"As I drove in toward Westerhaven, I conned things over: and it struck me I’d be none the worse of seeing someone as soon as I could. My housekeeper was away nursing a sick relation, so no one could swear whether I’d been at home in the evening or not. If I could drop in on someone, there was always the chance of creating some sort of alibi. The bother was, I knew I wasn’t quite normal. That was only natural. But if I called on someone who saw me every day, they might spot that I was a bit on edge and that might lead to anything, you know. Then it flashed into my mind that Ringwood had come here lately. I hadn’t seen him for years. He wouldn’t see anything funny in my manner, even if I was a bit abnormal.
"I drove to his house, and there I had a bit of luck—a perfect gift from the gods. From a telephone message he got while I was in the room with him, I learned that Silverdale was out that night, one of his maids was in bed, and the maid wanted Ringwood to call at once. One’s mind works quickly, as I told you, and I saw in five seconds what a chance I’d got. I offered to pilot Ringwood over to Heatherfield. That meant I’d a perfectly sound excuse if I was seen in the neighbourhood of the house.
"I dropped him at the end of Lauderdale Avenue, as I expect he told you. During the run, I’d had time to think over things. There was only one solution that I could see. I had to get hold of these letters, cost what it might. I calculated that Ringwood’s visit wouldn’t be a long one; and as soon as he’d gone, I meant to drop into Heatherfield, silence the maid, and get the packet of letters.
"I must have run a bigger risk than I intended; for evidently I got into Heatherfield between Ringwood’s visit and yours. Can you wonder I was a bit pleased with my luck, when it all came out? I made the tourniquet while I was waiting about. Then I went up to Silverdale’s house, rang the bell, and asked for Silverdale. Of course he wasn’t there; but the maid knew me and let me in to write a note for him. Once she’d seen my face and recognised me, it was all up with her. One’s own skin comes first. I might have risked it if it hadn’t been that the drawer was locked and I had to burst it open. That meant leaving traces. And, since she knew me, that meant losing the game. So . . ."
He made a gesture as if using the tourniquet.
"I went home after that and destroyed these letters. Then I sat down to do the hardest bit of thinking I’ve done in my life. Time meant a good deal to me just then, for I had to have everything cut and dried before any questions were asked.
"Then the notion of a double game came into my mind. Why not follow up the cigarette-holder move and do my best to throw discredit on Silverdale. It was up to him to clear himself. That gave me the notion of anonymous letters. And obviously if I wanted any attention paid to them, I’d have to make a good start. That suggested giving the police the earliest information about the bungalow affair. If they got that from ‘Justice’ then they’d pay real attention to anything else he liked to send them. So I hit on the telegram idea as being the safest and the quickest. And, as a sequel to that, the obvious thing was to make a show in public of being on Silverdale’s side, so that you wouldn’t suspect me of having any possible connection with the anonymous letters."
"You overdid it just a trifle," Sir Clinton commented in a dry tone.
Markfield made a non-committal gesture, but did not argue the point.
"Then," he continued, "just as I thought I’d fixed everything neatly, this creature Whalley descended on me. He’d taken the number of my car at the gate and faked up a yarn about an accident, so that he could get me identified for him. He called on me and started blackmail. I paid him, of course, to keep him quiet. But naturally I couldn’t let him stand in my way after all I’d gone through safely. He wasn’t a very valuable life at the best, I gather.
"Anyhow, I got him up here one night—my housekeeper was still away—and throttled him without too much trouble. Then I took the body down into the garage, put it into my car, and drove out the Lizard-bridge Road a bit before tipping him into the ditch. I left the tourniquet beside his body. It was a specially-contrived one, meant to throw some more suspicion on Silverdale. I forgot to say that I borrowed Silverdale’s lab. coat to wear during the operation, in case of there being any blood. And I tore off a button and left it in Whalley’s hand. Then I put the torn jacket back on Silverdale’s peg, ready for the police.
"Naturally I was quite pleased to hear that Silverdale had been arrested. That was his look-out, after all. And he seemed to be in trouble over an alibi, which was better news still. The next thing was to clinch the business, if possible.
"I’ve told you that once upon a time I played some parts in an amateur dramatic show. I was really not bad. And it struck me, after I’d seen you once or twice, Sir Clinton, that I could make myself up into a very fair copy of you. We’re about the same height to start with. I wouldn’t have risked it with anyone who knew both of us; but I’d learned that Avice Deepcar was out of town, and I thought I could manage to take in her maid easily enough.
"So I raided her place, posing as Sir Clinton Driffield—I’d had some notion of the sort in my mind for a while and had cards printed in London all ready: one of these print-’em-while-you-wait places which left no traces behind in the way of an address or an account. In my raid, I got a valuable document."
"It was a clever enough fake, Dr. Markfield," Sir Clinton said reflectively. "But you left one or two things in it that we took hold of easily enough. By the way, I suppose you simply traced Mrs. Silverdale’s writing from some old letters when you put the faked address on the code advertisements you sent to the newspapers?"
Markfield nodded.
"You don’t seem to have missed much," he admitted.
He rose slowly to his feet and put down his pipe.
"I think that’s the whole story," he said indifferently. "If you’ve got it all down now, Inspector, I’ll sign it and initial it for you. Then I suppose it’ll be a case of ringing up the Black Maria or something like that."
He glanced at Sir Clinton.
"You wouldn’t care to tell me how you worried the thing out, I suppose?"
"No," said the Chief Constable bluntly. "I don’t feel inclined to."
Markfield made a gesture as though regretting this decision. He drew his fountain pen from his pocket, unscrewed the cap deliberately, and moved round the table towards the sheets of paper which the Inspector had spread out for signature. A thought seemed to occur to him as he did so, and he bent forward to the apparatus on the tray. His manner was so unconcerned and the gesture so natural that neither Sir Clinton nor the Inspector thought of interfering before it was too late. Markfield put his hand on the tap of the funnel, and as he did so, his face lighted up with malicious glee.
"Now!" he exclaimed.
He turned the tap, and on the instant the whole house shook under a terrific detonation.
Chapter Nineteen. EXCERPTS FROM SIR CLINTON’S NOTEBOOK
Written after the murder at Heatherfield.
. . . The following things seem suggestive, (1) The break-up of the Silverdale ménage, with Silverdale turning to Avice Deepcar whilst Mrs. Silverdale lets Hassendean frequent her openly. (2) Hassendean’s interference with the usual routine of coffee serving after dinner at Heatherfield. (3) The "dazed" appearance of Mrs. Silverdale when she left the house after coffee. (4) The fact that the two shots which wounded Hassendean at close quarters were not fired in Ivy Lodge. (This exonerates Dr. Ringwood, who might otherwise have come under suspicion). (5) The disappearance of Mrs. Silverdale, who was last seen in Hassendean’s company. (6) The words: "Caught me . . . Thought it was all right. . . . Never guessed," which Hassendean uttered before he died. (7) The murder of the maid at Heatherfield, which was clearly done by someone she knew well or she would not have admitted him at that time of night. (8) The ransacking of one particular drawer in Mrs. Silverdale’s bedroom, suggesting that the murderer had full knowledge of her private affairs. (9) The envelope fragment with the date-stamp 1925, which might indicate that the drawer had held letters compromising to the murderer. (10) The old dance programmes on which asterisks stood for the name of some partner, who must have been intimate with her at that period.