‘I don’t quite get your point about the singing,’ Fenning said doubtfully.
‘These cameras make a slight noise when they’re working. He couldn’t risk it being heard.’
The super made a little gesture of comprehension. ‘Bless my soul! Drown the sound?’
‘That’s what I took it to be. Well, there was the case for Sloley having “shot” the keys. Then I looked back over my notes and I found Point No. 3. It was Sloley who had brought about the meeting at Norne’s on the Sunday. Sloley had managed it skilfully and indirectly, making suggestions which inevitably led the others to make the counter suggestions he wanted. This Point No. 3 not only confirmed my view that Sloley was at the bottom of the robbery, but it also indicated that the meeting down here at Guildford was an essential part of the scheme.’
Fenning nodded appreciatively. French continued.
‘All this theory about photoing the keys was confirmed once and for all by the discovery I made at Sheen’s, about which I’ve told you; I mean the finding of the cut film picture.’
‘I should say so. I don’t know what you’re talking about in saying that’s not good enough for court.’
‘I’m glad you think so, super. I should have added that Sheen had a very decent little workshop with metal working tools: all on a small scale, of course. I mean, he could easily have cut the key.’
‘I wish I was as far on with the murder as you are with that,’ Fenning declared.
‘As a matter of fact I think you are,’ French answered. ‘But before we leave the theft let me point out how completely all three men are in it. Lyde presumably bought and certainly pawned the camera. Sloley took the photographs. Sheen developed them and cut the key, or at least, the piece of film proves he was privy to it.’
‘I see that. Short of finding someone who was with those fellows all the time watching what they did, I don’t see that you could have got any more. Now, what about that murder?’
French laboriously and thoroughly changed his position. Then he re-lit his pipe, which in his intentness he had allowed to go out. Finally he turned over the pages of his notebook and glanced at some notes. Thus prepared, he went on with his exposition.
‘Now, we had both begun by assuming that the theft and the murder were connected. Neither of us could prove it, but it seemed reasonable. I determined to continue to assume it and see where it led.
‘If I were correct, it followed that Sloley, Sheen and Lyde, or certain of them, were guilty of the murder. Was there any evidence to support this theory?
‘Well, in the first place, there was what I’ve already mentioned, that the meeting at Norne’s was really engineered by Sloley. In the second, I saw equally clearly that Minter’s call at the Norne office had been arranged by Sheen. You follow that, super?’
‘You said you thought that shareholders’ list that Sheen got out was only my eye?’
‘That’s it. I thought so, and you will notice that it was used to bring Minter to the office?’
‘I follow that.’
‘In the third place, and this perhaps is the most important of the three, Lyde faked an elaborate alibi. If it had been so necessary for him to prove he was in France that Saturday night, it surely pointed to him as the actual murderer?’
Again Fenning nodded without speaking.
‘There was also the other point, that Lyde denied having been at the office that night. The tale about Sheen borrowing the five pounds from the petty cash may or may not have been true. I haven’t had time to go into it yet, but I should imagine it was true, as they must have known it might be investigated.’
‘You might find that Lyde or Sheen had brought about the loan to Mrs Sheen.’
French nodded in his turn. ‘That’s just what I should expect to find. However, we must leave that point, because it hasn’t been gone into yet. Well, here was a certain amount of confirmation for the suspicion that those three might have murdered Minter. But here it stood. For a long time I couldn’t get any further.
‘Then I started another line. I tried to make an analysis of all the telephone messages which had passed on that afternoon, again with rather indifferent success.
‘Sheen had stated that about half-past four he had ’phoned Minter to ask some questions which had just occurred to him in connection with his list of shareholders. When replying, Minter had mentioned that he was not going to Norne’s till the 8.15 train, and it was then arranged that Minter would call at the office on his way. The receipt by Minter of a message at 4.30 was confirmed by the maid, so I took that call as having been cleared up. I presumed also that it was while then at the ’phone that Minter had called up Norne to say that he wouldn’t go down till after dinner. I couldn’t fix the exact time at which that message had been received, but it was somewhere about 4.30. That also worked in sufficiently well.
‘But Minter had received another message at three o’clock, and this one I have been quite unable to trace. But immediately after receiving it he had rung up his garage and put back the time of his taxi from 4.45 to 7.30.
‘Before I became suspicious about Minter’s movements I had assumed that on this occasion also he had taken the opportunity of being at the telephone to make another call, this time to his garage. Now I thought it might be something more direct. I began to wonder whether that message he had received at three o’clock—and not illness—had been the real cause of the postponement of his journey? The relation in time between it and the message to the garage seemed suggestive. Here I couldn’t see my way clear, so I left it for the moment and turned to review Minter’s movements on that Saturday.
‘Minter’s servant, Martha Belden, who seemed quite reliable, had said that Minter had spent the afternoon in his house, leaving by taxi at 7.30. This time was confirmed directly by the taximan, and indirectly by the garage.
‘Martha, however, hadn’t known of Minter’s illness. This, however, was not significant, as unless when very bad, he was not in the habit of complaining. On the other hand, the illness was supported by the fact—confirmed by the post-mortem—that he had no dinner.’
‘But did you doubt the illness?’
‘I doubted everything. I wanted to see just what there was proof for, and what there wasn’t. I noted there was none for the illness.
‘You may see that I was pretty suspicious by this time when I tell you that I particularly noted that Mrs Minter, who would undoubtedly have known whether her husband was or was not ill, was out for the afternoon. And I was more interested still when I remembered that that outing had been arranged by one of our three suspects—Sheen. Mrs Minter had been asked to Sheen’s daughter’s birthday party. I wondered if I was really on to something or was merely getting childish.
‘Then I went on with Minter’s movements. He had reached the office at 7.50. But what then? The evidence of what happened in the office might be washed out. But after that there was firm testimony that he had driven to Waterloo, travelled to Guildford, was driven to Norne’s, went to bed, and was seen by Norne about ten.
‘All this journey from the office to Norne’s seemed conclusively proven till I began to look into it with scepticism, and then I saw that we really knew nothing about it at all. The taximan could really only state that he had driven a fare from the office to Waterloo. At Guildford, we were told, Minter was muffled up to the ears, and presumably he was the same at Waterloo. Besides the man would not observe him closely. The same applied in the case of Norne’s chauffeur, and it should be remembered that this man had only seen Minter a few times at long intervals. Norne’s butler, Jeffries, was a new man and had never seen Minter. Then with regard to Norne, two things were suggestive. First, Norne was greatly struck by the way the illness had changed Minter, and second, the headache had made Minter’s eyes sensitive and only the light in the adjoining bathroom was on. We have to remember also that Minter was too ill to do more than give Norne Sheen’s list; he didn’t want to talk.’
An expression of intense am
azement, not unmixed with excitement, was growing on Fenning’s somewhat heavy features. French glanced at him and laughed.
‘I see you’ve got it, super,’ he remarked. ‘That’s it. If I’m right, Minter never travelled down by that 8.15 train from Waterloo. He came in the car with Sloley and Sheen.’
Fenning gave vent to an oath of some sturdiness. ‘And that was Lyde?’ he cried wonderingly. ‘That sick man that we’ve been so sorry for and that was murdered later on!’ He stopped and an expression of bewilderment passed across his face. Then it cleared and comprehension grew.
‘I’ve got you at last. By heavens, chief, I should have seen that before. Of course! It all works in now. Lyde hadn’t to get up into that room at Norne’s because he was already there. And Minter was murdered, I suppose, before they were clear of London?’
‘That’s what I make of it,’ French agreed. ‘I take it what they did was this. Lyde—’
‘Yes, go through it all. No; stop. Go on as you were and finish the tale.’
‘As you like. Well, I was thinking over this evidence of Minter’s journey when this idea that you’ve just got occurred to me: that Minter had never made it, but that Lyde had travelled in his place. At first I thought the idea absurd, but as I worried over it, certain things began to make it more likely.
‘There was first of all the splendid opportunity it gave for the robbery. Suppose they had got Norne’s key from the photographs and for some reason had failed to get Minter’s. I may admit this is the point which still sticks me: I don’t see why they should have failed. But suppose they did, everything becomes clear. They make Minter strip off his clothes and take his keys. Probably they tie or lock him up. Then Lyde, who is an actor and about the same size as Minter, and who has probably already made up to represent him, dresses in Minter’s clothes. At the same time with Minter’s key and the one they have made, Sloley and Lyde clear out the safe. They lock it, give Minter’s key to Lyde and he starts off to Guildford. You will note that Sloley sees him into the taxi—all that whole way down from the top of the building. That, I take it, was to prevent Lyde having to speak to the taximan.’
Fenning nodded approvingly. ‘That’s it, as sure as we’re alive. We ought to have got something from Sloley coming down all that way. I read your memo of it, but I missed the point.’
‘So did I,’ French admitted. ‘Well, to follow Lyde’s movements. I take it he went to Guildford, easily took in the chauffeur, hadn’t to take in the butler, and succeeded in what must have been his hardest job, taking in Norne. There the illness was his salvation. He looked different, he couldn’t talk, and he couldn’t be seen in a decent light.’
‘A bit lucky, that illness.’
French smiled slowly, but said nothing. Then Fenning swore again.
‘Hell, do you mean that was a fake too? But of course! You’ve just pointed out that there’s no evidence for it except from those three ruffians.’
Fenning thought for a moment, then added: ‘But he ’phoned Norne?’
‘But did he?’
Fenning made a furious gesture. ‘Hell!’ he cried again. ‘I’ve been blind! That was Lyde?’
‘I take it so. Actors are taught to mimic voices as well as appearances. I take it all the arrangements for that afternoon were made by our three friends.’
‘But then why didn’t Minter go down to Guildford at five o’clock as arranged?’
‘I take it because of the message he received at three. I have no proof, but I suggest Lyde put through a message purporting to come from Norne, and postponing Minter’s arrival. That’s guesswork, of course.’
‘Go ahead,’ said Fenning in a small voice.
‘As soon as Norne had left the bedroom, I suggest that Lyde got busy. He had brought the rope with him, and he lowered it from the window. Then he waited.’
‘Waited for those other scoundrels from Town?’
‘So I think. I imagine what took place in the office was this. When Minter arrived they forced him to drink that sleeping draught. It would probably have suited them best to murder him then and there, but they daren’t do it for two reasons. First, it was only eight o’clock. It would have been too soon. The doctor’s evidence would have blown the gaff. Secondly, they must keep him able to walk to the car—with assistance. If a constable had seen them carry him, they were done.’
‘The dope would also make him stupid and prevent him from shouting out when getting into the car?’
‘That’s right. I think there may have been another reason also. They may not have faced keeping him alive from eight till eleven in full possession of his senses, and probably knowing that they were going to kill him. Hang it all, bad as they were, I scarcely think they’d have done that.’
Fenning shrugged. ‘You think better of them than I do. But look here, chief, there’s something wrong there, surely? The doctor said Minter was murdered at ten or thereabouts, he believed before eleven. But if you’re right the doctor’s wrong. You make the murder just when?’
‘In the car immediately after leaving the office. About quarter-past eleven. No, super, there’s no discrepancy there. It’s all right and this is one of the cleverest bits of the whole thing. Just recall the doctor’s statement. He said the evidence was a bit conflicting. The evidence from the cooling of the body showed that death had taken place some considerable time earlier, he said from seven to ten or earlier. But all the other evidence pointed to a later time, from ten till midnight. He said such conflicting evidence was not unusual and that doctors usually took a sort of mean. He did so, and it made his result about ten.
‘But look at what actually occurred and what he thought had occurred. He thought the deceased had been in bed, covered up by clothes. Radiation would be reduced to a minimum and cooling would be slow. But as a matter of fact the body, dressed probably in outer clothes only, was in a car, driving very quickly on a cold night. Cooling would be much more rapid than in bed. I’ll bet if the doctor had known that, we’d have had a different time for the death.’
‘I wonder if they intended that?’
‘I don’t know, but whether they did or not it worked out well for them. Well, they got Minter, stupefied, but able to walk with assistance, out of the office and into the car, and, of course, they brought also Lyde’s clothes and probably an outfit to let him get off his make-up. They drove down to Guildford just as fast as wouldn’t get them stopped, and ran up the old road on to the Hog’s Back, behind Norne’s house. They carried the dead man to the house, Lyde no doubt showing a convenient light so that they could identify the window. There at the bottom of the wall was Lyde’s rope and they tied the body on and Lyde drew it up. It wouldn’t take him long to get it into bed and arrange everything as it was to be found. Then he no doubt changed the rope to the upper windows, got out on to the sill, closed the side window he had used, latched it through the upper quadrant, slipped down to the ground and drew the rope after him. We saw that all that would be possible.’
‘And the glass?’ Fenning murmured.
‘About the glass I have no proof, but what I suggest took place was this. While all three doubtless hoped that the death would be taken to be either from natural causes or suicide, they must have realised that the murder might be discovered. To guard themselves in such a case, I suggest they decided to throw suspicion on Norne. The fact that he held one of the keys of the safe would suggest why Norne was chosen. This was by no means the least skilful part of the whole affair, in fact, it was carried out in a very subtle way, so that it wouldn’t be discovered unless suspicion had already been aroused. Lyde got Norne up to the room alone and the last thing at night—at least, the last thing so far as Minter was ostensibly concerned. While there he tricked Norne into leaving his finger-prints on the glass, which he had cleaned for the purpose. Then Lyde again wiped the glass, carefully leaving a distinctive part of one of Norne’s prints. Then when he had got the body into bed, he faked on Minter’s prints, purposely turning the thumb to an i
mpossible angle to show that it was a fake. That again, as I say, is only my suggestion.’
Fenning nodded heavily. He seemed too much overcome for words.
‘While Sloley and Sheen drove round to the front door, Lyde must have dressed in his own clothes, got off his make-up, and proceeded to make himself scarce. In this necessary part of the affair he passed your two constables at the new railway bridge. He made his way to Newhaven, crossed to Paris, and completed a quite decent alibi. When he got back he forged the passport stamp, smearing it with mud to try to hide his operations. But he made a bad mistake there. He forgot that the night he had crossed was dry.’
Still Fenning did not answer and French went on. ‘All that reconstruction admittedly is guesswork, but you’ll admit it fits the facts?’
At last Fenning moved. ‘It’s the truth,’ he said with an oath. ‘It’s the truth as sure as we’re here at this moment. But proof … That’s another matter, I’m afraid.’
‘The proof is the finger-print on the collar. To me it’s complete, though I don’t know how it would strike a jury. I thought there was just the off-chance that we might find that finger-print, for this reason. Lyde, I expect, wore gloves. He would be bound to do so, or he might have trapped himself with finger-prints. But a stiff linen collar’s not an easy proposition to handle with gloves on. Therefore, the chances were that when he came to unbutton Minter’s, which, of course, he had been wearing from the office to Norne’s, he found he had to slip the gloves off. He either overlooked the fact that he had made prints, or thought no one would test for them.’
‘Well, I admit I shouldn’t have thought of testing for them myself. I don’t see how the defence could explain those prints away.’
‘They might say that Minter was taken faint in the office and that the other three loosened his collar for him.’
‘And would that be an explanation?’
French shook his head. ‘It wouldn’t be to me. But you never know what view a jury’ll take.’
Crime at Guildford Page 24