The doctor paused for a few minutes, obviously pondering what further details he should give us. The light had nearly gone, and I could just make out the strong outline of his clear-cut face from where I sat at the end of the window-sill opposite to him. The wind was rising and the rain was beating against the window now, the drops collecting in little rivulets and streams that wriggled down the panes. Then he added in his quiet, unemotional voice, “I attended her in her last hours, and at death’s door she confessed what she had done. For the sake of her peace of mind, and for the sake of my friend, I promised that her secret should be kept. I did not know until yesterday that she had previously made a similar confession to her brother in writing. Well, that, briefly, is the story, and that is why I could not be more explicit about the quarrel with Stella’s father and her natural dislike for me.”
Ethel, what did you think, I wonder, of the man of your choice, as you sat there on the settee by Janet’s side in the fast fading light. To me, it came in a sudden flash of enlightenment, the reason for the impressive power of the unemotional, unassuming man. Bedrock, fundamental, essential honesty was the one foundation of his quiet strength. A rock on which he stood deriding fear and all the petty evils that beset the half-and-halfer. I felt a flush of shame, that I could have allowed my amateurish reasoning to besmirch my belief in such a one. My sheets of notes, and my table of relative guilt, which I still carried in my pocket, scoffed at me aloud. But for you, Ethel, what a glow of happiness his words must have brought you! Of all of us you alone had trusted him through thick and through thin. You had overdrawn your account at the bank of blind belief, and your lover had met the debt and paid you back in full. No wonder your eyes were bright.
There was another little pause when The Tundish had finished speaking. We none of us made any comment and Allport again continued his explanations.
“As you already know, I found some burned papers in Miss Hunter’s bedroom grate, but you did not know that there was one unburned fragment among the rest. Quite unmistakably it was the corner of a photograph, and fortunately it was the corner bearing the photographer’s name. A little later in the drawing-room—you and Inspector Brown were there, Mr. Jeffcock—and once again by the sheerest piece of good fortune, I caught sight of exactly the same name across the corner of a photograph of Mr. Bennett that stood on the top of the piano.
“It had been taken in Sheffield by Parberry, and the letters r-b-e-r-r-y had straggled across the corner of the bit I had found in the bedroom grate, and allowing for the treatment it had received—the texture and quality of the heavy mounts were both the same—I could not be certain that the photo Miss Hunter had burned was a duplicate of the one on the piano, but somehow I felt that it might be, and I decided to find out more about it if I could, and as far as I might, the extent to which the two had been acquainted.
“I did find out a certain amount from my direct questions to Miss Hunter, but it was to Mr. Bennett that I was chiefly indebted, though I put no question to him. You will remember that one of the questions I asked you, Miss Hanson, was whether the doctor had ever shown any sign that he might perhaps be attracted by Miss Palfreeman?”
A quiet “Yes” came from Ethel’s corner of the settee.
“When I asked that question, Mr. Bennett quite unmistakably took a suddenly increased interest in the proceedings. I concluded that he had had a special interest in Miss Palfreeman himself, and I felt that there might still be a motive if Miss Hunter had committed the crime and not the doctor. Please don’t imagine that I actually arrived at my conclusions on such vague and shadowy material. I merely felt that the whole affair required further scrutiny.”
“But, even now, I don’t think I understand why she burned the photo. Why did she do it?” Ethel queried.
“She burned the photo because she didn’t want it to be found among her belongings. She would feel that it would be too patent that her old love-affair with Mr. Bennett still survived so far as she was concerned, and that if it came to light that Mr. Bennett had been obviously attracted by Miss Palfreeman, it might suggest a possible motive.”