“No one,” Gilloon said.
My mouth fell open. There was a moment of heavy silence. I broke it finally by exclaiming, “Are you saying we did not see a man hanged at five o’clock this afternoon?”
“Precisely.”
“Are you saying we were all victims of some sort of mass hallucination?”
“Certainly not. You saw what you believed to be Arthur Teasdale, just as you saw what you believed to be Hollowell. Again let me remind you: the lighting was poor and you had no reason at the time to suspect deception. But think back, Parker. What actually did you see? The shape of a man with a black hood covering his head, supported between two other men. But did you see that figure walk or hear it speak? Did you at any time discern an identifiable part of a human being, such as a hand or an exposed ankle?”
I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, mentally reexamining the events in the shed. “No,” I admitted. “I discerned nothing but the hood and the clothing and the shoes. But I did see him struggle at the foot of the gallows, and his body spasm on the trap. How do you explain that?”
“Simply. Like everything else, illusion. At a preconceived time Granger and Teasdale had only to slow their pace and jostle the figure with their own bodies to create the impression that the figure itself was resisting them. Teasdale alone used the same method on the trap.”
“If it is your contention that the figure was some sort of dummy, I can’t believe it, Gilloon. How could a dummy be made to vanish any more easily than a man?”
“It was not, strictly speaking, a dummy.”
“Then what the devil was it?”
Gilloon held up a hand; he appeared to be enjoying himself immensely. “Do you recall my asking if Teasdale had a trade? You responded that he had worked in a textile mill, whereupon I asked if the prison textile mill stocked silk.”
“Yes, yes, I recall that.”
“Come now, Parker, use your imagination. What is one of the uses of silk — varnished silk?”
“I don’t know,” I began, but no sooner were the words past my lips than the answer sprang into my mind. “Good Lord — balloons!”
“Exactly.”
“The figure we saw was a balloon?”
“In effect, yes. It is not difficult to sew and tie off a large piece of silk in the rough shape of a man. When inflated to a malleable state with helium or hydrogen, and seen in poor light from a distance of forty feet or better, while covered entirely by clothing and a hood, and weighted down with a pair of shoes and held tightly by two men — the effect can be maintained.
“The handiwork would have been done by Teasdale in the relative privacy of the death cell. The material was doubtless supplied from the prison textile mill by Granger. Once the sewing and tying had been accomplished, I imagine Granger took the piece out of the prison, varnished it, and returned it later. It need not have been inflated, naturally, until just prior to the execution. As to where the gas was obtained, I would think there would be a cylinder of hydrogen in the prison foundry.”
I nodded.
“In any event, between four and five o’clock, when the three of them were alone in the death annex, Teasdale murdered Hollowell with an awl Granger had given him. Granger then transported Hollowell’s body behind the stack of lumber a short distance away and probably also returned the gas cylinder to the foundry. The storm would have provided all the shield necessary, though even without it the risk was one worth taking.
“Once Granger and Teasdale had brought the balloon-figure to the gallows, Granger, as hangman, placed the noose carefully around the head. You told me, Parker, that he was the last to examine the noose. While he was doing so he inserted into the fibers at the inner bottom that sharp sliver of wood you found in the trap cubicle. When he drew the noose taut, he made sure the sliver touched the balloon’s surface so that when the trap was sprung and the balloon plunged downward the splinter would penetrate the silk. The sound of a balloon deflating is negligible; the storm made it more so. The dancing of the rope, of course, was caused by the escaping air.
“During the ensuing sixty seconds, the balloon completely deflated. There was nothing in the cubicle at that point except a bundle of clothing, silk and shoes. The removal of all but the hood, to complete the trick, was a simple enough matter. You told me how it was done, when you mentioned the silvery glimmer you saw above the trap.
“That glimmer was a brief reflection of lantern light off a length of thin wire which had been attached to the clothing and to the balloon. Granger concealed the wire in his hand, and played out most of a seven- or eight-foot coil before he threw the trap lever.
“After he had gone to his knees with his back to the witness chairs, he merely opened the front of his duster. No doubt it made something of a bulge, but the attention was focused on other matters. You did notice, Parker — and it was a helpful clue — that Granger appeared to be holding his stomach as if he were about to be ill. What he was actually doing was clutching the bundle so that it would not fall from beneath his duster. Later he hid the bundle among his belongings and transported it out of the prison when he went off duty. It was that bundle we saw burning in the fireplace in his cottage.”
“But how did Teasdale get out of the prison?”
“The most obvious way imaginable,” Gilloon said. “He walked out through the front gates.”
“What!”
“Yes. Remember, he was wearing a guard’s uniform — supplied by Granger — and there was a storm raging. I noticed when we first arrived tonight that the gateman seemed eager to return to his gatehouse, where it was dry. He scarcely looked at you and did not question me. That being the case, it’s obvious that he would not have questioned someone who wore the proper uniform and kept his face averted as he gave Hollowell’s name. The guards had not yet been alerted and the gateman would have no reason to suspect trickery.
“Once out, I suspect Teasdale simply took Granger’s car and drove to Hainesville. When Granger himself came off duty, I would guess that he obtained a ride home with another guard, using some pretext to explain the absence of his own vehicle.
“I did not actually know, of course, that we would find Teasdale at Granger’s place; I made a logical supposition in light of the other facts. Since Granger was the only other man alive who knew how the escape had been worked, I reasoned that an individual of Teasdale’s stripe would not care to leave him alive and vulnerable to a confession, no matter what promises he might have made to Granger.”
“If Teasdale managed his actual escape that easily, why did he choose to go through all that trickery with the balloon? Why didn’t he just murder Hollowell, with Granger’s help, and then leave the prison prior to the execution, between four and five?”
“Oh, I suppose he thought that the bizarre circumstances surrounding the disappearance of an apparently hanged man would insure him enough time to get clear of this immediate area. If you were confused and baffled, you would not sound an instant alarm, whereas you certainly would have if he had simply disappeared from his cell. Also, the prospect of leaving all of you a legacy of mystery and horror afforded him a warped sense of revenge.”
“You’re a brilliant man,” I told him as I sank back in my chair.
Gilloon shrugged. “This kind of puzzle takes logic rather than brilliance, Parker. As I told you earlier tonight, it isn’t always wise to discount the supernatural; but in a case where no clear evidence of the supernatural exits, the answer generally lies in some form of illusion. I’ve encountered a number of seemingly incredible occurrences, some of which were even more baffling than this one and most of which involved illusion. I expect I’ll encounter others in the future as well.”