Three Blind Mice and Other Stories Page 7
}Christopher's eyebrows rose in slow surprise. "Giles? }Giles! }Yes, of course, he and I are much of an age. He seems to me much older than I am—but I suppose he isn't, really. Yes, Giles might fit the bill equally well. But look here, Molly, that's all nonsense. Giles was down here with you the day }that }woman was killed in London."}
}Molly did not answer.}
}Christopher looked at her sharply. "Wasn't he here?"}
}66 THREE }BLIND }MICE}
}Molly spoke breathlessly, the words coming out in an incoherent jumble. "He was out all day—in the car—he went over to the other side o£ the county about some wire netting in a sale there—at least that's what he said— that's what I thought—until—until—"}
}"Until what?"}
}Slowly Molly's hand reached out and traced the date of the }Evening Standard }that covered a portion of the}
}kitchen table.}
}Christopher looked at it and said, "London edition,}
}two days ago."}
}"It was in Giles's pocket when he came back. He—he must have been in London."}
}Christopher stared. He stared at the paper and he stared at Molly. He pursed up his lips and began to whistle, then checked himself abruptly. It wouldn't do to whistle that tune just now.}
}Choosing his words very carefully, and avoiding her eye, he said, "How much do you actually—know about}
}Giles?"}
}"Don't," cried Molly. "Don't! That's just what that beast Trotter said—or hinted. That women often didn't know anything about the men that they married—especially in wartime. They—they just took the man's own account of himself."}
}"That's true enough, I suppose."}
}"Don't }you }say it, too! I can't bear it. It's just because we're all in such a state, so worked up. We'd—we'd believe }any }fantastic suggestion— It's not true! I—"}
}She stopped. The kitchen door had opened.}
}Giles came in. There was rather a grim look on his face. "Am I interrupting anything?" he aslfed.}
}Christopher slipped from the table. "I'm just taking a few cookery lessons," he said.}
}"Indeed? Well, look here, Wren, tete-a-tetes aren't}
}THREE BLIND MICE 67}
}very healthy things at the present time. You keep out of the kitchen, do you hear?"}
}"Oh, but surely—"}
}"You keep away from my wife, Wren. She's not going}
}to be the next victim."}
}"That," said Christopher, "is just what I'm worrying}
}about."}
}If there was significance in the words, Giles did not apparently notice them. He merely turned a rather darker shade of brick-red. "I'll do the worrying," he said. "I can look after my own wife. Get the hell out of here."}
}Molly said in a clear voice, "Please go, Christopher.}
}Yes—really."}
}Christopher moved slowly toward the door. "I shan't go very far," he said, and the words were addressed to Molly and held a very definite meaning.}
}"Will }you get out of here?"}
}Christopher gave a high childish giggle. "Aye, aye,}
}Commander," he said.}
}The door shut behind him. Giles turned on Molly.}
}"For God's sake, Molly, haven't you got }any }sense? Shut in here alone with a dangerous homicidal maniac!"}
}"He isn't the—" she changed her phrase quickly—"he isn't dangerous. Anyway, I'm on my guard. I can—look}
}after myself."}
}Giles laughed unpleasantly. "So could Mrs. Boyle."}
}"Oh, Giles, }don't."}
}"Sorry, my dear. But I'm het up. That wretched boy. What you see in him I can't imagine." Molly said slowly, "I'm sorry for him." "Sorry for a homicidal lunatic?"}
}Molly gave him a curious glance. "I could be sorry for a homicidal lunatic," she said.}
}"Calling him Christopher, too. Since when have you been on Christian-name terms?"}
}68 THREE BLIND MICE}
}"Oh, Giles, don't be ridiculous. Everyone always uses Christian names nowadays. You know they do."}
}"Even after a couple of days? But perhaps it's more than that. Perhaps you knew Mr. Christopher Wren, the phony architect, before he came here? Perhaps you suggested to him that he }should }come here? Perhaps you cooked it all up between you?"}
}Molly stared at him. "Giles, have you gone out of your mind? What on earth are you suggesting?"}
}"I'm suggesting that Christopher Wren is an old friend, that you're on rather closer terms with him than you'd like me to know." "Giles, you must be crazy!"}
}"I suppose you'll stick to it that you never saw him until he walked in here. Rather odd that he should come and stay in an out-of-the-way place like this, isn't it?"}
}"Is it any odder than that Major Metcalf and—and Mrs. Boyle should?"}
}"Yes—I think it is. I've always read that these murmuring loonies had a peculiar fascination for women. Looks as though it were true. How did you get to know him? How long has this been going on?"}
}"You're being absolutely absurd, Giles. I never saw Christopher Wren until he arrived here."}
}"You didn't go up to London to meet him two days ago and fix up to meet here as strangers?"}
}"You know perfectly well, Giles, I haven't been up to London for weeks."}
}"Haven't you? That's interesting." He fished a fur-lined glove out of his pocket and held it out. "That's one of the gloves you were wearing day before yesterday, isn't it? The day I was over at Sailham getting the netting."}
}"The day }you }were over at Sailham getting the netting," said Molly, eying him steadily. "Yes, I wore those}
}THREE BLIND MICE 69}
}gloves when I went out."}
}"You went to the village, you said. If you only went to the village, what is this doing inside that glove?"}
}Accusingly, he held out a pink bus ticket.}
}There was a moment's silence.}
}"You went to London," said Giles.}
}"All right,' said Molly. Her chin shot up. "I went to London."}
}"To meet this chap Christopher Wren."}
}"No, not to meet Christopher."}
}"Then why did you go?"}
}"Just at the moment, Giles," said Molly, "I'm not going to tell you."}
}"Meaning you'll give yourself time to think up a good story!"}
}"I think," said Molly, "that I hate you!"}
}"I don't hate you," said Giles slowly. "But I almost wish I did. I simply feel that—I don't know you any more— I don't know anything about you."}
}"I feel the same," said Molly. "You—you're just a stranger. A man who lies to me—"}
}"When have I ever lied to you?"}
}Molly laughed. "Do you think I believed that story of yours about the wire netting? }You }were in London, too, that day."}
}"I suppose you saw me there," said Giles. "And you didn't trust me enough—"}
}"Trust you? I'll never trust anyone—ever—again."}
}Neither of them had noticed the soft opening of the kitchen door. Mr. Paravicini gave a little cough.}
}"So embarrassing," he murmured. "I do hope you young people are not both saying just a little more than you, mean. One is so apt to in these lovers' quarrels."}
}"Lovers' quarrels," said Giles derisively. "That's good."}
}"Quite so, quite so," said Mr. Paravicini. "I know just}
}70 THREE }BLIND }MICE}
}how you feel. I have been through all this myself when I was a younger man. But what I came to say was that the inspector person is simply insisting that we should all come into the drawing-room. It appears that he has an idea." Mr. Paravicini sniggered gently. "The police have a clue—yes, one hears that frequently. But an }idea? }I very much doubt it. A zealous and painstaking officer, no doubt, our Sergeant Trotter, but not, I think, over-endowed with brains."}
}"Go on, Giles," said Molly. "I've got the cooking to see to. Sergeant Trotter can do without me."}
}"Talking
of cooking," said Mr. Paravicini, skipping nimbly across the kitchen to Molly's side, "have you ever tried chicken livers served on toast that has been thickly spread with }foie gras }and a very thin rasher of bacon smeared with French mustard?"}
}"One doesn't see much }foie gras }nowadays," said Giles. "Come on, Paravicini."}
}"Shall I stay and assist you, dear lady?"}
}"You come along to the drawing-room, Paravicini," said Giles.}
}Mr. Paravicini laughed softly.}
}"Your husband is afraid for you. Quite natural. He doesn't fancy the idea of leaving you alone with }me. }It is my sadistic tendencies he fears—not my dishonorable ones. I yield to force." He bowed gracefully and kissed the tips of his fingers.}
}Molly said uncomfortably, "Oh, Mr. Paravicini, I'm sure—"}
}Mr. Paravicini shook his head. He said to Giles, "You're very wise, young man. }Take no chances. }Can I prove to you—or to the Inspector for that master—that I am not a homicidal maniac? No, I cannot. Negatives are such difficult things to prove."}
}He hummed cheerfully.}
}THREE BLIND MICE 71}
}Molly flinched. "Please, Mr. Paravicini—not that horrible tune."}
}" 'Three Blind Mice'—so it wasl The tune has got into my head. Now I come to think of it, it is a gruesome little rhyme. Not a nice little rhyme at all. But children like gruesome things. You may have noticed that? That rhyme is very English—the bucolic, cruel English countryside. 'She cut Off their tails with a carving-knife.' Of course a child would love that—I could tell you things about children—"}
}"Please don't," said Molly faintly. "I think you're cruel, too." Her voice rose hysterically. "You laugh and smile—you're like a cat playing with a mouse—playing—"}
}She began to laugh.}
}"Steady, Molly," said Giles. "Come along, we'll all go into the drawing-room together. Trotter will be getting impatient. Never mind the cooking. Murder is more important than food."}
}"I'm not sure that I agree with you," said Mr. Paravicini as he followed them with little skipping steps. "The condemned man ate a hearty breakfast—that's what they always say."}
}Christopher Wren joined them in the hall and received a scowl from Giles. He looked at Molly with a quick, anxious glance, but Molly, her head held high, walked looking straight ahead of her. They marched almost like a procession to the drawing-room door. Mr. Paravicini brought up the rear with his little skipping steps.}
}Sergeant Trotter arid Major Metcalf were standing waiting in the drawing-room. The major was looking sulky. Sergeant Trotter was looking flushed and energetic.}
}"That's right," he said, as they entered. "I wanted you all together. I want to make a certain experiment—and}
}72 THREE BLIND MICE}
}for that I shall require your co-operation."}
}"Will it take long?" Molly asked. "I'm rather busy in the kitchen. After all, we've got to have a meal sometime."}
}"Yes," said Trotter. "I appreciate that, Mrs. Davis. But, if you'll excuse me, there are more important things than meals! Mrs. Boyle, for instance, won't need another meal."}
}"Really, Sergeant," said Major Metcalf, "that's an extraordinarily tactless way of putting things."}
}"I'm sorry, Major Metcalf, but I want everyone to cooperate in this."}
}"Have you found your skis, Sergeant Trotter?" asked Molly.}
}The young man reddened. "No, I have not, Mrs. Davis. But I may say I have a very shrewd suspicion who took them. And of why they were taken. I won't say any more at present."}
}"Please don't," begged Mr. Paravicini. "I always think explanations should be kept to the very end—that exciting last chapter, you know."}
}"This isn't a game, sir."}
}"Isn't it? Now there I think you're wrong. I think it is a game—to somebody."}
}"The }murderer }is enjoying himself," murmured Molly softly.}
}The others looked at her in astonishment. She flushed,}
}"I'm only quoting what Sergeant Trotter said to me."}
}Sergeant Trotter did not look too pleased. "It's all very well, Mr. Paravicini, mentioning last chapters and speaking as though this was a mystery thriller," he said. "This is real. This is happening."}
}"So long," said Christopher Wren, fingering his neck gingerly, "as it doesn't happen to me."}
}"Now, then," said Major Metcalf. "None of that,}
}THREE BUND }MICE 73}
}young fellow. The sergeant here is going to tell us just what he wants us to do."}
}Sergeant Trotter cleared his throat. His voice became official.}
}"I took certain statements from you all a short time ago," he said. "Those statements related to your positions at the time when the murder of Mrs. Boyle occurred. Mr. Wren and Mr. Davis were in their separate bedrooms. Mrs. Davis was in the kitchen. Major Metcalf was in the cellar. Mr. Paravicini was here in this room—"}
}He paused and then went on.}
}"Those are the statements you made. I have no means of checking those statements. They may be, true—they may not. To put it quite clearly—four of those statements are true—but }one of them is false. }Which one?"}
}He looked from face to face. Nobody spoke.}
}"Four of you are speaking the truth—one is lying. I have a plan that may help me to discover the liar. And if I discover that one of you lied to me—then I know who the murderer is."}
}Giles said sharply, "Not necessarily. Someone might have lied—for some other reason,"}
}"I rather doubt that, Mr. Davis."}
}"But what's the idea, man? You've just said you've no means of checking these statements?"}
}"No, but supposing everyone was to go through these movements a second time."}
}"Bah," said Major Metcalf disparagingly. "Reconstruction of the crime. Foreign idea."}
}"Not a reconstruction of the }crime, }Major Metcalf. A reconstruction of the movements of apparently innocent persons."}
}"And what do you expect to learn from that?"}
}"You will forgive me if I don't make that clear just at the moment."}
}74 THREE BLIND MICE}
}"You want," asked Molly, "a repeat performance?"}
}"More or less, Mrs. Davis."}
}There was a silence. It was, somehow, an uneasy silence.}
}It's a trap, }thought Molly.-}It's a trap—but I don't see how—}
}You might have thought that there were five guilty people in the room, instead of one guilty and four innocent ones. One and all cast doubtful sideways glances at the assured, smiling young man who proposed this innocent-sounding maneuver.}
}Christopher burst out shrilly, "But I don't see—I simply can't see—what you can possibly hope to find out— just by making people do the same thing they did before. It seems to me just nonsensel"}
}"Does it, Mr. Wren?"}
}"Of course," said Giles slowly, "what you say goes, Sergeant. We'll co-operate. Are we all to do exactly what we did before?"}
}"The same actions will be performed, yes."}
}A faint ambiguity in the phrase made Major Metcalf look up sharply. Sergeant Trotter went on.}
}"Mr. Paravicini has told us that he sat at the piano and played a certain tune. Perhaps, Mr. Paravicini, you would kindly show us exactly what you did do?"}
}"But certainly, my dear Sergeant."}
}Mr, Paravicini skipped nimbly across the room to the grand piano and settled himself on the music stool.}
}"The maestro at the piano will play the signature tune to a murder," he said with a flourish.}
}He grinned, and with elaborate mannerisms he picked out with one finger the tune of "Three Blind Mice."}
}He's enjoying himself, }thought Molly. }He's enjoying himself.}
}In the big room the soft, muted notes had an almost}
}THREE BLIND }MICE 75}
}eerie effect.}
}"Thank you, Mr. Paravicini," said Sergeant Trotter. "That, I take it, is exactly how yo
u played the tune on the—former occasion?"}