PAUL HARLEY’S EXPERIMENT CONCLUDED
Up to the very moment that Paul Harley, who had withdrawn, rejoined us
in the garden, Inspector Aylesbury had not grasped the significance of
that candle burning upon the yew tree. He continued to stare at it as
if hypnotized, and when my friend re-appeared, carrying a long ash staff
and a sheet of cardboard, I could have laughed to witness the expression
upon the Inspector’s face, had I not been too deeply impressed with that
which underlay this strange business.
Wessex, on the other hand, was watching my friend eagerly, as an earnest
student in the class-room might watch a demonstration by some celebrated
lecturer.
“You will notice,” said Paul Harley, “that I have had a number of boards
laid down upon the ground yonder, near the sun-dial. They cover a spot
where the turf has worn very thin. Now, this garden, because of its
sunken position, is naturally damp. Perhaps, Wessex, you would take up
these planks for me.”
Inspector Wessex obeyed, and Harley, laying the ash stick and cardboard
upon the ground, directed the ray of an electric torch upon the spot
uncovered.
“The footprints of Colonel Menendez!” he explained. “Here he turned
from the tiled path. He advanced three paces in the direction of the
sun-dial, you observe, then stood still, facing we may suppose, since
this is the indication of the prints, in a southerly direction.”
“Straight toward the Guest House,” muttered Inspector Aylesbury.
“Roughly,” corrected Harley. “He was fronting in that direction,
certainly, but his head may have been turned either to the right or to
the left. You observe from the great depth of the toe-marks that on
this spot he actually fell. Then, here”--he moved the light--“is the
impression of his knee, and here again--”
He shone the white ray upon a discoloured patch of grass, and then
returned the lamp to his pocket.
“I am going to make a hole in the turf,” he continued, “directly between
these two footprints, which seem to indicate that the Colonel was
standing in the military position of attention at the moment that he met
his death.”
With the end of the ash stick, which was pointed, he proceeded to do
this.
“Colonel Menendez,” he went on, “stood rather over six feet in his
shoes. The stick which now stands upright in the turf measures six feet,
from the chalk mark up to which I have buried it to the slot which I
have cut in the top. Into this slot I now wedge my sheet of cardboard.”
As he placed the sheet of cardboard in the slot which he had indicated,
I saw that a round hole was cut in it some six inches in diameter. We
watched these proceedings in silence, then:
“If you will allow me to adjust the candle, gentlemen,” said Harley,
“which has burned a little too low for my purpose, I shall proceed to
the second part of this experiment.”
He walked up to the yew tree, and by means of bending the nail upward
he raised the flame of the candle level with the base of the embedded
bullet.
“By heavens!” cried Wessex, suddenly divining the object of these
proceedings, “Mr. Harley, this is genius!”
“Thank you, Wessex,” Harley replied, quietly, but nevertheless he was
unable to hide his gratification. “You see my point?”
“Certainly.”
“In ten minutes we shall know the truth.”
“Oh, I see,” muttered Inspector Aylesbury; “we shall know the truth, eh?
If you ask me the truth, it’s this, that we are a set of lunatics.”
“My dear Inspector Aylesbury,” said Harley, good humouredly, “surely you
have grasped the lesson of experiment number one?”
“Well,” admitted the other, “it’s funny, certainly. I mean, it wants a
lot of explaining, but I can’t say I’m convinced.”
“That’s a pity,” murmured Wessex, “because I am.”
“You see, Inspector,” Harley continued, patiently, “the body of Colonel
Menendez as it lay formed a straight line between the sun-dial and the
hut in the garden of the Guest House. That is to say: a line drawn from
the window of the hut to the sun-dial must have passed through the body.
Very well. Such an imaginary line, if continued _beyond_ the sun-dial,
would have terminated near the base of the _seventh yew_ tree.
Accordingly, I naturally looked for the _bullet_ there. It was not
there. But I found it, as you know, in the ninth tree. Therefore, the
shot could not possibly have been fired from the Guest House, because
the spot in the ninth yew where the bullet had lodged is not visible
from the Guest House.”
Inspector Aylesbury removed his cap and scratched his head vigorously.
“In order that we may avoid waste of valuable time,” said Harley,
finally, “let us take a hasty observation from here. As a matter
of fact, I have done so already, as nearly as was possible, without
employing this rough apparatus.”
He knelt down beside the yew tree, lowering his head so that the
candlelight shone upon the brown, eager face, and looked upward, over
the top of the sun-dial and through the hole in the cardboard.
“Yes,” he muttered, a note of rising excitement in his voice. “As I
thought, as I thought. Come, gentlemen, let us hurry.”
He walked rapidly out of the garden, and up the steps, whilst we
followed dumb with wonder--or such at any rate was the cause of my own
silence.
In the hall Pedro was standing, a bunch of keys in his hand, and
evidently expecting Harley.
“Will you take us by the shortest way to the tower stairs?” my friend
directed.
“Yes, sir.”
Doubting, wondering, scarcely knowing whether to be fearful or jubilant,
I followed, along a carpeted corridor, and thence, a heavy, oaken
door being unlocked, across a dusty and deserted apartment apparently
intended for a drawing room. From this, through a second doorway we
were led into a small, square, unfurnished room, which I knew must be
situated in the base of the tower. Yet a third door was unlocked, and:
“Here is the stair, sir,” said Pedro.
In Indian file we mounted to the first floor, to find ourselves in a
second, identical room, also stripped of furniture and decorations.
Harley barely glanced out of the northern window, shook his head, and:
“Next floor, Pedro,” he directed.
Up we went, our footsteps arousing a cloud of dust from the uncarpeted
stairs, and the sound of our movements echoing in hollow fashion around
the deserted rooms.
Gaining the next floor, Harley, unable any longer to conceal his
excitement, ran to the north window, looked out, and:
“Gentlemen,” he said, “my experiment is complete!”
He turned, his back to the window, and faced us in the dusk of the room.
“Assuming the ash stick to represent the upright body of Colonel
Menendez,” he continued, “and the sheet of cardboard to represent his
head, the hole which I have cut in it corresponds fairly nearly to
the position of his forehead. Further assuming the bullet to have
illustrated Euclid’s definition of a straight line, such a line,
_followed back_ from the yew tree to the spot where the rifle rested,
would pass through the hole in the cardboard! In other words, there is
only one place from which it is possible to see the flame of the candle
_through the hole in the cardboard_: the place where the rifle rested!
Stand here in the left-hand angle of the window and stoop down! Will you
come first, Knox?”
I stepped across the room, bent down, and stared out of the window,
across the Tudor garden. Plainly I could see the sun-dial with the
ash stick planted before it. I could see the piece of cardboard which
surmounted it--and, through the hole cut in the cardboard, I could see
the feeble flame of the candle nailed to the ninth yew tree!
I stood upright, knowing that I had grown pale, and conscious of a moist
sensation upon my forehead.
“Merciful God!” I said in a hollow voice. “It was from _this window_
that the shot was fired which killed him!”