The Stowmarket Mystery | Page 5

butler,
footman, and two housemaids, but you yourself, at the coroner's inquest,
swore that the small Japanese knife was in its sheath during the
afternoon; indeed, the footman said it was there, to the best of his belief,
at midnight. Then, again, a small drawer in Sir Alan's writing-table had
been wrenched open whilst you were alone in the room. On this point
the footman was positive. Near the drawer rested the sword from which
its viperish companion had been abstracted. Had not the butler found
Sir Alan's body, still palpitating, and testified beyond any manner of
doubt that you were apparently sleeping in the library, you would have
been hanged, Mr. Hume."

"Probably."
"The air of probability attending your execution would have been most
convincing."
"Is my case, then, so desperate?"
"You cannot be tried again, you know."
"I do not mean that. I want to establish my innocence; to compel
society to reinstate me as a man profoundly wronged; above all, to
marry the woman I love."
Brett amused himself by rapidly projecting several rings of smoke
through a large one.
"So you really are innocent?" he said, after a pause.
David Hume rose from his chair, and reached for his hat, gloves, and
stick.
"You have crushed my remaining hope of emancipation," he exclaimed
bitterly. "You have the repute of being able to pluck the heart out of a
mystery, Mr. Brett, so when you assume that I am guilty--"
"I have assumed nothing of the kind. You seem to possess the faculty
of self-control. Kindly exercise it, and answer my questions, Did you
kill your cousin?"
"No."
"Who did kill him?"
"I do not know."
"Do you suspect anybody ?"
"Not in the remotest degree."

"Did he kill himself?"
"That theory was discussed privately, but not brought forward at the
trial. Three doctors said it was not worthy of a moment's
consideration."
"Well, you need not shout your replies, and I would prefer to see you
comfortably seated, unless, of course, you feel more at ease near the
door."
A trifle shamefacedly, Hume returned to his former position near the
fireplace--that shrine to which all the household gods do reverence,
even in the height of summer. It is impossible to conceive the
occupants of a room deliberately grouping themselves without
reference to the grate.
Brett placed the open scrap-book on his knees, and ran an index finger
along underlined passages in the manner of counsel consulting a brief.
"Why did you give your cousin this sword?"
"Because he told me he was making a collection of Japanese arms, and
I remarked that my grandfather on my mother's side, Admiral
Cunningham, had brought this weapon, with others, from the Far East.
It lay for fifty years in our gun-room at Glen Tochan."
"So you met Sir Alan soon after his return home?"
"Yes, in London, the day he arrived. Came to town on purpose, in fact.
Afterwards I travelled North, and he went to Beechcroft."
"How long afterwards? Be particular as to dates."
"It is quite a simple matter, owing to the season. Alan reached Charing
Cross from Brindisi on December 20. We remained together--that is,
lived at the same hotel, paid calls in company, visited the same
restaurants, went to the same theatres--until the night of the 23rd, when
we parted. It is a tradition of my family that the members of it should

spend Christmas together."
"A somewhat unusual tradition in Scotland, is it not?"
"Yes, but it was my mother's wish, so my father and I keep the custom
up."
"Your father is still living?"
"Yes, thank goodness!"
"He is now the sixth baronet?"
"He is not. Neither he nor I will assume the title while the succession
bears the taint of crime."
"Did you quarrel with your cousin in London?"
"Not by word or thought. He seemed to be surprised when I told him of
my engagement to Helen, but he warmly congratulated me. One
afternoon he was a trifle short-tempered, but not with me."
"Tell me about this."
"His sister is, or was then, a rather rapid young lady. She discovered
that certain money-lenders would honour her drafts on her brother, and
she had been going the pace somewhat heavily. Alan went to see her,
told her to stop this practice, and sent formal notice to the same effect
through his solicitors to the bill discounters. It annoyed him, not on
account of the money, but that his sister should act in such a way,"
"Ah, this is important! It was not mentioned at the trial."
"Why should it be?"
"Who can say? I wish to goodness I had helped your butler to raise Sir
Alan's lifeless body. But about this family dispute. Was there a
scene--tears, recriminations?"

"Not a bit. You don't know Rita. We