Clive Lewis - That Hideous Strength

“You don’t suppose,” said Mark, “that anyone could take that letter to be meant seriously?”

“Ever tried to make a policeman understand anything?” said the Fairy. “I mean what you call a real policeman.”

Mark said nothing.

“And I don’t think the alibi is specially good,” said the Fairy. “You were seen talking to Bill at dinner. You were seen going out of the front door with him when he left. You were not seen coming back. Nothing is known of your movements till breakfast-time next morning. If you had gone with him by car to the scene of the murder you would have had ample time to walk back and go to bed by about 2.15. Frosty night, you know. No reason why your shoes should have been specially muddy or anything of that sort.”

“If I might pick up a point made by Miss Hardcastle “, said Wither, “this is a very good illustration of the immense importance of the Institutional Police. There are so many fine shades involved which it would be unreasonable to expect the ordinary authorities to understand but which, so long as they remain, so to speak, in our own family circle (I look upon the N.I.C.E . . . Mr. Studdock, as one great family) need develop no tendency to lead to any miscarriage of justice.”

Owing to some mental confusion which had before now assailed him in dentists’ operating-rooms and in the studies of headmasters, Mark began almost to identify the situation which seemed to be imprisoning him with his literal imprisonment by the four walls of that hot room. If only he could once get out of it, on any terms, out into the free air and sunlight, away over the countryside, away from the recurrent creak of the Deputy Director’s collar and the red stains on the end of Miss Hardcastle’s cheroot and the picture of the King which hung above the fireplace!

“You really advise me, sir,” he said, “not to go to the police?”

“To the police?” said Wither as if this idea were completely new. “I don’t think, Mr. Studdock, that anyone had quite contemplated your taking any irrevocable action of that sort. It might even be argued that by such an action you would be guilty-unintentionally guilty, I hasten to add-of some degree of disloyalty to your colleagues and specially to Miss Hardcastle. You would, of course, be placing yourself outside our protection . . .”

“That’s the point, Studdock,” said the Fairy. “Once you are in the hands of the police you are in the hands of the police.”

The moment of Mark’s decision had passed by him without his noticing it.

“Well,” he said. “what do you propose to do?”

“Me?” said the Fairy. “Sit tight. It’s lucky for you that it was we and not some outsider who found the wallet.”

“Not only fortunate for-er-Mr. Studdock,” added Wither gently, “but for the whole N.I.C.E. We could not have been indifferent . . .”

“There’s only one snag,” said the Fairy, “and that is that we haven’t got your letter to Pelham. Only a copy. But with any luck, nothing will come of that.”

“Then there’s nothing to be done at present?” said Mark.

“No,” said Wither. “No. No immediate action of any official character. It is, of course, very advisable that you should act, as I am sure you will, with the greatest prudence and-er-er-caution for the next few months. As long as you are with us, Scotland Yard would, I feel, see the inconvenience of trying to act unless they had a very clear case indeed. It is no doubt probable that some-er-some trial of strength between the ordinary executive and our own organisation will take place within the next six months: but I think it very unlikely they would choose to make this a test ease.”

“But do you mean they suspect me already?” said Mark.

“We’ll hope not,” said the Fairy. “Of course they want a prisoner-that’s only natural. But they’d a damn sight rather have one who doesn’t involve them in searching the premises of the N.I.C.E.”

“But, look here, damn it!” said Mark. “Aren’t you hoping to catch the thief in a day or two? Aren’t you going to do anything?”

“The thief?” said Wither. “There has been no suggestion so far that the body was rifled.”

“I mean the thief who stole my wallet.”

“Oh-ah-your wallet,” said the other, very gently stroking his refined, handsome face. “I see. I understand, do I, that you are advancing a charge of theft against some person or persons unknown”

“But, good God!” shouted Mark, “were you not assuming that someone stole it? Do you think I was there myself? Do you both think I am a murderer?”

“Please!” said the Deputy Director, “please, Mr. Studdock, you really must not shout. Quite apart from the indiscretion of it, I must remind you that you are in the presence of a lady. As far as I can remember, nothing has been said on our side about murder, and no charge of any sort had been made. My only anxiety is to make perfectly clear what we are all doing. There are, of course, certain lines of conduct and a certain mode of procedure which it would be theoretically possible for you to adopt and which would make it very difficult for us to continue the discussion. I am sure Miss Hardcastle agrees with me.”

“It’s all one to me,” said the Fairy. “Why Studdock should start bellowing at us because we are trying to keep him out of the dock, I don’t know. But that’s for him to decide. I’ve got a busy day and don’t want to hang about here all morning.”

“Really,” said Mark, “I should have thought it was excusable to”

“Pray compose yourself, Mr. Studdock,” said Wither.

“As I said before, we look upon ourselves as one family and nothing like a formal apology is required. We all understand one another and all dislike-er-scenes. I might perhaps be allowed to mention, in the friendliest possible manner, that any instability of temperament would be viewed by the Committee as-well, as not very favourable to the confirmation of your appointment. We are all speaking; of course, in the strictest confidence.”

Mark was far past bothering about the job for its own sake: but he realised that the threat of dismissal was now a threat of hanging.

“I’m sorry if I was rude,” he said at last. “What do you advise me to do?”

“Don’t put your nose outside Belbury, Studdock,” said the Fairy.

“I do not think Miss Hardcastle could have given you better advice,” said Wither. “And now that Mrs. Studdock is going to join you here this temporary captivity-I am using that word, you will understand, in a metaphorical sense-will not be a serious hardship. You must look upon this as your home, Mr. Studdock.”

“Oh . . . that reminds me, sir,” said Mark. “I’m not really quite sure about having my wife here. As a matter of fact she’s not in very good health “

“But surely, in that case, you must be all the more anxious to have her here?”

“I don’t believe it would suit her, sir.”

The D.D.’s eyes wandered and his voice became lower.

“I had almost forgotten, Mr. Studdock,” he said, “to congratulate you on your introduction to our Head. It marks an important transition in your career. We all now feel that you are really one of us in a deeper sense. I am sure nothing is further from your intention than to repel the friendly-the almost fatherly-concern he feels about you. He is very anxious to welcome Mrs. Studdock among us at the earliest opportunity.”

“Why?” said Mark suddenly.

Wither looked at Mark with an indescribable smile.

“My dear boy,” he said. “Unity, you know. The family circle. She’d-she’d be company for Miss Hardcastle!” Before Mark had recovered from this staggeringly new conception, Wither rose and shuffled towards the door. He paused with one hand on the handle and laid the other on Mark’s shoulder.