The Red House Mystery by A. A. Milne (manga ereader txt) 📕

“Go on,” he said. “This is getting interesting.”

“He also knew something else,” went on Antony. “He knew that Robert was bound to betray his real character to you as soon as you met him. He couldn’t pass him off on you as just a travelled brother from the Dominions, with perhaps a bit of an accent; he had to tell you at once, because you were bound to find out, that Robert was a wastrel.”

“Yes. That’s sound enough.”

“Well, now, doesn’t it strike you that Mark made up his mind about all that rather quickly?”

“How do you mean?”

“He got this letter at breakfast. He read it; and directly he had read it he began to confide in you all. That is to say, in about one second he thought out the whole business and came to a decision⁠—to two decisions. He considered the possibility of getting Robert out of the way before you came back, and decided that it was impossible. He considered the possibility of Robert’s behaving like an ordinary decent person in public, and decided that it was very unlikely. He came to those two decisions instantaneously, as he was reading the letter. Isn’t that rather quick work?”

“Well, what’s the explanation?”

Antony waited until he had refilled and lighted his pipe before answering.

“What’s the explanation? Well, let’s leave it for a moment and take another look at the two brothers. In conjunction, this time, with Mrs. Norbury.”

“Mrs. Norbury?” said Bill, surprised.

“Yes. Mark hoped to marry Miss Norbury. Now, if Robert really was a blot upon the family honour, Mark would want to do one of two things. Either keep it from the Norburys altogether, or else, if it had to come out, tell them himself before the news came to them indirectly. Well, he told them. But the funny thing is that he told them the day before Robert’s letter came. Robert came, and was killed, the day before yesterday⁠—Tuesday. Mark told Mrs. Norbury about him on Monday. What do you make of that?”

“Coincidence,” said Bill, after careful thought. “He’d always meant to tell her; his suit was prospering, and just before it was finally settled, he told her. That happened to be Monday. On Tuesday he got Robert’s letter, and felt jolly glad that he’d told her in time.”

“Well, it might be that, but it’s rather a curious coincidence. And here is something which makes it very curious indeed. It only occurred to me in the bath this morning. Inspiring place, a bathroom. Well, it’s this⁠—he told her on Monday morning, on his way to Middleston in the car.”

“Well?”

“Well.”

“Sorry, Tony; I’m dense this morning.”

“In the car, Bill. And how near can the car get to Jallands?”

“About six hundred yards.”

“Yes. And on his way to Middleston, on some business or other, Mark stops the car, walks six hundred yards down the hill to Jallands, says, ‘Oh, by the way, Mrs. Norbury, I don’t think I ever told you that I have a shady brother called Robert,’ walks six hundred yards up the hill again, gets into the car, and goes off to Middleston. Is that likely?”

Bill frowned heavily.

“Yes, but I don’t see what you’re getting at. Likely or not likely, we know he did do it.”

“Of course he did. All I mean is that he must have had some strong reason for telling Mrs. Norbury at once. And the reason I suggest is that he knew on that morning⁠—Monday morning, not Tuesday⁠—that Robert was coming to see him, and had to be in first with the news.”

“But⁠—but⁠—”

“And that would explain the other point⁠—his instantaneous decision at breakfast to tell you all about his brother. It wasn’t instantaneous. He knew on Monday that Robert was coming, and decided then that you would all have to know.”

“Then how do you explain the letter?”

“Well, let’s have a look at it.”

—Antony took the letter from his pocket and spread it out on the grass between them.

“Mark, your loving brother is coming to see you tomorrow, all the way from Australia. I give you warning, so that you will be able to conceal your surprise but not I hope your pleasure. Expect him at three or thereabouts.”

“No date mentioned, you see,” said Antony. “Just tomorrow.”

“But he got this on Tuesday.”

“Did he?”

“Well, he read it out to us on Tuesday.”

“Oh, yes! he read it out to you.”

Bill read the letter again, and then turned it over and looked at the back of it. The back of it had nothing to say to him.

“What about the postmark?” he asked.

“We haven’t got the envelope, unfortunately.”

“And you think that he got this letter on Monday.”

“I’m inclined to think so, Bill. Anyhow, I think⁠—I feel almost certain⁠—that he knew on Monday that his brother was coming.”

“Is that going to help us much?”

“No. It makes it more difficult. There’s something rather uncanny about it all. I don’t understand it.” He was silent for a little, and then added, “I wonder if the inquest is going to help us.”

“What about last night? I’m longing to hear what you make of that. Have you been thinking it out at all?”

“Last night,” said Antony thoughtfully to himself. “Yes, last night wants some explaining.”

Bill waited hopefully for him to explain. What, for instance, had Antony been looking for in the cupboard?

“I think,” began Antony slowly, “that after last night we must give up the idea that Mark has been killed; killed, I mean, by Cayley. I don’t believe anybody would go to so much trouble to hide a suit of clothes when he had a body on his hands. The body would seem so much more important. I think we may take it now that the clothes are all that Cayley had to hide.”

“But why not have kept them in the passage?”

“He was frightened of the passage. Miss Norris knew about it.”

“Well, then, in his own bedroom, or even, in Mark’s. For all you or I or anybody knew, Mark might have had two brown suits. He probably had, I should think.”

“Probably. But I doubt