John Carr - The Reader Is Warned Страница 19

They all looked at him.

'Just a minute, son,' said H. M. He put down his cigar on the edge of his plate. 'Do you mean you're proposin' to kill somebody else?'

'Yes,' said Pennik.

Again it was perhaps a full minute before anybody spoke. Then, anticipating any objection, Pennik explained himself with painstaking lucidity.

'You hardly need to point out to me, gentlemen, that so far I have put myself consistently in the wrong. I admit that. I am no master of strategy. I am a human being, and liable to act in a fit of impulse. I killed Mr Constable deliberately, in the firm and solemn conviction that I was 'doing good by it. But Mrs Constable's death - well, why not? Why not? If I acted in anger, why not?'

Masters's tone was flat.

'So you did that,' he said, 'because I said you couldn't kill an ant with a fly-swatter.'

'I accepted her challenge. Now she is dead. But hear me a little further!' He tapped his blunt forefinger on the table. 'I am not going to abuse a force which seems so simple to me and so mysterious to you. I said it must be used for good; and I meant just that. But I will not fail to use an opportunity like the present one. Think of what it means. To me has been given an opportunity such as has been granted to few men in the history of the world. I am explaining to children something they do not understand. I must prove it to them by nursery instances. Very well. When I speak to them tomorrow night, they will not be satisfied with talk. I will take a human life like a globe of glass in my hands, and smash it down on the floor before them: then they can see for themselves. I will tell them who is going to die, and where, and how. When they have seen the bone crack and the heart stop, they may possibly understand that I mean what I say.'

He drew in his breath. His excitement simmered down, and now he became cheerful with a restrained and ghoulish cheerfulness.

'Too much talk, too much talk,' he added, rubbing his hands together briskly. 'As Antony said to Cleopatra (eh, Miss Keen?), I am not here to talk. But there is something about your expression, Mr Masters, if you will excuse me for saying so, which always impels me to get above myself. Anyhow, that is what I propose to do. And I really do not see how you are going to stop me.'

'Steady, Masters!’ said H. M., sharply. 'Sit down.'

'But-'

'I said sit down, son.'

The chair creaked. All this time H. M. had continued to smoke with unhurried placidness; but he trimmed the ash off his cigar after almost every puff. Dr Sanders, however, was watching Pennik. And as Pennik leaned across the table towards Hilary during the first part of what was just said, he had never before noticed that Pennik had such a blubberlike mouth.

'If this gentleman,' began the chief inspector, 'thinks he can go over to France and show off; and if he thinks I can't stop him, then, by George! -'

'Are you goin' to be quiet?' interrupted H. M. He turned back to Pennik. 'Well... now. If you want to go and make this splash, it's your business. I don't see you'll be needed for anything to-morrow. There's the inquest to-morrow afternoon, of course, but your testimony won't be needed for that.'

Pennik showed quick interest.

'The inquest? What inquest?'

'On Sam Constable, the first victim.'

'I don't think I understand you, sir. There was an inquest on Mr Constable. And it was adjourned.'

'That's right, son. But since by law it's got to be held sooner or later, they're goin' to hold it to-morrow and get it over with.'

Pennik sat up straight.

'I still don't think I understand.'

'Looky here,' said H. M., rubbing his hands rather desperately over his forehead. 'A man dies, d'ye see? The police think there may have been dirty work.' (Here Pennik smiled.) 'So they get the inquest adjourned so's they can work on it. But if there's not enough evidence of any kind against anybody, then as a matter o' law the coroner has got to hold an inquest. They do that so that they can officially record the cause of death. A coroner's inquest is an inquiry into what caused death.'

'But they will not be able to tell what caused his death, will they?'

'No, they won't.'

'Then why hold the inquest?'

With a powerful effort H. M. kept his temper.

'I dunno,' he said. 'It's only the law. Lord love a duck, J didn't make it. Don't blame me. You got to have pity on our blindness; you got to remember that it's not every day a coroner has to hold an inquest on the vicdm of a telepathic conk over the onion. But, before the red specks start dancin' in front of my eyes, try to accept it. It's a matter of form -they'll return an open verdict sayin' they don't know how he died, that's all. So if you want to go to Paris or Timbuctoo, go ahead. You're not a witness.'

'I am aware,' said Pennik, enjoying himself, 'that I am not a witness. But I am the murderer, and therefore I feel some slight interest in the proceedings. When is this inquest to be held?'

"Three o'clock to-morrow afternoon.'

'Where?'

'At Grovetop. Look here, you're not thinking of goin'?' Pennik opened his eyes.

'Sir,' he replied, 'you must excuse my morbid interest in these public spectacles; but if you think I shall remain away from it you do not know your man. I may be only the murderer, but I am curious to hear what they say about me.' He looked thoughtful. 'Three o'clock: yes, that can be managed. An Air France plane is at my disposal, you may be glad to hear. I can attend the inquest and still be in plenty of time for Paris to-night. I will even make a statement, if you like. It may assist the coroner in his unfortunate dilemma.'

Chief Inspector Masters looked at him.

'You're not (hurrum!) you're not by any chance afraid of being lynched, are you, sir?'

Pennik laughed.

'No. You don't know your own countrymen, my friend. They may talk a great deal in private; but the quality which comes from an ingrained horror of making a scene will keep them quiet in public. If I am presented to one of them, the worst he will do is cut me dead; and I must contrive to put up with that.' '

'So you mean to go down there in all your glory, do you?'

'Yes.'

'And you seriously intend to go to Paris and - and -'

'Kill someone else? Yes, I do. With the best of motives, I do. Tell me, do you think I am a fraud now?'

Masters gripped the edge of the table.

'Why don't you tell me, Mr Pennik? You're the thought-reading bloke. Or pretend to be. Why don't you tell me?'

'With pleasure. You are thinking that I really did commit these murders; but that I did it in some commonplace physical way you have not as yet fathomed. Is that correct?

Ah, I see by your face it is. Well, since the "commonplace physical way" must be much more curious than any modest claim I make, I have no objection.'

'You haven't given any thought to the choice of the next victim, have you?'

'It will not be you, Chief Inspector. At heart you are not a bad fellow, and in your own way you are useful. No; in -'

Hilary spoke in a small, quiet voice.

'I am sorry; I simply can't stay any longer. I must get back to the office, and that's all there is to it.'

Pennik was deprecating but firm. 'My dear, your lightest whim shall be indulged. But that is not a whim; it is depressing nonsense. Didn't you hear what I said ? All that can be adjusted.'

'Oh, what's the good of talking like that? I don't want anything adjusted. I only want to get out of here. Pull your chair-'

'I am sorry,' said Pennik, his face clouding, 'that I was rather abrupt about revealing my plans. But I could not resist the expressive faces of these gentlemen, and so I was a little premature. Listen in pity while I explain what I mean. I don't want you to go back to the office. In fact, I had rather hoped to persuade you to come with me to Paris.'

For the first time since Pennik's arrival, Dr Sanders spoke.

'Take your hand off her arm,' he said.

It was as though everything in the restaurant had come to a standstill. And this was true in a literal sense as well. Though he was not aware of it, Sanders was the first to raise his voice above the studied muttering of the group by the window. He did not speak very loudly, even then; but it was like a stone flung through the window. And, in the background, the movement of waiters ceased.

'I beg your pardon?'.

'I said, take your hand off her arm,' Sanders repeated. Their voices were clearly audible now. Pennik hitched his chair round.

'Ah, my friend the doctor,' he said with an air of enlightenment. 'I had not noticed you. How do you do, sir? You sat there so quietly, doubtless thinking long, long thoughts, that I have been ill-mannered enough to overlook your presence.',

'I wonder if you can guess what the thoughts were.' Pennik made a weary gesture.

'Sir, we have had all this out before. Several times I feared I should have difficulties with you; once, at the Black Swan Hotel on Sunday morning, I was almost certain of it. But let me play the peacemaker. Please do not trouble me with parlour-games now. That business is of no consequence. It was an hors-d'ouvre, deliberately designed to catch the attention -'

'Oh.'

'And may I ask why you say that?'

'Because that's what I thought it was,' said Sanders.

Beside them, the big plate-glass windows went white with lightning, picking out every detail down to the turn of a lip or the design on a spoon. But Pennik had his back to it, so that Sanders could not see his face. He wished he could see it, for he had a feeling that the momentary change in the aspect of the window was no greater than the momentary change in Pennik's features. Thunder exploded after it, spreading out and losing itself in the curtain of the rain. .

Pennik spoke quietly.

'I still don't understand.'

'Well, this thought-reading. Masters got it out of Larry Chase on Sunday night that you'd been fishing for information about everybody. With this "reading-the-subconscious-mind" business you had us both coming and going. If we had something deeply worrying us, and you said, "This is what is in your subconscious mind," we couldn't very well deny it, could we? But all you needed was information. For the rest, intelligent deductive work combined with what, in a book I went after the other night, is called Muscle-reading-'

Hilary Keen, moving behind Pennik's back, was making frantic signals to him. But Sanders paid no attention. 'So if you really killed those two people -'

'if I killed them?' repeated Pennik. 'You said the same thing once before, if I remember correctly. And I must beg leave to give you the same answer and die same warning, which you were prudent enough not to disregard. Are you challenging me, sir ?'

Sanders pushed his coffee-cup to one side.

'Yes,' he said.

CHAPTER XVI

That it would ever stop raining seemed open to doubt. When the five-twenty train pulled out of Charing Cross, immersed in steam like a kettle, little could be seen from the windows. But the train was almost empty, so that they had a first-class compartment to themselves, and two of them were walking up and down within its confines. . It was barely five minutes later when H. M. spoke. He said:

'For the love of Esau, can't this caterpillar go any faster?'

'Perhaps I'd better go up and speak to the engine-driver,' suggested Masters, not without sarcasm. 'Give him half a crown, or something. Why the rush, sir? Fourways waited for you yesterday, when you promised to come down and didn't. Why can't it wait now?'

H. M. did not answer this. He sighted over his spectacles, put his fists on his hips, and glared at Dr John Sanders, who was sitting down.

'You young ass!' he said.

But Masters was pleased. 'How do you feel, Doctor?' he asked jocularly. 'No sudden palpitations of the heart coming on? No cold sweats or what not? Lummy, it did my heart good, and that's a fact! I mean to say, giving it to him bang in the snoot when he was so sure you wouldn't.'

'You think this is funny?' inquired H. M. 'Shut up, Masters! Now listen to me, son. Why did you do it?'

Sanders rose to this.

'Well, who does Pennik think he b, anyway ? A sort of god. who can walk about telling people when they'll die and whom they'll go to dinner with? His Teleforce is rubbish and you know it as well as I do. All right: let him go ahead and press the switch. We'll see what happens.'

'H'm,' grunted H. M., scratching the side of his jaw. 'Got the wind up, have you ?'

Sanders was honest.

'Yes, in a way I have. A little.' "Then why did you do it?'

(Why not admit it? Why not acknowledge that Hilary's blue eyes, Hilary's laugh, Hilary as she appeared to him in imagination now, had brought this about inevitably? Where Hilary was concerned, he and Pennik were like two dogs round a bitch. The simile was not a pretty or pleasant one; and he disliked himself even for thinking of it in connexion with Hilary; but, if you faced it, it amounted to that. Nor was there anything of the preux chevalier about Pennik. Pennik would kill him if he could, and that was that too. He remembered Pennik calling for his hat and coat, bowing, and walking quietly out of the restaurant into the rain; in itself, when you remembered Pennik's past behaviour, the most dangerous sign of all.)

Sanders looked up. 'Haven't you got any idea why I did it?'

'Me?' said H. M. 'Oh, sure. If s not insight I lack, if that needs any; it's the ability to prevent people doin' fat-headed things after I've expressly warned 'em not to. Pennik was waitin' for you. I hope you noticed that? But, oh no. Down went the gage of battle on the floor, and I hope you're feelin' proud of yourself. In spite of all the signs and warnings for five days -'

'But-'

' - you still couldn't take a hint. Why do you think that gal, Joe Keen's daughter, has been going about with Pennik and pampering his vanity so religiously? It's to prevent just exactly what happened this afternoon. It's to prevent Pennik from roundin' on you.'

The wheels of the train ratded and clacked under them.

'Do you mean that?' Sanders asked quickly.

‘Oh, son, do I mean it! Sure I mean it. I know it. Don't you realize Pennik wants you out of the way? Don't you know he's been waitin' for a legitimate excuse to show his claws? That's the trouble. Pennik, within his limits, is a perfectly honest man.'

Chief Inspector Masters made a noise.

H.M. looked at him.

'He is, though, Masters. You give me just one more raspberry, and I'll chuck this case straight back at you.'

'Now, now, Sir Henry! All I meant -'

'Pennik's got a conscience. I admit he can be pretty unpleasant at times. I've also got a suspicion he's going off his onion; and, unless somebody can right him, he'll go completely off it. But he honestly has got a conscience, that bothers him about Sanders. Little devil says yes. Conscience says no. Little devil says, "Go on; soak him." Conscience says, "No; if you did that it would be out of pure jealousy of anybody who comes near her, and would show you were no superman." Little devil says, "It'd be in the interests of science." Conscience says, "Science my foot." But now you've given him an excuse; and conscience goes overboard. He'll make you the next victim, if he can.'