Crime at Guildford

by Freeman Wills Crofts

  Sheen looked pleased. ‘I’ll be glad if it’s of use,’ he said deprecatingly.

  Norne nodded. ‘Sure to be. Well, Sheen, I hear you’ve been celebrating. How did the birthday party go?’

  Sheen waxed enthusiastic as he dilated on what had evidently been the greatest day in his daughter’s life. Then for a few minutes the conversation became general, until Sir Ralph’s departure for bed broke the party up.

  In spite of his protestations about a long night’s sleep, Sir Ralph was first down next morning. It was a brilliant autumn day. There had been a frost and every twig and branch and blade of grass was sparkling in the sun’s rays. Sir Ralph, who was fond of a short walk before breakfast, put on a coat and stumped off along the top of the ridge. The air was sharp and as invigorating as wine. It reminded him of the fresh clear thinness of the Swiss uplands, where even elderly men feel overflowing with energy and ready for any adventure or exertion. Once again he allowed his gaze to rest appreciatively on the charming succession of wooded ridges which stretched away before him, and once again he felt a twinge of envy of Norne, whose lot was cast amid these delightful surroundings.

  Norne and Sloley were down when he returned. Norne was bending over the dishes on the side table and Sloley fingering the Sunday Times.

  ‘Hullo, Early Bird,’ cried Sloley. ‘Whence all this energy?’

  ‘I always do it,’ Sir Ralph replied mildly. ‘Makes you feel good inside.’

  ‘That’s where you’re wrong,’ Sloley returned. ‘What makes me feel good inside is some of Norne’s bacon and eggs. Steady on, Norne, I’m not a shark.’

  ‘Sorry,’ murmured Norne; ‘my mistake. Morning, Osenden. Kippers, sole, bacon and eggs?’

  ‘Sole, please. Been admiring your view again, Norne. I wonder if you appreciate your luck, living here?’

  ‘Well, considering I came here and built because of it, I suppose I do. Tea beside you and coffee at the other end.’

  They settled down to breakfast and were presently joined first by Sheen and then by Ricardo. Talk for a time was general, then Sloley made a reference to business. ‘When are we to start this blessed conference, Norne?’

  ‘Whenever you good people like,’ Norne answered. ‘The only thing is that we must give Minter a chance. There’s plenty of time in any case.’

  ‘How is Minter this morning?’ Sir Ralph asked.

  ‘Don’t know. I told Jeffries he wasn’t to be called, but I suppose it’s not too early to do it now.’

  As Norne spoke he pressed on a bell-push which lay on the table beside his plate.

  ‘You might go up and see how Mr Minter is,’ he told Jeffries. ‘Ask him if he’s coming down for breakfast or if he’d like it sent up.’

  With his customary ‘Very good, sir,’ Jeffries disappeared.

  ‘Not much news this morning,’ Ricardo remarked, turning over the pages of the Observer.

  ‘I see Mansfield was knocked out in the sixth round last night,’ said Sloley. ‘My eyes, I should like to have seen that.’

  Sheen chuckled. ‘What are you grousing about? You saw “The Lilac Butterfly,” didn’t you?’

  ‘Lilac Grandmother,’ Sloley repeated in accents of biting scorn. ‘Next time you want to throw a party, Sheen, I’ll have hydrophobia.’

  ‘I should never be surprised to hear of it,’ Sheen returned gravely.

  ‘Must have been a good show—while it lasted,’ Norne commented, ‘though six rounds is hardly your money’s worth.’

  Sloley replied and they went on to discuss the fight in detail.

  Presently Jeffries returned. Sir Ralph happened to glance at him and looked again more curiously. The man’s ineffable calm had evidently been disturbed. He approached Norne, bent down, and whispered in his ear.

  Norne looked startled. He rose to his feet.

  ‘Apparently Minter’s not so well,’ he said. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and see him.’

  He went out and the conversation reverted to the accountant. Sir Ralph told the others about his going straight to bed on his arrival on the previous evening, and of Norne’s visit to him and subsequent comments thereon. Sloley and Sheen gave their versions of the accountant’s appearance and remarks during their interview at the office, and Ricardo again remarked what an outstanding man Minter would have been had his health been normal.

  Norne did not immediately return and presently the topic was dropped. One after another finished breakfast, and moving to the library, busied themselves with tobacco and newspapers. It was obvious that there was going to be some delay about starting the conference.

  Then Norne came in. He looked a good deal disturbed.

  ‘I’m very sorry to tell you fellows,’ he said gravely, ‘that Minter died during the night. He has evidently been dead for some time. I’ve sent for the doctor, of course, but only as a matter of form. He can do nothing.’

  There was a moment of hushed silence while his hearers looked blankly at each other. Then a chorus broke out of surprise, dismay and regret.

  3

  Enter Crime

  Sir Ralph Osenden was genuinely distressed about Minter’s death. He had known the accountant for a long time, indeed, ever since he had become connected with Nornes Limited, more than ten years earlier. And never during the whole of those years had the man’s health been other than poor. Always he had looked ill and always he had been subject to distressing internal attacks. Sometimes these involved an absence from business of as much as two or three days. However, in all those years he had not grown appreciably worse, and Sir Ralph had come to accept him and his ailments as a permanent part of the Company’s establishment. The shock of his sudden death was, therefore, all the greater.

  Judging from their hushed voices, the other members of the party were experiencing similar emotions. Minter had not been exactly popular—he was too quiet and retiring for that—but he had been liked in a mild way by everyone with whom he had come in contact. There was no one, Sir Ralph was sure, who would not be sorry to hear of what had happened.

  It was not long before the sound of a motor announced the doctor’s arrival. Norne hurried out to meet him and took him upstairs. But comparatively speaking, a considerable time passed before there was any further move. Then Norne came down alone. He was looking graver and more than a little worried.

  ‘I’m afraid this affair’s going to be worse even than we thought,’ he announced. ‘Hawthorn says he can’t give a certificate.’

  This time his hearers stared even more blankly than before.

  ‘What does that mean?’ Ricardo asked. ‘He can’t tell the cause of death?’

  ‘Apparently not. He says there must be an inquest and probably a p.m. He’s still up there looking about and he has ’phoned for the police.’

  ‘The police! Bless my soul! What does he suspect?’

  ‘I don’t know a thing more than I’ve told you,’ Norne answered. ‘Hawthorn’s a decent fellow, but he’s close. He’s been looking at a bottle of aspirins that was beside the bed, and asking whether Minter was depressed last night. I don’t know whether you can take anything out of that.’

  ‘Good God!’ Sloley muttered, ‘so that’s the idea, is it? I don’t believe it: not for a minute.’

  ‘If you mean suicide,’ Ricardo said more bluntly, ‘neither do I. Minter was not that kind of man.’

  Sir Ralph strongly agreed. ‘If the death was not from natural causes, it was an accident. Minter might take an overdose by mistake, but never intentionally.’

  ‘I entirely agree,’ Norne nodded. ‘We’re probably jumping to conclusions, but if things do look suspicious, accident would be the only possible explanation.’

  ‘An accident wouldn’t be so hard to explain either,’ Ricardo observed. ‘When a man’s half-blind with a bilious headache he might take anything.’

  Norne made a gesture of disapproval. ‘We’re jumping to conclusions,’ he repeated. ‘Let’s wait till we know more about it.’

&nbs
p; ‘We’ll all agree with that,’ Sheen declared. ‘But there’s something else that won’t wait. What about telling Mrs Minter, Norne?’

  ‘I know,’ Norne said quickly; ‘I’ve been thinking about that and rather funking it. I don’t know that I oughtn’t to run up and see her. It would be rather ghastly to do it over the telephone.’

  ‘You know her?’

  ‘I’ve met her. A fine looking woman: younger than Minter, I should think.’

  ‘Sloley and I know her,’ said Sheen. ‘She was at our party yesterday. A rotten job, having to tell her.’

  ‘Yes, but I’m afraid as his host it’s mine. I’ll go as soon as the police have come. They may want to see me.’

  ‘It’s very good of you, Norne,’ Ricardo declared, ‘but I’m sure you’re doing the right thing!’

  Sloley moved uneasily. ‘It seems a bit heartless,’ he said with an air of unusual deprecation, ‘to introduce business at such a time. But after all, we’re here for a purpose. The business which has brought us together is urgent. Tragedy or no tragedy, it won’t wait. What are we going to do about it?’

  The others nodded their agreement, but only Norne answered.

  ‘There’s no doubt in my mind what we should do,’ he declared. ‘As soon as I start, you fellows get going. Do the best you can to reach agreement. I’ll not be more than three hours at the most and we can have a second session after lunch. If you can agree, I’ll fall in with your views.’

  As he spoke there came the sound of a second car, followed by a ring and then deep voices in the hall.

  ‘The police,’ Norne said and went out quickly.

  ‘I felt rotten butting in like that,’ said Sloley when the door had closed, ‘but what could we do? We must get this blessed thing fixed up before the board.’

  ‘You were quite right,’ Ricardo assured him. ‘If you hadn’t spoken, I should. I suggest we get to work at once.’

  This seemed good advice and they got out their papers and settled themselves round the library table. But they had scarcely got under way when Norne looked in.

  ‘That’s good,’ he approved, glancing round the group. ‘I shall not be longer than I can help. I’ve rung up Mrs Minter to prepare her for my call and I’m starting at once. I should say also that Sergeant Roxton is taking statements, and he’ll want to see Sloley and Sheen about their interview with Minter last night.’

  Norne nodded and withdrew and the others settled down to work. After a short time Jeffries came in to say the sergeant sent his compliments and could he see Mr Sloley? Sloley vanished for ten minutes, and was followed by Sheen. Interruptions then ceased, until shortly before lunch Norne again put in an appearance.

  ‘I’ve seen that poor lady,’ he said: ‘a perfectly rotten job. She took it wonderfully well on the whole. When I’d told her I went for her sister, who lives at Finchley. She’s looking after her for the present.’

  There were murmurs of concern and sympathy and then Norne asked how the others had got on. For a moment no one replied, and then Sloley took upon himself the rôle of spokesman.

  ‘Not so badly, I think,’ he explained. ‘We’ve rather agreed on a compromise—provisionally of course—and we’re anxious to hear what you think of it. Shall I tell him?’ He looked round.

  The others nodded and Sloley went on. ‘We incline to a reconstruction—a reconstruction in which no secret shall be made of our present unsatisfactory position; no glossing it over. At the same time we suggest a fresh issue, which would bring us in enough our way to pay and carry us on for some years. We think that if trade goes on improving, we should eventually make good. We’re agreed so far, but we’re not agreed as to the amount of the issue. However, our differences are getting narrower, and unless,’ he grinned, ‘you come in and upset the apple-cart, I think we’ll reach a figure.’

  Norne was evidently as pleased as he was surprised. ‘I’m all for compromise, as you know,’ he declared, ‘and on the face of it, that sounds good. Of course, the other directors may insist on selling and closing down. However, suppose we chuck it for the moment and have lunch. Then we might have a short further go and settle the thing finally.’

  Though at lunch they avoided the topic which most fully occupied their minds, there was a constraint over the meal. All, consciously or unconsciously, wished to finish their work and get away. The idea of staying on over Sunday night, as had been intended, was tacitly abandoned. Norne indeed assumed that it would be.

  It was not till after lunch that Sir Ralph found himself alone with Norne. ‘Tell me,’ he said, seizing the opportunity, ‘what is happening? Is there going to be an inquest?’

  ‘I don’t know any more than you do,’ Norne replied. ‘Dr Hawthorn seemed to have no doubt that it would be necessary, but the sergeant said nothing about it.’

  ‘Then what will you do—with the body?’

  ‘I can’t do anything till I hear. I propose when our conference is finished to get in touch with the police and find out. Either the body should be taken up to Minter’s house, or Mrs Minter and her sister should come down here.’

  Sir Ralph nodded. ‘I’m sorry for that woman,’ he declared, and then: ‘There are no children?’

  ‘No, and fortunately she’ll be all right financially. I happen to know Minter had saved. Besides there’ll be a pension from our fund.’

  ‘Much?’

  ‘No, not much. But enough to be comfortable on.’

  Sir Ralph lowered his voice. ‘I suppose, Norne, this affair won’t affect our attitude at the board? I mean,’ he hesitated, ‘suppose this turns out to be suicide, do you think it would affect our issue? It couldn’t be argued, could it, that the suicide was due to our unsatisfactory position?’

  ‘I thought of that,’ Norne admitted, ‘but I don’t believe there’s anything in it. Granting our position does look bad: why should Minter be upset by it to that extent? If there was any question of fraud it might be different. But no one could suggest that.’

  ‘Of course not,’ Sir Ralph said hastily. ‘The idea simply occurred to me.’

  ‘If the issue wasn’t taken up we might have to sell after all. However, that’s the worst that could happen to us. By the way, Osenden, I’ve been wanting to talk to you about another matter.’

  ‘Go on, Norne.’

  ‘Well, it’s the question of who’s going to take Minter’s place. I don’t mean who’s going to be our new accountant, but who’s going to act temporarily. There’s the opening of the big safe, for instance. As you know, I have one key and Minter had the other. We had both to be present with our keys before the door could be unlocked. And that door has to be opened every day.’

  Sir Ralph waited without speaking.

  ‘You, Osenden, are the vice-chairman, and it seems to me that you should step into the breach. I suggest that in the presence of the others Minter’s key shall be handed over to you, and that you agree to keep it until the new accountant is appointed. I suggest further that you don’t pretend to be anything but a figurehead, and let Pendlebury, Minter’s chief clerk, do the work. He’s a good chap, is Pendlebury, level headed and knows what he’s about. In fact, I should think he’d have a good chance of getting the job.’

  ‘Then why not give him the key?’

  Norne shook his head. ‘I don’t think I dare do that. At present he’s only a clerk. The directors don’t even know him officially. On the other hand, you’re not only a director, but you’ve been chosen vice-chairman.’ Norne smiled slightly. ‘If you do a bit of levanting, I can’t be blamed: if he did, I could.’

  ‘Neither of us could do that without your connivance. However, I’ll agree to whatever you think best. What will it mean?’

  ‘It’ll mean turning up every day till the appointment’s made. It’s a bit hard lines, I know, but I don’t see what else we can do.’

  ‘That’s all right. What time will you want me to be there in the morning?’

  Norne hesitated. ‘I generally get busy about t
en, but I dare say we could wait for a bit if that’s too early.’

  ‘Not a bit of it. I’ll be there at ten, or earlier if you like.’

  ‘How will you do it? It would mean a pretty early start from Ryde.’

  ‘I won’t go to Ryde. Something will probably be settled at Wednesday’s board, and till then I’ll stay at the club.’

  ‘Well, it’s good of you. That’s a weight off my mind.’

  At their adjourned conference the proposals made earlier were duly ratified, and a clear understanding was reached as to the policy to be recommended to the full board. Then Norne explained his idea in connection with Minter’s key, which was approved by everyone present. The keys had been taken charge of by the police, but Norne rang them up and the transfer was effected.

  This brought the business of the visit to an end, and soon all four guests left for Town in Sloley’s car. Sir Ralph was dropped at his club in Pall Mall and Ricardo at Piccadilly Circus, both places being but little out of Sloley’s and Sheen’s way to their homes in Hampstead.

  Sir Ralph was not too well pleased at having to assume the custody of the second key of the safe. In the first place, his having charge of it was a useless precaution, for he did not know enough about the business to check the papers or stones which might be taken out. In the second, he could not but feel the thing was a slap in Pendlebury’s face. Pendlebury was the man who would actually do Minter’s work, and he should have been given the key.

  However, regrets were now useless. With a shrug Sir Ralph went to the club library for a book with which to while away the evening.

  When he reached the office next morning it was obvious that the news was already common property. There was a kind of excited hush in the air. Faces wore a startled expression, and movements to and fro were just a little furtive. The prevailing feeling seemed to be eager interest, but here and there someone showed traces of genuine sorrow.

  Norne had already arrived. Sir Ralph went to his room and sat reading the paper while the managing-director was going through his correspondence. Presently Norne looked up.