Bell nodded and pondered. “On that I should be justified in charging him,” he said slowly.
“Oh, yes. Yes. Failin’ further explanations from Garner. Better put it to him.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” Bell agreed. “Can you come along now?”
They drove out to the Bournham Hospital. They found Garner sitting up in bed, the swelling of his face subsided into a yellow green puffiness beneath a dingy sprouting of beard. He greeted them with a nervous gush.
“That’ll do. I want you to think,” said Bell. “I warn you anything you say may be used in evidence against you. I’m going to ask you to explain your statement. This is Mr. Fortune, the expert who saw you when you were brought in unconscious. You may not be aware that we found a little finger on the spikes of the wall at the back of your shop. Mr. Fortune tells me that it’s yours, and he says that all your injuries might have been caused by your breaking off your finger on that spike and falling as you made your escape from the back window after starting the fire. What do you say?”
Garner said a great deal. He did not know what it was all about. He could not imagine how the fire started. Bell told him. He became incoherent. When he could be understood, he was protesting that it was just like the fire in Blunt’s place years ago - it must have been Blunt.
“It wasn’t Blunt,” Bell broke in. “We know that. We know a lot.”
“If you’re going to tell us anything, you’d better tell the whole truth, Garner,” said Reggie quietly. “Who was it started Blunt’s fire?”
Garner fell back on his pillows - his lips moved and his jaw - he made a gasping noise and fainted.
“My oath!” Bell muttered, and stared at Reggie. “Never know what’s coming next with you.”
“Oh, my dear chap!” Reggie murmured gentle protest. “Thought of that a long time ago. Didn’t you?”
Bell drew a long breath. “Well, that settles it, anyway. He’s for it.”
“Got to go through with it, yes,” Reggie murmured… .
So the day came when Frederic Garner stood in the dock charged with setting fire to his own shop. Mr. Fortune, following the hospital doctor, gave evidence in his quietest, most aloof manner. He had examined the scene of the fire; he was of opinion that a fall there as described by the prosecution might produce such injuries as those he saw in the accused; he had a record of a case in which a finger had been broken off and found as Garner’s finger was found. … No, he could not swear that Garner had not been assaulted, as he said, and mutilated in order to make a charge against him. It was - possible. … No, he found no evidence pointing to that. It would be - extraordinary.
As he left the witness box he saw Jessie Blunt watching him, a white fierce face.
The jury took the judge’s plain hint that they must think Garner’s defence incredible and found him guilty, and he was sent to penal servitude… .
“Well, that went all right, Mr. Fortune,” said Bell, as they left the court.
“Yes. Justice has been done,” Reggie agreed. “No thanks to me or you. We’re futile, wholly futile.” They got into Reggie’s car.
“I don’t know what you mean, sir,” Bell complained.
“Garner told the truth. He didn’t start that fire. He did start Blunt’s fire. So we punish him for what he didn’t do, having failed to detect him in what he did. Which is called clever police work. Not our work at all. But very clever. Work of your friend the Smiler. My dear chap! Don’t you see? The Smiler was found by Jessie Blunt, in her hut, helpless and hunted by the police. Just the sort of fellow for Jessie to take to. She has a life’s grudge against the police. He found that out. He got her story out of her. And it is a nasty story, Bell. Garner set himself to ruin Blunt because Blunt married the woman he wanted. And he did it - some agony in that business - shamming favours to the distressed wife - Blunt must have liked that - besides leaving Blunt and his child to a misery of a life. Nice man, our Mr. Garner. And your bright policemen saw nothing in it. Well - the Smiler told the tale to Jessie, and Jessie told him hers. She got him clear and was ready to face anything for him. Probably the only man that was all a man she’s ever known. And he is a sportsman. As soon as he was safe away, he had Mr. Garner looked up. Hence the pugilist going over the file of Blunt’s trial. A humorist, the Smiler. He fixed up another little fire for Garner, and, my hat, his evidence was clever! Very clever. That finger touch was brilliant. Of course he’d know the Clerkenwell case, being in the trade. But turning it into a fake - I never met anything better. Oh, a great man. I’d like to meet him again some day. Or would I? He’s very good.”
Bell stared. Bell said slowly, “It’s a fine story. Like you tell it. You don’t mean to say you believe all that, Mr. Fortune?”
“Oh, yes. Absolutely. But you’d better not. Might shake your nerve. Policemen ought to believe in the police. Or where are we?”
“You’re making fun of me, sir,” Bell complained.
“My dear old Bell,” Reggie smiled.
Two days afterwards he received that postcard with the inscription “GOOD FOR YOU CULLY.”
But he has never met the Smiler.
FOURTH OBJECTION
THE THREE BEARS
Mr Fortune held to his nose a glass of claret. He lifted it and examined its colour. He sipped it and put it down, and sighed and looked remorse at Lomas.
“A very sound wine,” said Lomas cheerfully.
