Americans -- England -- Fiction; Courtship -- Fiction; Detective and mystery stories; London (England) -- Fiction
“Why?” I found myself saying, and over and over I repeated it--“Why?
Why?”
The lieutenant faced me, and I hope never again to see such a look in a
man’s eyes.
“I loved him!” he cried. “That is why. For his honor, for the honor of
our family, I am making this request of you. Believe me, it is not easy.
I can tell you no more than that. You knew my brother?”
“Slightly.”
“Then, for his sake--do this thing I ask.”
“But--murder--”
“You heard the sounds of a struggle. I shall say that we quarreled--that
I struck in self-defense.” He turned to his father. “It will mean only
a few years in prison--I can bear that!” he cried. “For the honor of our
name!”
The old man groaned, but did not raise his head. The boy walked back
and forth over my faded carpet like a lion caged. I stood wondering what
answer I should make.
“I know what you are thinking,” said the lieutenant. “You can not credit
your ears. But you have heard correctly. And now--as you might put
it--it is up to you. I have been in your country.” He smiled pitifully.
“I think I know you Americans. You are not the sort to refuse a man when
he is sore beset--as I am.”
I looked from him to the general and back again.
“I must think this over,” I answered, my mind going at once to Colonel
Hughes. “Later--say to-morrow--you shall have my decision.”
“To-morrow,” said the boy, “we shall both be called before Inspector
Bray. I shall know your answer then--and I hope with all my heart it
will be yes.”
There were a few mumbled words of farewell and he and the broken old man
went out. As soon as the street door closed behind them I hurried to the
telephone and called a number Colonel Hughes had given me. It was with a
feeling of relief that I heard his voice come back over the wire. I told
him I must see him at once. He replied that by a singular chance he had
been on the point of starting for my rooms.
In the half-hour that elapsed before the coming of the colonel I walked
about like a man in a trance. He was barely inside my door when I began
pouring out to him the story of those two remarkable visits. He made
little comment on the woman’s call beyond asking me whether I could
describe her; and he smiled when I mentioned lilac perfume. At mention
of young Fraser-Freer’s preposterous request he whistled.
“By gad!” he said. “Interesting--most interesting! I am not surprised,
however. That boy has the stuff in him.”
“But what shall I do?” I demanded.
Colonel Hughes smiled.
“It makes little difference what you do,” he said. “Norman Fraser-Freer
did not kill his brother, and that will be proved in due time.” He
considered for a moment. “Bray no doubt would be glad to have you alter
your testimony, since he is trying to fasten the crime on the young
lieutenant. On the whole, if I were you, I think that when the
opportunity comes to-morrow I should humor the inspector.”
“You mean--tell him I am no longer certain as to the hour of that
struggle?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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