Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 48, No. 1, January 2003

Walker spoke with huge relish, and there was a general mutter of agreement and awe. Jacob Pole nudged Erasmus Darwin and said softly, “There you have it. The word according to Joe Walker. Seems that everyone here buys it, too. But I’ll be damned if one way or another it does us a bit of good.”

Darwin had been sitting with his head tucked down on his chest. He roused himself and said, “Then damned you must be, Jacob. Because what we heard here is of the utmost importance and relevance. In fact, it is sufficient. We can depart. However, first let us buy another round for all present, so that we are perceived to leave in a state of grace.”

“I feel, Collie, like Buridan’s ass, drawn equally strongly toward two desires.” Darwin was sitting in Wentworth’s rooms on M Staircase in Second Court. The window was open, and gusty winds blew papers across the desk in front of it. Another storm was on the way.

“Except,” went on Darwin, “I am in rather worse plight than Buridan’s donkey. I am drawn not in two directions, but in three. First, I need to speak with Thomas Selfridge, the young student who has rooms above Elias Barton.”

“That should be simple enough. He is from the West Country, with no friends or relatives in Cambridge, and his reputation is of shyness and absorption in his studies. He seldom leaves his rooms, and today of all days I would expect to find him reclusive.”

“Then for the moment let us leave him there, preserved for our later attention. What of Dr. Arbuthnot? Will it be possible to converse with him?”

“Not for another hour. He keeps his practice in Sidney Street, a short walk from here. He was called in by the Master to examine Elias Barton because he is a graduate of the college, a frequent guest at High Table, and a man who can be relied on for discretion. However, he mentioned that should we need his services later, he would be taking lunch with a colleague at Corpus Christi.”

“Then our immediate options are reduced.” Darwin, reminded by Wentworth’s words that he and Jacob Pole had missed their own lunch, reached out to the tray on the table in front of them and picked up a slice of cold roast swan. His lack of front teeth made a challenge of biting into it, and he took the easier alternative of cramming the whole into his mouth. “Elias Barton and I knew each other,” he said indistinctly, “but only, as one might say, as ships in passing, and that more than twenty years ago. What manner of man was he, in intellect, in interests, and in spirit?”

Wentworth took his time before he answered. “He possessed an acute intelligence, that I will not deny. I never spent an evening next to him in Hall without feeling at the end that his was a mind more acute, more rapid, and more clear than my own. And I am not one to undervalue my own brains.”

“And his interests?”

“Diverse. His training was in history and the classical period, but he knew this university, and its leading minds, as well as anyone knows them.”

“In science, as much as in his own field?”

“Not to my knowledge. I would describe him as an interested observer of science and natural philosophy, rather than as a specialist. You seem surprised by that.”

Darwin had stopped chewing.

“I am. It is not the answer that I had expected, though I must wait until we meet with Dr. Arbuthnot before I can draw a conclusion. And Barton’s character? I notice that you have not spoken of that.”

Again Wentworth paused. “For good reason,” he said at last. “It is not my habit to speak ill of the dead, or to call into question a long-held good reputation. But what you heard in the tavern an hour ago did not arise full blown from the heads of college servants. For all his long tenure here, Elias Barton had certain eccentricities and... tendencies. As, for example, his refusal to change his rooms for larger ones when they were offered. But that is nothing. We all have our minor oddities. However, about a year ago Elias Barton changed his patterns of behavior.”

“How so?”

“He no longer took his meals in Hall, but always in his own rooms. He withdrew from social contact with other College Fellows. He ceased to give his usual course of lectures on significant intellectual trends of the past hundred years.”

“Did he not, as a lifetime College Fellow, have that option?”