Read Online Trial and Error by Anthony Berkeley - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Anthony Berkeley
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secret astonishment, feeling quite recovered, with aneurism still intact, he was reading the paragraph under the startling headline.
4
The paragraph stated, quite simply, that Mr Isidore Fisher, the American efficiency expert at present engaged in reorganising the business of Consolidated Periodicals Ltd., had been run over by a lorry in Fleet Street outside the offices of Consolidated Periodicals Ltd. on his way to lunch and killed instantly.
Four days later the inquest revealed the full story,
Mr Fisher had not been alone. His companion had been a young man, also employed by Consolidated Periodicals Ltd., by the name of Bennett, and the two had been on their way to lunch together.
Mr Fisher and Bennett, it seemed, had been crossing Fleet Street, with Bennett on the side of the oncoming traffic. They had passed behind a stationary bus, and Bennett had seen the lorry bearing down on them. He had drawn back, but his body must have masked the lorry from the view of Fisher, who was talking animatedly at the time, and he had continued forward. Bennett had caught his arm and tried to pull him back, but it had been too late. The lorry was not travelling unduly fast, and Bennett had had no difficulty in saving himself with ordinary care and attention.
The driver of the bus corroborated this evidence from Bennett and the lorry driver. He had witnessed the accident, and it had seemed to him that when Fisher did see the lorry he had appeared to jump forward right into its path rather than backward. The bus driver had seen people do that kind of thing before: seemed to think they stood a better chance running forward than jumping back. He considered that no one but Fisher was to blame.
A verdict of accidental death was thereupon returned, all parties being exonerated except the dead man, who could not answer back.
In his library Mr Todhunter studied the short report with the closest attention. So straightforward was the affair and so usual the type of accident that there was really no reason why Mr Todhunter should have jumped to the conclusion that he did about it. Nevertheless his conviction amounted to a certainty. Right from the very first moment of seeing the headline Mr Todhunter had known, beyond all explanation but with complete conviction, that Fischmannâs death had been no accident. That hand which had been outstretched to save him . . . it had never been intended to save. It had not pulled, that hand. It had pushed.
Bitterly and remorsefully Mr Todhunter blamed himself.
By his weakness, by his cowardice, he had turned that nice young Bennett into a murderer. The revolver had been in his possession for over twenty-four hours before Fischmann died. It had been intended for use on Fischmann, at once. Had its owner not been a useless, pusillanimous creature, young Bennett would not now have to go through life with the load of murder burdening his soul. He, Mr Todhunter, could have saved him from that and had failed.
Mr Todhunter held his bald head in his hands and groaned over his own uselessness: he who had planned to be of such use.
Why Mr Todhunter should have been so certain that young Bennett pushed Fischmann under that lorry the second time they were to lunch together, there is no explaining. Nobody else ever dreamed of such a thing.
As a matter of fact Mr Todhunter had been perfectly right.
CHAPTER IV
Fischmann was out of the way.
In spite of his remorse, Mr Todhunter could not help feeling a certain selfish relief. He had not wanted to kill Fischmann. He had not wanted to kill anyone, however unpleasant. He was not of the stuff of which killers are made. Mr Todhunter realised all that now. He knew he had only been deceiving himself. It was a depressing reflection, and yet there were compensations. Peace was what Mr Todhunter really wanted for himself after all, and now he could have it. He had made his gesture, and its bluff had been called. Good.
As his relief grew Mr Todhunter even abandoned with
4
The paragraph stated, quite simply, that Mr Isidore Fisher, the American efficiency expert at present engaged in reorganising the business of Consolidated Periodicals Ltd., had been run over by a lorry in Fleet Street outside the offices of Consolidated Periodicals Ltd. on his way to lunch and killed instantly.
Four days later the inquest revealed the full story,
Mr Fisher had not been alone. His companion had been a young man, also employed by Consolidated Periodicals Ltd., by the name of Bennett, and the two had been on their way to lunch together.
Mr Fisher and Bennett, it seemed, had been crossing Fleet Street, with Bennett on the side of the oncoming traffic. They had passed behind a stationary bus, and Bennett had seen the lorry bearing down on them. He had drawn back, but his body must have masked the lorry from the view of Fisher, who was talking animatedly at the time, and he had continued forward. Bennett had caught his arm and tried to pull him back, but it had been too late. The lorry was not travelling unduly fast, and Bennett had had no difficulty in saving himself with ordinary care and attention.
The driver of the bus corroborated this evidence from Bennett and the lorry driver. He had witnessed the accident, and it had seemed to him that when Fisher did see the lorry he had appeared to jump forward right into its path rather than backward. The bus driver had seen people do that kind of thing before: seemed to think they stood a better chance running forward than jumping back. He considered that no one but Fisher was to blame.
A verdict of accidental death was thereupon returned, all parties being exonerated except the dead man, who could not answer back.
In his library Mr Todhunter studied the short report with the closest attention. So straightforward was the affair and so usual the type of accident that there was really no reason why Mr Todhunter should have jumped to the conclusion that he did about it. Nevertheless his conviction amounted to a certainty. Right from the very first moment of seeing the headline Mr Todhunter had known, beyond all explanation but with complete conviction, that Fischmannâs death had been no accident. That hand which had been outstretched to save him . . . it had never been intended to save. It had not pulled, that hand. It had pushed.
Bitterly and remorsefully Mr Todhunter blamed himself.
By his weakness, by his cowardice, he had turned that nice young Bennett into a murderer. The revolver had been in his possession for over twenty-four hours before Fischmann died. It had been intended for use on Fischmann, at once. Had its owner not been a useless, pusillanimous creature, young Bennett would not now have to go through life with the load of murder burdening his soul. He, Mr Todhunter, could have saved him from that and had failed.
Mr Todhunter held his bald head in his hands and groaned over his own uselessness: he who had planned to be of such use.
Why Mr Todhunter should have been so certain that young Bennett pushed Fischmann under that lorry the second time they were to lunch together, there is no explaining. Nobody else ever dreamed of such a thing.
As a matter of fact Mr Todhunter had been perfectly right.
CHAPTER IV
Fischmann was out of the way.
In spite of his remorse, Mr Todhunter could not help feeling a certain selfish relief. He had not wanted to kill Fischmann. He had not wanted to kill anyone, however unpleasant. He was not of the stuff of which killers are made. Mr Todhunter realised all that now. He knew he had only been deceiving himself. It was a depressing reflection, and yet there were compensations. Peace was what Mr Todhunter really wanted for himself after all, and now he could have it. He had made his gesture, and its bluff had been called. Good.
As his relief grew Mr Todhunter even abandoned with
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