John Carr - The Judas Window

'Y'know -' H.M. began slowly. 'Burn me, I'm beginning to believe you really think Answell is guilty.'

'I am quite certain he is guilty.'

'Last night you wrote to Mary Hume swearin' you saw the murder done. Do you mind tellin' me if that was true?'

The other blew an edge of ash off his cigarette, holding it upright. 'I strongly object to giving an opinion even on the weather, as a rule. This much I'll tell you. The thing that has so - so fuddled and - yes, and maddened me throughout this whole affair,' he made a fierce gesture, 'is that I have done absolutely nothing! I tried to help Avory. I tried to help Mary. Granting that it was unethical, I believed it was for everyone's good ... and what happened? I am being hounded: yes, sir, I will repeat it: hounded. But even yesterday, when I was forced to go away, I tried to help Mary. I admitted to her that I supplied the brudine, at Avory's request. At the same time I was obliged to point out that James Answell is a murderer; and, if it were with my last breath, I should call him a murderer.'

Despite the man's innate love of clichés, his apparent sincerity was such that it overcame even the self-pity in his voice.

'You saw him do it?'

'I had to safeguard myself. If I wrote only the first part of the letter, you would take it into court, and it might help to save Answell - a murderer. So I had to ensure that you did not take it into court.'

'Oh,' said H.M. in a different tone. 'I see. You deliberately shoved that lie in so that we wouldn't dare use it as evidence?'

Dr Hume waved this aside, and became more calm.

'At considerable risk to myself, Sir Henry, I came here. That was in order to get as much information as I received. Fair play, eh? Surely that is fair? What I wish to know is my legal position in this matter. In the first place, I hold a certificate testifying to my illness yesterday -'

'From a doctor who's goin' to be struck off the register.'

'But who is not yet so discredited,' replied the other. 'If you insist on applying technicalities, I must use them as well. I was actually in attendance this morning, you know. In the second place, the Crown have waived their intention to call me as a witness; and their case is closed.'

'Sure. Still, the defence hasn't closed the case. And you can still be called as a witness: it won't matter for which side.'

Spencer Hume put down his cigarette carefully on the edge of the table. He folded his hands.

'Sir Henry, you will not call me as a witness. If you do, I will blow your whole case sky-high in just five seconds.'

'Oh-ho? So we're doin' a little arguing about compounding a felony, now, are we?' Hume's face tightened, and he looked round quickly at us; but H.M. had only a gleam of benevolent wickedness in his dull eye. 'Never mind,' H.M. went on. 'I'm pretty unorthodox, not to say twisty. Have you got the incredible, stratospheric cheek to threaten you'll go into the box and tell your story about seein' the murder done, if I dare to pull you out of retirement? Wow! Honest, son, I really admire you.'

'No,' said Hume calmly. 'I need only tell a plain truth.'

'Comin' from you -'

'No, that will not do,' said the other, and raised one finger with a critical air. 'It was established this morning, you know, that this is not a court of morals. Because Mary went the way of all flesh, it is no reason why her testimony about a murder should be discredited. Because I intended bloodlessly and painlessly to put a blackmailer where he belonged (a much less heinous offence to British ears, I assure you), that is no reason why my testimony about a murder should be discredited.'

'Uh-huh. If you hate blackmailers so much, why try a spot of blackmail on me now?'

Dr Hume drew a deep breath. 'I honestly and sincerely am not. I merely tell you - don't call me as a witness.’

Your whole case has been based on a missing piece of feather. You have repeatedly and even monotonously thundered at every witness: "Where is that piece of feather?"' 'Well?'

'I've got it’ said Dr Hume simply. 'And here it is’

Again he took out his cigarette-case. From under a line of cigarettes he carefully pulled out a piece of blue feather, some inch and a quarter long by an inch broad. He put it on the table with equal care.

'You'll notice’ he continued, during the heavy silence while H.M.'s face remained as impassive as ever, 'that the edges are a bit more ragged than those on the other piece. But I think they'll fit fairly well. Where was this piece of the feather? God love you, I had it, of course. I picked it up off the floor of the study on the night of the murder. It was no instinct for clues; it was simply an instinct of tidiness. And why didn't I show it to anyone? I can see you getting ready to ask that. My good fellow, do you know the only person who has ever been at all interested in this feather? That's you. The police weren't interested in it. The police never thought greatly about it - like myself. To be quite honest, I forgot all about it. But, if that feather is submitted in evidence, you will readily see the result. Have I convinced you?'

'Yes’ said H.M., with a broad and terrifying grin. 'At last you have. You've convinced me you really did know about the Judas window after all’

Spencer Hume rose rather quickly to his feet, and his hand knocked to the floor the cigarette on the edge of the table. With an instinct of tidiness he had automatically put his foot on it when there was another knock-on the door. This time the door opened more precipitately. Randolph Fleming, ducking under the low lintel, brought his aggressive red moustache into the room - and stopped in mid-sentence.

'I say, Merrivale, they tell me that you – hullo!'

As though disconcerted at being put off his stride,

Fleming stood staring at the doctor. In his own quiet way he was as great a dandy as Spencer Hume: he wore a soft grey hat whose angle just escaped being rakish, and carried a silver-headed stick. His withered jowls swelled out as he regarded Spencer; he hesitated, with an embarrassed air, and ended by making sure that the door was closed behind him.

'Here, hang it!' he said gruffly. 'I thought you had -'

'Cut and run for it?' supplied H.M.

Fleming compromised with a blurred statement' to Spencer Hume over his shoulder: 'Look here, won't you get into a lot of trouble if you turn up now?' Then he faced H.M. in an evident mood to get something off his mind.

'First, like to say this. I'd like to say no offence; I don't hold it against you for pitching into me yesterday in court. That's your business, and all in the day's work. Lawyers and liars, eh? Always has been. Ha, ha, ha I But here's what I want to know. They say - for some reason I don't understand - I may be called as a witness for your side as well. What's up?'

'No,' said H.M. T think there'll be a clear enough identification from Shanks. Even if you do get asked anything, it'll only be a matter of form. I got a cross-bow I want to get identified as belongin' to Avory Hume. Shanks should be able to do that pretty well.'

'The odd-jobs man?' muttered Fleming, and brushed up his moustache with the back of his gloved hand. 'Look here, would you mind telling me -'

'Not at all,' said H.M., as the other hesitated.

'Not to put too fine a point on it,' said Fleming, 'do you still think poor Hume was killed with a cross-bow?'

‘I always did think so.'

Fleming considered this carefully. 'I don't admit anything to go back on my opinion,' he pointed out, after a glowering look. 'But I thought I was bound to tell you one thing. I tried some experiments last night, just by way of making sure. And it could be done. It could be done, provided the distance was short enough. I don't say it was, but it could be. Another thing -'