Six Against the Yard Read online

  ‘I begin with the time-factor,’ he announced, when Almeda had asked him for a full preliminary statement. ‘The lamented Inspirer of the People finished broadcasting at the hour of seventeen minutes past ten; at least, that was when he switched off his microphone, and it became possible for the studio orchestra to continue their interrupted programme. And you, General, must have left him almost as soon as he had finished?’

  ‘Yes; I don’t suppose we talked for more than a minute and a half before I took my leave. He seemed tired, and I wanted him to have all the rest possible.’

  ‘He was going to bed?’

  ‘No, he said he had a little work to do.’

  ‘To be sure; that is why the light burned in his study. It was at 10.44 that the policeman on duty in the Street of April the First looked up at the outside of the suite, and saw smoke and sparks coming out by the balcony window. There was some delay, as Your Excellency knows, about breaking down the door, and it is not certain at what precise moment Captain Varcos and the others ascended the stairs. But the hoses began to play on the front of the house, it seems, a few minutes afterwards; and we have the time of that—10.57. The body was found a quarter of an hour later. The abominable incident therefore took place between about 10.20 and about 11.15; that is all the time margin at our disposal.’

  ‘One moment, Colonel; that light which Varcos saw burning in the study—did it go out before the alarm of fire? The sentries, if so, must have noticed it.’

  ‘It went out, apparently, when the lights fused. It was then that the sentries lost their heads, and ran round to the front. These irregulars, General—I always said it—should never have been trusted with such an employment. Now, as to the persons who ascended the stairs. Captain Varcos was first, with two of his men, Ladero and Munoz—both of them highly trusted. The policeman says that he fell on his face when the door finally gave, and ran upstairs in pursuit of the four men who had got ahead of him. At the top of the stairs, however, finding that there were other unauthorized persons coming up, he very properly devoted himself to barring the way, and succeeded in turning them all back. The names and addresses of these persons were taken at the main door; but they are not in custody.’

  ‘You mean the people whom the policeman turned back?’

  ‘Precisely. The four who got past him are in custody. One, Luiz Banos, is a volunteer member of the fire brigade; his statement is that he was passing at the time, and thought he could do more good by rushing in at once, instead of reporting himself at the station. His political views are unknown. The second was a priest, Domingo Sanchez, who tells us that he saw the fire from the street, and ran up with the sole idea of rescuing some saint’s relic or other, which remained in the chapel. He was a Carmelite before the Order was disbanded, and is reported to have said in a Sunday school, last February, that the Pope was a more important person than Don Gamba. The third is an old friend of ours, Gomez—the man who edited an Anarchist paper before the Liberation, and has been in custody since, more than once. He says that he lives in an attic on the opposite side of the Street of April the First; that he ran out when he heard the noise, and went to the rescue (as he calls it) because he thought it was his duty as a citizen. The fourth, James Marryatt, is correspondent, as Your Excellency knows, of the London Daily Shout, and he acted as he did because he thought it was his duty to his paper. It is, I apprehend, the only sort of duty that young man recognises. The previous movements of all these persons have been checked, and found to be in accordance with their own statements.’

  ‘It is more important to know what were their movements at the time.’

  ‘I was coming to that, General. The policeman, by all accounts, did not go further than the top of the stairs, and then spent his time shepherding the intruders out of the building. Captain Varcos directed the two guards, Ladero and Munoz, to do what they could with the fire, while he himself went to look for the Inspirer. It is not clear whether they obeyed his orders, because accounts differ about the number of people who were in the chapel, trying to put out the fire. Varcos says he did not meet either of them again, while he was searching the house. There are no rooms of any size in the suite except the dining-room, study, bedroom, and conference-room. But there is a quantity of cupboards; and Varcos says he wasted time looking in all of these.’

  ‘What made him do that?’

  ‘He was not certain which were the practicable doors. Also, he says, he had begun to fear foul play; with the fire isolated in the chapel, it was hard to explain why Don Gamba had not come running downstairs to meet them. The lights were out, and Varcos’ torch was not too good. It took him about ten minutes or a quarter of an hour to search the rooms. He could find no trace of Don Gamba; he saw no one, except two of the intruders who had broken in with him.’

  ‘Ah! You have their movements checked?’

  ‘The fireman was squirting the ceiling with an extinguisher he had found on the landing. Gomez was trying to beat out the flames with his umbrella. They corroborate each other’s accounts. On their own admission, Sanchez and Marryatt followed the Captain in his search of the house. If they are to be trusted, the priest wanted to give Don Gamba absolution; the journalist wanted to ask him for an interview. They are, you see, optimists by profession.’

  ‘And does anybody claim that he heard a shot fired, in all this time?’

  ‘Nobody. But it is to be remembered that there was a prodigious amount of cracking and banging in the chapel, so that those inside it would hardly notice a pistol report. As for the others—’ Weinberg shrugged his shoulders.

  Almeda sat drumming his fingers on the table. Neither man liked to ask the other, outright, what Varcos had been doing, that he should have heard no shot fired. At last Almeda said, ‘It is certain that the wound was inflicted before the body was thrown from the window?’

  ‘Captain Varcos will tell you that when he and the sentry Ladero found the body in the area, the scarf of Don Gamba’s uniform was tied round the head. There was blood on the scarf, but no hole through it.’

  ‘Yes. … And Varcos found no signs of any struggle in the course of his search? None have been found since?’

  ‘None, General. I know what you mean—Don Gamba was not a man who would easily be overpowered or taken by surprise.’

  ‘He might have been knocked out by the fumes, though. They were fairly strong, even when I reached the place.’

  ‘That is true. Now, as to weapons—the sentries, of course, wore pistols, like the Captain. No weapon was found on any of the four intruders when they were searched. And no weapon was found lying about—no search of the neighbourhood has been conducted, for fear of arousing public curiosity.’

  ‘Did you ask Varcos whether he inspected his own men’s pistols, afterwards?’

  ‘I asked him. He said it did not occur to him till it was too late to be of any use, after his interview with you. He did so, however, as a matter of form—naturally, everything was by that time in order.’

  ‘You talk, Colonel, as if you suspected the sentries.’

  ‘It is my rule to suspect everybody and nobody. It is a bad fisherman who leaves one hole in his net. As you see, everything is in a tangle, and when that is so it is more important than ever to keep the mind open. And, General, that is not all.’

  ‘You have found some anomalies?’ The General smiled, for it was a well-known foible of Weinberg’s, when he investigated a crime, to discover what he called ‘anomalies ‘—tiny improbabilities to which the ordinary investigator would have attached no importance. ‘Ah, come, that is interesting. What troubles you?’

  ‘Several things. And first, General, why have we not found the cap that goes with Don Gamba’s uniform? He was wearing it, I suppose, when you took the salute; you did not see him put it down anywhere?’

  ‘He didn’t wear it on the balcony, in spite of cold. He preferred to stand bare-headed, even in his uniform. He may have put it down in the chapel.’

  ‘That is true; but I
pay attention to everything that worries me, in a case like this. Here is another point: Captain Varcos tells me that when he went into the study, he found the great safe which stands in the corner locked as usual, and no drawers were open except one, which contained blank notepaper. Now, assuming that Don Gamba survived the first outbreak of the fire, must there not have been things in that safe, those drawers, which he would have been eager to rescue—perhaps, if one may say it, to conceal? ‘

  ‘There must,’ agreed the General; and he became thoughtful for a moment as he reflected what tell-tale matter must still be locked up in those hiding-places. ‘It looks, you mean, as if the Inspirer must have been overpowered at once by the fumes; that is strange, certainly.’

  ‘Don Gamba was not in the chapel much,’ the Colonel permitted himself to say, with the ghost of a smile. ‘Indeed, the light suggests that he was in his study. He hears strange crackling noises, as if somebody were in the chapel opposite. He springs up from his desk, puts, his hand to his revolver, goes to the door and opens it gently. A little wreath of smoke is coming out through the door of the chapel—he knows at once what that means. He looks in, perhaps, but cautiously, as you or I would. What then? Does he telephone? Does he run downstairs to summon the guard? Does he go back to his study to collect what is important? No; apparently he remains dumb-stricken in the passage until he is half suffocated; then rushes into one of the other rooms, and falls down in a stupor. General, is that what we expected? Did anybody ever know Don Gamba to lose his presence of mind?’

  ‘And I suppose it is no use, Colonel, to ask what you are hinting at?’

  ‘I am hinting at nothing. I find no hints—only puzzles. Excuse me, General,’ he added, as a servant came and whispered deferentially in his ear, ‘they are ringing me up from headquarters; may I go and attend to it?’

  He was back in a moment, smiling deliberately as men will who have a piece of unpleasant news to laugh off. ‘It is best that I should tell you at once, General—the Avenger has been at his scribbling again; this time on the blank wall of a brewery.’

  ‘And the message?’

  ‘The message is, Almeda next. But you have despised threats before, General.’

  There was a slight pause; then Almeda, squaring his shoulders as if to exorcise an imaginary terror, resumed the previous conversation. ‘You were telling me about the anomalies; were there any more?’

  ‘Yes, but less definite ones. I mean, for example, the whole business about the body.’

  ‘Oh—was the surgeon’s report suggestive, then? I confess it looked to me plain sailing; but, then, I am not an expert.’

  ‘As to the death, yes; he was shot in the back of the head, at fairly close range, two yards or so. And he broke the right bones in falling from that sort of height; that is all correct. And the body was still warm when Varcos found it, and the surgeon gives the time of death (for what his judgment is worth) as somewhere about eleven. We have confirmatory evidence of this: Don Gamba’s wrist-watch stopped at precisely 10.54—either when his body fell from the window or, more probably, when he dropped wounded.’

  ‘Wrist-watches can be faked,’ suggested the General.

  ‘Yes, the murder might have been done earlier; but, as it happens, not later. The minute-hand was bent by the fall, in such a way that you cannot move it without moving the hour hand as well, when the two hands meet. And they meet just before 10.55. So that is all right; we know that the shooting must-have been done almost immediately after the door was broken in, or conceivably, of course, at some time earlier—though not earlier than 9.50.’

  ‘What is the anomaly, then, about the way the body was found?’

  ‘I ask myself—why was it thrown out of the window at all? The wound was sufficient to kill; anyone could see that. Why did not the murderer leave the body where it lay, and devote his attention to being somewhere else, instead of dragging his victim’s body to the window, at the risk of leaving traces, and then throwing it out, at the risk of being seen and recognised from below? He may have ascertained that the sentries had left their post, but anyone might have driven up in a car by that street to avoid the crowd, as you yourself did soon afterwards. Why was there no blood on any of the floors, if it comes to that? Unless, indeed, the murder took place in the chapel. And then, of course, there is the incredible daring of the whole thing—to shoot a man, and such a man, at a time when half a dozen independent witnesses were running about the suite.’

  ‘So that you would find less anomalies if the murder was done before, not after, the door was broken in?’ ‘Naturally I have asked myself whether it was possible that there should have been a man concealed in the suite all the time, who was responsible both for arson and for murder, before the door was broken in. But again, why did he throw the body from the window? Why not take it into the chapel, and leave it among the flames, so that perhaps the bullet-wound would have remained undiscovered? And how did the murderer get away, or how did he expect to get away, with firemen watching from the street, and sentries rushing up the stairs? No, that idea is full of anomalies too; but I do not banish it from my thoughts.’

  ‘There’s one extra anomaly—how did the murderer get in, with sentries keeping watch all day and all night on the landing, outside the only door that led to the, Inspirer’s suite?’

  ‘Well—let us be frank with one another, General, and admit that we know what was common knowledge in Don Gamba’s entourage. I mean, that he had his private life like other people, and that when he wished to admit anybody who preferred not to be recognised, he gave a special signal at which the sentries had to unlock the door on the landing, and withdraw to their quarters. That meant that the visitor could walk up unseen from the main entrance; or, with a pass-key, from the little private door which looks as if it did not belong to the house at all. From the inside of that door, too, the signal could be given. You yourself, General, must have come in that way before now, when it was important for you to see Don Gamba, and at the same time avoid gossip.’

  ‘That is true. And of course it meant that for five minutes or so anybody who knew the state of things could go up to the suite unobserved—or come down from it. But the sentries would be able to tell you—was the signal actually given them on the day of the murder?’

  ‘Yes, twice—once about eight, and once about nine. Captain Varcos says his, first idea was that you yourself might be paying an incognito visit; but this notion, of course, had to be abandoned when he found that the visitor left at nine, the hour of the unveiling ceremony.’

  ‘You are assuming that somebody came in at eight and went out at nine? Not the other way about?’

  ‘Captain Varcos distinctly heard footsteps going down the stairs at nine. Rain fell soon after half-past eight, and there were no traces of wet shoes on the threshold of the private door when I examined it. Suppose, however, that two people came up, and only one went away. What became of the other one, after he had finished with arson and murder? There were no bones found, you see, where the fire took place. But, yes, it all adds to the mystery, this preference of Don Gamba’s for living in a suite all by himself. You are wiser, General.’

  ‘Who, I? And yet, if the Avenger had seen fit to start with me yesterday evening, he might have found me unprotected; my wife is away on a visit, and I had sent all the servants out to see the fireworks. And there are no sentries, as you see, outside my door. Bah! It is no good trying to avoid the stroke of Fate, when it is due to fall. Almeda next—very well, then, Almeda next.’

  ‘You must think of the country. Take no risks of that kind, I beg, in the next day or two.’

  ‘Until you have laid the Avenger by the heels? Well, Colonel, good luck to your quest. In the meanwhile, there is one important point to be settled: are we to tell the people what has happened? I have to meet the council of the Party in a few minutes’ time, and that is one of the principal questions we shall be discussing. If it will facilitate the work of the police, to have the story of that bullet-
wound kept dark for the present, I am sure the council would be anxious to fall in with your views.’

  ‘On the contrary, it is my strong wish that the whole facts should be made public. At the same time, a reward should be offered to anyone who will come forward with information which might throw light on the affair; and possibly, if the council sees fit, an indemnity for anyone concerned in any minor way with the business who will tell us all he knows. Who scrawls up, for example, the Avenger’s manifestos? Not himself, I wager. We shall have to plough through a good deal of trash sent in by lunatics, but there is always the chance that something valuable might result.’

  With the proceedings of the council, in so far as they were of political interest, we are not here concerned. It must suffice to say, that General Almeda was confirmed, at least temporarily, in his position; and that the Assembly of the People was to be instructed to vote accordingly. A proclamation was drafted about Gamba’s murder, which Dr. Lunaro would broadcast that afternoon. Any citizen who gave information tending to clear up the mystery of last night’s events was to receive a reward, the equivalent of fifty English sovereigns. A reward equivalent to five hundred pounds was offered for information which should lead directly to the murderer’s discovery; and a free pardon was offered besides, if the person coming forward were himself implicated, not as a principal, in whatever conspiracy might have led to the murder.