Free The Notched Hairpin by H. F. Heard Page B

drew on the cigarette, and then sat back. But, as I could have told him, he could not enjoy it, and, after a couple of puffs, laid aside the thing, which soon expired. Then he resumed his talk in a lighter tone.
    â€œWhen a man really cares for proof just for proof’s sake,” he went on, “which means caring for truth for truth’s sake, then he’s not content with probability—he wants certainty.”
    Again there was a pause, and I thought that Mr. M. might be thinking that he was going to get an answer. If so, he was disappointed. I saw him glance away toward the roof of the arbor, as though waiting. Then, as the silence continued, he remarked casually: “Beautiful natural roofage the beech makes—a perfect cover. As Vergil long ago put it, ‘ sub tegimine fagi .’”
    I saw the other glance up quickly and evidently follow Mr. M.’s eye, turning his head also to the arbor roof, then look back at Mr. M., who still did not look at him. Finally, Mr. Millum let his head sink, and he just looked at the ground. This clearly made Mr. M. see that he’d have to go farther if he was to get any more information that this man might be able to give about his self-killed friend.
    â€œMr. Millum,” Mr. M.’s voice was quiet but very clear, “you knew the late master of this house well. There can be no question that he was a gloomy, depressed, self-centered, and, I think we can say, suspicious man. This is the type we do, rightly, associate with suicide. But usually there is some small occasion, some ‘trigger action’ that sets alight the deep mine of despair and launches the victim out into the unknown. Could you tell me of any incident that in your opinion might have provoked Mr. Sankey to act in that final desperate way—I mean, to use the actual method that he did? Self-indulgent men are usually timid and hate pain. A stab through the heart may be acutely painful, mayn’t it?”
    The questioned man roused himself at that. “Not necessarily. No, not at all necessarily, there are … there are cases recorded where it was evidently painless—quite, quite!”
    â€œEven with so unhandy an instrument as a paper knife?”
    â€œWell, that all depends on the knack with which it was driven … driven home. I recall that Mr. Sankey frequently played with the sharp little blade that he used—an antique—and often quoted to me the ‘bare bodkin’ line from Hamlet’s soliloquy on suicide.”
    â€œDid he, indeed!”
    Mr. M. had swung slowly round till he was facing Mr. Millum.
    â€œDid he?”
    The phrase which had been first question-tinged with surprise had, in the second speaking, turned suddenly into challenge.
    â€œDid he!”
    It was again spoken, and this time there could be no doubt. Mr. M. meant, “You know he didn’t.”
    The other’s reply was disquieting: “Oh, yes, he really did; he really did more than once. That’s what put … I mean, he really was a wretchedly unhappy man, he was really in a very tight place, he really was at the end of his tether.”
    He paused, and Mr. M. said slowly, “And so you …?”
    The other recovered, “And so I was not surprised when the end came.”
    â€œNo,” said Mr. M. “No, you were not surprised, not a bit surprised. But perhaps you will understand that I am still puzzled?”
    Mr. Millum rose. “Mr. Mycroft,” he said with perfect courtesy, “I am sure you had every right, on the invitation of the inspector, to act as an additional adviser, and you have every right also to view this house as a possible tenant. I would do anything in my power to aid either the official inquiry or someone who might wish to be a neighbor for the summer. But I think you will understand that I see no use in our getting your two interests confused. The first issue is, as you say, officially closed. It is a