but doubled back again. When Julius came bursting up in his car, I felt it
wasn’t part of Mr. Brown’s plan–and that there would probably be trouble.
Unless Sir James was actually caught in the act, so to speak, I knew Mr. Carter
would never believe it of him on my bare word—-”
“I didn’t,” interposed Mr. Carter ruefully.
“That’s why I sent the girls off to Sir James. I was sure they’d fetch up
at the house in Soho sooner or later. I threatened Julius with the revolver,
because I wanted Tuppence to repeat that to Sir James, so that he wouldn’t worry
about us. The moment the girls were out of sight I told Julius to drive like
hell for London, and as we went along I told him the whole story. We got to the
Soho house in plenty of time and met Mr. Carter outside. After arranging things
with him we went in and hid behind the curtain in the recess. The policemen had
orders to say, if they were asked, that no one had gone into the house. That’s
all.”
And Tommy came to an abrupt halt.
There was silence for a moment.
“By the way,” said Julius suddenly, “you’re all wrong about that photograph
of Jane. It WAS taken from me, but I found it again.”
“Where?” cried Tuppence.
“In that little safe on the wall in Mrs. Vandemeyer’s bedroom.”
“I knew you found something,” said Tuppence reproachfully. “To tell you the
truth, that’s what started me off suspecting you. Why didn’t you say?”
“I guess I was a mite suspicious too. It had been got away from me once,
and I determined I wouldn’t let on I’d got it until a photographer had made a
dozen copies of it!”
“We all kept back something or other,” said Tuppence thoughtfully. “I
suppose secret service work makes you like that!”
In the pause that ensued, Mr. Carter took from his pocket a small shabby
brown book.
“Beresford has just said that I would not have believed Sir James Peel
Edgerton to be guilty unless, so to speak, he was caught in the act. That is
so. Indeed, not until I read the entries in this little book could I bring
myself fully to credit the amazing truth. This book will pass into the
possession of Scotland Yard, but it will never be publicly exhibited. Sir
James’s long association with the law would make it undesirable. But to you, who
know the truth, I propose to read certain passages which will throw some light
on the extraordinary mentality of this great man.”
He opened the book, and turned the thin pages.
“. . . It is madness to keep this book. I know that. It is documentary
evidence against me. But I have never shrunk from taking risks. And I feel an
urgent need for self-expression…. The book will only be taken from my dead
body….
“. . . From an early age I realized that I had exceptional abilities. Only
a fool underestimates his capabilities. My brain power was greatly above the
average. I know that I was born to succeed. My appearance was the only thing
against me. I was quiet and insignificant–utterly nondescript….
“. . . When I was a boy I heard a famous murder trial. I was deeply
impressed by the power and eloquence of the counsel for the defence. For the
first time I entertained the idea of taking my talents to that particular
market…. Then I studied the criminal in the dock…. The man was a fool–he
had been incredibly, unbelievably stupid. Even the eloquence of his counsel was
hardly likely to save him. I felt an immeasurable contempt for him…. Then it
occurred to me that the criminal standard was a low one. It was the wastrels,
the failures, the general riff-raff of civilization who drifted into crime….
Strange that men of brains had never realized its extraordinary
opportunities…. I played with the idea…. What a magnificent field–what
unlimited possibilities! It made my brain reel….
“. . . I read standard works on crime and criminals. They all confirmed my
opinion. Degeneracy, disease–never the deliberate embracing of a career by a