Джорджетт Хейер - A Blunt Instrument

Helen was white under her delicate make-up, but she said perfectly calmly: "I appreciate your position, Superintendent. But you are wrong in assuming that my husband was implicated in the murder. If you have proof that he was not in the flat on the evening of the 17th, no doubt you are right. I know nothing of that. What I do know is that he had no hand in the murder of Ernie Fletcher."

"Yes, Mrs. North? Shall we wait to hear what he himself may have to say about that?"

"It would be useless. As far as I know, he was nowhere near Greystones on the night of the 17th. It is quite possible that he may try to convince you that he was, for - for he is the sort of man, Superintendent, who would protect his wife, no matter how - how bad a wife she had been to him."

Her voice quivered a little, but her face was rigid. Sally caught her breath on a lungful of smoke, and broke into helpless coughing. Hannasyde said quite gently: "Yes, Mrs. North?"

"Yes." Helen's eyes stared into his. "You see, I did it."

Hannasyde said nothing. Glass, who had been watching Helen, said deeply: "It is written, speak ye every man the truth to his neighbour. Surely the net is spread in vain in the sight of any bird!"

"Not this bird!" choked Sally. "Helen, don't be a fool! Don't lose your head!"

A faint smile just curved Helen's lips. She said, still with her gaze fixed on Hannasyde's face: "My evidence was true as far as it went. Ernie Fletcher did show the stranger off the premises, and I did return to the study to search for my IOUs. What was untrue was my story that I got out of the room before he returned to it. I didn't. He found me there. He sat down at his desk. He laughed at me. Taunted me. I saw it was no use trying to plead with him. I - I suppose I must have been mad. I killed him."

Sally, who had by this time recovered from her coughing fit, said witheringly: "With your little hatchet. Don't you realise that this isn't a gun-pulling affair, you cuckoo? Whoever killed Ernie did it by violence. If you'd tried to bat him on the head I don't say you wouldn't have hurt him, but you haven't the necessary strength to smash his skull."

"I caught him unawares. I think I must have stunned him. At that moment, I was so - so angry I wanted to kill him. I hit him again and again…' Her voice failed; a shudder shook her, and she raised her handkerchief to her lips.

"A highly unconvincing narrative," said Sally. "You know, if you make up much more of this gruesome story you'll be sick. I can just see you beating someone's head in!"

"Oh don't, don't!" whispered Helen. "I tell you I wasn't myself!"

"Mrs. North," interposed Hannasyde, "I think I ought to inform you that it is not enough merely to say that you murdered a man. You must prove that you did so, if you wish me to believe you."

"Isn't that for you to do?" she said. "Why should I convict myself?"

"Don't be silly!" said Sally. "You've confessed to a murder, so presumably you want to be convicted. All right, let's hear some more! How did you do it? Why weren't there any bloodstains on your frock? I should have thought you must have been splashed with blood."

Helen turned a ghastly colour and groped her way to a chair. "For God's sake, be quiet! I can't stand this!"

Glass, standing by the wall like a statue of disapproval, suddenly exclaimed: "Woman, thou shalt not raise a false report!"

"Be quiet!" snapped Hannasyde.

The Constable's glacial blue eyes seemed to scorn him, and turned towards Helen, who had raised her head, and was staring at him in fright and doubt. He said to her in a milder tone: "Deceit is in the heart of them that imagine evil. The fear of man bringeth a snare: but whoso putteth his trust in the Lord shall be safe."

Hannasyde said angrily: "Another word from you, and -'

"Hold on!" interrupted Sally. "He has my vote. What he says is absolutely right."

"That is as may be," responded Hannasyde. "But he will nevertheless hold his tongue! Mrs. North, if you killed Ernest Fletcher, perhapss you will tell me what was the implement you used, and what you did with it?"

There was a brief silence. Helen's eyes travelled from one sceptical face to another. An interruption occurred, in the shape of Mr. Neville Fletcher who at that moment appeared at the open window, a cup and saucer in one hand, and a slice of toast in the other. "Don't mind me," he said, with his sweet smile. "I heard your last pregnant words, Superintendent, and I'm all agog to hear the answer. Why, there's Malachi!" He waved the piece of toast to the unresponsive Constable, and seated himself on the low window-sill. "Do go on!" he said invitingly to Helen.

Hannasyde looked consideringly at him for an instant, and then turned back to Helen. "Yes, go on, Mrs. North. What was the implement, and what did you do with it?"

"I'll tell you," Helen said breathlessly. "You've seen the - the implement. A heavy bronze paper-weight surmounted by a statuette. It was on Mr. Fletcher's desk. I caught it up, and struck him with it, several times. Then I escaped by way of the front door, as I told you. I hid the paper-weight under my cloak. When I reached home I - washed it, and later, when - when Mr. Neville Fletcher visited me, I - I gave it to him, and he restored it, as you know!"

Her eyes were fixed imploringly on Neville, who was staring at her with his mouth open. He blinked, shut his mouth, swallowed, and said faintly: "Oh, give Malachi permission to speak! He'll say it all so much better than I can. Something about one's sins finding one out. Now I don't fancy this piece of toast any more. God give me strength!"

Sally found her tongue, "Helen! You can't do that! Good Lord, you're trying to make Neville an accessary after the fact! It's too thick!"

"Thank you, darling!" said Neville brokenly. "Take this cup and saucer away from me. My hand shakes like a reed. Women!"

"Well, Mr. Fletcher?" said Hannasyde. "What have you to say to Mrs. North's accusation?"

"Don't worry!" said Neville. "Chivalry has practically no appeal for me whatsoever. It's a wicked lie. I produced the paper-weight to create a little diversion. I suppose Miss Drew told her sister about it. That's all."

"Yes, I did," admitted Sally. "And I'm very sorry, Neville. I never dreamed Helen would use the story like this!"

"The ruthlessness of the so-called gentle sex!" he said. "But I can disprove it. The paper-weight was never on Ernie's desk. It came from the billiard-room. Ask any of the servants. You might even ask my aunt."

"It's true!" Helen said, in a strained, unnatural voice. "Neville had nothing to do with the murder, but he replaced the paper-weight for me. Neville, it isn't as though anyone suspects you of killing Ernie! Just -just to have put a paper-weight back isn't such an awful thing to admit to!"

"Nothing doing!" said Neville firmly. "I've no doubt you think I should look noble as a sacrifice, but I've never wanted to look noble, and I won't be made to."

"Neville -'

"Now, don't waste your breath in arguing with me!" he begged. "I know I ought to be falling over myself with desire to save your husband from arrest, but, strange as it may seem to you, I'm not. In fact, if it's to be his arrest for murder, or mine for being an accessary, I'd a lot rather it was his."

"You are hardly to be blamed," said a cool voice from the doorway. "But may I know upon what grounds I am to be arrested for murder?"

At the sound of her husband's voice, Helen had started to her feet, turning an anguished face of warning towards him. He looked at her, slightly frowning, then with deliberation shut the door and came forward into the room.

"You've timed your entry excellently, John," said Sally.

"So it seems," he replied. His glance took in Glass, and Hannasyde, and Neville. "Perhaps you will tell me why my house has been invaded at this singularly inappropriate hour of the day?"