Читать книгу The Greatest Murder Mysteries of Mary Roberts Rinehart - 25 Titles in One Edition - Mary Roberts Rinehart - Страница 84

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Well, that's all there was to it. As I said at the beginning, this is really Tish's story. She told us the whole thing that night sitting up in bed, with the Chief of Police and the hospital superintendent on one side of the bed, and Miss Lewis and I on the other. Aggie lay on the couch with a cubeb cigarette burning beside her, and stared at Tish with admiration mixed with awe.

"In the first place," said Tish, to the Chief of Police, "here are the two towels that figure in the case. One of them is the one that hung Mr. Johnson's body three nights ago to the chandelier, the other is the one with which the ape, Hero, is supposed to have committed suicide at the Zoo the following night. As you see, the two towels are alike. Do you know what S. P. T. stands for?" she asked.

"I can't say I do," said the Chief of Police, and picked up one of the towels.

"Humph!" said Tish. "Well, it means 'Sick Patient Towel,' and they are used in hospitals for tying up delirious patients. The trouble was, there wasn't a delirious patient in the hospital strong enough to walk, let alone tie up a body to a chandelier.

"But before I learned from Bates what S. P. T. meant, I'd been to the Zoo. That was yesterday morning. Maybe you believe that a lonely monkey will commit suicide; maybe he will, I don't know. But when he hangs himself with a roller towel from the Dunkirk hospital, I want to know how he got that towel."

"Oho!" said the Chief of Police, "so the little rascal got loose, did he?"

"He did not," said Tish tartly. "They said he was lonely for his keeper. Very well, said I, where is his keeper? Where is this man he was so fond of that he couldn't live without him? The answer, gentlemen, was that this keeper was a patient in the Dunkirk hospital, as the result of being crushed almost to death by the beast that was supposed to be pining for him! The keeper's name was Wesley Barker!"

''Barker!" said Tommy. "Why, that was the big Englishman—! Go on. Aunt Tish."

"I came back to the hospital with a strong desire to talk to Wesley Barker, but Wesley Barker was not in the hospital. He had been dismissed three days ago. Bates recalled taking his dismissal card to the elevator man, about seven o'clock Tuesday evening. That put Barker out of the case, apparently, but I sent for Jacobs and asked him how easily a man could get into the building at night. He said it was impossible. The doors are always locked, the basement entrances and fire-escapes lead from the courtyard, and the courtyard is locked and in charge of a gate man. That seemed to cut out Wesley Barker, as I say. If he was out, he could hardly get back without using dynamite.

"I got out my notes again, and went over then I couldn't see how Miss Blake and Miss Linda Smith were mixed up in it. They were the day nurses in K ward. Miss Smith in charge and Miss Blake assisting. I had several notes on them: Tuesday at midnight Miss Smith coaxed the night nurse to go to the basement with her, where the patients' clothes are kept in lockers: she was missing for a time, and when Bates saw her later she carried a 'darkish bundle,' possibly clothing. Why?"

The Chief of Police looked wise; he had a way of wriggling his nose like a rabbit.

"The next morning, Miss Blake being ill, we heard Miss Smith crying in her room and blaming herself for the girl's condition," Tish went on. "Again, why?"

"On Wednesday night Miss Blake, still weak and ill, made a complete search of the third floor. Not another nurse in the house would have gone there, or to the mortuary and later to the roof, as she did. Some strong purpose sent the girl, of course—but what?

"That night, following Miss Blake to the roof, my nephew was thrown through a skylight. Later he confessed to a bite on the shoulder. The same night, apparently in a spirit of wanton mischief, the guinea-pigs in the laboratory were killed and three rabbits were taken away. Miss Blake had been there. My nephew confessed later to finding a rosette from her slipper there. Again—why?"

Tish stopped and looked at the Chief of Police, who sat stroking his chin.

"How would you have gone about the case, Mr. Chief of Police?" Tish demanded.

"Probably much as you did," he said, looking at her with a patronizing smile. "It's a simple matter when we know the answer, to say that two and two make four, but you are giving me the four, and asking me whether you reached that conclusion by adding three and one, or two and two, or four and nothing. Given a certain number of clues, the logical mind often achieves remarkable results, but it is usually the trained mind. That you succeeded so well, my dear lady, I consider remarkable. Remarkable!"

"Given the same clues," Tish persisted, "you'd have reached the same result?"

"Undoubtedly."

"Well," said Tish, mildly. "It's strange that I couldn't There were a few gaps my mind wouldn't jump. And I noticed your men here seemed to feel the same way. It seemed like some distance from a roller towel in the Zoo to Johnson's brown tweed coat."

The Chief of Police looked uneasy.

"By exactly what mental process did you connect the two?" he asked, wriggling his nose.

"I didn't," said Tish cahnly. "While you and your men were measuring finger-prints and reassembling Mr. Johnson from where he'd been scattered to, I did what any person with common sense would have done, I went to Miss Blake and asked her!"