‘What’s the matter, Sir Herbert?’ asked Alleyn.

‘What’s he doing here? My God, now I know—I know—’

‘Well, Sir Herbert? What do you know?’

‘Stop! I’ll tell you. I did it! I did it! I confess. I confess everything. I did it!’

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Climax

‘YOU DID WHAT, SIR HERBERT?’

It was the AC’s voice, very quiet and matter-of-fact.

‘I kept the letter.’ Carrados looked directly at his wife. ‘You know why. If ever you had spoken of him, if ever you had compared me to that fellow, if I had found you—You know why.’

‘Yes,’ said Lady Carrados. ‘I know why.’

‘For God’s sake,’ Carrados said, ‘for God’s sake, gentlemen, let this go no further. It’s a private matter between my wife and myself.’

‘It has gone much further than that,’ said Alleyn. ‘Did you not in fact write blackmailing letters to your wife purely in order to torture her mind? Did you not do this?’

‘You fool,’ shouted Carrados. ‘You fool! It’s I who have suffered. It’s I who have dreaded what might happen. The letter was stolen. It was stolen. It was stolen.’

‘Now,’ said Alleyn, ‘it seems we are going to get the truth. When did you miss the letter?’

Carrados looked from one face to the other. For a frightful moment Alleyn thought he was going to burst into tears. His lips were shaking. He seemed an old man. He began to speak.

‘It was when we came back from Newmarket. That evening I was alone in my study. Bridget had been very inconsiderate all day, leaving us and going off with a young man of whom I could not approve. My wife had taken her part against me. I was alone in my study. I found myself looking at the French writing-cabinet. There was something different in the arrangement of the pieces in front of it. I went to re-arrange them, and being there I tried the hidden drawer. It was empty! I tell you the letter was there the day before. I saw it there. The day before I had been very angry with my wife. She had been cruel to me. I am very sensitive and my nerves are shattered. I am alone. Terribly lonely. Nobody cares what becomes of me. She was so thoughtless and cruel. So I looked at the letter because the letter gave me comfort. It was there the night before. And do you know who was alone in my room on May the ninth?’

‘Yes,’ said Alleyn. ‘I am glad you, too, remember. It was Mr Colombo Dimitri.’

‘Ah,’ said Carrados shakily. ‘Ah, now we’re getting at it. Now, we’re getting at it.’

‘I am afraid I do not understand,’ said Dimitri. ‘Is Sir Herbert perhaps ill?’

Carrados slewed round and again he pointed at Dimitri.

‘You stole it, you filthy dago. I know you stole it. I have suspected it from the first. I could do nothing—nothing.’