must be a detective.”
“Not so that you would notice it, but perhaps I am about to strike form again.”
“Hullo — all bitter, are you? Aren’t you pleased with yourself over this case, Mr. Alleyn?” Angela ventured.
“One never gets a great deal of gratification from a fluke.”
“A fluke!” exclaimed Nigel.
“Just that.”
He held his glass of port under his nose, glanced significantly at Nigel and sipped it.
“Go on,” he said resignedly. “Go on. Ask me. I know perfectly well why I’m here and you don’t produce a wine like this every evening. Bribery. Subtle corruption. Isn’t it, now?”
“Yes,” said Nigel simply.
“I won’t have Mr. Alleyn bullied,” said Angela.
“You would if he could,” rejoined Alleyn cryptically. “I know your tricks and your ma
The others were silent.
“As a matter of fact,” Alleyn continued, “I have every intention of talking for hours.”
They beamed.
“What an angel you are, to be sure,” said Angela. “Bring that decanter next door. Don’t dare sit over it in here. The ladies are about to leave the dining-room.”
She got up; Alleyn opened the door for her, and she went through into Nigel’s little sitting-room, where she hastily cast four logs on the fire, pulled up a low table between two arm-chairs, and sat down on the hearthrug.
“Come on!” she called sternly.
They came in. Alleyn put the decanter down reverently on the table, and in a moment they were all settled.
“Now,” said Angela, “I do call this fun.”
She looked from Nigel to Alleyn. Each had the contented air of the well-fed male. The fire blazed up with a roar and a crackle, lighting the inspector’s dark head and his admirable hands. He settled himself back and, easing his chin, turned and smiled at her.
“You may begin,” said Angela.
“But — where from?”
“From the begi
“Oh. The remark I invariably make about the theatre is that it afforded the ideal setting for a murder. The whole place was cleaned up scientifically — hygienically — completely — as soon as the body of the victim was removed. No chance of a fingerprint, no significant bits and pieces left on the floor. Nothing. As a matter of fact, of course, had it been left exactly as it was, we should have found nothing that pointed to Roberts.” Alleyn fell silent again.
“Begin from where you first suspected Roberts,” suggested Nigel.
“From where you suspected him, rather. The fu
“By gum, yes. So I did.”
“Did you?” Angela asked.
“I had no definite theory about him,” said Alleyn. “That’s why I talked about a fluke. I was uneasy about him. I had a hunch, and I hate hunches. The first day I saw him in his house I began to feel jumpy about him, and fantastic ideas kept dodging about at the back of my mind. He was, it seemed, a fanatic. That long, hectic harangue about hereditary taints — somehow it was too vehement. He was obviously nervous about the case and yet he couldn’t keep off it. He very delicately urged the suicide theory and backed it up with a lecture on eugenics. He was certainly sincere, too sincere, terribly earnest. The whole atmosphere was unbalanced. I recognised the man with an idée fixe. Then he told me a long story about how he’d once given an overdose, and that was why he never gave injections. That made me uncomfortable, because it was such a handy proof of i