Roger Mystery

Chapter 12 The Tunisian Short Sword

The Inspector had just come out of the kitchen door when I met him.

"How is the girl, doctor?"

"Awakened. Her mother is with her."

"That's good. I asked the servants just now, and they all said that no one went to the back door tonight. Your description of the stranger is very vague. Can you provide a more specific description so that we can investigate?"

"I'm afraid it can't be helped," I had to apologize. "Look, you can't see your fingers outside tonight, and the guy has his collar turned up again, and the brim of his hat is pressed over his eyes."

"Well," said the Inspector, "it looks like he's covering his face on purpose. Surely it's not someone you know?"

I gave a negative answer, but not with much certainty.The voice of the strange man was familiar to me, so I faltered and told the superintendent about the situation.

"You mean his tone is rather rude, and he feels uneducated?"

Although I agreed, I suddenly remembered that the rude tone seemed a bit artificial.If, as the Inspector said, the man had deliberately concealed his face, it was equally likely that he had deliberately disguised his voice.

"One more walk into the study, doctor? I have a question or two to ask."

I agreed.Inspector Davis unlocked the porch, and when we were inside, he locked the door again.

"I don't want anyone to get in the way," he said sternly, "and I don't want people to eavesdrop. What's the matter with blackmail?"

"Extortion!" I was caught off guard and couldn't help but exclaimed.

"Is it just Parker's imagination, or is there really a clue?"

"If Parker heard a word about blackmail," I replied slowly, "he must have been eavesdropping on the keyhole."

Davis nodded: "The possibility is very high. Look, I have been investigating Parker's whereabouts tonight. To be honest, I can't understand his virtue. This guy must know something. When I started to question him At that time, he lost his position and confessed incoherently that someone was blackmailing him."

I made up my mind immediately.

"Thank you for uncovering this matter." I said, "I hesitated for a long time, not knowing whether I should confess. In fact, I was ready to vomit quickly, but I wanted to wait for a more appropriate time. But now that I have reached this point , and there is no need to hide it anymore."

So I recounted everything that happened tonight from the beginning.The inspector listened very carefully, interrupting me now and then with a few questions.

"Never heard anything so queer," said the Inspector when he had heard it. "The letter is missing, according to you? That's trouble. The motive for the murder we've been searching for is hidden in it."

I nod. "I realized it too."

"You say Mr. Ackroyd is implying that he suspects his family? 'Family' is a rather ambiguous word."

"Don't you think it's Parker we're looking for?" I suggested.

"Nine times out of ten. He was evidently eavesdropping at the door when you came out of the study; then Miss Ackroyd caught him on the way into the study. Suppose, after she had gone away, Parker slipped back in and stabbed Ike to death." Lloyd, lock the door from the inside, open the window and climb out, then go around to the side door he opened earlier and return from there. Does it make sense?"

"There's only one loophole," I said slowly. "If Aykroyd had gone on to read the letter as planned immediately after I left, I don't believe he would have sat there thinking about it for an hour. He would have Summon Parker at once, and give him a slap in the face that will ring through the house. Remember, Aykroyd is a very quick-tempered man."

"Maybe he didn't have time to read the letter." The inspector offered his opinion. "We already know that someone was with him at 09:30. If you left, this mysterious person came to visit; and this person As soon as he left, Miss Ackroyd came in again to say good night—well, then he had no chance of reading that letter until nearly ten o'clock."

"What about the phone call?"

"It was Parker who directed and acted--maybe it didn't occur to him at the time that the door was locked and the window was open. Then he changed his mind--maybe in a moment of panic--and simply said he didn't know about the phone. That's the way it is, unmistakable."

"Also...that's right." I was dubious.

"Anyway, we'll be able to find out the truth about that call if we go to the telephone exchange. If it did come from here, I can't think of anyone but Parker. Based on that, he's the one we're looking for. Man. But keep quiet for a moment—you can't start a fire until you have all the evidence. I'll keep someone on him. Outwardly, we're pretending to be on the hunt for that mysterious stranger you met."

He had been sitting in the chair in front of the desk, legs apart.Now he stood up again, and walked over to the corpse in the armchair.

"The murder weapon should also provide some clues," he said, raising his head. "This thing is quite unique—from its appearance, I think it's an antique."

He bent down and inspected the hilt attentively, then snorted in satisfaction, carefully stretched his hands under the hilt, and slowly pulled out the blade from the wound.Taking great care not to touch the hilt, he placed the short sword in a decorative open china cup on the mantelpiece.

"That's right," he nodded approvingly, "it's a work of art indeed. It's rare to see such things these days."

This sword is indeed quite beautiful.The sword body is narrow and tapered, and the hilt is wrapped with exquisite metal patterns, with novel and exquisite craftsmanship.He carefully touched the blade with his fingers, tested the sharpness, and couldn't help but make a big grimace.

"My God, what a sharp edge!" he exclaimed. "Even a child could stab it into a human body—like cutting butter. It's a dangerous toy."

"May I do a detailed autopsy now?" I asked.

He nodded in agreement. "Please."

So I went over the body thoroughly.

"How is it?" asked the inspector when the examination was over.

"I'll just skip the technical terms," ​​I said, "and wait for the autopsy to use it. The sword was stabbed from behind by a right-handed man, killing him instantly. Judging from the facial expression of the deceased, Should have been off guard. He probably died before he could see who the killer was."

"The butler walks as lightly as a cat," said Inspector Davis. "There's not much secret in this case. Take a look at the hilt."

I glanced over.

"I dare say you probably can't see anything, but you can't hide it from my eyes." He lowered his voice, "There are fingerprints!"

He stepped back to further examine his discovery.

"Yes," I agreed cautiously, "I think so."

I really don't know why he thinks I'm not smart enough.After all, I often read detective novels and read newspapers, and my level is no lower than others.It would be a different matter if there were toe prints on the hilt, and I would have acted astonished.

Seeing that my reaction was not enthusiastic enough, the inspector was somewhat disappointed.He picked up the china cup and invited me to the pool room.

"I would like to ask Mr. Raymond to introduce the short sword," he explained.

We locked the outside porch door again and went to find Jeffrey Raymond in the pool room.The Inspector showed his prize.

"Have you seen this thing before, Mr. Raymond?"

"Ah - I believe - I'm almost sure it's an antique presented to Mr Ackroyd by Major Brant. It's from Morocco - no, Tunisia. So it's the murder weapon? It's hard to believe I believe it. Logically speaking, it is unlikely, but it is very difficult to have a dagger that is exactly like it. How about I go and invite Major Brandt?"

Before the inspector could reply, he trotted all the way.

"A fine lad," remarked the inspector, "with an air of honesty and integrity."

I'm feeling it too.In the two years that Geoffrey Raymond was Ackroyd's secretary, I never saw him get angry or lose his temper.And, as far as I know, he is an extremely efficient secretary.

In a moment Raymond returned, with Major Brant at his side.

"I was right," Raymond said excitedly, "it was the Tunisian dagger."

"Major Brandt hasn't been asked to look at it yet," said the inspector with reservations.

"I noticed it as soon as I entered the study," said the quiet man.

"Did you recognize it then?"

Brandt nodded.

"But you didn't say anything just now," said the inspector suspiciously.

“It wasn’t the right time,” Brandt said. “Speaking up when you shouldn’t speak up can often have serious consequences.”

He met the Inspector's gaze with poise.

Finally, the inspector muttered, looked away, and handed the dagger to Brant's eyes.

"You seem very sure, sir. Are you sure it's the short sword?"

"Absolutely. Without a doubt."

"Where is this—er—this antique usually kept? Can you tell me?"

This time it was the secretary who rushed to answer.

"Inside that silver table in the living room."

"What?" I exclaimed.

All three turned their eyes to me.

"Is there anything wrong, doctor?" asked the inspector.He added another sentence, still in an encouraging tone: "Don't worry, just say it."

"It's not a big deal," I explained sheepishly. "It's just that, when I came here to dinner last night, I heard the sound of the silver table being shut in the drawing room."

A thick cloud of suspicion suddenly enveloped the inspector's face.

"How did you know that was the sound of closing the lid on the silver table?"

I have to start from the beginning - so long and tedious that I really hate to repeat it.

The Inspector listened patiently to my tirade.

"Was the dagger still there when you looked at the collection on the table?" he asked.

"I don't know," I said, "I don't recall noticing it—but of course it could have been there all along."

"Better ask the housekeeper," said the inspector, and rang the bell.

A few minutes later Miss Russell came into the room, where Parker had invited her.

"I haven't been near the silver table," she replied, when the Inspector asked, "just to see if the flowers have faded. Oh, yes, I remember. The silver table was open—and it wasn't worth it." No fuss, I covered the table without any fuss."

She looked at the inspector defiantly.

"Understood," said the Inspector. "Is the dagger still in there?"

Miss Russell studied the murder weapon calmly.

"I'm not sure," she answered. "I didn't stop to look. The family could be coming downstairs at any moment, and I wanted to get out of here."

"Thank you," said the inspector.He hesitated for a moment, as if he wanted to continue asking, but Miss Russell obviously regarded the "thank you" as a signal that the conversation was over, and left the room immediately.

"That's a tough woman, eh?" The inspector watched her after her. "Let's see. . . the silver table is set in front of a window. That's what you said, doctor?"

Raymond answered for me: "Yes, the window on the left."

"And the window is open?"

"Both windows are ajar."

"Well, I see no point in asking further. Someone - and I mean someone in general - can get that short sword any time he wants it, and it doesn't matter exactly when he gets it. Mr. Raymond, I shall come with the Chief Constable early tomorrow morning, and until then I shall keep the key to that door. I hope that when Colonel Melrose arrives, everything will be untouched; I happen to Knowing that he went to dinner at the other end of the county, and was supposed to spend the night there..."

We watched the inspector lift the china cup.

"This thing has to be carefully wrapped," he said. "It can provide a lot of important evidence."

A few minutes later, Raymond and I walked out of the pool room together, and Raymond snickered softly.

He twisted my arm lightly and gestured with his eyes.I followed the direction he was looking, and I saw that Inspector Davis seemed to be handing Parker a pocket diary and asking for his opinion.

"It's a bit too pretentious," Raymond whispered. "It can be seen that the suspect is Parker, right? Shouldn't we also leave a set of fingerprints for Inspector Davis?"

He drew two cards from the card tray, wiped them with a silk handkerchief, handed one to me, and took one for himself.Then he grinned and presented them to the Inspector.

"As a souvenir," he laughed. "Number one, Dr. Sheppard; number two, right here. Major Brant's copy will be delivered tomorrow morning."

Young people are always frivolous, and even the brutal murder of a friend and employer didn't last long in Geoffrey Raymond's grief.Maybe this is just human nature, I don't understand.I had long since lost the ability to calm down quickly.

It was late at night when I got home, and I was praying that Caroline would be asleep—I should have known that was impossible.

She was still waiting for me and had hot cocoa ready, and watched me drink it as she took everything that happened that night out of my mouth.I kept my mouth shut about the blackmail and only shared with her the facts of the murder.

"The police suspect Parker," I said, rising to bed, "and the case is clearly against him."

"Parker!" cried the sister. "Nonsense! That inspector must be a hopeless fool. Suspecting Parker! What a joke."

These were the last statements we heard before we each went upstairs to bed.

(End of this chapter)