Gaudy Night (60 page)

“This objection had some weight with me, but not a great deal. It was the only message that was not in English, and it was one to which any school child might easily have access. On the other hand, the fact that it was unique among the other scripts made me sure that it had some particular significance. I mean, it wasn’t that X’s feelings habitually expressed themselves in Latin hexameters. There must be something special about that passage besides its general applicability to unnatural females who snatch the meat from men’s mouths.
Nec saevior ulla pestis.
”

“When I first heard of that,” broke in Miss Hillyard, “I felt sure that a man was behind all this.”

“That was probably a sound instinct,” said Wimsey. “I feel sure that a man did write that.... Well, I need not take up time with pointing out how easy it was for anybody to wander about the College at night and play tricks on people. In a community of two hundred people, some of whom scarcely know one another by sight, it is harder to find a person than to lose her. But the intrusion of Jukes upon the situation at that moment was rather awkward for X. Miss Vane showed and announced, a disposition to inquire rather too closely into Jukes’s home-life. As a result somebody who knew a good deal about Jukes’s little habits laid an information and Jukes was removed to gaol. Mrs. Jukes took refuge with her relations and Annie’s children were sent away to Headington. And in order that we should feel quite sure that the Jukes household had nothing to do with the matter, a mutilated newspaper appeared shortly afterwards in Miss de Vine’s room.”

Harriet looked up.

“I did work that out—eventually. But what happened last week seemed to make it quite impossible.”

“I don’t think, said Peter, “you approached the problem—forgive me for saying so—with an unprejudiced mind and undivided attention. Something got between you and the facts.”

“Miss Vane has been helping me so generously with my books,” murmured Miss Lydgate, contritely; and she has had her own work to do as well. We really ought not to have asked her to spare any time for our problems.”

“I had plenty of time,” said Harriet. “I was only stupid.”

“At any rate,” said Wimsey, “Miss Vane did enough to make X feel she was dangerous. At the beginning of this term, we find X becoming more desperate and more deadly in intention. With the lighter evenings, it becomes more difficult to play tricks at night. There is the psychological attempt on Miss Newland’s life and reason and, when that fails, an effort is made to create a stink in the University by sending letters to the Vice-Chancellor. However, the University proved to be as sound as the College; having let the women in, it was not prepared to let them down. This was no doubt exasperating to the feelings of X. Dr. Threep acted as intermediary between the Vice-Chancellor and yourselves, and the matter was presumably dealt with.”

“I informed the Vice-chancellor,” said the Warden, “that steps were being taken.”

“Quite so; and you complimented me by asking me to take those steps. I had very little doubt from the start as to the identity of X; but suspicion is not proof, and I was anxious not to cast any suspicion that could not be justified. My first task was obviously to find out whether Miss de Vine had actually ever murdered or injured anybody. In the course of a very interesting after-dinner conversation in this room, she informed me that, six years ago, she had been instrumental in depriving a man of his reputation and livelihood—and we decided, if you remember, that this was an action which any manly man or womanly woman might be disposed to resent.”

“Do you mean to say, cried the Dean, “that all that discussion was intended merely to bring out that story?”

“I offered an opportunity for the story’s appearance, certainly; but if it hadn’t come out then, I should have asked for it. Incidentally, I established for a certainty, what I was sure of in my own mind from the start, that there was not a woman in this Common Room, married or single, who would be ready to place personal loyalties above professional honour. That was a point which it seemed necessary to make clear—not so much to me, as to yourselves.”

The Warden looked from Miss Hillyard to Mrs. Goodwin and back at Peter.

“Yes,” she said, “I think it was wise to establish that.”

“The next day,” said Peter, “I asked Miss de Vine for the name of the man in question, whom we already knew to be handsome and married. The name was Arthur Robinson; and with this information I set out to find what had become of him. My working theory was that X was either the wife or some relation of Robinson: that she had come here when Miss de Vine’s appointment was announced, with the intention of revenging his misfortunes upon Miss de Vine, the College and academic women in general; and that in all probability X was a person who stood in some close relation to the Jukes family. This theory was strengthened by the discovery that information was laid against Jukes by an anonymous letter similar to those circulated here.

“Now, the first thing that happened after my arrival was the appearance of X in the Science Lecture Room. The idea that X was courting discovery by preparing letters in that public and dangerous manner was patently absurd. The whole thing was a clear fake, intended to mislead, and probably to establish an alibi. The communications had been prepared elsewhere and deliberately planted—in fact, there were not enough letters left in the box to finish the message that had been begun to Miss Vane. The room chosen was in full view of the Scouts’ Wing, and the big ceiling light was conspicuously turned on, though there was a reading-lamp in the room, in good working order; it was Annie who drew Carrie’s attention to the light in the window; Annie was the only person who claimed to have actually seen X; and while the alibi was established for both scouts, Annie was the one who most closely corresponded to the conditions required to X.”

“But Carrie heard X in the room,” said the Dean.

“Oh, yes,” said Wimsey, smiling. “And Carrie was sent to fetch you while Annie removed the strings that had switched out the light and overturned the blackboard from the other side of the door. I pointed out to you, you know, that the top of the door had been thoroughly dusted, so that the mark of the string shouldn’t show.”

“But the marks on the dark-room window-sill—” said the Dean.

“Quite genuine. She got out there the first time, leaving the doors locked on the inside and strewing a few of Miss de Vine’s hairpins about to produce conviction. Then she let herself into the Scouts’ Wing through the Buttery, called up Carrie and brought her along to see the fun.... I think, by the way, that some one of the scouts must have had her suspicions. Perhaps she had found Annie’s bedroom door mysteriously locked on various occasions, or had met her in the passage at inconvenient times. Anyhow, the time had obviously arrived for establishing an alibi. I hazarded the suggestion that nocturnal ramblings would cease from that time on; and so they did. And I don’t suppose we shall ever find that extra key to the Buttery.”

“All very well,” said Miss Edwards. “But you still have no proof.”

“No. I went away to get it. In the meantime, X—if you don’t like my identification—decided that Miss Vane was dangerous, and laid a trap to catch her. This didn’t come off, because Miss Vane very sensibly telephoned back to College to confirm the mysterious message she had received at Somerville. The message was sent from an outside call-box on the Wednesday night at 10:40. Just before eleven, Annie came in from her day off and heard Padgett speak to Miss Vane on the ’phone. She didn’t hear the conversation, but she probably heard the name.

“Although the attempt had not come off, I felt sure that another would be made, either on Miss Vane, Miss de Vine or the suspicious scout—or on all three. I issued a warning to that effect. The next thing that happened was that Miss Vane’s chessmen were destroyed. That was rather unexpected. It looked less like alarm than personal hatred. Up till that time Miss Vane had been treated with almost as much tenderness as though she had been a womanly woman. Can you think of anything that can have given X that impression, Miss Vane?”

“I don’t know,” said Harriet, confused. “I asked kindly after the children and spoke to Beatie—good heavens, yes, Beatie!—when I met them. And I remember once agreeing politely with Annie that marriage might be a good thing if one could find the right person.”

“That was politic if unprincipled. And how about the attentive Mr. Jones of Jesus? If you will bring young men into the College at night and hide them in the Chapel—”

“Good gracious!” exclaimed Miss Pyke.

“—you must be expected to be thought a womanly woman. However; that is of no great importance. I fear the illusion was destroyed when you publicly informed me that personal attachments must come second to public duties.”

“But,” said Miss Edwards, impatiently, “what happened to Arthur Robinson?”

“He was married to a woman called Charlotte Ann Clarke, who had been his landlady’s daughter. His first child, born eight years ago, was called Beatrice. After the trouble at York, he changed his name to Wilson and took a post as junior master in a small preparatory school, where they didn’t mind taking a man who had been deprived of his M.A., so long as he was cheap. His second daughter, born shortly afterwards, was named Carola. I’m afraid the Wilsons didn’t find life too easy. He lost his first job—drink was the reason, I’m afraid—took another—got into trouble again and three years ago blew his brains out. There were some photographs in the local paper. Here they are, you see. A fair, handsome man of about thirty-eight—irresolute, attractive, something of my nephew’s type. And here is the photograph of the widow.”

“You are right,” said the Warden. “That is Annie Wilson.”

“Yes. If you read the report of the inquest, you will see that he left a letter, saying that he had been hounded to death—rather a rambling letter, containing a Latin quotation, which the coroner obligingly translated.”

“Good gracious!” said Miss Pyke. “
Tristius haud illis monstrum
—?”

“
Ita.
A man wrote that after all, you see; so Miss Hillyard was so far right. Annie Wilson, being obliged to do something to support her children and herself, went into service.”

“I had very good references with her,” said the Bursar.

“No doubt; why not? She must somehow have kept track of Miss de Vine’s movements; and when the appointment was announced last Christmas, she applied for a job here. She probably knew that, as an unfortunate widow with two small children, she would receive kindly consideration—”

“What did I tell you?” cried Miss Hillyard. “I always said that this ridiculous sentimentality about married women would be the ruin of all discipline in this College. Their minds are not, and cannot be, on their work.”

“Oh, dear!” said Miss Lydgate. “Poor soul brooding over that grievance in this really unbalanced way! If only we had known, we could surely have done, I something to make her see the thing in a more rational light. Did it never occur to you, Miss de Vine, to inquire what happened to this unhappy man Robinson?”

“I am afraid it did not.”

“Why should you?” demanded Miss Hillyard.

The noise in the coal-cellar had ceased within the last few minutes. As though the silence had roused a train of association in her mind. Miss Chilperic turned to Peter and said, hesitatingly:

“If poor Annie really did all these dreadful things, how did she get shut up in the coal-hole?”

“Ah!” said Peter. “That coal-hole very nearly shook my faith in my theory; especially as I didn’t get the report from my research staff till yesterday. But when you come to think of it, what else could she do? She laid a plot to attack Miss de Vine on her return from Town—the scouts probably knew which train she was coming by.”

“Nellie knew,” said Harriet.

“Then she could have told Annie. By an extraordinary piece of good fortune, the attack was delivered—not against Miss de Vine, who would have been taken unawares and whose heart is not strong, but against a younger and stronger woman, who was, up to the certain point, prepared to meet it. Even so, it was serious enough, and might easily have proved fatal. I find it difficult to forgive myself for not having spoken earlier—with or without proof—and put the suspect under observation.”

“Oh, nonsense!” said Harriet, quickly. “If you had, she might have chucked the whole thing for the rest of the term, and we should still not know anything definite. I wasn’t much hurt.”

“No. But it might not have been you. I knew you were ready to take the risk; but I had no right to expose Miss de Vine.”

“It seems to me,” said Miss de Vine, “that the risk was rightly and properly mine.”

“The worst responsibility rests on me,” said the Warden. “I should have telephoned the warning to you before you left Town.”

“Whosever fault it was,” said Peter, “it was Miss Vane who was attacked. Instead of a nice, quiet throttling, there was a nasty fall and a lot of blood, some of which, no doubt, got on to the assailant’s hands and dress. She was in an awkward position. She had got the wrong person, she was bloodstained and dishevelled, and Miss de Vine or somebody else might arrive at any moment. Even if she ran quickly back to her own room, she might be seen—her uniform was stained—and when the body was found (alive or dead) she would be a marked woman. Her only possible chance was to stage an attack on herself. She went out through the back of the Loggia, threw herself into the coal-cellar, locked the door on herself and proceeded to cover up Miss Vane’s bloodstains with her own. By the way, Miss Vane, if you remembered anything of your lesson, you must have marked her wrists for her.”

“I’ll swear I did,” said Harriet.

“But any amount of bruising may be caused by trying to scramble through a ventilator. Well. The evidence, you see, is still circumstantial—even though my nephew is prepared to identify the woman he saw crossing Magdalen Bridge on Wednesday with the woman he met in the garden. One can catch a Headington bus from the other side of Magdalen Bridge. Meanwhile, you heard this fellow in the cellarage? If I am not mistaken, somebody is arriving with something like direct proof.”