“I had the greatest possible difficulty in dissuading Mr. Littleton from going straight into the study, sir. He overheard Lord Comstock’s voice, as Sir Charles must have done previously. He asked me who he had got with him, and I replied that it was a visitor who had an appointment. On that Mr. Littleton said that he would wait till the fellow came out, and then go in.”
“Littleton is a most determined person,” said Sir Philip gravely. “Did he carry out his threat?”
“I couldn’t say, sir, for I had not the opportunity of speaking to Mr. Littleton again.”
Something in Mills’ voice caused the Home Secretary to glance at him sharply. “Go on,” he said, in an encouraging tone.
“I saw that it was no use attempting to argue with Mr. Littleton in his present frame of mind, sir. I therefore suggested to him that if he insisted upon waiting, it would be more comfortable for him to do so in the drawing-room. He allowed me to show him in there, sir.”
“Why the drawing-room rather than the waiting-room?” Sir Philip asked.
“Well, sir, Sir Charles Hope-Fairweather was in there,” replied Mills hesitatingly. “And Sir Charles had given me the impression that he did not wish his visit to be generally known.”
“That I can easily understand,” remarked Sir Philip grimly. “I admire your handling of the situation, Mr. Mills. Comstock’s comments upon it should have been, worth hearing. His habitual method of expression lent itself admirably to lurid description. As I understand it, the position was now this. The Archbishop was closeted with Comstock in the study, presumably endeavouring to snatch him as a brand from the burning. Hope-Fairweather had at last settled down in the waiting-room, and Littleton had consented to be interned in the drawing-room. You, as stage-manager, returned to your office to await events, I suppose?”
“I did, sir. It was striking the hour by the dock on my desk as I entered. I remained there for a few minutes. I was very apprehensive as to what Lord Comstock would say when he heard that two fresh visitors had been admitted, and I was wondering how best to put the matter before him. And then I remembered that I had not yet taken Sir Charles’ message to his chauffeur, nor had I seen Farrant. I was about to leave my office for the purpose when I distinctly heard a dull crash from the direction of the study.”
“A crash, eh?” said Sir Philip, glancing almost involuntarily at the pistol on his desk. “This sounds as though it might interest you, Hampton.”
“Could this crash you mention be described as a report, Mr. Mills?” asked the Commissioner quickly.
“It might have been. It was certainly a sharp sound. But, as I have explained, the wall between the study and the office is very thick, and sounds heard through it are very deceptive. Although Lord Comstock was in the habit of speaking very loudly at times, it was only rarely that I was able to catch his actual words.”
“Did you attach any significance to this crash at the time?”
“I did not. Lord Comstock, when he was roused, had a habit of picking up, say, a chair and banging it down on the floor, in order to emphasise his remarks. If I thought about the sound at all, I attributed it to some incident of this nature. I left the office, and went into the hall. As I did so, the door of the study into the hall opened violently, and His Grace appeared. He slammed the door behind him, and seemed for some moments unaware of my presence. He strode towards the front door, and I heard him distinctly say, twice, ‘The wages of sin.’”
“I overtook His Grace before he reached the front door, and asked him if he had a car waiting, or whether I should telephone for a taxi. But he seemed hardly to hear me. He shook his head, then walked rapidly down the drive towards the gate. I watched him until he passed out of sight, and then went back into the hall.”
“The Archbishop’s interview seems hardly to have been satisfactory,” Sir Philip remarked. “But it is curious that he should have refused the offer of a taxi. He can hardly have proposed to walk all the way back to his Province. Ah, but wait a minute, though. Convocation is sitting at Lambeth Palace, isn’t it! I forgot that for the moment. That explains Dr. Pettifer’s presence in the neighbourhood of London. How far is Hursley Lodge from the nearest station, Mr. Mills?”
“About a mile, sir, and it is almost twenty minutes from there to London by train.”
Sir Philip nodded. “No doubt the Archbishop is at Lambeth Palace by now. But, after his departure, you had the other two visitors to deal with. How did you proceed, Mr. Mills?”
“I had come to the conclusion that it would be best to introduce them without previously mentioning their presence to Lord Comstock, sir. They would then at least have a chance of explaining their insistence. As I passed through the hall after seeing His Grace off, I opened the drawing-room door. My intention was to tell Mr. Littleton that Lord Comstock was now disengaged, and that I would take the risk of showing him into the study. But then I remembered that Sir Charles Hope-Fairweather had the first claim, and that possibly Lord Comstock would be less displeased to see him than Mr. Littleton.”
“What made you think that, Mr. Mills?” asked Sir Philip quietly.
If he had expected to catch Mills out, he was disappointed. “It occurred to me, sir, that if Sir Charles was a personal friend, Lord Comstock’s refusal to see visitors might not apply to him.”
“Very well, you determined to give Hope-Fairweather the preference. You fetched him from the waiting-room and ushered him into the lion’s den?”
“Not exactly, sir. I had opened the door of the drawing-room, but on thinking of Sir Charles I shut it again, thankful that I was able to do so before Mr. Littleton had time to interrogate me. I had not seen him when I glanced into the room.”
“One moment, Mr. Mills. I should like you to explain that point a little more fully. As I understand you, you opened the door, glanced in, and shut it hastily. Was the whole of the room visible to you from where you stood?”
“Not the whole of it, sir. The half-open door hid the wall between the drawing-room and the study from me. If Mr. Littleton had been standing close to that wall, I might not have seen him.”
The Commissioner glanced at Sir Philip, who nodded, almost imperceptibly. Then he addressed Mills sharply. “At the moment when you opened the door, you would have been surprised to find the room empty. Any suggestion that that was the case would have impressed itself upon you. Yet you shut the door again without making further investigations?”
“I did. As I have explained, I was anxious to see Sir Charles before Mr. Littleton. I was still in the hall, when I heard a second crash, not dissimilar from the first. For a moment I thought it came from the study, and the thought flashed through my mind that Mr. Littleton, overhearing the departure of His Grace, might have carried out his threat, and entered the study unannounced through the door between that room and the drawing-room.”
The Commissioner interrupted him, this time without ceremony. “But that door is concealed by a bookcase, is it not?” he asked.
“On the study side, yes. The drawing-room is panelled, and the door is so arranged as to form one of the panels. It has no handle, but a concealed fastening, operated by sliding part of the framework of the panel.”
“In fact, a stranger would not perceive that it was a door at all?”
“Not at first sight, perhaps. But very little investigation would show him that the panel could be opened.”
Sir Philip began to show signs of impatience. “That, surely, is a matter which can be decided on the spot,” he said. “Please continue your narrative, Mr. Mills. Did you proceed to investigate the cause of this second crash?”
“I