A Happy Ending
Joan, Ellery, and the superintendent faced one another across
Woodman’s body. Moorman, his nerves gone, crouched in a corner,
muttering. The inspector bent down and made a quick inspection of the
body.
“H’m,” he said, “he’s quite dead.”
The superintendent turned to Ellery. “And now perhaps it is time for
you to give me a little explanation.”
“Of this?” asked Ellery, pointing to the body.
“Of everything,” was the answer.
“It is straightforward enough,” said Ellery. “Mr. Woodman, as you will
easily discover if you ask that whimpering object over there, has been
for some time in grave financial difficulties. This morning he was
disappointed of raising a large sum for which he had hoped; and I am
afraid this is the result.”
“Is that all you have to tell me?”
“What more should I have?”
“May I ask whether you have any theory as to the murderer of George
Brooklyn, or of John Prinsep?”
“I have no theory. And I cannot see what that has to do with this
_suicide_.” Ellery emphasised the last word.
“Oh, that’s your line, is it? And supposing I suggested that this
gentleman here”—he pointed to Woodman’s body—“was the murderer.”
“I should ask you what evidence you have to support such an
extraordinary suggestion.”
“Very well, Mr. Ellery. But I had better tell you that I already have
full knowledge of the truth. That is why I am here. You and the young
lady here had much better make a clean breast of it.”
“Don’t you think, superintendent, that you had better deal with one
thing at a time? Surely, for the moment, this dead man claims your
attention. You know where to find us if you want us. I shall take Miss
Cowper home.”
“By all means, Mr. Ellery. There is work for me here. But I shall have
to call on you both later in the day. Could I meet you—say at Liskeard
House—about six o’clock?”
“Oh, if that’s the attitude you take, I suppose we’d better have it
out now.”
“That will be best, I think.” Then Superintendent Wilson turned to the
inspector, who had not recovered from his amazement at the miraculous
appearance of his superior. The superintendent pointed to Woodman’s
body. “Call in your men and have that thing removed. Then we can say
what we have to say.”
So, when the body had been taken away, Joan and Ellery found
themselves face to face with Superintendent Wilson. “I will tell you
what I know,” he said, “and then I think you will see the wisdom of
letting me hear your story. But first there is one thing I must do.”
Going to Woodman’s desk, he took from his pocket-book the scraps of
paper which he had found, and rapidly compared them with other
specimens of Woodman’s handwriting. “Just as I thought,” he said, “and
now I am ready.”
“Fire away, then,” said Ellery.
“Well, it was clear enough to me, from an early stage in the case—even
before you confirmed my view with your very convincing _alibi_, that
Mr. Walter Brooklyn was not the murderer. That was the assumption on
which I set to work.”
“May I ask why?” said Joan. “Of course, I knew he hadn’t done it; but
what made you——?”
“A quite proper question, Miss Cowper. What made me take that view was
a very strong conviction that the clues—the second set of clues, I
mean—pointed far too directly to Mr. Brooklyn. They looked as if they
had been deliberately laid. I ought to have seen that at once; but I
was put off by the other set of clues—the obviously false ones—that
the police were meant to see through from the first. It took me a
little time to realise that the murderer had been clever enough to lay
two separate sets of false clues—one meant to be seen through, and one
meant to mislead.”
“Yes, we got to that, too, though we didn’t put it quite as you do.”
“Quite so. Well, as soon as I reached that conclusion, it became clear
that the murderer had strong reasons for removing, not only your two
cousins, but also your stepfather. My next step, therefore, was to
discover who would be most likely to inherit Sir Vernon Brooklyn’s
money if Mr. Walter Brooklyn was safely out of the way.”
“So that brought you to Carter Woodman at once?”
“In a sense, yes. But of course at that stage I had no sort of proof.
I set out to prove what was only a theory.”
“Yes, that was what we did. Tell us what you found out,” said Ellery,
half-rising from his chair in his excitement.
“You remember that Mr. Walter Brooklyn’s stick was found in Mr.
Prinsep’s room. Well, I succeeded in proving that Mr. Brooklyn had
left that stick in Carter Woodman’s office on the day of the murders.”
“Lord, we never thought of that,” said Ellery.
“Moorman, whom you know, admitted that to me, not knowing who I was. I
got it out of him when he thought I was merely a client taking an
outside interest in the case. He didn’t realise that it was of
importance.”
“And that was your proof?” asked Joan, with an air of disappointment.
“Dear me, Miss Cowper, I should be very sorry to try to hang a man on
such evidence. That was only a beginning. What puzzled me was that,
whereas the weapon with which Mr. George Brooklyn was killed was found
on the scene of the murder, there was no sign of any weapon which
could have killed Mr. Prinsep. So I made a thorough fresh search, and
at last, on the roof of the building which projects over towards the
coach-yard, I found the weapon, where the murderer had thrown it out
of sight. It was a bag filled with small-shot.”
“But I don’t see how you could prove whose it was.”
“One moment, Mr. Ellery. I took that bag away, and went carefully
through its contents. Among them I found two tiny scraps of paper,
obviously part of an order, or a memorandum of an order, for garden
bulbs. When I went to the desk there just now, it was to confirm my
view that the writing was Carter Woodman’s. I was right.”
“So that proved it?” said Joan.
“I would not go so far as to say that,” said Superintendent Wilson.
“But it made a case, with certain other points which you probably know
as well as I—Woodman’s financial difficulties, and so on. I had not,
however, finished my case. In fact, when I came here, I was pursuing
my investigations. Your presence and that of the inspector were quite
unexpected. Indeed, I may say that you interrupted me.”
“Sorry and all that,” said Ellery. “But, you see, we had finished our
case, and proved Carter Woodman’s guilt so that he knew the game was
up. Hence the end of the story as you saw it just now.”
“I suggest, Mr. Ellery—and Miss Cowper—that, in view of what we both
know, the only possible course is to pool our information. I have told
you my evidence. Will you be good enough now to tell me yours?”
Joan and Ellery looked at each other, and Joan nodded. They both
realised that it was inevitable that they should tell Superintendent
Wilson all they knew.
“You tell him, Bob. I’m not up to it,” said Joan, smiling faintly.
“But, superintendent, you realise, don’t you, how anxious we have been
that this horrible story should not come to light. It has caused
misery enough already: the telling of it will only cause more.”
“I understand,” said the superintendent.
“Then can’t we still keep it to ourselves?” said Joan, with a note of
hope in her voice.
The superintendent shook his head. “I suppose you realise,” he said,
“that you have both committed a very serious offence. But I won’t be
too hard on you—especially as you have shown yourselves such
creditable amateurs in my line of business,” he added with a smile.
“But I am afraid the whole story must come out now. There is really no
question about that.”
“But surely,” said Joan, “there’s no one to try now: so you can’t have
a trial. I don’t see why you should want to drag the whole beastly
story to light. It will——”
“Pardon me, Miss Cowper. There will have to be an inquest on Carter
Woodman, and you and Mr. Ellery will have to tell what you know.”
“But can’t we say he committed suicide—it’s quite true, he did, and
leave it at that,” said Joan.
“Yes,” Ellery put in, “and give evidence about his embarrassed
financial position as a reason for taking his life.”
“Quite impossible,” said the superintendent. “I fear the story must
come out; but, as there will be no trial, there will not really be
very much publicity. You will do best to tell the whole story at the
inquest. It will all blow over very soon.”
“But what about poor Helen—I mean Mrs. Woodman?” said Joan.
“I am afraid she will have to bear it as best she can.”
So it was done. At the inquest the whole story was told, both by Joan
and Ellery and by Superintendent Wilson. The papers the next day were
full of it, and full, too, of compliments both to the professionals
and to the amateurs on the skill shown in unravelling the mystery.
But that same day came a parliamentary crisis. The old Prime
Minister resigned, and a new one—in the name of conservatism and
tranquillity—took his place. Parliament was dissolved, and the drums
beat and beacons flared in anticipation of an “appeal to the people.”
In a few days, the Brooklyn mystery was forgotten, except by those
directly concerned and by a few specialists in the records of crime.
Joan and Ellery, of course, are married, and quite disgustingly rich,
now that Sir Vernon is dead. They live at Liskeard House when they are
in town, and Ellery is managing director of the Brooklyn Corporation.
He has made many attempts to get Marian to return to the stage; and
perhaps he will yet succeed. For he has just written a play in which,
she agrees, the leading part was made for her. Family matters keep
Joan rather busy at present; but her first play, produced a year ago
by the Brooklyn Corporation, was a great success. She is thinking of
collaborating with her husband in another, with a strong detective
interest.
Ellery summed up the situation the other day, when he and Joan were
talking over the days of the great Brooklyn mystery. “Well, my dear,
it was sad about poor old George, but you must agree that the other
two were really a good riddance.” And, although one of them had been
in a way her suitor, I think Joan did agree. But all she said was
“Poor Marian!”
The End
Transcriber’s Note
_The Brooklyn Murders_ was originally published in England in
1923 by Collins. This transcription was made from the text of the US
edition published in 1924 by Thomas Seltzer, Inc. However, the
following changes have been made to correct what are believed to be
unambiguous printer’s errors.
* Two missing quotation marks have been inserted.
* “interupted” has been changed to “interrupted” (Ch. XI).
* “followng” has been changed to “following” (Ch. XII).
* “But’s there’s” has been changed to “But there’s” (Ch. XIX).
* “a few minutes, time” has been changed to “a few minutes’ time”
(Ch. XXII).
* “intrudng” has been changed to “intruding” (Ch. XXIX).
* “convicition” has been changed to “conviction” (Ch. XXXVII).
Additionally, in the original text of Chapter XXIV, the column
headings in the list of suspects were only repeated once per page
(i.e., a resumption of the list appearing lower on the same page would
omit the column headings). For this transcription, the column headings
are included with each resumption.