"_Please!_" Lord Darcy slammed the palm of his hand on the arm of his
chair with an explosive sound. "My lady, you _will_ listen to what I
have to say!"
He was taking a devil of a chance, he knew. The Countess was his
hostess and had every right to exercise her prerogatives. But Lord
Darcy was counting on the fact that she had been under Count
D'Evreux's influence so long that it would take her a little time to
realize that she no longer had to knuckle under to the will of a man
who shouted at her. He was right. She became silent.
Father Bright turned to her quickly and said: "Please, my daughter.
Wait."
"Your pardon, my lady," Lord Darcy continued smoothly. "I was about to
explain to you why I know Lady Duncan could not have killed your
brother. There is the matter of the dress. We are certain that the
gown that was found in Edouard's closet was worn by the killer. _And
that gown could not possibly have fit Lady Duncan!_ She's much too ...
er ... hefty.
"She has told me her story, and, for reasons I will give you later, I
believe it. When she pointed the gun at your brother, she really had
no intention of killing him. She had no intention of pulling the
trigger. Your brother knew this. He lashed out and slapped the side of
her head. She dropped the pistol and fell, sobbing, to the floor. He
took her roughly by the arm and 'escorted' her down the stairway. He
threw her out.
"Lady Duncan, hysterical, ran to her husband.
"And then, when he had succeeded in calming her down a bit, she
realized the position she was in. She knew that Laird Duncan was a
violent, a warped man--very similar to Edouard, Count D'Evreux. She
dared not tell him the truth, but she had to tell him something. So
she lied.
"She told him that Edouard had asked her up in order to tell her
something of importance; that that 'something of importance' concerned
Laird Duncan's safety; that the Count told her that he knew of Laird
Duncan's dabbling in black magic; that he threatened to inform Church
authorities on Laird Duncan unless she submitted to his desires; that
she had struggled with him and ran away."
Lord Darcy spread his hands. "This was, of course, a tissue of lies.
But Laird Duncan believed everything. So great was his ego that he
could not believe in her infidelity, although he has been paralyzed
for five years."
"How can you be certain that Lady Duncan told the truth?" Father
Bright asked warily.
"Aside from the matter of the gown--which Count D'Evreux kept only for
women of the common class, _not_ the aristocracy--we have the
testimony of the actions of Laird Duncan himself. We come then to--
"_Secondus_: Laird Duncan could not have committed the murder
physically. _How could a man who was confined to a wheelchair go up
that flight of stairs?_ I submit to you that it would have been
physically impossible.
"The possibility that he has been pretending all these years, and that
he is actually capable of walking, was disproved three hours ago,
when he actually injured himself by trying to throttle me. His legs
are incapable of carrying him even one step--much less carrying him to
the top of that stairway."
Lord Darcy folded his hands complacently.
"There remains," said Father Bright, "the possibility that Laird
Duncan killed Count D'Evreux by psychical, by magical means."
Lord Darcy nodded. "That is indeed possible, Reverend Sir, as we both
know. But not in this instance. Master Sean assures me, and I am
certain that you will concur, that a man killed by sorcery, by black
magic, dies of internal malfunction, not of a bullet through the
heart.
"In effect, the Black Sorcerer induces his enemy to kill himself by
psychosomatic means. He dies by what is technically known as psychic
induction. Master Sean informs me that the commonest--and
crudest--method of doing this is by the so-called 'simalcrum
induction' method. That is, by the making of an image--usually, but
not necessarily, of wax--and, using the Law of Similarity, inducing
death. The Law of Contagion is also used, since the fingernails, hair,
spittle, and so on, of the victim are usually incorporated into the
image. Am I correct, Father?"
The priest nodded. "Yes. And, contrary to the heresies of certain
materialists, it is not at all necessary that the victim be informed
of the operation--although, admittedly, it can, in certain
circumstances, aid the process."
"Exactly," said Lord Darcy. "But it is well known that material
objects can be moved by a competent sorcerer--'black' or 'white'.
Would you explain to my lady the Countess why her brother could not
have been killed in that manner?"
* * * * *
Father Bright touched his lips with the tip of his tongue and then
turned to the girl sitting next to him. "There is a lack of relevancy.
In this case, the bullet must have been relevant either to the heart
or to the gun. To have traveled with a velocity great enough to
penetrate, the relevancy to the heart must have been much greater than
the relevancy to the gun. Yet the test, witnessed by myself, that was
performed by Master Sean indicates that this was not so. The bullet
returned to the gun, not to your brother's heart. The evidence, my
dear, is conclusive that the bullet was propelled by purely physical
means, and was propelled from the gun."
"Then what was it Laird Duncan did?" the Countess asked.
"_Tertius_:" said Lord Darcy. "Believing what his wife had told him,
Laird Duncan flew into a rage. He determined to kill your brother. He
used an induction spell. But the spell backfired and almost killed
him.
"There are analogies on a material plane. If one adds mineral spirits
and air to a fire, the fire will be increased. But if one adds ash,
the fire will be put out.
"In a similar manner, if one attacks a living being psychically it
will die--but if one attacks a dead thing in such a manner, the
psychic energy will be absorbed, to the detriment of the person who
has used it.
"In theory, we could charge Laird Duncan with attempted murder, for
there is no doubt that he did attempt to kill your brother, my lady.
_But your brother was already dead at the time!_
"The resultant dissipation of psychic energy rendered Laird Duncan
unconscious for several hours, during which Lady Duncan waited in
suspenseful fear.
"Finally, when Laird Duncan regained consciousness, he realized what
had happened. He knew that your brother was already dead when he
attempted the spell. He thought, therefore, that Lady Duncan had
killed the Count.
"On the other hand, Lady Duncan was perfectly well aware that she had
left Edouard alive and well. So she thought the black magic of her
husband had killed her erstwhile lover."
"Each was trying to protect the other," Father Bright said. "Neither
is completely evil, then. There may be something we can do for Laird
Duncan."
"I wouldn't know about that, Father," Lord Darcy said. "The Healing
Art is the Church's business, not mine." He realized with some
amusement that he was paraphrasing Dr. Pateley. "What Laird Duncan had
not known," he went on quickly, "was that his wife had taken a gun up
to the Count's bedroom. That put a rather different light on her
visit, you see. That's why he flew into such a towering rage at
me--not because I was accusing him or his wife of murder, but because
I had cast doubt on his wife's behavior."
He turned his head to look at the table where the Irish sorcerer was
working. "Ready, Master Sean?"
"Aye, my lord. All I have to do is set up the screen and light the
lantern in the projector."
"Go ahead, then." He looked back at Father Bright and the Countess.
"Master Sean has a rather interesting lantern slide I want you to look
at."
"The most successful development I've ever made, if I may say so, my
lord," the sorcerer said.
"Proceed."
Master Sean opened the shutter on the projector, and a picture sprang
into being on the screen.
There were gasps from Father Bright and the Countess.
It was a woman. She was wearing the gown that had hung in the Count's
closet. A button had been torn off, and the gown gaped open. Her right
hand was almost completely obscured by a dense cloud of smoke.
Obviously she had just fired a pistol directly at the onlooker.
But that was not what had caused the gasps.
The girl was beautiful. Gloriously, ravishingly beautiful. It was not
a delicate beauty. There was nothing flower-like or peaceful in it. It
was a beauty that could have but one effect on a normal human male.
She was the most physically desirable woman one could imagine.
_Retro mea, Sathanas_, Father Bright thought wryly. _She's almost
obscenely beautiful._
Only the Countess was unaffected by the desirability of the image.
She saw only the startling beauty.
"Has neither of you seen that woman before? I thought not," said Lord
Darcy. "Nor had Laird or Lady Duncan. Nor Sir Pierre.
"Who is she? We don't know. But we can make a few deductions. She must
have come to the Count's room by appointment. This is quite obviously
the woman Edouard mentioned to Lady Duncan--the woman, the 'she' that
the Scots noblewoman could not compare with. It is almost certain she
is a commoner; otherwise she would not be wearing a robe from the
Count's collection. She must have changed right there in the bedroom.
Then she and the Count quarreled--about what, we do not know. The
Count had previously taken Lady Duncan's pistol away from her and had
evidently carelessly let it lay on that table you see behind the girl.
She grabbed it and shot him. Then she changed clothes again, hung up
the robe, and ran away. No one saw her come or go. The Count had
designed the stairway for just that purpose.
"Oh, we'll find her, never fear--now that we know what she looks like.
"At any rate," Lord Darcy concluded, "the mystery is now solved to my
complete satisfaction, and I shall so report to His Highness."
* * * * *
Richard, Duke of Normandy, poured two liberal portions of excellent
brandy into a pair of crystal goblets. There was a smile of
satisfaction on his youthful face as he handed one of the goblets to
Lord Darcy. "Very well done, my lord," he said. "Very well done."
"I am gratified to hear Your Highness say so," said Lord Darcy,
accepting the brandy.
"But how were you so certain that it was _not_ someone from outside
the castle? Anyone could have come in through the main gate. That's
always open."
"True, Your Highness. But the door at the foot of the stairway was
_locked_. Count D'Evreux locked it after he threw Lady Duncan out.
There is no way of locking or unlocking it from the outside; the door
had not been forced. No one could have come in that way, nor left that
way, after Lady Duncan was so forcibly ejected. The only other way
into the Count's suite was by the other door, and that door was
unlocked."
"I see," said Duke Richard. "I wonder why she went up there in the
first place?"
"Probably because he asked her to. Any other woman would have known
what she was getting into if she accepted an invitation to Count
D'Evreux's suite."
The Duke's handsome face darkened. "No. One would hardly expect that
sort of thing from one's own brother. She was perfectly justified in
shooting him."
"Perfectly, Your Highness. And had she been anyone but the heiress,
she would undoubtedly have confessed immediately. Indeed, it was all I
could do to keep her from confessing to me when she thought I was
going to charge the Duncans with the killing. But she knew that it was
necessary to preserve the reputation of her brother and herself. Not
as private persons, but as Count and Countess, as officers of the
Government of His Imperial Majesty the King. For a man to be known as
a rake is one thing. Most people don't care about that sort of thing
in a public official so long as he does his duty and does it
well--which, as Your Highness knows, the Count did.
"But to be shot to death while attempting to assault his own
sister--that is quite another thing. She was perfectly justified in
attempting to cover it up. And she will remain silent unless someone
else is accused of the crime."
"Which, of course, will not happen," said Duke Richard. He sipped at
the brandy, then said: "She will make a good Countess. She has
judgment and she can keep cool under duress. After she had shot her
own brother, she might have panicked, but she didn't. How many women
would have thought of simply taking off the damaged gown and putting
on its duplicate from the closet?"
"Very few," Lord Darcy agreed. "That's why I never mentioned that I
knew the Count's wardrobe contained dresses identical to her own. By
the way, Your Highness, if any good Healer, like Father Bright, had
known of those duplicate dresses, he would have realized that the
Count had a sexual obsession about his sister. He would have known
that all the other women the Count went after were sister
substitutes."
"Yes; of course. And none of them measure up." He put his goblet on
the table. "I shall inform the King my brother that I recommended the
new Countess whole-heartedly. No word of this must be put down in
writing, of course. You know and I know and the King must know. No one
else must know."
"One other knows," said Lord Darcy.
"Who?" The Duke looked startled.
"Father Bright."
Duke Richard looked relieved. "Naturally. He won't tell her that we
know, will he?"
"I think Father Bright's discretion can be relied upon."
* * * * *
In the dimness of the confessional, Alice, Countess D'Evreux knelt and
listened to the voice of Father Bright.
"I shall not give you any penance, my child, for you have committed no
sin--that is, in so far as the death of your brother is concerned. For
the rest of your sins, you must read and memorize the third chapter of
'The Soul and The World,' by St. James Huntington."
He started to pronounce the absolution, but the Countess said:
"I don't understand one thing. That picture. That wasn't me. I never
saw such a gorgeously beautiful girl in my life. And I'm so plain. I
don't understand."
"Had you looked more closely, my child, you would have seen that the
face did look like yours--only it was idealized. When a subjective
reality is made objective, distortions invariably show up; that is why
such things cannot be accepted as evidence of objective reality in
court." He paused. "To put it another way, my child: Beauty is in the
eye of the beholder."
* * * * *