“So saying, he held out his good hand and Rose naturally held out hers. And at that moment Philip came into the room.
“He was covered in snow and had forgotten to ring the doorbell in his haste to escape the weather. With his collar turned up and his hat jammed down on his head, his eyes were barely visible, but he nevertheless shot a furious glance at the couple and looked Buresford up and down as if he were an intruder. At that point Henry Strange arrived and, no doubt sensing the tense atmosphere, proffered some drinks and proposed a game of bridge, which lasted two hours. At half-past ten John Buresford excused himself and left, at which point Philip asked to speak privately to the colonel and they went into the study together and shut the door.
“Henry Strange knew very well what it was all about. During the bridge session, Rose had observed him looking out of the corner of his eye at Philip and herself, but had been too flustered to dwell upon it. Despite Philip’s insistence, she had never plucked up the courage to confront her uncle about her marriage intentions and so, knowing the characters of both men, she now feared the worst. Her uncle was inflexible, and Philip was as stubborn as a mule. Things did not bode well…
“She went into the kitchen to await events and in less than five minutes could hear voices raised in anger; hardly a surprise, but disturbing nevertheless. Even though two doors separated her from the two men — the kitchen door opening onto the corridor with the study door opposite — she could still hear them, as could Jasper, her uncle’s manservant, who lived on the floor above. As the quarrel showed no signs of abating, Jasper came down to join Rose in the kitchen. She explained what she knew of the situation and together they went into the corridor to stand outside the study door. Suddenly there was a booming, resonant sound and the voices stopped abruptly. Jasper and Rose looked at each other and stood there, straining to hear if the dispute was about to start again. But to no avaiclass="underline" There was not the slightest sound…
“Now, before I go any further, I need to tell you about the gong and the dagger.”
Dr. Twist turned towards the mantelpiece and, indicating one of the oriental arms, asked his friend:
“You guessed quite correctly a few minutes ago: That was one of the objects that reminded me of this business. You know what it is, I suppose?”
“Of course,” replied Cullen. “It’s a kandjar, a traditional Indian dagger.”
“Well, as it happened, there was a kandjar in Colonel Strange’s study, and there was also a gong. A very remarkable gong. Superficially, there was nothing to distinguish it from any other, but the Indian who sold it to him claimed that it possessed supernatural powers.
“Let me guess,” exclaimed Cullen. “A gong which would sound without anyone having struck it!”
“Precisely. And whenever that occurred, it was best not to listen, for it was an ill omen. It announced someone’s imminent death, or so it was said. Colonel Strange used to talk frequently about the legend, although nobody in the house had ever heard it emit a sound. Or, at least, without human intervention: for Rose, as a child, loved to give it a little tap from time to time. Its very sound emphasized the oriental nature of the room, with the thick Persian carpet and exotic weaponry, and the shelves full of trinkets, miniature elephants and other statuettes in ivory. But until that moment, at least since the colonel’s return from India, it had never sounded by itself.
“Back to Jasper and Rose: Following the booming sound, they had heard nothing, even though they had been listening attentively. Now, worried about the prolonged silence, they made their way to the study, knocked gently, and tried the door. It was locked from the inside, but Philip unlocked and opened it immediately. He looked very pale as he let them in. Once inside, they could see that the window opposite the door was wide open. On the wall to their right, near the window, hung the gong and the kandjar. The body of the colonel lay on the floor almost beneath the kandjar. There was an arrow piercing the colonel’s neck and Philip told them there was nothing they could do, for the colonel was quite dead. Rose stood there in stunned silence while Jasper, who had kept his head, asked Philip to describe what had happened. Unfortunately, the young man’s explanation seemed so preposterous they feared he had lost his reason and might even have killed Colonel Strange himself in a fit of uncontrollable anger.
“Needless to say, the question of marriage was at the root of the quarrel. As the colonel rejected his arguments with a cold authority, Philip had tried to keep his composure while pacing to and fro. Eventually he couldn’t take any more of the biting comments and, reconciled to defeat but shaking with anger, was about to leave the study when it happened. He was facing the door and the colonel was standing at the other end of the room with his back to the window, seemingly studying the kandjar and the fateful gong on the side wall. Suddenly Philip heard a curious sound, like a booming vibration. He thought immediately of the gong because of the legend Rose had recently told him about. He turned around and saw Henry Strange staggering and trying to clutch at the wall for support, in a vain attempt to remain upright. But, before Philip could reach him, he collapsed on the carpet. It was only then that Philip noticed the arrow in Henry’s neck. Because the window was open, he immediately thought that the shot had come from outside and went over to take a look. There was nothing, not so much as a cat. The street was silent and deserted. A solitary bronze street lamp illuminated the scene and created a sheen on the surface of the snow, which he could see was unmarred by footprints or marks of any kind. Opposite him was an unbroken brick wall without a single nook or cranny. Where could any mysterious archer have hidden to fire the deadly shot? There was nowhere. It slowly dawned on Philip that all the evidence pointed to him being the only one who could have committed the murder.”
The eminent criminologist paused for dramatic effect. After favouring him with a rather cynical look, the superintendent commented:
“An intriguing problem, I must say. If Philip was indeed innocent, which you seem to be implying, there are a couple of unexplained phenomena. First, obviously, there’s the gong that reverberated all of its own accord by way of announcing an imminent death. Secondly, there’s Colonel Strange’s abrupt demise in seemingly impossible circumstances. Perhaps you could elaborate on the latter?”
“Of course,” agreed Twist with an ironic smile. “And I’ll try to be objective even though I already know the solution. First, I must tell you about the snowman at the end of the cul-de-sac, made by some schoolboys during that same afternoon. They had decorated it with whatever had come to hand: an old broom; the traditional carrot for its nose; a battered old hat on its head; and an orange on top of the hat. With regard to the layout of the street: Starting from the T junction formed by the cul-de-sac and the main road to the south, it was a good thirty yards north to the wall at the end where the snowman stood guard. The high wall ran the full length of the west side and on the east there were three houses next to one another side by side, that of the Stranges being the last. Its front door was therefore some twenty yards from the T junction, with the street lamp almost opposite providing bright illumination for the whole street. There were three windows looking onto the cul-de-sac: that of the study, adjacent to the front door, and two others belonging to a larger room — the dining room, I believe. If you leant out of the study window you would see, slightly to the left, the street lamp and, five or six yards to the right, the wall at the end of the cul-de-sac. Are you with me so far?”