Ordeal by Innocence

He went across and opened it.

‘Come in, Mr Argyle, I–’

He stopped, taken aback. It was not Leo Argyle. It was a young man in his early twenties, a young man whose dark, handsome face was marred by its expression of bitterness. A reckless, angry, unhappy face.

‘Didn’t expect me,’ said the young man. ‘Expected my–father. I’m Michael Argyle.’

‘Come in.’ Calgary closed the door after his visitor had entered. ‘How did you find out I was here?’ he asked as he offered the boy his cigarette case.

Michael Argyle took one and gave a short unpleasant laugh.

‘That one’s easy! Rang up the principal hotels on the chance you might be staying the night. Hit it the second try.’

‘And why did you want to see me?’

Michael Argyle said slowly:

‘Wanted to see what sort of a chap you were…’ His eyes ran appraisingly over Calgary, noting the slightly stooped shoulders, the greying hair, the thin sensitive face. ‘So you’re one of the chaps who went on the “Hayes Bentley” to the Pole. You don’t look very tough.’

Arthur Calgary smiled faintly.

‘Appearances are sometimes deceptive,’ he said. ‘I was tough enough. It’s not entirely muscular force that’s needed. There are other important qualifications; endurance, patience, technical knowledge.’

‘How old are you, forty-five?’

‘Thirty-eight.’

‘You look more.’

‘Yes–yes, I suppose I do.’ For a moment a feeling of poignant sadness came over him as he confronted the virile youth of the boy facing him.

He asked rather abruptly:

‘Why did you want to see me?’

The other scowled.

‘It’s natural, isn’t it? When I heard about the news you’d brought. The news about my dear brother.’

Calgary did not answer.

Michael Argyle went on:

‘It’s come a bit late for him, hasn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ said Calgary in a low voice. ‘It is too late for him.’

‘What did you bottle it up for? What’s all this about concussion?’

Patiently Calgary told him. Strangely enough, he felt heartened by the boy’s roughness and rudeness. Here, at any rate, was someone who felt strongly on his brother’s behalf.

‘Gives Jacko an alibi, that’s the point, is it? How do you know the times were as you say they were?’

‘I am quite sure about the times.’ Calgary spoke with firmness.

‘You may have made a mistake. You scientific blokes are apt to be absent-minded sometimes about little things like times and places.’

Calgary showed slight amusement.

‘You have made a picture for yourself of the absent-minded professor of fiction–wearing odd socks, not quite sure what day it is or where he happens to be? My dear young man, technical work needs great precision; exact amounts, times, calculations. I assure you there is no possibility of my having made a mistake. I picked up your brother just before seven and put him down in Drymouth at five minutes after the half hour.’

‘Your watch could have been wrong. Or you went by the clock in your car.’

‘My watch and the clock in the car were exactly synchronized.’

‘Jacko could have led you up the garden path some way. He was full of tricks.’

‘There were no tricks. Why are you so anxious to prove me wrong?’ With some heat, Calgary went on: ‘I expected it might be difficult to convince the authorities that they had convicted a man unjustly. I did not expect to find his own family so hard to convince!’

‘So you’ve found all of us a little difficult to convince?’

‘The reaction seemed a little–unusual.’

Micky eyed him keenly.

‘They didn’t want to believe you?’

‘It–almost seemed like that…’

‘Not only seemed like it. It was. Natural enough, too, if you only think about it.’

‘But why? Why should it be natural? Your mother is killed. Your brother is accused and convicted of the crime. Now it turns out that he was innocent. You should be pleased–thankful. Your own brother.’

Micky said:

‘He wasn’t my brother. And she wasn’t my mother.’

‘What?’

‘Hasn’t anyone told you? We were all adopted. The lot of us. Mary, my eldest “sister”, in New York. The rest of us during the war. My “mother”, as you call her, couldn’t have any children of her own. So she got herself a nice little family by adoption. Mary, myself, Tina, Hester, Jacko. Comfortable, luxurious home and plenty of mother love thrown in! I’d say she forgot we weren’t her own children in the end. But she was out of luck when she picked Jacko to be one of her darling little boys.’

‘I had no idea,’ said Calgary.

‘So don’t pull out the “own mother”, “own brother” stop on me! Jacko was a louse!’

‘But not a murderer,’ said Calgary.

His voice was emphatic. Micky looked at him and nodded.