“I don’t understand—you puzzle me. What are you hinting at?”
“Is there any means of access to your wife’s room except by the door into the courtyard?”
“No. There are two windows, but they are heavily barred—and besides, I think they were shut.”
He looked at me questioningly.
“They were closed and latched on the inside,” I said promptly.
“In any case,” said Captain Maitland, “even if they had been open, no one could have entered or left the room that way. My fellows and I have assured ourselves of that. It is the same with all the other windows giving on the open country. They all have iron bars and all the bars are in good condition. To have got into your wife’s room, a stranger must have come through the arched doorway into the courtyard. But we have the united assurance of the guard, the cook and the houseboy that nobody did so.”
Dr. Leidner sprang up.
“What do you mean? What do you mean?”
“Pull yourself together, man,” said Dr. Reilly quietly. “I know it’s a shock, but it’s got to be faced. The murderer didn’t come from outside—so he must have come from inside. It looks as though Mrs. Leidner must have been murdered by a member of your own expedition.”
Twelve
“I DIDN’T BELIEVE. . . .”
“No. No!”
Dr. Leidner sprang up and walked up and down in an agitated manner.
“It’s impossible what you say, Reilly. Absolutely impossible. One of us? Why, every single member of the expedition was devoted to Louise!”
A queer little expression pulled down the corners of Dr. Reilly’s mouth. Under the circumstances it was difficult for him to say anything, but if ever a man’s silence was eloquent his was at that minute.
“Quite impossible,” reiterated Dr. Leidner. “They were all devoted to her, Louise had such wonderful charm. Everyone felt it.”
Dr. Reilly coughed.
“Excuse me, Leidner, but after all that’s only your opinion. If any member of the expedition had disliked your wife they would naturally not advertise the fact to you.”
Dr. Leidner looked distressed.
“True—quite true. But all the same, Reilly, I think you are wrong. I’m sure everyone was fond of Louise.”
He was silent for a moment or two and then burst out:
“This idea of yours is infamous. It’s—it’s frankly incredible.”
“You can’t get away from—er—the facts,” said Captain Maitland.
“Facts? Facts? Lies told by an Indian cook and a couple of Arab house-boys. You know these fellows as well as I do, Reilly, so do you, Maitland. Truth as truth means nothing to them. They say what you want them to say as a mere matter of politeness.”
“In this case,” said Dr. Reilly dryly, “they are saying what we don’t want them to say. Besides, I know the habits of your household fairly well. Just outside the gate is a kind of social club. Whenever I’ve been over here in the afternoon I’ve always found most of your staff there. It’s the natural place for them to be.”
“All the same I think you are assuming too much. Why shouldn’t this man—this devil—have got in earlier and concealed himself somewhere?”
“I agree that that is not actually impossible,” said Dr. Reilly coolly. “Let us assume that a stranger did somehow gain admission unseen. He would have to remain concealed until the right moment (and he certainly couldn’t have done so in Mrs. Leidner’s room, there is no cover there) and take the risk of being seen entering the room and leaving it—with Emmott and the boy in the courtyard most of the time.”
“The boy. I’d forgotten the boy,” said Dr. Leidner. “A sharp little chap. But surely, Maitland, the boy must have seen the murderer go into my wife’s room?”
“We’ve elucidated that. The boy was washing pots the whole afternoon with one exception. Somehow around half past one—Emmott can’t put it closer than that—he went up to the roof and was with you for ten minutes—that’s right, isn’t it?”
“Yes. I couldn’t have told you the exact time but it must have been about that.”