Leacock thrust his chin out, and for the first time during the cross-examination his eyes became animated.
“Why? It was the only honorable thing to do. You had unjustly suspected an innocent person; and I didn’t want anyone else to suffer.”
This ended the interview. Markham had no questions to ask; and the deputy sheriff led the Captain out.
When the door had closed on him a curious silence fell over the room. Markham sat smoking furiously, his hands folded behind his head, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. The Major had settled back in his chair, and was gazing at Vance with admiring satisfaction. Vance was watching Markham out of the corner of his eye, a drowsy smile on his lips. The expressions and attitudes of the three men conveyed perfectly their varying individual reactions to the interview—Markham troubled, the Major pleased, Vance cynical.
It was Vance who broke the silence. He spoke easily, almost lazily.
“You see how silly the confession is, what? Our pure and lofty Captain is an incredibly poor Munchausen. No one could lie as badly as he did who hadn’t been born into the world that way. It’s simply impossible to imitate such stupidity. And he did so want us to think him guilty. Very affectin’. He prob’bly imagined you’d merely stick the confession in his shirt-front and send him to the hangman. You noticed, he hadn’t even decided how he got into Benson’s house that night. Pfyfe’s admitted presence outside almost spoiled his impromptu explanation of having entered bras dessus bras dessous with his intended victim. And he didn’t recall Benson’s semi-négligé attire. When I reminded him of it, he had to contradict himself, and send Benson trotting upstairs to make a rapid change. Luckily, the toupee wasn’t mentioned by the newspapers. The Captain couldn’t imagine what I meant when I intimated that Benson had dyed his hair when changing his coat and shoes. . . . By the bye, Major, did your brother speak thickly when his false teeth were out?”
“Noticeably so,” answered the Major. “If Alvin’s plate had been removed that night—as I gathered it had been from your question—Leacock would surely have noticed it.”
“There were other things he didn’t notice,” said Vance: “the jewel-case, for instance, and the location of the electric-light switch.”
“He went badly astray on that point,” added the Major. “Alvin’s house is old-fashioned, and the only switch in the room is a pendant one attached to the chandelier.”
“Exactly,” said Vance. “However, his worst break was in connection with the gun. He gave his hand away completely there. He said he threw the pistol into the river largely because of the missing cartridge, and when I told him the magazine was full, he explained that he had refilled it, so I wouldn’t think it was anyone else’s gun that was found. . . . It’s plain to see what’s the matter. He thinks Miss St. Clair is guilty, and is determined to take the blame.”