Dr. Withers looked up and flashed Marc a grim smile of recognition and welcome. They had met briefly during Marc’s second investigation and taken an instant liking to each other. “Looks like somebody wanted to make sure he went straight to his Maker,” Withers said, and picked up from the pool of blood on the far side of the body a large, bronze ashtray. “This could’ve been used on his skull, but I can’t be sure. It was already covered with blood when I found it here.”
But Marc could not take his eyes off Hilliard’s sabre. There was no doubt that it belonged to Rick: the initials RH were visible even through the gore smeared all over it. Had the killer dipped his hands in the victim’s blood? Surely the founting of it from the wound could not have reached the haft on its own.
“I’m damned glad you and Cobb are here. That jackass Spooner roused me from a rare erotic dream to inform me that the governor was near apoplexy-again, I must add-over the murder of some prominent American by one of his officers in a den of iniquity. Spooner had orders, duly passed along to me, to keep this mess contained. What he didn’t know was that Frank panicked after visiting Government House and beetled on down to the police station and blabbed it all to Chief Constable Sturges, who had fallen asleep in his office.”
“An’ that’s like disruptin’ a hibernatin’ bear,” Cobb said gleefully. “It was me who took the brunt of his temper when he come fer me, though Missus Cobb herself was just comin’ home from one of her customers an’ managed to keep him from poppin’ the buttons off his vest.”
“Which blow killed Merriwether, then?” Marc asked, suddenly hoping that there might be some explanation other than the obvious.
Withers gave the question careful thought before answering. “Well, it seems certain the blow to the back of the head stunned him, and he must have tried to stand up before collapsing onto his back right here where you see him. That blow alone would eventually have resulted in his death, but I am compelled to say honestly-and will have to testify so-that the sword to the chest was the immediate cause of death. I can say this with certainty because the heart was still pumping blood when the sword-blade cut the aorta. You can see the consequences for yourself. In fact, the sword is imbedded in the floor under the body.”
“But why would anyone crush the man’s skull and then savagely drive a sword through him?”
“That’s for you to discover, lad,” Withers said.
“What do you mean?”
“Looks like the governor may have forgiven you your apostasy. Among the orders he issued to Lieutenant Spooner, who as we know will obey them to the letter no matter how repugnant to him personally, was that you are to lead the investigation. Spooner’s charge is to keep things contained until you catch the murderer.”
“That explains why my colonel was involved.” Marc was trying to take in what he was seeing and being told, while still trying not to think the unthinkable. “But how could all this have been managed in such a short time? Major Jenkin and I left Rick here with Tessa Guildersleeve no later than eleven-thirty or so.”
“Whatever provoked this carnage didn’t take long to develop because we know the precise time it took place,” Withers said. “The actor who found the body-”
“The fella who played the country bumpkin-Beasley,” Cobb said.
“Yes, Beasley. He heard the scream and came running in here at twelve-thirty, according to that clock in the corner.”
“What scream?” Marc said.
“Tell Marc what we think we know,” Withers said, getting up and moving over to Tessa’s bed. As Marc watched him, he noticed several things he had not observed before: droplets and smudges of blood were scattered on the carpet in an irregular trail from the feet of victim to the settee, where more blood was smeared, one patch of which appeared to resemble a handprint. Had the killer wallowed in Merriwether’s gore, then gone back and sat on the settee to admire his handiwork?
“I’ve only had a chance to talk to Beasley, so we’ve got just his version of what happened,” Cobb said. “But I gotta say he’s the only one of that whole bunch who ain’t gone bear-serk on us. The women are squallin’ like heifers with their teats tied, an’ that fella Armstrong’s as drunk as a skunk. The mute seems fine, but he ain’t sayin’ much, of course.”
“Beasley heard Tessa scream at twelve-thirty?”
“Well, you’ll need to interro-grate ’em yerself, but what he told Sarge an’ me when we got here a while ago, was a woman’s scream woke him up, an’ by the time he got himself awake an’ figured out where the scream’d come from, he found Ensign Hilliard standin’ over the body with both hands wrapped ’round the handle of the sword.”
“But what was Merriwether doing in Tessa’s room after midnight?”
Here Cobb glanced beseechingly at Withers, who grimaced and said, “It gets worse, laddie. Hilliard was seen going into the girl’s room with her about eleven o’clock, laughing and carrying on like lovebirds.”
“That’s right,” Marc said. “Owen Jenkin left him there shortly thereafter and we rode home together. But Rick had promised the major he would do nothing dishonourable and, in fact, would stay no more than half an hour for a single glass of sherry.”
“And he may well have kept that promise,” Withers said solemnly. “We found Tessa comatose on the bed there, and it’s possible Hilliard may have dozed off. The room was quite dark when Beasley entered it with a candle in his hand, except for the little swath of moonlight coming through the window and that stub of candle beside the bed. Cobb and I speculate that Merriwether must have come in a bit later expecting Tessa to be alone, probably with evil intentions on his mind.”
“That makes sense,” Marc said, thinking hard. “We spent yesterday afternoon watching the actors rehearse, and all three of us saw Merriwether make an improper gesture while carrying Tessa in his arms. And, I must admit frankly, she seemed to approve of the assault, though her guardian, Mrs. Thedford, did not.”
“And if it was almost dark in here,” Cobb added, “he mightn’t’ve spotted Hilliard dozin’ on the settee an’ …”
“And forced his attentions on the young lady,” Withers said as delicately as he could.
“And you think Rick heard Tessa scream for help, woke up, grabbed the ashtray-”
“Or the butt of his sword,” Withers said. “It’s smeared with blood, too, so we can’t be sure.”
“In either case he smashed the villain on the back of the head to prevent his ravishing the girl,” Marc said with a rush. “Which means he was justified in his actions. Tessa did scream, did she not? That’s the critical point.”
“Loud enough to wake Beasley up at the other end of the hall,” Cobb said.
“But why not any of the others?”
“That’s easy,” Cobb said. “Armstrong was pissed to the gills in his room. When Frank got up here shortly afterwards, he went in to check on him and the old sot couldn’t remember what country he was in.”
“But Mrs. Thedford’s room is next to this one, a thin wall away.”
“That’s so,” Cobb said, “but she was asleep in that little bedroom on the far side of her … whaddycallit-”
“Her suite.”
“-with wax plugs in her ears, accordin’ to Beasley, who woke her up,” Cobb finished.
“And Jeremiah is deaf.”
“An’ the other woman, the one who played the connivin’ mistress, was stayin’ downstairs with the Franks.”
“So you figure Hilliard bashed Merriwether’s brains in, probably because he had been wakened suddenly, was confused, heard and saw a young woman he was desperately in love with being assaulted by a large stranger clad only in a nightshirt-remember, Merriwether was almost six feet tall and powerfully built-and simply reacted as any officer and gentleman would have in the circumstances?”