The wrong letter

by Walter S. Masterman

“Now, my hearing is very good, and I was almost certain that there was no one there. Outside the door he found a piece of paper with a scribbled message on it. You know what that was because it has been in the papers. We searched the flat, but there was no one there. When we came back he picked up the evidence from the floor, and was reading it. He handed it back to me, and I saw that the letter from Sir James was with the other document. I could see then that he had got hold of this by a clever ruse, but I did not think it was anything more than a trick, though I did not like it.

“That night I stayed at his flat, and had very little sleep.

“I went over the scene at Leveson Square as I had done many times, and then I recalled that Collins had asked me to telephone for a doctor, and remained at the door while I called the old woman. When I came back he had spread mats on the floor in order not to obscure footmarks. He examined the floor himself, and said there were three sets of footmarks, Sir James’ and the unknown man’s, and then he said with a laugh, ‘and these, I think, are mine when I stepped to lay the rug,’ and he took off his shoes, and they fitted.

“I was so astounded that I had to help myself to a whiskey and soda, in order not to show my feelings, for the marks he found were under where the rug had been. Since he had spread it from the doorway, it must have been over the marks. It may seem surprising, but in the events which followed, this had entirely gone out of my mind, but now came back with added force. It is always said in my profession that we must never eliminate any possibility, however seemingly improbable.

“More or less for idle speculation, I began to think, as I could not sleep. Facts came crowding in. Mrs. Simmons had suppressed the fact that Sanders had come in the afternoon, that I did not know at the time, but I was sure that she would not hide a murderer. If that were so, then, as we found there was no possible means of leaving the room, and she had seen him go to his study and lock the door, the murder could not have taken place then. What remained? It must have taken place after the door was opened by us. But the only person who was for a moment alone with Sir James was Collins. But the thing was absurd. We should have heard the shot. I dismissed the whole thing from my mind. But it would keep coming back. Collins had turned up at my office at the very moment, with a plausible story of having been called up on the ’phone. He would, of course, have been able to get official paper, and knew my signature perfectly well. Motive—well, I have been too long in the service to look for motive till I have a case.

“The next day we went to Leveson Square, and the Home Office doctor mentioned that the bullet had only penetrated a little way into the skull.

“Forgive me for going into all this,” he said to Mabel.

“Go on,” she said, bravely. “I must know the truth.”

“I was on the alert, then, and I noticed that Collins started talking about his grievance against Boyce for letting the Press have details. As a rule, he would have picked up a point like that at once. The doctor had suggested a half charge as the explanation, but another came to my mind. An air pistol would make comparatively little noise, especially if one shouted out something at the same time. The whole appearance of Sir James was as though he was in a deep sleep. Here, again, my experience came in. I had known a similar case in India.

“The man who did the murder would have to be certain that he was asleep, or the plot would fail. There was only one way. Drugging! You might say why not poison, but here was no need, and always the risk of poison being found. A sleeping draught was all that was necessary, and then I remembered that Collins had slipped out the remark about Sir James feeling sleepy. There were two glasses which had contained whiskey, into which a sleeping draught could easily have been put.