XXIII
When the door had closed behind Sylvia Colonel Anstruther allowed his pent-up feelings to escape him.
“The woman’s a half-wit!” he boomed. “I don’t know what you thought you were getting out of her, Mr. Brook. She can remember about her hair, but she can’t remember when she made up her mind to steal papers from the Home Secretary. She can’t put two sentences together without contradicting herself, and she can’t give a rational answer to save her life.”
Mr. Brook looked up from making a note.
“An irritating witness, but not, I think, an untruthful one. An undeveloped mentality, and a childish outlook, but no deliberate attempt to pervert facts. One or two very useful points emerged from her evidence. She was not frightened of Mr. Zero until she met him in the drive at Wellings. It was then that he began to strike her as tall and up in the air. I believe that was the only occasion on which his physical presence alarmed her. For the rest of the time she was afraid of his threats, of what he might do, and of her husband getting to know, but I don’t think that he himself inspired her with any particular dread, or she would not so readily have agreed to meet him at the window of the house in town or in the yew walk down here. If she had been afraid she would have found a way out. She could have fainted, had hysterics, developed some fashionable complaint, or in the last resort have confessed to her husband. One thing is certain, she was much more afraid of Sir Francis Colesborough than she was of Mr. Zero. I find this very suggestive, and one of the things it suggests is that the person to whom she handed Mr. Lushington’s papers in the drive at Wellings may very well have been Sir Francis himself.”
Inspector Boyce lifted his head with a jerk. Colonel Anstruther said,
“Bless my soul, Mr. Brook-that’s a bit of a tall order!”
Mr. Brook smiled his quiet, deferential smile.
“Not so tall, sir, if you will cast your mind back to the letter Sir Francis left behind him when he jumped out of that window to follow Lady Colesborough.”
“You think he followed her?”
“I think there is no doubt about that. He was disturbed-that is obvious from the unfinished letter. He was very sharply and intimately disturbed or he would not have left a letter of this character lying open upon his table even for a few minutes in the middle of the night when he would not expect anyone to enter the room. I am certain that he heard Lady Colesborough open the parlour door. I have experimented with the bolt, and it is practically impossible to withdraw it without making a good deal of noise. I think Sir Francis heard this, saw Lady Colesborough across the terrace-she had left the light on and the door open behind her-and forgot everything in his desire to follow. He did not attempt to catch her up, but, having seen her enter the tunnel, skirted the rose garden and came up on the outside of the window in the yew hedge to the place where he was found shot. Now to return to the letter. You say it is a tall order to suppose that the man to whom Lady Colesborough handed the envelope in the drive at Wellings may have been Sir Francis. But consider that unfinished letter.” Mr. Brook turned the leaves of his notebook and read: “ ‘You disturb yourself unnecessarily. Neither Zero nor the agent is under the least suspicion. This rests in quite another quarter. M. L. has decided-’ Now, Colonel Anstruther, you will not dispute that this letter implicates Sir Francis up to the hilt. He is addressing an associate and assuring him that neither Zero nor the agent is under suspicion. Zero may be Sir Francis himself, or he may be this anonymous associate. The agent I take to be Lady Colesborough.”
“Well, I agree about Lady Colesborough. I thought that myself.”
Mr. Brook resumed.
“I feel quite sure that Sir Francis was cognizant of Lady Colesborough’s theft. As to his being Zero, I do not think that he would have risked speaking to her on the telephone-I think his associate did that-and I am quite sure he would not have risked meeting her and talking to her even on the darkest night. But I am inclined to believe that he received the papers from her in the drive at Wellings. For one thing, he was on the spot. He would only have had to leave the house for a very few minutes, and he had every opportunity of doing so. He and Lady Colesborough were the only two of the house-party who were not playing cards. You see, I have been on this case from the beginning, so I have a certain advantage.”
“Quite so, quite so.” Colonel Anstruther was obviously impressed. “Then you think that there were two of them, both calling themselves Zero?”
“I think Sir Francis was the moving spirit. Everything points to it. He was a man of dominating character. If he engaged in a criminal enterprise, it is unthinkable that he should be a subordinate, and the stake would have to be a big one to tempt him.”
“But bless my soul, Mr. Brook, the man must have known his wife was a fool. That’s where I’m stuck. Would anyone in their senses have picked Lady Colesborough for a particularly delicate and dangerous job?”
Mr. Brook nodded.
“I think so, Colonel Anstruther. I think it was a very clever choice. Who is going to suspect a lovely, charming, artless young woman who can hardly be said to have a mind at all? Even if she had been found in Mr. Lushington’s room, it would only have been supposed that she had mistaken it for her own. There are certain advantages in being a fool.”
Colonel Anstruther said “Perhaps-” in a doubtful tone. “Then you believe Lady Colesborough’s story? You believe she was meeting this associate of her husband’s, and that it was he who shot Sir Francis?”
“We had better continue to call him Mr. Zero. Yes, I think so. I think he was engaged in double-crossing his chief. He had induced Lady Colesborough to open her husband’s safe and abstract a packet of letters.”
“That is if you accept her story,” said Colonel Anstruther. “We have only her word for all that. I’m not at all convinced that there was anyone else present when Colesborough was shot. Hang it all, she had the pistol in her hand. You can’t rule out the possibility that she shot him herself.”
“With what motive?” Mr. Brook’s tone was rather dry.
“One that you’ve supplied yourself. It’s your own suggestion that Sir Francis was Mr. Zero. Lady Colesborough goes to her assignation, taking the pistol with her, and shoots the man who is frightening her. She may have recognized him or she may not. She may have shot in a hurry and only discovered afterwards that she had killed her husband.”
Mr. Brook shook his head.
“I do not think so. I cannot believe that her assignation was with Sir Francis, first because I am quite sure that he would not have risked such a meeting and could have had no possible motive for it, and next because of the unfinished letter. If he had been planning to go out he would either have finished the letter first or put off writing it until afterwards.”
Colonel Anstruther received this with scepticism.
“There may be something that we don’t know about-unknown factor-there very often is. You make your theory, and something comes along and upsets it. To my mind it’s a perfectly plain case as far as the murder is concerned. The unknown factor is that we don’t know what Lady Colesborough was up to. She may have been meeting someone or she may not, but I think Colesborough caught her out, and I think she shot him with his own pistol. The butler’s evidence is that he kept it in an unlocked drawer, so she could have got it if she wanted to. And I say she did get it and she did shoot him. And there isn’t a particle of evidence except her own to show that there was any other man there at the time-not a particle. And if Miss Hardwicke hadn’t gone out of her way to wipe the pistol, we should have had a cast-iron case.”