CHAPTER XII
WHAT WAS ON THE BED
And we—we five men—remained for a moment or two, in silence, looking on. In our breasts, I imagine, were widely different emotions. Surprise, and something else, was, apparently, the dominant feeling of Inspector Symonds and his colleague. They exchanged a few whispered words. Then the Inspector made a movement towards Miss Moore, with something in his mien I did not like. I placed myself in front of him.
"Well, sir," I inquired, "what do you want?"
He looked at me askance; then turned towards the policeman who had been placed in the passage to guard the outer door.
"What is the meaning of these people being here? I thought I told you to admit no one. Is this the way you obey orders?"
The policeman was apologetic.
"Well, sir, that young lady was through before I knew what she was up to. Then this gentleman sent me flying down the passage, and the rest of 'em got in; it was more than I could do to stop them."
The Inspector showed himself indisposed to accept his satellite's excuses.
"Tell that for a tale, my man; you will hear of this again. I will only have men with me who are able to carry out to the letter the instructions I give them." He addressed himself to me. "Mr. Ferguson, if you are not careful you will get yourself into trouble. You appear not to realise the serious nature of your conduct. It is not what I should have expected from a gentleman in your position. Surely you cannot wish to place yourself in opposition to the law?"
"Thank you for your warning; and don't you trouble yourself about my wishes. Let me advise you not to step out of the four corners of your province; men circumstanced as you are sometimes take liberties, which is a mistake."
"Stand on one side, Mr. Ferguson. I do not take my instructions from you. I wish to speak to that young lady."
"Then speak to her from where you are—though what you can have to say to her is more than I am able to imagine. She is not well, and does not want to be brought into too close contact with undesirable strangers."
"Not well? What is the matter with her?"
"I might reply by inquiring what affair that is of yours; but I don't mind informing you that she suffers from hallucinations."
"Hallucinations? Oh, they're hallucinations, are they?"
There was something in his tone for which I could have knocked him down. He spoke to her across the room.
"What is your name?"
"My name? I don't know what my name is."
"Not know your name? Come, that won't do. Tell me what your name is."
"The lady does not know her name; do you not hear her say so? You will doubt the lady's word, Mr. Symonds, at your peril."
"Remove your hand; do you wish to dislocate my shoulder? You forget your own strength, as well as other things, Mr. Ferguson. If you will not tell me who this lady is, and she herself cannot, then I must detain her till inquiries have been made."
"Detain her? What do you mean?"
"This lady has forced her way into this room, and I have myself heard her, with my own ears, accuse herself, at least, of participation in the murder of this unfortunate man."
His colleague chimed in: "There can be no sort of doubt upon that point. I heard her too. She said, 'I killed him.'"
He went to the other side of the bed, and replaced the sheet over the dead man's head and face. The policeman put in his word.
"I beg your pardon, sir, but she's been behaving in the most extraordinary manner in the other room. It seems, from what she's been saying, and doing, that she was there when the gentleman was being murdered, and she's been acting it all over to herself again as it were. Struck him with a great knife, she said she did."
"You heard her admit that she struck him with a knife?"
"I did—more than once; and these two gentlemen, and that lady heard her, too. She said that she meant to kill him all along; and then she said she struck him in the back with a great knife, and he fell forward on his face; and she acted how she struck him, and how he fell."
"In face of that statement my duty's plain; the lady must be detained."
He was going on, but I cut him short.
"Then I say that the lady shall not be detained; I will save you, Mr. Symonds, from making one of the most serious mistakes you ever made in your life. Miss Adair, escort the lady from the room. I will see that no one touches her. Now, constable, out of the way."
I moved towards the policeman, who did not wait for me to touch him. He slipped aside. The Inspector interposed.
"Now, Mr. Ferguson, I warn you to be careful. May I ask you, Dr. Hume, to explain to this gentleman what are the consequences of impeding the police in the execution of their duty. You might also point out to him how worse than futile such attempts always are."
Hume was standing near the door. Now he came into the middle of the room. I was surprised by the alteration which had taken place in his appearance since I had observed him last. He seemed to have all at once grown old. Outwardly he was cool and calm; but I, who had some knowledge of the man, perceived that he was making a strenuous effort to retain the mastery of himself in face of some most unusual emotion. He spoke with an exaggeration of his usual deliberative manner.
"You are aware, Mr. Symonds, that I am not a likely person to interfere with the police in the execution of their duty; but it happens, in this case, that I am acquainted with this young lady, and am sure that she has had no more to do with this crime than"—he paused, he drew in his lips, as if to moisten them—"I have. The account which your officer has given you of her behaviour in the adjoining room is very far from being an accurate representation. She is at present suffering from an obscure mental disease. If you were to proceed to arrest her you would run an imminent risk of permanently disturbing the balance of her brain, and of driving her stark mad. The act, and the responsibility for the consequences of the act, would be yours. Let me finish, Inspector. I quite understand that if you were to allow her to pass entirely from your purview you would be assuming a weighty responsibility in a different direction. I am therefore prepared to give you my personal guarantee that she shall remain at your disposal as witness, or in any other capacity, until it has been made plain that she has had no connection whatever with this most unfortunate affair."
"First of all, what is the lady's name, who is she, and where does she live?"
"She is Miss Bessie Moore, the well-known actress, and she lives with this other lady. Miss Florence Adair, at 22, Hailsham Road, Brompton."
"I'm not much of a theatre-goer, but I have heard of Miss Bessie Moore. I wasn't aware that she was" He finished his sentence by touching his forehead with his finger.
"I am prepared to certify that, at present, she is mentally incapable; and that to place her under arrest would be to imperil not only her sanity, but her life."
"Very good. And in the presence of these witnesses you undertake to produce her whenever she's required."
"I do."
"And does Mr. Ferguson join you in that undertaking?" I informed him that I did. "And where is Miss Moore going now?"
"To her own home."
"One of our men ought to go with her."
"One of your men will do nothing of the kind," I observed.
Hume said the same thing with a greater flow of language.
"If you give me notice of Miss Moore's being required, for any purpose whatever, I will undertake to produce her within the hour. More, if I have reason to suspect my capacity to continue that guarantee I will advise you on the instant."
"Good. On that understanding Miss Moore is at liberty to go—for the present."
We four went out of the room, the two women in front, Hume and I behind. Miss Moore had not spoken while the argument was being carried on with the inspector. When we reached the corridor she turned to me.
"Where am I going to be taken? I want to speak to you."
"You had better return with Miss Adair to Mrs. Peddars room—for the present, at any rate. I will come to you immediately."
"You will be sure to come?"
She laid her hand upon my arm.
"Certain. I will be there almost as soon as you are."
Hume came forward.
"I also wish to speak to you."
"You? No! I don't wish to speak to you—not to you!"
She shrank from him as if he had been some leprous thing. When they had gone he turned to me with eyes in which there was a strange something, whose meaning, just then, I did not attempt to decipher; though I was dimly conscious, as my eyes looked into his, of an odd sensation of wonder as to whether the doctor himself might not be going mad.
"What is it which actuates your moves in this game which you are playing? To save your neck, do you propose to hang her, as well as Philip Lawrence?"
That is what he said to me. To save my neck! The words rang in my ears as I mounted towards the housekeeper's room. They were to me as the germ of an idea.