It was quite evident that, as he had said, Mr. Chitterwick did not
want to speak. He looked appealingly round the circle of faces the
next evening when Roger asked him to do so, but the faces remained
decidedly unsympathetic. Mr. Chitterwick, expressed the faces plainly,
was being a silly old woman.
Mr. Chitterwick cleared his throat nervously two or three times and
took the plunge.
“Mr. President, ladies and gentlemen, I quite realise what you must be
thinking, and I must plead for leniency. I can only say in excuse of
what you must consider my perversity, that convincing though Miss
Dammers’s clever exposition was and definite as her proofs appeared,
we have listened to so many apparently convincing solutions of this
mystery and been confronted with so many seemingly definite proofs,
that I could not help feeling that perhaps even Miss Dammers’s theory
might not prove on reflection to be not quite so strong as one would
at first think.” Mr. Chitterwick, having surmounted this tall
obstacle, blinked rapidly but was unable to recall the next sentence
he had prepared so carefully.
He jumped it, and went on a little. “As the one to whom has fallen the
task, both a privilege and a responsibility, of speaking last, you may
not consider it out of place if I take the liberty of summing up the
various conclusions that have been reached here, so different in both
their methods and results. Not to waste time however in going over old
ground, I have prepared a little chart which may show more clearly the
various contrasting theories, parallels, and suggested criminals.
Perhaps members would care to pass it round.”
With much hesitation Mr. Chitterwick produced the chart on which he
had spent so much careful thought, and offered it to Mr. Bradley on
his right. Mr. Bradley received it graciously, and even condescended
to lay it on the table between himself and Miss Dammers and examine
it. Mr. Chitterwick looked artlessly gratified.
Mr. Chitterwick’s Chart
ANGLE OF SALIENT
SOLVER MOTIVE VIEW FEATURE
---------------------------------------------------------------- . . .
Sir Charles Gain _Cui bono_ Notepaper
Wildman
Mrs. Fielder- Elimination _Cherchez la Hidden triangle
Flemming femme_
Bradley (1) Experiment Detective- Nitrobenzene
novelist’s
Bradley (2) Jealousy Character of Criminological
Sir Eustace knowledge of murderer
Sheringham Gain Character of Bet
Mr. Bendix
Miss Dammers Elimination Psychology of Criminal’s
all participants character
Police Conviction, General Material clues
or lust of
killing
Mr. Chitterwick’s Chart (continued)
METHOD OF PARALLEL
SOLVER PROOF CASE CRIMINAL
------------ . . . ---------------------------------------------------
Sir Charles Inductive Marie Lafarge Lady Pennefather
Wildman
Mrs. Fielder- Intuitive and Molineux Sir Charles
Flemming Inductive Wildman
Bradley (1) Scientific Dr. Wilson Bradley
deduction
Bradley (2) Deductive Christina Woman unnamed
Edmunds
Sheringham Deductive and Carlyle Harris Bendix
Inductive
Miss Dammers Psychological Tawell Sir Eustace
deduction Pennefather
Police Routine Horwood Unknown fanatic
or lunatic
“You will see,” said Mr. Chitterwick, with a shade more confidence,
“that practically speaking no two members have agreed on any one
single matter of importance. The divergence of opinion and method is
really remarkable. And in spite of such variations each member has
felt confident that his or her solution was the right one. This chart,
more than any words of mine could, emphasises not only the extreme
openness, as Mr. Bradley would say, of the case before us, but
illustrates another of Mr. Bradley’s observations too, that is how
surprisingly easy it is to prove anything one may desire, by a process
either of conscious or of unwitting selection.
“Miss Dammers, I think,” suggested Mr. Chitterwick, “may perhaps find
that chart especially interesting. I am not myself a student of
psychology, but even to me it was striking to notice how the solution
of each member reflected, if I may say so, that particular member’s
own trend of thought and character. Sir Charles, for instance, whose
training has naturally led him to realise the importance of the
material, will not mind if I point out that the angle from which he
viewed the problem was the very material one of _cui bono_, while the
equally material evidence of the notepaper formed for him its salient
feature. At the other end of the scale, Miss Dammers herself regards
the case almost entirely from a psychological view-point and takes as
its salient feature the character, as unconsciously revealed, of the
criminal.
“Between these two, other members have paid attention to psychological
and material evidence in varying proportions. Then again the methods
of building up the case against a suspected person have been widely
different. Some of us have relied almost entirely on inductive
methods, some almost wholly on deductive; while some, like Mr.
Sheringham, have blended the two. In short, the task our President set
us has proved a most instructive lesson in comparative detection.”
Mr. Chitterwick cleared his throat, smiled nervously, and continued.
“There is another chart which I might have made, and which I think
would have been no less illuminating than this one. It is a chart of
the singularly different deductions drawn by different members from
the undisputed facts in the case. Mr. Bradley might have found
particular interest in this possible chart, as a writer of
detective-stories.
“For I have often noticed,” apologised Mr. Chitterwick to the writers
of detective-stories _en masse_, “that in books of that kind it is
frequently assumed that any given fact can admit of only one single
deduction, and that invariably the right one. Nobody else is capable
of drawing any deductions at all but the author’s favourite detective,
and the ones he draws (in the books where the detective is capable of
drawing deductions at all which, alas, are only too few) are
invariably right. Miss Dammers mentioned something of the kind one
evening herself, with her illustration of the two bottles of ink.
“As an example of what really happens therefore, I should like to cite
the sheet of Mason’s notepaper in this case. From that single piece of
paper the following deductions have at one time or another been drawn:
1. That the criminal was an employee or ex-employee of Mason & Sons.
2. That the criminal was a customer of Mason & Sons.
3. That the criminal was a printer, or had access to a
printing-press.
4. That the criminal was a lawyer, acting on behalf of Mason & Sons.
5. That the criminal was a relative of an ex-employee of
Mason & Sons.
6. That the criminal was a would-be customer of Webster’s, the
printers.
“There have been plenty of other deductions of course from that sheet
of paper, such as that the chance possession of it suggested the whole
method of the crime, but I am only calling attention to the ones which
were to point directly to the criminal’s identity. There are no less
than six of them, you see, and all mutually contradictory.”
“I’ll write a book for you, Mr. Chitterwick,” promised Mr. Bradley,
“in which the detective shall draw six contradictory deductions from
each fact. He’ll probably end up by arresting seventy-two different
people for the murder and committing suicide because he finds
afterwards that he must have done it himself. I’ll dedicate the book
to you.”
“Yes, do,” beamed Mr. Chitterwick. “For really, it wouldn’t be far
from what we’ve had in this case. For example, I only called attention
to the notepaper. Besides that there were the poison, the typewriter,
the post-mark, the exactness of the dose—oh, many more facts. And from
each one of them not much less than half-a-dozen different deductions
have been drawn.
“In fact,” Mr. Chitterwick summed up, “it was as much as anything the
different deductions drawn by different members that proved their
different cases.”
“On second thoughts,” decided Mr. Bradley, “my detectives in future
will be the kind that don’t draw any deductions at all. Besides, that
will be so much easier for me.”
“So with these few remarks on the solutions we have already heard,”
continued Mr. Chitterwick, “which I hope members will pardon me, I
will hurry on to my explanation of why I asked Mr. Sheringham so
urgently last evening not to go to Scotland Yard at once.”
Five faces expressed silent agreement that it was about time Mr.
Chitterwick was heard on that point.
Mr. Chitterwick appeared to be conscious of the thoughts behind the
faces, for his manner became a little flurried.
“I must first deal very briefly with the case against Sir Eustace
Pennefather, as Miss Dammers gave it us last night. Without belittling
her presentation of it in any way at all, I must just point out that
her two chief reasons for fixing the guilt upon him seemed to me to be
firstly that he was the type of person whom she had already decided
the criminal must be, and secondly that he had been conducting an
intrigue with Mrs. Bendix and certainly would have seemed to have some
cause for wishing her out of the way—_if_ (but only if) Miss Dammers’s
own view of the progress of that intrigue was the correct one.”
“But the typewriter, Mr. Chitterwick!” cried Mrs. Fielder-Flemming,
loyal to her sex.
Mr. Chitterwick started. “Oh, yes; the typewriter. I’m coming to that.
But before I reach it, I should like to mention two other points which
Miss Dammers would have us believe are important material evidence
against Sir Eustace, as opposed to the psychological. That he should
be in the habit of buying Mason’s liqueur chocolates for his—his
female friends hardly seems to me even significant. If every one who
is in the habit of buying Mason’s liqueur chocolates is to be suspect,
then London must be full of suspects. And surely even so unoriginal a
murderer as Sir Eustace would seem to be, would have taken the
elementary precaution of choosing some vehicle for the poison which is
not generally associated with his name, instead of one that is. And if
I may venture the opinion, Sir Eustace is not quite such a dunderhead
as Miss Dammers would seem to think.
“The second point is that the girl in Webster’s should have
recognised, and even identified, Sir Eustace from his photograph. That
also doesn’t appear to me, if Miss Dammers doesn’t mind my saying so,
nearly as significant as she would have us believe. I have
ascertained,” said Mr. Chitterwick, not without pride (here too was a
piece of real detecting) “that Sir Eustace Pennefather buys his
notepaper at Webster’s, and has done so for years. He was in there
about a month ago to order a fresh supply. It would be surprising,
considering that he has a title, if the girl who served him had not
remembered him; it cannot be considered significant,” said Mr.
Chitterwick quite firmly, “that she does.
“Apart from the typewriter, then, and perhaps the copies of the
criminological books, Miss Dammers’s case has no real evidence to
support it at all, for the matter of the broken alibi, I am afraid,
must be held to be neither here nor there. I don’t wish to be unfair,”
said Mr. Chitterwick carefully, “but I think I am justified in saying
that Miss Dammers’s case against Sir Eustace rests entirely and solely
upon the evidence of the typewriter.” He gazed round anxiously for
possible objections.
One came, promptly. “But you can’t possibly get round that,” exclaimed
Mrs. Fielder-Flemming impatiently.
Mr. Chitterwick looked a trifle distressed. “Is ‘get round’ quite the
right expression? I’m not trying wilfully or maliciously to pick holes
in Miss Dammers’s case just for amusement. You must really believe
that. Please think that I am actuated only by a desire to bring this
crime home to its real perpetrator. And with that end alone in view, I
can certainly suggest an explanation of the typewriter evidence which
excludes the guilt of Sir Eustace.”
Mr. Chitterwick looked so unhappy at what he conceived to be Mrs.
Fielder-Flemming’s insinuation that he was merely wasting the Circle’s
time, that Roger spoke to him kindly.
“You can?” he said gently, as one encourages one’s daughter on drawing
a cow, which if not much like a cow is certainly unlike any other
animal on earth. “That’s very interesting, Mr. Chitterwick. How do you
explain it then?”
Mr. Chitterwick, responding to treatment, shone with pride. “Dear me!
You can’t see it really? Nobody sees it?”
It seemed that nobody saw it.
“And yet the possibility of such a thing has been before me right from
the beginning of the case,” crowed the now triumphant Mr. Chitterwick.
“Well, well!” He arranged his glasses on his nose and beamed round the
circle, his round red face positively aglow.
“Well, what is the explanation, Mr. Chitterwick?” queried Miss
Dammers, when it seemed that Mr. Chitterwick was going to continue
beaming in silence for ever.
“Oh! Oh, yes; of course. Why, to put it one way, Miss Dammers, that
you were wrong and Mr. Sheringham was right, in your respective
estimates of the criminal’s ability. That there was, in fact, an
extremely able and ingenious mind behind this murder (Miss Dammers’s
attempts to prove the contrary were, I’m afraid another case of
special pleading). And that one of the ways in which this ingenuity
was shown, was to arrange the evidence in such a way that if any one
were to be suspected it would be Sir Eustace. That the evidence of the
typewriter, in a word, and of the criminological books was, as I
believe the technical word is, ‘_rigged_.’” Mr. Chitterwick resumed
his beam.
Everybody sat up with what might have been a concerted jerk. In a
flash the tide of feeling towards Mr. Chitterwick had turned. The man
_had_ got something to say after all. There actually was an idea
behind that untimely request of the previous evening.
Mr. Bradley rose to the occasion, and he quite forgot to speak quite
so patronisingly as usual. “I say—dam’ good, Chitterwick! But can you
substantiate that?”
“Oh, yes. I think so,” said Mr. Chitterwick, basking in the rays of
appreciation that were being shone on him.
“You’ll be telling us next you know who did it,” Roger smiled.
Mr. Chitterwick smiled back. “Oh, I know _that_.”
“_What!_” exclaimed five voices in chorus.
“I know that, of course,” said Mr. Chitterwick modestly. “You’ve
practically told me that yourselves. Coming last of all, you see, my
task was comparatively simple. All I had to do was to sort out the
true from the false in everybody else’s statements, and—well, there
_was_ the truth.”
The rest of the Circle looked their surprise at having told Mr.
Chitterwick the truth without knowing it themselves.
Mr. Chitterwick’s face took on a meditative aspect. “Perhaps I may
confess now that when our President first propounded his idea to us, I
was filled with dismay. I had had no practical experience of
detecting, I was quite at a loss as to how to set about it, and I had
no theory of the case at all. I could not even see a starting-point.
The week flew by, so far as I was concerned, and left me exactly where
I had been at its beginning. On the evening Sir Charles spoke he
convinced me completely. The next evening, for a short time, Mrs.
Fielder-Flemming convinced me too.
“Mr. Bradley did not altogether convince me that he had committed the
murder himself, but if he had named any one else then I should have
been convinced; as it was, he convinced me that his—his discarded
mistress theory,” said Mr. Chitterwick bravely, “must be the correct
one. That indeed was the only idea I had had at all, that the crime
might be the work of one of Sir Eustace’s—h’m!—discarded mistresses.
“But the next evening Mr. Sheringham convinced me just as definitely
that Mr. Bendix was the murderer. It was only last night, during Miss
Dammers’s exposition, that I at last began to realise the truth.”
“Then I was the only one who didn’t convince you, Mr. Chitterwick?”
Miss Dammers smiled.
“I’m afraid,” apologised Mr. Chitterwick, “that is so.”
He mused for a moment.
“It is really remarkable, quite remarkable, how near in some way or
other everybody got to the truth of this affair. Not a single person
failed to bring out at least one important fact, or make at least one
important deduction correctly. Fortunately, when I realised that the
solutions were going to differ so widely, I made copious notes of the
preceding ones and kept them up to date each evening as soon as I got
home. I thus had a complete record of the productions of all these
brains, so much superior to my own.”
“No, no,” murmured Mr. Bradley.
“Last night I sat up very late, poring over these notes, separating
the true from the false. It might perhaps interest members to hear my
conclusions in this respect?” Mr. Chitterwick put forward the
suggestion with the utmost diffidence.
Everybody assured Mr. Chitterwick that they would be only too
gratified to hear where they had stumbled inadvertently on the truth.