The Key Read Free Page B

– impossible to store or transport in any quantity. Then he turned up again. He said he had overcome the instability. He walked up and down this very room in a tremendous state of excitement, waving his arms and saying, “Harschite – that is what I have called it! It is my message that I send back to those who have let the devil loose to serve him, and it is such a message that he will hear it and go back to the hell where he belongs!” Then he calmed down a little and said, “There is only one more step – one small, small step – and I will take it any day now. It is the last experiment, and it will not fail. I am so sure of it that I can give you my word. In a week I shall ring you up and tell you that all is well – that the experiment has succeeded.” Well, he did ring me up to say just that. That was on the Tuesday. I was to go down the next day, but on Wednesday morning I was rung up to be told that Harsch was dead.’
    ‘How?’
    ‘Found shot – in the church of all places in the world. It seems he used to go down and play the organ – had a key, and used to go in just when he liked. He was living out at a house called Prior’s End with Madoc, the concentrated food man. It was he who rang me up. He said Harsch had supper with them – there’s a sister, Miss Madoc, and a girl secretary – and after that he went out. Madoc said he always did unless the weather was too bad – he liked walking at night. Odd taste, but I daresay it helped him to sleep, poor chap. When he wasn’t back by half-past ten, they didn’t do anything. Of course, it’s easy to say that they should have, but – well, they didn’t. Madoc and his sister went to bed. They said Harsch had a key, and they never thought that anything could have happened to him.’
    ‘Well, sir, you don’t do you?’
    ‘I suppose not. Anyhow they went to bed. But the girl sat up. By half-past eleven she was really frightened. She took a torch and walked down into the village. No sign of Harsch. She knocked up the verger and made him come along to the church with her. She said she thought Harsch might have been taken ill. Well, they found him fallen down by the organ, shot through the head – pistol just where it might have fallen from his hand. I went down and found everyone quite sure he’d shot himself. I am quite sure he didn’t.’
    Garth Albany said, ‘Why?’
    Sir George stopped twirling the pencil and put it down. ‘Because I don’t think he would. He’d made an appointment with me, and he was always very punctilious about keeping his appointments. He was going to hand over the formula and his notes. I wasn’t going down alone either – I was taking Burlton and Wing. He wouldn’t have walked out on us like that.’
    Garth Albany nodded. ‘He might have had a comeover. You know how it is – people do.’
    ‘ “Suicide while the balance of his mind was disturbed”!’ Sir George quoted the words with irony. ‘That’s what the verdict at the inquest will be.’ He brought his fist down suddenly on the table. ‘It’s damnably probable, quite irrefutable, and damnably untrue. Harsch was murdered. I want to find out who murdered him and see that he doesn’t get away with it. And that’s not just the natural reaction to murder. It goes a lot deeper. If Harsch was murdered, it was because someone had a motive for getting him out of the way at just this time. Not six months ago when harschite was still in the unstable stage, not a month ago when he was in good hope that he had overcome the instability and still had to put his hopes to the proof, but a few hours after the proof had been achieved, and within a few hours of his demonstrating it to me. Is that a likely time for a man to commit suicide? Isn’t it a likely time for a man to be murdered? Some strong interest was engaged to prevent the transfer of harschite.’
    Major Albany looked up. ‘I don’t know. He’d been working on the stuff for a long time, you know. I