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

“Not quite. A possible item of unfinished business still lies here.”

Pole stared at the pair of shrouded corpses, then at the open trapdoor. “More bodies? I passed Wentworth in Second Court. He told me what happened to Simon Thorpe.”

“No more bodies. I hope that we are done with deaths. But there remains another matter here, and it is one better handled solo than duo — a matter this time of life.”

“About time. I began to wonder if you had brought me to a college or a charnel house.”

Pole squelched away, leaving Darwin alone again in near-darkness. Night was far away, but rain fell heavily and the sky was black from horizon to horizon.

The sound, when it came, was scarcely audible above the hiss of rain along gutters. Light footsteps entered E Staircase, paused for a moment outside Elias Barton’s chambers, then continued slowly and hesitantly up the stairs.

Darwin allowed half a minute before he followed. Very little light bled into the staircase from above, and he almost had to feel his way. He tapped on the open door, two flights up. “It is Erasmus Darwin. I am alone.”

He entered without waiting for a reply. A figure in a rain-soaked overcoat sat huddled on the chair by the desk.

“You returned.” Darwin sat down on the only other chair. “You were wise to do so. The death of Elias Barton is resolved, and you are under no suspicion. I know your secret, but it is safe with me.”

Selfridge looked up. “I felt that I had to leave. Dr. Wentworth was not satisfied with the Master’s explanation, I knew that from his questions of me. There would have been more probing, perhaps a search of my room, and who knew what digging into my private affairs. There are already those in the college who believe that I was Elias Barton’s catamite, and might therefore have been involved in his death.”

“Did Barton in fact seek your affections?”

“Not at first. Initially I believed that his assistance to me in my studies was no more than natural kindness on his part, and the duties of a tutor toward his student. But I was wrong. His true motives were revealed when he at last made open advances toward me.”

“Which you, of course, were obliged to rebuff — or provide to Elias Barton the surprise of his life.”

That produced from Selfridge a hint of smile. “A surprise indeed. Also an inevitable discovery.”

“It is amazing that has not happened already. You have led a charmed life at St. John’s. If Dr. Arbuthnot, after examining Elias Barton’s body, had chanced to see you, that would have been sufficient.”

“Why so? My voice, my movements, my behavior—”

“—are not sufficient. You possess undisguisable features, such that to the eye of a trained physician you would not for one minute pass muster as a man. What is your name — the name with which you were christened?”

“You know! How could you possibly know?”

“More from an accumulation of detail than a single instance. One who lacks the laryngeal prominence of the human male should be careful always to wear high-neck collars, and never a loose shirt. Your voice, which most of the time you held deliberately to its lower register, rose sharply in excitement when you discussed Newton and your own work. Finally, your close and accurate observation of Barton’s dress style and color preference seemed more like a woman than a man, unless you were indeed of Elias Barton’s own amatory persuasion. Again, I ask your name — your real name.”

“I am Athene Selfridge. My late father valued knowledge above all things, and told me I was named to achieve it. The pity is that he did not also inform me of the obstacles that would be set in my path.”

“It is likely that he did not comprehend them, any more than I do, or any man. We can only surmise the frustration of a woman of talent, seeking success in what has so far been regarded exclusively as a male domain.”

“It is worse than that. Consider this college — your own college, from which you are doubtless proud to have graduated. It is an institution which claims to cultivate the highest forms of knowledge — yet it is an institution which denies to half of humanity a presence within its walls.”

Darwin nodded. “What you say is sad but true. And I see no change in sight, although I would like to think that time will prove me wrong.”

“Time?” Athene Selfridge’s voice rose, shedding the low tone she had adopted as a man. “You speak of time, but how much time? How long am I supposed to wait, Dr. Darwin? One century will it be, or perhaps two?”

“I would hope not. But because I can in all honesty discern no signs of prompt change, may I offer advice? Why not return to your home in the West Country, and work via correspondence with the leaders of mathematics. You already mentioned an exchange of letters with Monsieur Euler. An assumed name for you, or simply the use of A. Selfridge, would—”