The Madman's Room

‘All in all — with the exception of the changes to his sister’s will — you could say that everything has gone according to plan, up until the day of Sarah’s funeral last Friday. That’s when he gets the shock of his life: the dead man he’s just resuscitated has been seen by Patrick Nolan! What are his feelings at that moment? It’s not hard to imagine. There are a thousand questions teeming in his bewildered mind. Is someone amusing themselves by playing the role of the dead man, just as he’d done himself several times? No, that’s ridiculous. An extraordinary coincidence? Hard to believe. What he’s most worried about is the crypt getting searched. If anyone should find the “fresh” corpse of Harris Thorne, that could put investigators on his track. Incidentally, there’s no way to tell whether a body’s been frozen or not. Possibly he didn’t know that. But, in any case, if they did guess it had been, that simply couldn’t be helped. On the other hand, it was absolutely vital to eliminate all traces of the conservation operation in the Blounts’ workshop, the simplest and surest way being to set fire to it. Which he does that same night.’ Twist shot a discreet glance at Paula. ‘There’s nothing to indicate that he realised Brian was in there when he threw the match through the window.’

Even though no one said so, it was quite clear that nobody in the room believed that the prospect of another murder would have deterred Francis in any way. Twist continued:

‘I wouldn’t have wanted to be in Francis’s shoes the following day, Sunday, when two tourists formally identified the driver of the car that had hit them. I’m sure you can recall the expression on his face the night we told him we were going to visit the chapel. Enough said. But none of that explains the double reappearance of Harris Thorne, who refuses to stay in his coffin. I feel I should warn you puzzle lovers in advance that the explanation is disappointingly simple. Over to you again, Mr. Nolan.’

Patrick undid the top button of his shirt. His eyes remained stubbornly riveted to the tips of his shoes as he started to speak:

‘I must tell you at the start,’ he said, in an almost unrecognisable voice, ‘that the Thurlows weren’t entirely unknown to me. They’re close friends and Louis is my associate in the detective agency.’

Redfern looked thunderstruck at the revelation, and Twist and Archibald Hurst both cleared their throats.

‘As I told you just now,’ continued Patrick, his face scarlet, ‘I began to vaguely understand the situation on Monday evening when I observed Francis in the process of transporting a corpse in a wheelbarrow, and then when I took a peep inside the workshop. But it was only the next day, when I learnt of Sarah’s death, that I began to understand the significance of what I’d seen. Many of the details still remained obscure, but I knew enough to be certain that Francis had killed his sister.

‘Why didn’t I denounce him then? For I could have easily have done so. Besides my own testimony, there must have been other clues in the workshop. I kick myself now for not having had the good sense to go back at the time, because then I would have discovered Brian and he wouldn’t now be in hospital… I wasn’t trying to cover up what Francis had done — far from that — but I didn’t want to be the one who denounced him… or, rather, I didn’t want one particular person to know I was the one. Because that person might think that I’d acted for personal reasons… She might even have thought I was lying to discredit the person who… and would end up believing Francis was innocent. I know none of this is very clear, but the person in question knows what I mean.’ Patrick continued to stare at the tips of his shoes. ‘To sum it up, Francis had to pay for his crime, but without me accusing him to his face.

‘What I decided to do could be criticised in some respects: there might have been simpler ways to lead the investigators to understand what had happened. But I wanted to maintain the atmosphere of the affair by progressively frightening the villain, backing him into a corner, and causing him to lose his reason once he realised that the end was inevitable. And a night inspection to the family vault seemed like a nice finishing touch. I didn’t know whether Francis had put the corpse back into its coffin, but an empty coffin would have been just as suspect. Anyway, to cut a long story short, the person I supposedly saw after the funeral, and who resembled Harris Thorne like two peas in a pod, never existed. I made the whole thing up. As for Harris Thorne the demon driver, he was made up, too. I contacted Louis Thurlow last Thursday and told him where to find the convertible. It was he who borrowed it and put it back after damaging the wing of his own vehicle, with the assistance of his wife. I don’t think I need to draw a picture.’

The chief superintendent was sitting with his mouth open.