man alive in this college is saner and more blameless than the rest.”
“Why necessarily look for a lunatic?” Appleby asked.
“I don’t,” responded Dodd soberly. “That hanky-panky through there rattled me for a moment,” and again he motioned towards the next room. “You’ll see what I mean presently,” he continued a little grimly, “but the point I have to make now is about these exceptions. The exceptions, as you may guess, are certain of the Fellows of the college – not by any means all of them. They have keys – double-purpose keys. They can enter or leave the college with them through this little door on Schools Street. And you see where – if they’re coming in – that lands them. It lands them straight in the submarine within a submarine, Orchard Ground. They can then use the same key to get them out of Orchard Ground into the rest of the college. And when I give you the facts of the case in a minute you’ll see that the murderer of Dr Umpleby appears to have had one of those keys. Which is no doubt,” the inspector added dryly, “why you have been sent for in such a hurry.”
“I see the suggested situation, anyway,” Appleby replied, after a brief scrutiny of the ground-plan. “Whereas in a normal college a nocturnal murder would probably be physically within the power of anyone within the college, this college is so arranged that this murder could apparently be carried out only by quite a few people – people who had, or who could get hold of, a key to this Orchard Ground. For the keys – you are maintaining, are you not? – gave the particular sort of access to Dr Umpleby that the circumstances seem to require.”
Dodd nodded. “You’ve got it,” he said, “and you can understand the perturbation of St Anthony’s.”
“There is the obvious fact that keys are treacherous things. They’re easier to steal usually than a cheque-book – and far easier to copy than a signature.”
Dodd shook his head. “Yes, but you’ll see presently that there’s more to it than that. The topography of the business really is uncommonly odd.”
Both men looked at the plan in silence for a moment. “Well,” said Appleby at length, “here is our stage setting. Now let us have the characters and events.”
III
“I’ll begin with characters,” Dodd said, “indeed I’ll begin where I had to begin this morning; with a list of names.” As he spoke, the inspector rummaged among his papers as if looking for a memorandum. Then, apparently thinking better of it, he squared his shoulders, wrinkled his brow in concentration and continued with his eyes fixed upon his own large boots.
“Here are the Fellows who were dining in college last night. In addition to the President there was the Dean; he’s called the Reverend the Honourable Tracy Deighton-Clerk.” (There was an indefinable salt in the inspector’s mode of conveying this information.) “And there were Mr Lambrick, Professor Empson, Mr Haveland, Mr Titlow, Dr Pownall, Dr Gott, Mr Campbell, Professor Curtis, Mr Chalmers-Paton and Dr Barocho.”
Appleby nodded. “Deighton-Clerk,” he repeated, “Lambrick, Empson, Haveland, Titlow, Pownall, Gott, Campbell, Curtis, Chalmers-Paton – and a foreigner who just beats me. Go on.”
“Barocho,” said Dodd. “And only one Fellow, as it happens, was absent. He’s called Ransome and at the moment he’s said to be digging up some learned stuff in central Asia.” Dodd’s tone again conveyed some hint of the feeling that Dr Umpleby’s death had landed him among queer fish. “Not that I’ve any proof,” he continued suspiciously, “of where this Ransome is. That’s just what they all say.”
Appleby smiled. “The submarine seems well officered,” he said. “If you’re going on to extract a list of a couple of hundred or so undergraduates from those boots of yours I think I’d certainly prefer the baronet’s country house. Or the balloon in the stratosphere – that
“Why necessarily look for a lunatic?” Appleby asked.
“I don’t,” responded Dodd soberly. “That hanky-panky through there rattled me for a moment,” and again he motioned towards the next room. “You’ll see what I mean presently,” he continued a little grimly, “but the point I have to make now is about these exceptions. The exceptions, as you may guess, are certain of the Fellows of the college – not by any means all of them. They have keys – double-purpose keys. They can enter or leave the college with them through this little door on Schools Street. And you see where – if they’re coming in – that lands them. It lands them straight in the submarine within a submarine, Orchard Ground. They can then use the same key to get them out of Orchard Ground into the rest of the college. And when I give you the facts of the case in a minute you’ll see that the murderer of Dr Umpleby appears to have had one of those keys. Which is no doubt,” the inspector added dryly, “why you have been sent for in such a hurry.”
“I see the suggested situation, anyway,” Appleby replied, after a brief scrutiny of the ground-plan. “Whereas in a normal college a nocturnal murder would probably be physically within the power of anyone within the college, this college is so arranged that this murder could apparently be carried out only by quite a few people – people who had, or who could get hold of, a key to this Orchard Ground. For the keys – you are maintaining, are you not? – gave the particular sort of access to Dr Umpleby that the circumstances seem to require.”
Dodd nodded. “You’ve got it,” he said, “and you can understand the perturbation of St Anthony’s.”
“There is the obvious fact that keys are treacherous things. They’re easier to steal usually than a cheque-book – and far easier to copy than a signature.”
Dodd shook his head. “Yes, but you’ll see presently that there’s more to it than that. The topography of the business really is uncommonly odd.”
Both men looked at the plan in silence for a moment. “Well,” said Appleby at length, “here is our stage setting. Now let us have the characters and events.”
III
“I’ll begin with characters,” Dodd said, “indeed I’ll begin where I had to begin this morning; with a list of names.” As he spoke, the inspector rummaged among his papers as if looking for a memorandum. Then, apparently thinking better of it, he squared his shoulders, wrinkled his brow in concentration and continued with his eyes fixed upon his own large boots.
“Here are the Fellows who were dining in college last night. In addition to the President there was the Dean; he’s called the Reverend the Honourable Tracy Deighton-Clerk.” (There was an indefinable salt in the inspector’s mode of conveying this information.) “And there were Mr Lambrick, Professor Empson, Mr Haveland, Mr Titlow, Dr Pownall, Dr Gott, Mr Campbell, Professor Curtis, Mr Chalmers-Paton and Dr Barocho.”
Appleby nodded. “Deighton-Clerk,” he repeated, “Lambrick, Empson, Haveland, Titlow, Pownall, Gott, Campbell, Curtis, Chalmers-Paton – and a foreigner who just beats me. Go on.”
“Barocho,” said Dodd. “And only one Fellow, as it happens, was absent. He’s called Ransome and at the moment he’s said to be digging up some learned stuff in central Asia.” Dodd’s tone again conveyed some hint of the feeling that Dr Umpleby’s death had landed him among queer fish. “Not that I’ve any proof,” he continued suspiciously, “of where this Ransome is. That’s just what they all say.”
Appleby smiled. “The submarine seems well officered,” he said. “If you’re going on to extract a list of a couple of hundred or so undergraduates from those boots of yours I think I’d certainly prefer the baronet’s country house. Or the balloon in the stratosphere – that
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