She walked past Cobb and then Marc as if they werenot visible, and stood before her husband.
“Why, Mowbray?” she said in a hollow, pinchedvoice. “I need to know why.”
“What on earth are you talking about?” hesaid. “I was just – ”
“I heard everything. I’ve been standing atthe door for ten minutes.”
“Then you heard a lot of nonsense from these- ” He stopped in mid-sentence and stared at her,uncomprehending.
Her face was devastated, cadaverous – themore so because she was not able yet to force out an amelioratingtear. “I thought we were in this together, saving the province fromour enemies, getting you elected, setting up house here in the seatof power. It was all we shared, wasn’t it?”
“But – but we still do!” he stammered,looking much less sure of his ground now and not certain how heshould handle this crude interruption. “You don’t for a momentbelieve – ”
“I resigned myself to having no children tocomfort me in your many absences,” she continued, as if he had notspoken, in a toneless voice devoid of any passion and all the moreterrible and pitiable for that. “I got used to sleeping alone. Ipretended not to know of your unspeakable cravings because I lovedthe good things in you, the things that needed nurturing, that Ithought would flourish when we agreed to start again, as partners;when you made those promises to me on your mother’s grave.”
McDowell’s head bobbed and snapped back as ifhis wife’s words were a prizefighter’s blows. He tried to tear hiseyes from her remorseless gaze. Desperately he shouted to Marc,“Pay no attention to her. She’s been ill with a fever for two daysnow. It’s made her delirious. Hudson!”
Mavis McDowell had already turned to Marc. “Ihave the piece of torn paper you’ve been looking for,” shesaid.
“The bottom half of the note?”
“She’s crazy! You mustn’t listen toher! Hudson! Muriel!” McDowell tried to grab her hand, but shejerked away in disgust.
“I keep every tidbit of cloth and paper Ifind about the house, and Muriel does the same. I keep it all in abasket in my sewing-room. When it gets full, I give it to theSunday school at St. James, for the children to make religiouscrafts and toys out of. I remember Muriel emptying that waste-binover there, as she does every Monday morning. That little piece ofpaper will be in my basket.”
She turned to leave, and staggered. Cobbcaught her by one arm.
McDowell had collapsed in his chair. He lethis head drop into his hands, and he began to sob. “I’m so sorry,”he mumbled into his fingers, but he did not look up.
“Cobb, please take Mrs. McDowell to hersewing-room and fetch Muriel to her,” Marc said. “And have a peekin that basket.”
“Right,” Cobb said. “But from the look ofhim, I don’t think we’ll need no scrap of paper.” He guidedMavis McDowell slowly out of the room.
***
“Are you ready to tell me about it?” Marc said toMcDowell when the latter had composed himself enough to speak.
He nodded. “You were right about my seeingDougherty in the foyer that night. I almost fainted from theshock.”
“So you knew him by sight?”
“He was famous in New York, or notorious,depending on your viewpoint. I was in the courtroom when he took onTammany Hall and fought them to a draw. I was an admirer of his, ifyou can believe that.”
Marc was pretty sure why, but let McDowellcontinue.
“We all heard the rumours about his domesticarrangement, so I wasn’t surprised when he showed up that Septembernight in the club – in the special rooms at the back.”
Marc was surprised, however. “So youwere actually there the night the boy died in one of theanterooms?” It wasn’t, then, merely a question of McDowell’s nameappearing on Dick’s suspect-list: the two men had come face toface.
McDowell hung his head. But the sudden needto tell his story, to purge himself of whatever sins he hadcommitted, however despicable, was too strong. Without looking up,he said in a wobbly voice, “I was in the pleasure-pad.”
“Jesus!” Marc exclaimed, not hearing Cobbcome in and stand near the doorway. “It was you who killed thatinnocent boy!”
“It was an accident, a horrible accident.We’d done that bit with the dog-collar a dozen times. The ladenjoyed it! It was his specialty.”
Marc felt like collaring McDowell andthrottling him, but he knew that he must remain perfectly still,like a priest in the confessional.
“I ran out! The outer room was full ofregulars. All hell broke loose. I spotted Dougherty as I rushed by.He was the only non-member there. I didn’t know if he had seen myface clearly or if he knew who I was. I still don’t.”
“But your friends at Tammany Hall managed tohush the whole affair up?”
“Yes. They even closed down the brothel for afew weeks. But when no-one, including Dougherty, followed up withan official complaint, they reopened it.”
“And you were back in New York two monthslater. Where you learned from your Tammany contacts that Doughertyhad been secretly gathering evidence about the abuse of these boys,and that he even had affidavits.”
“We nearly shat ourselves when we heard aboutthis. But you don’t know Tammany Hall.”
“I’m learning quickly.”
“They framed Dougherty, I was told, and madea deal with him. He vanished. But the club members knew it had beena close shave. They shut down the special wing – for good.”
“And you decided it was safer to stayhome?”
“Yes. I came back and tried to save mymarriage.”
“And the province.”
McDowell managed a grim smile.
“So whether or not Dick recognized yououtright or had merely put your face to one of the names on hisroster of pedophiles, you could not take a chance on his remainingalive?”
“I am not a murderer. I didn’t murder thatboy in New York. I have done penance for that sin, and others, eversince. I have tried to be a prop to my suffering family and tobecome a productive citizen of my country. But I was in a state ofpanic that Saturday. I didn’t sleep a wink all night. FortunatelyMavis was busy Sunday afternoon and evening – after the morningservice. Late in the day, with Hudson and Muriel away on theirevening off, I went into the kitchen when I heard a noise, anddiscovered Reuben Epp there. He wasn’t drunk, but he had beendrinking. There was a madness in his eyes that sent chills up myspine. He started ranting and raving right away. He said theArchdeacon had condemned the Yankee lawyer and begged hisparishioners to rid the town of such vermin. I had heard thesermon, so I knew what he was babbling on about. I tried to calmhim down, but he got more and more agitated. He said that he knewexactly where and when Dougherty would be walking in the morning,and that he was going to carry out God’s will by killing the man,after which he intended to hang himself. He went on and on aboutwhat a worthless life he had led and how he wanted to end it all bydoing one good, shining deed.”
“Surely it was just talk – ”
“I thought so, too. But gradually I becameconvinced he meant it. He had come to our house to see if hiscousin or I would write the word ‘sodomite’ on a piece of paper. Hewanted to leave it on the body to show the world what he had doneand why. And who had inspired him.”
“Dr. Strachan.”
“As I realized that he was determined to dothis, one way or another, I was suddenly struck with the idea ofhelping him along. I suspected that the note was crucial to hisplan. I was also aware that when the drink wore off or the initialfervour subsided, he might yet get cold feet.”
“So you agreed to write the note?”
“Yes. We were alone in the house. I broughthim in here. I got out a calligraphy pen and in red ink, resemblingblood, I scrawled out the word he wanted.”
Marc wondered if McDowell had noticed theirony in that gesture, but said, “To suggest a religiousfanatic?”
“Or a lunatic from the asylum here.”
“And you tore it in two to further suggestthe killer’s state of mind?”