Hanbury much regretted that he had done nothing with regard to the first point. However he would get on to it at once. But with regard to the second, he fortunately could oblige the Chief-Inspector. He happened to have such a photograph in his possession. It was a group of certain of the staff of the works taken on the occasion of Chayle winning a football challenge cup. The portrait of Samson was good and would bear enlargement. Hanbury would send the group at once.
This was a piece of extraordinary luck. The photograph arrived while French and Carter were at breakfast next morning and presently they set off for Fisher’s garage. They found Fisher civil enough, but inclined to be annoyed by the number of police representatives who desired his story.
‘I told Superintendent Goodwilly all this,’ he said in a slightly aggrieved voice. ‘I think he might have passed on the information to you.’
‘He did so, Mr Fisher,’ French returned pleasantly, ‘but we’ve gone a little further since then. What I am now working on is the identity of the man to whom you sold the car. Now I have here a photograph of some of the Chayle staff and I want to know if you can pick out Clay. If you can, it settles the question once and for all.’
As long as Fisher was not being asked merely to repeat himself he was anxious enough to be helpful. But neither he nor any of his assistants could find the purchaser in the group.
‘You’re quite sure it wasn’t this man?’ said French at last, pointing to Samson.
‘Is that Clay?’ Fisher returned. ‘No, it certainly wasn’t. That’s very interesting now. If the man wasn’t Clay, who was it?’
‘That’s the rub, Mr Fisher,’ French agreed. ‘Now I’ll tell you a secret. That’s not Clay, but a man I thought might have been impersonating him—Clay in fact is not in the group. Thank you, Mr Fisher, you’ve helped me considerably.’
There, so far as French could see, went one of his two theories. From the height and build point of view, Samson was the only one of the Chayle hierarchy who could have impersonated Clay. He had not done so. Therefore it looked as if Chayle was out of it.
This theory, of course, had always been the unlikely one of the two. It was much more probable that some outsider was guilty. French felt that his next step must be to get a similar photograph of the Joymount staff and see if Fisher could do better with it.
Where, he wondered, might such be obtained? It was unlikely that his amazing luck in connection with Samson would be repeated.
It was, however, very nearly repeated. French, having made sure that there were no Joymount photographs at the police station, drew a bow at a venture. He went to the office of the principal local paper, and showing his credentials, put his query. He had seen a very good photograph of a football team that the Chayle cement works had put into the field. Was there a similar photograph of members of the Joymount staff? Or were there any photographs of any kind which included them?
His shot scored a bull’s-eye. Though not superstitious, he was a little frightened at this run of luck, for he had found that rapid early progress in a case usually meant a block later on. However as long as the luck lasted he could only be thankful for it.
It chanced that the Southampton Argus had a photograph of the Joymount staff. It had been taken some three years earlier on the occasion of the visit of a Canadian commission which was studying the manufacture of rapid-hardening cement. On the mount below were the names of the members.
It was just what French wanted. Removing the reference, he went back to the garage and showed it to Mr Fisher.
But here he was disappointed. The man who bought the car might conceivably have been one of four of the group, but neither Fisher nor any of his staff could say that it was so.
French noted the names of the possible four. They were: Mr Walter Brand, director; Mr Frederick King, chemical engineer; Mr James Campbell, fitter, and Mr Robert Armour, fireman.
Of these there could be no doubt as to which were the most likely. French determined that he must go into the recent movements of the chemist, King, and probably also of the young director, Brand.
But though this would be an early item on his programme, French decided it should not be his next step. Joymount was a matter of guesswork, whereas in another direction he had what might prove to be a direct clue. If an outsider were guilty, that outsider had obtained a mould of the keys. Had this been done by drugging Haviland in the train? This question was more urgent than Joymount. He would take it first.
From the hotel timetable he found that the 4.50 from Waterloo reached Portsmouth Harbour at 6.56. When the train came in that night he and Carter were waiting on the platform.
Once again he had a piece of unexpected luck. It happened that the tea-car staff on the train was the same as had been on duty on the evening in question, and the head attendant remembered the incident clearly.
‘I know the gentleman well,’ the attendant said. ‘I don’t know his name, but he comes down every Friday afternoon and always has tea and toast. He comes to this station.’
‘Goes over to the Island,’ explained French, anxious to do more than merely ask questions.
‘I dare say,’ the attendant returned.
‘Yes, he lives near Cowes. He went unexpectedly to sleep, you say?’
‘Yes, I never saw him asleep before. That night, it was last Friday, six days ago, he came down and had tea and toast as usual. There were no late teas, and we got the tables cleared and all shipshape before we passed Haslemere. I happened to be speaking to a friend at Haslemere and I could see along the platform that no one got into the car. I didn’t go through it therefore after leaving Haslemere. Besides, you understand, if anyone had wanted anything they could have rung. Petersfield was the next stop, and I wasn’t out on the platform there; so when we left the station I walked through the car, just to make sure no one had got in and that nothing was wanted. We do that, you know.’
‘I know,’ said French. ‘It’s an attention that’s appreciated.’ Again French tried his gentle flattery.
The man seemed pleased. ‘We do our best, sir. Well, when I went through the car after Petersfield, I noticed this gentleman was asleep. We stopped at Fratton and Southsea and then here at the Harbour. I went through the car to see that nothing had been left behind, and there I saw the gentleman still asleep. I spoke to him, but as he didn’t wake, I shook him by the shoulder. Well, sir, you’ll hardly believe it, but I couldn’t wake him. I called another of the attendants to help me carry him to the station-master’s office, where a doctor could see him if necessary. But when we tried to lift him he woke. He seemed a bit upset, but I will say he did the decent. He gave us five bob between us, and thanked us. I asked him would he like someone to get him a taxi, but he said no, that he was all right. So we left him, and that’s all I can tell you about it.’
‘That’s very clear,’ French complimented. Then he became very confidential. ‘Now I’ll tell you something. Can you keep a secret?’
The man, interested by this unusual attitude on the part of a chief-inspector of the Yard, made the obvious reply.
‘Very well,’ French went on, ‘not a word of this to anyone. We believe that while in the tea car a certain small object of value was stolen from the gentleman. That’s what we’re investigating. Now it looks to me as if he was drugged. What would you say to that?’
The attendant wouldn’t be surprised. The passenger was more heavily asleep than was, in his opinion, natural.
‘Suppose he was drugged,’ said French, ‘how could the drugging have been done?’
The attendant didn’t see that it could have been done at all. No one could possibly have got at the trays before they were served, of that he was certain. After they were served the Chief-Inspector could form as good an opinion on the matter as he could. No, he couldn’t say how the other passengers in the car were distributed, but he did remember that the gentleman was alone in one of the wider compartments.
French was very persistent in his questioning, but witho
ut further result. The attendant obviously did his best, but he had noticed nothing suspicious. Nor could French himself think of any scheme which could have been adopted.
French then produced his groups. The man quickly recognised Haviland and Mairs, but no one else. When at last French indicated King and Brand, he said he thought King’s face was familiar, though he couldn’t say whether he had travelled in the car.
Though French had not learnt all he would have liked, he realised the importance of the attendant’s statement. It seemed almost certain that Haviland had been drugged, and if so, it would explain how copies of the keys were made. It would prove that the murderer of Clay was an outsider, and it would practically prove that he was looking for the process. To know all this was a great step forward. Well pleased, French returned with Carter to Southampton.
An interesting note from Superintendent Hanbury was awaiting him. The Superintendent and his staff had gone into the question of how Clay had gone from the Island to the mainland, and he enclosed his preliminary report.
Clay had called at the garage in Southampton—Hanbury was not aware of French’s theory that Clay had done nothing of the sort—at about 9 a.m. There was only one service from the Island which would have enabled him to do this, the 7.30 a.m. boat from Cowes. Hanbury had therefore made enquiries from everyone aboard this boat or concerned with the run. No one had seen Clay. Moreover two separate witnesses were prepared to swear that no lame man had crossed at all.
Hanbury was evidently staggered by this discovery. It followed, he pointed out, that the watchman must have crossed in some private boat or launch, and he was now trying to find out if this was the case.
Here was another satisfactory piece of news. It did not prove the truth of French’s theory that Clay had been murdered in the works, but it strongly supported it. Things were getting on nicely.
But when French looked ahead he found the prospect less pleasing. In the first place the question of the drugging of Haviland must be cleared up. The whole business of the tea car must therefore be gone into more thoroughly.
Then as to who might have drugged Haviland and murdered Clay, he was still at a complete loss. Tasker’s questions about the rebates, and the general circumstances of the case had suggested that the Joymount staff should be considered, and of these King was the most likely man. But there was no real suspicion against either King or anyone else.
Feeling that he had a lot of work before him, French went up to bed.
PART III
Mystification
12
Joymount Makes a Fresh Start
Every time Brand allowed his thoughts to dwell on the tragedy during those first few days after it had happened—and they were seldom turned to anything else—he felt sick with horror and distress. It was not so much fear of the results to himself, though this weighed on him heavily enough in all conscience. But even if every trace that they had made had been wiped out and discovery was absolutely impossible, he would still have been horror-stricken. What he found so terrible was the realisation that with his connivance an innocent man had lost his life and had been branded as a thief without any opportunity of clearing his name.
King also seemed upset, though to nothing like the same extent. Indeed King warned Brand very seriously about the danger of allowing his feelings to become known. ‘We’re safe enough as it is,’ he pointed out on more than one occasion, ‘and we’ll continue to be safe as long as no one suspects us. If we’re suspected and the police begin to investigate, goodness only knows what they won’t worm out.’ Brand saw the sense of this, and did his utmost to keep his manner normal.
But it wasn’t easy. Particularly difficult was it when the papers came in. Brand opened these with a dreadful eagerness. On Monday night and Tuesday morning there were accounts of the robbery and the disappearance of Clay, bald uninspired accounts which, without actually putting it in words, took the watchman’s guilt for granted. On Tuesday the evening papers had the story of the car. The details given were the obvious ones which would strike the casual observer, and it was evident that the writer had envisaged no possibility other than accident. So far, so good.
But when he opened his paper on Wednesday morning, Brand got a dreadful shock. To the headlines which he expected was added the caption: ‘ASTOUNDING DEVELOPMENT.’ With a rapidly beating heart he read the paragraph.
The identity of the dead man had been discovered. Clay, the watchman who had disappeared from the Chayle Works, had bought the burnt car from a Southampton dealer, and his was the body which had been burnt.
With horror-stricken features Brand sought King. But King only smiled. ‘That’s all right, you thickheaded ass,’ he said. ‘That’s according to plan. They were intended to find that out. So long as they’re satisfied it was Clay who bought the bus, isn’t that what we want?’ And Brand, though still dreadfully worried, felt a certain relief.
That same Wednesday, August 1st, was a red-letter day in the history of the Joymount Works. For that Wednesday was the day of the board meeting, the last day which had been given King to bring his researches to a successful conclusion. Brand was present with Tasker when King came in to discuss the statement to be put before the directors.
King had prepared a long and involved report, the gist of which however was simple. He had discovered a process—he was careful not to use the definite article. That was really all that mattered. He went on to say that they were not yet in a position to work the process, because certain machinery would have to be made which was not yet even designed. But he had the essentials, and the directors might look forward with absolute confidence to a reduction of about twenty per cent in manufacturing costs.
‘That sounds,’ Tasker declared on reading the document, ‘almost too good to be true. You’re sure there’s no snag? Are you quite positive you can do what you say?’
‘Absolutely,’ King returned. ‘The doubtful part is done. There remains only some straightforward research and design. There’s no question of the result.’
‘If you let us down we shut the shop.’
‘I’ll not let you down, Tasker. Give me the order to go ahead and I’ll have the process working in a month.’
Tasker sounded almost overcome. ‘If you do that,’ he said slowly, ‘you’ll not only save the works and all our jobs, but you’ll make your own fortune. I’ll see you get a proper return.’
‘Just like you, Tasker; I knew you would. Well, Brand will confirm that neither of us have wasted much time since this day four weeks. We couldn’t have done more than we did.’
At the board meeting a restrained optimism reigned. It was obvious that while the directors were impressed, they were not completely convinced. But under the circumstances their attitude was only to be expected, and King was entirely satisfied with some rather hesitating congratulations and an order to go ahead with the purchase of the new plant.
Another period of intensive work followed. First Radcliff and Endicott were got rid of on the grounds that the directors weren’t standing for any further pursuit of King’s elusive process. Then King threw himself into the complexities of mechanical design. New short kilns had to be made, and also the mixers for putting in the special compound which was the essence of the process, in other words, the flux. In this work Brand could not help, and King completed it single-handed in ten days. Orders for the stuff were then placed in such a way that none of the manufacturing firms could find out what they were really making. Only one article, one casting, one bolt almost, was ordered from each. At last one hundred and twenty-eight firms were engaged in making special parts to a very accurate standard. When the parts came in King would assemble them with his own fitters. With the same object of secrecy two other precautions were to be taken. First, no new buildings were to be put up. The kilns—there were only to be two—were to be erected in an existing store, temporary alternative storage accommodation being taken in Southampton. Secondly, they were going to copy the evident blind used by Chayle
. The existing kiln was to be retained, and though only one-third of it would be used, it would look from outside much the same as ever.
When the machines had been designed and the last order for their parts had been despatched, Brand was surprised to find that the preliminary work was not complete. Once again King required his help for a further series of chemical experiments.
‘What’s it all about now?’ Brand asked. ‘I thought you’d got everything. Why more investigation?’
‘Well,’ King retorted, ‘I think you might have guessed that for yourself. Suppose we make the confounded stuff, and suppose Chayle finds it out? They must do so as soon as we put it on the market, if they use the same methods we used in the first instance. What’s their next step? They tumble to what has happened, and they’re so sure they’re right that they accuse us of stealing the blessed formula. Where would we be then?’
‘They couldn’t prove it.’
‘Perhaps not. But if we couldn’t prove where we got the thing, it would amount to a fairly close approximation. We must be guarded against that.’
‘But how can you guard against it?’
‘The way I intended from the very start. I must put through a complete series of experiments, showing to any expert exactly how I gradually came nearer and nearer the solution till at last I hit on it. By my own experiments, mind you. If I can prove that we’ll be all right, no matter what suspicion arises.’
‘And can you devise such experiments?’
‘Yes, of course. I have notes for the complete series, with a couple of dead ends where I made natural mistakes and went back to the main channel—all clear as day. I have only to work through the series and post my results, so that any small oversight may be found and rectified.’
Once again Brand was filled with admiration for the efficiency of his companion. With this work completed they really would be safe, even if by some unlikely chance it became known that they had the formula.
Mystery on Southampton Water Page 14