Japanese Tales of Mystery & Imagination - Edogawa Rampo [51]
"Go to the left for a couple of blocks and you'll find a house with a red lamp on the left-hand side. . . ." I remembered every word I had uttered. Why, why, hadn't I instructed the man to go to the right for one block and seek the aid of Dr. Kato, a well-known surgeon? Matsui, the doctor whom I had recommended to the chauffeur, was a notorious quack, utterly without experience in surgery. On the other hand, Dr. Kato was a brilliant surgeon. As I had known this all along, how, I kept asking myself, had I ever come to make such a silly mistake?
I began to feel more and more anxious over my blunder and sent my old housekeeper to make a few discreet inquiries among the neighbors. When she returned from her mission I learned that the worst had happened. Dr. Matsui had failed miserably in his surgical efforts, and the victim of the accident had died without recovering consciousness. According to the gossip of the neighbors, when the injured man was carried into the office of Dr. Matsui, the latter made no mention of the fact that he was a novice in surgery. If, even at that eleventh hour, he had directed the chauffeur to take the man to Dr. Kato, the unfortunate man might still have been saved. But, no! Rashly, he had worked on the man himself, and had failed.
When I learned these tragic facts, all my blood seemed to drain out of my body. Who had actually been responsible for the death of the poor old man, I asked myself. Of course, the chauffeur and Dr. Matsui had their share of the responsibility. And if someone had to be punished, the guardians of the law would certainly pick the chauffeur. And yet, wasn't it I who had really been the most responsible? If I had not made the fatal error of indicating the wrong doctor, that old man might have been saved! The chauffeur had only injured the victim. . .he had not killed him outright. As for Dr. Matsui, his failure was attributable only to his lack of surgical skill, and to no other cause. But I—I had been criminally negligent and had pronounced the death sentence on an innocent man.
Actually, of course, I was innocent, for I had only committed a blunder. But then, I asked myself, what if I had purposely given the wrong directions? Needless to say, in that case I would have been guilty of murder! And yet, even if the law were to punish the chauffeur, not the slightest suspicion would have fallen on me—the real murderer! Besides, even if I had been suspected in some way, could they have hanged me if I had testified in court that because I had been in a state of intoxication I had forgotten all about Dr. Kato, the good surgeon? All these thoughts raised a fascinating problem.
Gentlemen, have you ever theorized on murder along these lines? I myself thought of it for the first time only after the experience I have just related. If you ponder deeply on the matter, you will find that the world is indeed a dangerous place. Who knows when you yourselves may be directed to the wrong doctor—intentionally, criminally—by a man like myself?
To prove my theory I will outline another example of how a perfect crime can be perpetrated without the slightest danger of suspicion. Supposing, one day, you notice an old country woman crossing a downtown street, just about to put one foot down on the rails of the streetcar line. The traffic, we will also suppose, is heavy with motorcars, bicycles, and carts. Under these circumstances you would perceive that the old woman is jittery, as is natural for a rustic in a big city. Suppose, now, that at the very moment she puts her foot on the rail a streetcar comes rushing down the tracks toward her. If the old woman does not notice the car and continues across the tracks, nothing will happen. But if someone should happen to shout "Look out, old woman!" what would be her natural reaction? It is superfluous for me to explain that she would suddenly become flustered and would pause to decide whether to go on or to step back. Now, if the motorman of the streetcar could not apply his brakes in time, the mere words "Look out,