‘Quite a model son,’ said Carver with a sarcasm.
Father Brown agreed, frowning, as if thinking ofa riddle of his own; and then said:‘A model son. But rather an unnatural model.’
At this moment a postman brought in an unstamped letter for the lawyer; a letter which the lawyer opened impatiently after a quick look. As it fell apart, the priest saw a spidery, crazy handwriting and the autograph of ‘Phoenix Fitzgerald’; and made a conclusion which the other supported.
‘It’s that highly emotional actor that’s always annoying us,’ he said. ‘He’s got some conflict with his dead and gone fellow actor, which can’t have anything to do with the case[57]. We all refuse to see him, except the doctor, who did see him; and the doctor says he’s mad.’
‘Yes,’ said Father Brown, pressing his lips. ‘I should say he’s mad. But of course there can’t be any doubt that he’s right.’
‘Right?’ shouted Carver. ‘Right about what?’
‘About this being connected with the old theatrical company,’ said Father Brown. ‘Do you know the first thing that surprised me about this story? It was that idea that Maltravers was killed by villagers because he said something bad about their village. It’s strange what court investigators can get jurymen to believe[58]; and journalists, of course, trust them too. They can’t know much about English villagers. I’m an English villager myself; at least I was grown, with other turnips, in Essex[59]. Can you imagine an English peasant thinking abouthis village as an ideal place, like the citizen of an old Greek city-state; taking the sword to protect it, like a man in the small medieval republic of an Italian town? Can you hear a merry old villager saying, “Blood alone can wipe out one spot on the emblem of Potter’s Pond”? By St George and the Dragon[60], I only wish they would! But, in fact, I have a more practical argument for the other idea.’
He paused for a moment, as if collecting his thoughts[61], and then went on:‘They didn’t understandthe meaning of those few last words poor Maltravers was heard to say[62]. He wasn’t telling the villagers that the village was only a hamlet. He was talking to an actor; they were going to put on a performance in which Fitzgerald was to be Fortinbras, the unknown Hankin to be Polonius, and Maltravers, no doubt, the Prince of Denmark. Perhaps somebody else wanted the part or had views on the part[63]; and Maltravers said angrily, “You’d be an ugly little Hamlet”; that’s all.’
Dr Mulborough was struck; he seemed to be thinking aboutthat idea slowly but without difficulty. At last he said, before the others could speak:‘And what do you suggest that we should do now?’
Father Brown stood up quickly; but he spoke calmly enough. ‘If these gentlemen will excuse us for a moment, I propose that you and I, doctor, should go round at once to the Horners. I know the priest and his son will both be there just now. And what I want to do, doctor, is this. Nobody in the village knows yet, I think, about your autopsy and its result. I want you to simply tell both the clergyman and his son, while they are there together, the exact fact of the case; that Maltravers died by poison and not by a hit on the head.’
Dr Mulborough had to rethink his disbelief when told that it was an unusual village[64]. The scene which followed, when he actually did what the priest asked him, was certainly of the sort in which a man, as the saying is, can hardly believe his eyes.
