I brought the water to him and he thanked me. He took from his pocket a small cardboard box, and opening it, extracted a rice paper capsule, which he swallowed with the aid of the water.
“A headache powder,” he explained.
I suddenly wondered whether Hawes might have become addicted to drugs. It would explain a great many of his peculiarities.
“You don’t take too many, I hope,” I said.
“No – oh, no. Dr. Haydock warned me against that. But it is really wonderful. They bring instant relief.”
Indeed he already seemed calmer and more composed.
He stood up.
“Then you will preach to-night? It’s very good of you, sir.”
“Not at all. And I insist on taking the service too. Get along home and rest. No, I won’t have any argument. Not another word.”
He thanked me again. Then he said, his eyes sliding past me to the window:
“You – you have been up at Old Hall to-day, haven’t you, sir.”
“Yes.”
“Excuse me – but were you sent for?”
I looked at him in surprise, and he flushed.
“I’m sorry, sir. I – I just thought some new development might have arisen and that that was why Mrs. Protheroe had sent for you.”
I had not the faintest intention of satisfying Hawes’s curiosity.
“She wanted to discuss the funeral arrangements and one or two other small matters with me,” I said.
“Oh! that was all. I see.”
I did not speak. He fidgeted from foot to foot, and finally said:
“Mr. Redding came to see me last night. I – I can’t imagine why.”
“Didn’t he tell you?”
“He – he just said he thought he’d look me up. Said it was a bit lonely in the evenings. He’s never done such a thing before.”
“Well, he’s supposed to be pleasant company,” I said, smiling.
“What does he want to come and see me for? I don’t like it.” His voice rose shrilly. “He spoke of dropping in again. What does it all mean? What idea do you think he has got into his head?”
“Why should you suppose he has any ulterior motive?” I asked.
“I don’t like it,” repeated Hawes obstinately. “I’ve never gone against him in any way. I never suggested that he was guilty – even when he accused himself I said it seemed most incomprehensible. If I’ve had suspicions of anybody it’s been of Archer – never of him. Archer is a totally different proposition – a godless irreligious ruffian. A drunken blackguard.”
“Don’t you think you’re being a little harsh?” I said. “After all, we really know very little about the man.”
“A poacher, in and out of prison, capable of anything.”
“Do you really think he shot Colonel Protheroe?” I asked curiously.
Hawes has an inveterate dislike of answering yes or no. I have noticed it several times lately.
“Don’t you think yourself, sir, that it’s the only possible solution?”
“As far as we know,” I said, “there’s no evidence of any kind against him.”
“His threats,” said Hawes eagerly. “You forget about his threats.”
I am sick and tired of hearing about Archer’s threats. As far as I can make out, there is no direct evidence that he ever made any.
“He was determined to be revenged on Colonel Protheroe. He primed himself with drink and then shot him.”
“That’s pure supposition.”
“But you will admit that it’s perfectly probable?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Possible, then?”
“Possible, yes.”
Hawes glanced at me sideways.
“Why don’t you think it’s probable?”
“Because,” I said, “a man like Archer wouldn’t think of shooting a man with a pistol. It’s the wrong weapon.”
Hawes seemed taken aback by my argument. Evidently it wasn’t the objection he had expected.
“Do you really think the objection is feasible?” he asked doubtingly.
“To my mind it is a complete stumbling block to Archer’s having committed the crime,” I said.
In face of my positive assertion, Hawes said no more. He thanked me again and left.
I had gone as far as the front door with him, and on the hall table I saw four notes. They had certain characteristics in common. The handwriting was almost unmistakably feminine, they all bore the words, “By hand, Urgent,” and the only difference I could see was that one was noticeably dirtier than the rest.