The Madman's Room

‘Now let’s talk about Miss Blount, whom I find charming, by the way. Alas! I’ve a feeling she’s also hiding something. Did you notice how quickly she got rid of the mother and grandfather? And that story about the wheelbarrow which changed places doesn’t satisfy me either. It’s so senseless there must be an explanation….’

‘Twist, it’s you that I’m starting to worry about.’

The eminent detective ignored the remark. Walking along the sleepy street with long strides, he continued:

‘Yes, our charming hostess is hiding something. Did you notice how she jumped at the slightest noise and kept looking at the door?’

‘Was she afraid as well?’

‘No, that’s not it. At least, not exactly. She was anxious and on the alert, as if she were waiting for something to happen. It’s not the same thing at all.’

Hurst cleared his throat loudly, trying to keep his mounting anger under control.

‘A year ago,’ continued Twist, ‘you came to see me to talk about Thorne’s death. We went over the night of the tragedy in great detail. I remember drawing your attention to the peculiar movements of some of the players.’

‘That’s right, but without, of course, telling me who or what it was about. As usual, you see everything and I see nothing. That’s why I keep saying: “To see or not to see, that is the question.”’

‘What are you saying, old friend, what in heaven’s name are you saying?’

‘Don’t treat me like an idiot. I hope you understand that I know I’ve misquoted Shakespeare for the purpose of… What’s got into you?’

Twist had stopped and was looking up at the sky with an ecstatic smile. Pronouncing each syllable carefully, he said:

‘“To see or not to see, that is the question. To see or not to see, that is the question….”” Turning to Hurst, he said. ‘Archibald, it’s a fact that without you I would be the least significant of detectives. To see or not to see, don’t you understand? When Sarah Thorne opened the door….’

‘What did she see?’

‘She didn’t see anything at all. And that’s why she fell backwards: because she didn’t see anything at all!’

22

Hurst didn’t fall asleep until three o’clock in the morning, and even then Twist’s enigmatic words were still haunting his dreams. The next day, Thursday, the two of them were back in London, but they returned to Hatton again on the Friday to attend Sarah’s funeral.

It was four o’clock when the pall bearers carried the deceased’s coffin down the stone steps of the chapel leading to the Thorne family vault. The day was relatively mild, even though the sky was overcast and rain threatened, but the chapel itself was cold and damp. Francis, his expression sombre, had his arm around a tearful Paula. Patrick and Bessie followed in reverential silence behind them, with the young detective casting furtive looks all about him. Mike Meadows, wearing an impeccable dark suit, wore a haggard expression. As the undertakers left, Mrs. Dorothy Hilton burst into uncontrollable sobs while her husband tried to console her. Dr. Twist and Inspector Hurst stood at a discreet distance by the chapel door. As the slab was being put back in place, the policeman whispered in his friend’s ear:

‘Since the murderer always attends the victim’s funeral, I’m beginning to doubt it was actually murder. In my opinion, either Brian’s the guilty party, or there isn’t one.’

Twist didn’t reply. Behind his pince-nez, his eyes followed the direction of Patrick Nolan’s furtive looks.

Shortly afterwards, all present gathered in the salon of Hatton Manor except Patrick, who had caught his trousers on a rose bush and gone back to the Blount residence to change.

Mostyn served tea in an uncomfortable silence. Mrs. Hilton took a sip and retired after excusing herself. Her husband watched her go and seemed on the point of following her, but stayed where he was and took out a cigarette. Bravely overcoming his own grief, he tried to console the others. Mike Meadows also lit a cigarette and addressed the policeman:

‘Still no news of Brian?’

The scathing tone more than the question itself hinted at the incompetence of the police, from whom he was clearly not expecting a positive answer.

‘Still nothing,’ replied Hurst with a studied calm. ‘But, as I said before, it’s only a matter of time because we’re almost certain he hasn’t left the area.’

The inhabitants of Hatton Manor had been informed of the deceased’s visit to her solicitor and the contents of her will. Twist and Hurst had not been present, but Patrick Nolan reported that no one had appeared happy, least of all the young doctor. Although he hadn’t said anything, those present could easily imagine the questions on the tip of his tongue. “Why didn’t she tell me? And why cut me out of the will?” They themselves must have been asking why such a large part of the estate had gone to Brian.

Bessie, who had been anxiously looking at the clock, sighed when she heard the doorbell ring.