Part 38 (1/2)

”'When I came to Aunt Maldon's the night before I left for South Africa I wanted a wash, and I went into the back room--I mean the room behind the parlour--and took off my coat preparatory to going into the scullery to perform my ablutions. While in the back room I noticed that the picture nearest the cupboard opposite the door was hung very crooked. When I came back to put my coat on again after was.h.i.+ng, my eye again caught the picture. There was a chair almost beneath it.

I got on the chair and put the picture into an horizontal position.

While I was standing on the chair I could see on the top of the cupboard, where something white struck my attention. It was behind the cornice of the cupboard, but I could see it. I took it off the top of the cupboard and carefully scrutinized it by the gas, which, as you know, is at the corner of the fireplace, close to the cupboard. It was a roll consisting of Bank of England notes, to the value of four hundred and fifty pounds. I counted them at once, while I was standing on the chair. I then put them in the pocket of my coat which I had already put on. I wish to point out that if the chair had not been under the picture I should in all human probability not have attempted to straighten the picture. Also--'”

”But surely, Julian,” Louis interrupted him, in a constrained voice, ”you could have reached the picture without standing on the chair?” He interrupted solely from a tremendous desire for speech. It would have been impossible for him to remain silent. He had to speak or perish.

”I couldn't,” Julian denied vehemently. ”The picture's practically as high as the top of the cupboard--or was.”

”And could _you_ see on to the top of the cupboard from a chair?”

Louis, with a peculiar gaze, was apparently estimating Julian's total height from the ground when raised on a chair.

Julian dashed down the papers.

”Here! Come and look for yourself!” he exclaimed with furious pugnacity. ”Come and look.” He jumped up and moved towards the door.

Rachel and Louis followed him obediently. In the back room it was he who struck a match and lighted the gas.

”You've s.h.i.+fted the picture!” he cried, as soon as the room was illuminated.

”Yes, we have,” Louis admitted.

”But there's where it was!” Julian almost shouted, pointing. ”You can't deny it! There's the marks. Are they as high as the top of the cupboard, or aren't they?” Then he dragged along a chair to the cupboard and stood on it, puffing at his pipe. ”Can I see on to the top of the cupboard or can't I?” he demanded. Obviously he could see on to the top of the cupboard.

”I didn't think the top was so low,” said Louis.

”Well, you shouldn't contradict,” Julian chastised him.

”It's just as your great-aunt said,” put in Rachel, in a meditative tone. ”I remember she told us she pushed a chair forward with her knee. I dare say in getting on to the chair she knocked her elbow or something against the picture, and no doubt she left the chair more or less where she'd pushed it. That would be it.”

”Did she say that to you?” Louis questioned Rachel.

”It doesn't matter much what she said,” Julian growled. ”That's how it _was_, anyway. I'm telling you. I'm not here to listen to theories.”

”Well,” said Louis amiably, ”you put the notes into your pocket. What then?”

Julian removed his pipe from his mouth.

”What then? I walked off with 'em.”

”But you don't mean to tell us you meant--to appropriate them, Julian?

You don't mean that!” Louis spoke rea.s.suringly, good-naturedly, and with a slight superiority.

”No, I don't. I don't mean I appropriated 'em.” Julian's voice rose defiantly. ”I mean I stole them.... I stole them, and what's more, I meant to steal them. And so there ye are! But come back to the parlour. I must finish my reading.”

He strode away into the parlour, and the other two had no alternative but to follow him. They followed him like guilty things; for the manner of his confession was such as apparently to put his hearers, more than himself, in the wrong. He confessed as one who accuses.

”Sit down,” said he, in the parlour.

”But surely,” Louis protested, ”if you're serious--”