Part 21 (1/2)

What was he like? I asked, largely to keep her talking and save her, and me, from the embarra.s.sment of a scene in this place.

Alan had lots of faults, she said, a violent temper was one of them. He drank too much, sometimes, and I suppose he had left a few debts behind him in different places. But there was nothing wicked in him.

You can't conceive of his having smuggled cocaine into the country?

No. I can't. He would never have done it. It wasn't the kind of thing he did.

So thatif he was doing it, you think he didn't know what he carried. Is that it?

She looked a little less forbidding. Yes! That must have been it. If he was doing it.

And now tell me something else, Miss Cutler. Can you, honestly, conceive of young Rogers murdering anyone?

She did not speak for a second. Then she looked up sharply.

Are you trying to catch me? she said.

Catch you? Of course not. I ... well to tell you the truth, I was almost beginning to think of this man as you paint him. And I wanted to know. . . .

Well, thenI can conceive of Alan murdering someone. He was a violent sort of chap. But I don't believe he ever did it in a premeditated way. I don't believe he ever schemed to do it. If someone attacked him, or provoked him, he was capable of anything. But there was no subtlety in his nature.

I think I believe you there, I said. I believe that when we get at the truth you will turn out to have been right over that. But if that was somy inexpert mind had sudden misgivingswhy should he have committed suicide? He had everything to lose. He was engaged to you, and he had a good job. Surely if it was during a violent scene of some sort there would have been a chance for him to get off with manslaughter. How can you account for his having taken poison?

He had terrible fits of remorse over nearly everything crazy that he did. This must have been worse, that's all.

Somehow, in my mind, I was trying to make her conception of young Rogers conform with the facts that Stute and Beef possessed. Unconsciously, I suppose, I was trying to make her feel happier about it all. And suddenly I had an idea.

Suppose, I said, that he was made to believe he had committed murder. Suppose that some interested party had been able to convince him that he had been guilty of an act which in reality had been the work of another. That would account for it, wouldn't it?

She stared at me blankly for a moment.

My G.o.d! she said at last, and I saw that she had turned pale, that must have been it! What a wicked thing to do. Could anyone do that? Make him think he was guilty?

There are some people who have no scruples, I returned, rather tritely perhaps.

How awful! So Alan poisoned himself because he thought he had committed a crime which someone else. . . . Oh, it's the most terrible thing!

But Miss Cutler, it was only an idea of mine. It may not have any truth in it.

It has! It is true! I see it now! Oh, if only we had met that evening. And how do you suppose they did itconvinced him, I mean?

I don't know. I only mentioned it as a possibility. I am not a detective, and if I were I probably should never have considered that. Because, after all, there was the knifehis knife. How are you going to account for that? It had a bloodstain on it. So had his s.h.i.+rt-cuff and sleeve. Even if he didn't actually kill the person, he must have. ...

Oh, don't ... she begged.

I'm awfully sorry. Perhaps I should never have suggested the idea. That's the worst of anyone like me plunging about in a case of this sort.

I could see that her lip was trembling. Poor girl, these days must have been hideous for her. The thing itself, the inquest, the people in the town.