Read Online The Problem of the Green Capsule by John Dickson Carr - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: John Dickson Carr
Tags: General Fiction
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Constable’s voice out of the dark. “Can you see me?”
“Not a thing,” said Elliot. “Stay where you are; I’m going to open the double-doors.”
He groped his way across, avoiding a chair, and found the doors. They opened easily and almost without noise. Shuffling forward some eight or nine feet until he found the table, he felt for the bronze lamp. He turned the switch, and the dead white glare sprang up against the opposite wall. Then Elliot backed away to study it from the Music Room.
“H’m,” said Major Crow.
The only living thing in that “office” was the clock. They saw it, ruthless and busy, on the mantelpiece of dark polished wood behind the head of the dead man. It was a fairly large ormolu clock, having a dial fully six inches across, and a small brass pendulum which switched and swung in moving gleams. Beneath it sat the dead man, undisturbed. The time was five minutes to one.
The table was of mahogany, with a brown blotter; and the bronze lamp stood towards the front of it slightly to (their) right. They saw the chocolate box with its design of blue flowers. By standing on tiptoe, Elliot could see the pencil lying on the blotter, but there was no trace of the pen Marjorie Wills had described.
In the wall towards their left, they could make out one of the French windows. Against the wall to their right stood a roll-top desk, closed, with a green-shaded lamp over it; and a very long filing-cabinet in steel painted to represent wood. That was all, except for one more chair and a pile of magazines or catalogues spilled on the floor. They saw it framed in the proscenium arch of the doors. Judging by the position of the chairs in the Music Room, the witnesses had been sitting about fifteen feet away from Marcus Chesney.
“I don’t see much there,” observed Major Crow doubtfully. “Or do you?”
Elliot’s eye was again caught by the folded piece of paper he had seen before, stuck behind the handkerchief in the pocket of the dead man’s jacket.
“There’s that, sir,” he pointed out. “According to what Miss Wills told us, that must be the list of questions Mr. Chesney prepared.”
“Yes, but what about it?” almost shouted the Chief Constable. “Suppose he did prepare a list of questions? What difference——?”
“Only this, sir,” said Elliot, feeling tempted to shout himself. “Don’t you see that this whole show was designed as a series of traps for the witnesses? There was probably a trick in half the things they saw. And the murderer took advantage of it. The tricks helped him; covered him; probably still cover him. If we could find out exactly what they saw, or thought they saw, we should probably have a line on the murderer. Not even a lunatic is going to commit such a slapdash, crash-bang, open murder as this unless there was something in Mr. Chesney’s plan that afforded him protection, threw the police dead wrong, provided him with an alibi, God knows what! Isn’t that clear?”
Major Crow looked at him.
“You will excuse me, Inspector,” he said with sudden politeness, “if I still think your manner has been odd all evening. I am also curious to know how you knew the surname of Miss Wills’s fiancé. I hadn’t mentioned it.”
(Oh. hell!)
“Sorry, sir.”
“Not at all,” returned the other, with the same formality. “It doesn’t matter in the least. Besides, with regard to the list of questions, I am inclined to agree with you. Let’s see if we learn anything from them. You’re right: if there are any catch questions, or questions about catches, they will be here.”
He pulled the paper out of the dead man’s pocket, unfolded it, and spread it out on the blotter. Here is what they read, in neat copper-plate handwriting.
ANSWER CORRECTLY THE FOLLOWING QUESTIONS:
1. Was there a box on the table? If so, describe it.
2. What objects did I pick up from the table? In what order?
3. What was the time?
4. What was the height of the person who
“Not a thing,” said Elliot. “Stay where you are; I’m going to open the double-doors.”
He groped his way across, avoiding a chair, and found the doors. They opened easily and almost without noise. Shuffling forward some eight or nine feet until he found the table, he felt for the bronze lamp. He turned the switch, and the dead white glare sprang up against the opposite wall. Then Elliot backed away to study it from the Music Room.
“H’m,” said Major Crow.
The only living thing in that “office” was the clock. They saw it, ruthless and busy, on the mantelpiece of dark polished wood behind the head of the dead man. It was a fairly large ormolu clock, having a dial fully six inches across, and a small brass pendulum which switched and swung in moving gleams. Beneath it sat the dead man, undisturbed. The time was five minutes to one.
The table was of mahogany, with a brown blotter; and the bronze lamp stood towards the front of it slightly to (their) right. They saw the chocolate box with its design of blue flowers. By standing on tiptoe, Elliot could see the pencil lying on the blotter, but there was no trace of the pen Marjorie Wills had described.
In the wall towards their left, they could make out one of the French windows. Against the wall to their right stood a roll-top desk, closed, with a green-shaded lamp over it; and a very long filing-cabinet in steel painted to represent wood. That was all, except for one more chair and a pile of magazines or catalogues spilled on the floor. They saw it framed in the proscenium arch of the doors. Judging by the position of the chairs in the Music Room, the witnesses had been sitting about fifteen feet away from Marcus Chesney.
“I don’t see much there,” observed Major Crow doubtfully. “Or do you?”
Elliot’s eye was again caught by the folded piece of paper he had seen before, stuck behind the handkerchief in the pocket of the dead man’s jacket.
“There’s that, sir,” he pointed out. “According to what Miss Wills told us, that must be the list of questions Mr. Chesney prepared.”
“Yes, but what about it?” almost shouted the Chief Constable. “Suppose he did prepare a list of questions? What difference——?”
“Only this, sir,” said Elliot, feeling tempted to shout himself. “Don’t you see that this whole show was designed as a series of traps for the witnesses? There was probably a trick in half the things they saw. And the murderer took advantage of it. The tricks helped him; covered him; probably still cover him. If we could find out exactly what they saw, or thought they saw, we should probably have a line on the murderer. Not even a lunatic is going to commit such a slapdash, crash-bang, open murder as this unless there was something in Mr. Chesney’s plan that afforded him protection, threw the police dead wrong, provided him with an alibi, God knows what! Isn’t that clear?”
Major Crow looked at him.
“You will excuse me, Inspector,” he said with sudden politeness, “if I still think your manner has been odd all evening. I am also curious to know how you knew the surname of Miss Wills’s fiancé. I hadn’t mentioned it.”
(Oh. hell!)
“Sorry, sir.”
“Not at all,” returned the other, with the same formality. “It doesn’t matter in the least. Besides, with regard to the list of questions, I am inclined to agree with you. Let’s see if we learn anything from them. You’re right: if there are any catch questions, or questions about catches, they will be here.”
He pulled the paper out of the dead man’s pocket, unfolded it, and spread it out on the blotter. Here is what they read, in neat copper-plate handwriting.
ANSWER CORRECTLY THE FOLLOWING QUESTIONS:
1. Was there a box on the table? If so, describe it.
2. What objects did I pick up from the table? In what order?
3. What was the time?
4. What was the height of the person who
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