Mystery on Southampton Water

by Freeman Wills Crofts

  In the meantime the Clay affair had proved a great deal less than a nine days’ wonder. Each morning newspaper comment had shrunk, till on the fifth day it had vanished altogether. There had been notices to the effect that the inquest had been opened and adjourned and that Scotland Yard had been called in. It was therefore evident that the police were still working on the case, but of what direction their activities were taking, there was no hint.

  To Brand it seemed like living on the edge of a volcano. He was swayed backwards and forwards between positive terror when he considered the police activities, and relief when he thought of King’s precautions. But all the time the fact of the death of Clay hung like a physical weight on his conscience.

  The days, continuing slowly to pass, brought at length that of the adjourned inquest. Brand had waited for it with a horrible sinking anxiety, and even King had shown signs of the strain he was undergoing.

  Both men would have given a great deal to be present. But both saw that to identify themselves in any way with the affair would be sheer madness. Each endeavoured to hide his internal qualms beneath as nonchalant an exterior as he could achieve. Each flattered himself he succeeded fairly well.

  There was an account of the affair in the local evening paper. Each got a copy and locked himself away in his room to learn the worst.

  And very bad both found it.

  The inquest had apparently aroused enormous interest and the proceedings were very fully reported. After a well-padded opening on the unusual and dramatic nature of the events and the popular interest shown by the crowding of the hall where the enquiry was held, details of the evidence were given.

  The first witness was a labourer, who when cycling to an early farm job, noticed that the white railing on the top of the road embankment approaching the bridge near Fair Oak, had been partially broken down. As the railing had been intact on the previous evening when he was returning to his home, the labourer stopped to investigate. He saw the ruins of a burnt out car lying on the bank of the river. He went down and examined it. He found that it contained human remains, also burnt. There being no possibility of life remaining, he touched nothing, but cycled to Eastleigh and reported the affair to the police.

  Superintendent Crawford followed. He stated that on receiving the report of the previous witness, he had called up the police doctor, and proceeded with him to the place. He described in detail the ground, the state and position of the car and body, and the marks he had found where the car had passed off the road and through the railing. After the doctor had provisionally examined the remains, he had had them removed to Eastleigh. He had been about to proceed with an investigation into the affair, but his Chief Constable having pointed out that the case would probably be concerned with other police districts besides his own, he had agreed it would be better to get a man from Scotland Yard to co-ordinate all the enquiries. He had therefore left everything till the officer arrived, which he had done on the following morning.

  The doctor corroborated the Superintendent’s evidence. He described the remains with a fullness of detail which made Brand shudder. Questioned as to the blow on the back of the head, he said this might have occurred through the accident, provided the back of the head had been driven with sufficient force against some part of the car. He did not himself see how such an occurrence could have happened, but he considered this point out of his province. The injury could certainly have been due to foul play, but in his opinion it could not have been self-inflicted. The post-mortem showed that it would have been sufficient to cause death.

  Herbert Dexter, the motor engineer, was then called. He gave technical details as to the damage done to the car, and said he considered it must have been going about twenty-five miles an hour when it went down the bank. The coroner questioned him on the smashing of the carburettor and the setting fire to the petrol, and the witness said that in his opinion the crash down the embankment would not have accounted for either.

  Wilfred Boothby, dentist, Cowes, stated that he had examined the mouth of the deceased, and that he had identified dental work which he had done. The man was John Clay, an employee of Messrs Haviland & Mairs, of Chayle.

  Haviland was the next witness. He described Clay’s appearance and gave his history while with the firm. In particular he told of the motor accident in which the deceased had been involved, and the injuries he had received therefrom, and his subsequent appointment as night watchman. He gave Clay a good character, saying he had believed him thoroughly honest and reliable, and declaring that he would be greatly surprised to know that he had been guilty of stealing the firm’s money.

  Mairs gave details of the disappearance of the money. He said he had obtained it from the Cowes branch of the London and Southern Bank, told of the keys of the safe and how they were kept, and detailed the steps he had taken in acquainting the police of the loss.

  Arnold Fisher, garage proprietor, recounted the purchase of the car which was afterwards found burnt, and described the purchaser. He explained that while the purchaser resembled the description of Clay, he had been unable definitely to identify him. He had paid the notes he had received for the purchase into the Southampton Branch of Lloyds Bank.

  Two bank officials were called, one from the bank in Cowes to give the numbers of the notes paid to the Chayle works, and the other from Lloyds Bank in Southampton, to say that he had received certain of these notes from Mr Fisher.

  The last witness was Chief-Inspector French of New Scotland Yard. Asked by the coroner to tell them in his own words what he could of the affair, he said he had been sent to make an investigation into the case because for various reasons the local authorities had suspected foul play. He had begun with the burnt car, and from inspection he had doubted that the injury to the carburettor had been cause by the crash. He then told of his finding of the stone, and said that in his opinion this proved that the ‘accident’ was a plant which had been staged for some purpose which might be suspected, but which he regretted could not so far be proved. He had then considered the injuries received by the deceased, and it had seemed to him that as the man Clay had been thrown forward when the wreck took place and had been found lying forward, the injury to the back of his head could not have been caused by the crash. As the doctor was of opinion that this injury on the back of the head would have killed Clay, he, French, had come to the conclusion that the deceased had been murdered before being put in the car, and that the ‘accident’ was intended simply to cover up the murder. He was not, however, in a position to charge anyone with the murder.

  This statement had caused a considerable sensation, though rumours of the truth had not been wanting. French was questioned on a number of other points, but he was unable to give any further material information. When French had finished, the coroner had addressed the jury, his remarks being given verbatim. When he had summarised the evidence, he went on to deliver himself of a theory to account for the facts. ‘We do not know,’ he said, ‘just what took place. Whether the deceased man, Clay, made the key and robbed the safe at Chayle has not been proved. Still less, however, has it been shown that anyone else could have done so. If Clay were murdered, it follows that some other person or persons are involved, and it might well be that this other person or persons were guilty of the theft also. Or it might be that the other person or persons discovered what Clay had done, stole the money from him, and committed the murder to hide their crime. These matters, however, do not concern you,’ and he went on to tell the jury that their business was simply to state in their opinion the identity of the dead man and the cause of his death, adding, if they thought they could do so conscientiously, a clause saying whether they considered anyone to blame for the death, and if so, whom. The jury, after a short deliberation, returned the expected verdict of wilful murder against some person or persons unknown.

  With terrible distinctness Brand saw that this verdict removed once and for all any chance of his and King’s action being considered an accident, if knowledg
e of it should reach the police. The very fact that they had not come forward with a statement would damn them utterly. If it became known that they had gone to the works and stolen the secret, nothing could save them from the gallows.

  On the other hand, the whole proceedings were rather a relief inasmuch as they appeared to indicate that the knowledge of the authorities was still very limited. They seemed to imagine that Clay had bought the car from Fisher, and if this really were so, he and King were surely pretty safe. Of course, Brand had heard that the police didn’t always tell everything they knew. But the acid test was that no enquiries had been made at Joymount, and until such began, he believed he need not worry overmuch.

  Then a fresh fear attacked Brand, a fear which for some time had been lurking in the background of his mind, but which up till now had been overshadowed by the greater dread of the inquest.

  It was due to a comparatively insignificant cause—merely that King was looking increasingly worried. Each day recently he had seemed to grow more and more anxious. He would say nothing, but Brand found it impossible to avoid the conclusion that some hitch had occurred in the programme.

  A few days after the inquest he once again tackled King on the subject. King looked at him queerly, then said: ‘Come for a walk afterwards. I’ll tell you then.’

  All that afternoon Brand worked in a state of nerves which made him anything but a desirable chief for his clerks. That something had gone wrong was now obvious.

  But when they went for their walk Brand was less impressed by the difficulty than King seemed to think he should be. ‘What is it?’ Brand had asked urgently. ‘What has gone wrong?’

  ‘Nothing has gone wrong,’ King answered. ‘It’s to prevent something going wrong that I’ve been anxious.’

  ‘Tell me.’

  ‘Well, let’s try and reconstruct what must have happened. When the detectives went to Chayle, we may take it Haviland and Mairs told them of the process. Would they not then have tumbled to the real motive at the back of things? To me it seems unquestionable.’

  ‘But what if they did?’ Brand queried. Wasn’t this the very contingency against which King had provided by this recent series of experiments? ‘Aren’t we safely out of it?’

  ‘Don’t go too quickly. If their attention were directed to the process and they assumed it was stolen, their first question would be, Who would profit by the theft? They would think of Joymount as the only firm in the neighbourhood which would do so. Remember it would be no use to our friends on the Medina, because the process only works with cements of the ciment fondu type, which they don’t make.’

  Brand nodded and King continued.

  ‘Well, if they thought of Joymount, they’d think of me: the technical member of the firm. And if they thought I had wanted help, they’d think of you. So that, you see, Brand, we mustn’t risk real suspicion.’

  ‘But how can we avoid it?’

  ‘Well, there’s one way and only one. If we don’t sell our stuff at a cut price or grant rebates we’re all right. Only those who benefit from the theft will be suspected.’

  ‘But we’d benefit from decreased costs in any case.’

  ‘No doubt, but that would be our secret. Scotland Yard wouldn’t know it. If we granted rebates they would.’

  Brand hesitated. ‘But,’ he said slowly, ‘would the directors stand for that? Remember they’re expecting to cut prices and quadruple our turnover.’

  ‘Ah,’ said King, ‘now you’re talking. At last we’ve got to what I really wanted to discuss with you. Tasker could fix the board. We’ve got to tell Tasker what’s happened.’

  This was an exceedingly unpleasant idea. Brand at once demurred to it. They couldn’t tell either Tasker or anyone else: it would be too dangerous. Not that he doubted Tasker. But there it was: a secret shared by three persons was no longer a secret. Besides, were they sure that even Tasker would believe that the death of Clay had been an accident? And if he didn’t, would he consent to become an accessory after the fact?

  ‘I know that’s a point,’ King admitted, ‘but it seems to me we’ve got to risk it. Either we undercut Chayle, in which case we bring Scotland Yard down on us; or we don’t, in which case we put ourselves in Tasker’s hands. There, it seems to me, is the choice. Which would you prefer? Of course there’s another: that we throw up the sponge and go out of business.’

  For an hour they argued. Finally Brand had to admit that his companion was right. If Tasker were not told, he and the board would insist on a cut price. If he were, he could wangle the board. Of the two evils, the telling of Tasker was the lesser.

  ‘Good!’ said King when this conclusion was reached. ‘Will you fix up with Tasker for a pow-wow?’

  Brand agreed, and with heavy heart and a foreboding of ill, he left King and returned to the boarding-house.

  13

  Joymount is Again Perturbed

  Next morning, when the correspondence had been dealt with, Brand approached Tasker.

  ‘King wants a discussion about this new process,’ he said. ‘We’ve got something rather dreadful to tell you. You’ll have to prepare yourself for a shock, Tasker.’

  ‘What is it?’ Tasker grunted, as he continued running his eye over a letter.

  ‘I can’t tell you without King. But it’s horribly serious. You’ll be upset.’

  Tasker laid down his paper and looked fixedly at the younger man. ‘I can see you’re upset,’ he said quietly. ‘If it’s important there’s no time like the present. Get him in now.’

  After ensuring that they could not be overheard, King told the whole story. He began by reminding Tasker how he, Tasker, had selected him to investigate the falling sales of the Joymount Company, and how he had discovered the cause. He painted a moving picture of the fate of the concern and of each one of themselves if something were not done to avert the threatening disaster. He showed that the discovery of the Chayle process would not only be the only hope for Joymount, but, and on this he laid great stress, the discovery need not injure Chayle. ‘As you know as well, and perhaps better than we do,’ he declared, ‘we were not out to injure Chayle, but only to prevent Chayle injuring us.’

  Tasker, who had by this time become somewhat grim, replied by a nod, and King went on to describe his decision to search the Chayle works, his enlistment of Brand’s aid, their first scouting visit, the discovery that the keys would be necessary, his trick to get the impressions, and the second visit to Chayle with its ghastly result. Then he told of the efforts he had made to escape from the appalling situation in which they were placed, how he decided that only the disappearance of the watchman would meet the case, and how a motive for that disappearance must be provided. He described his search of the offices, his finding of the money and his conclusion that here was the very thing for his purpose. He made it clear that he knew that the dead man was alone in the world, and that any stain that might be put on his name would not affect any living person.

  Then he went on to recount his despair at having, after the immense price which they were going to have to pay, to admit failure—to admit that the price would be paid for nothing. He told of the struggle he had to prevent himself hurrying away from that dreadful building, then his reminding himself that now he had an opportunity which would never recur, and that if he didn’t take advantage of it, Joymount and himself and his friends, were down and out. In the end he had conquered his panic and had opened the two safes. In Haviland’s he saw what he was in search of. With a supreme effort he had forced himself to sit down and copy the precious document word for word.

  Finally he told of the getting of the body away; of the hiding it in Brand’s garage for the night; of his dressing up in Clay’s clothes, powdering his face, putting on a limp and speaking in a high pitched voice when he purchased the car; of his driving it about through that livelong day from place to place, till in the late afternoon he thought it safe to hide it in an old sand pit; of the staging of the accident, and lastly of the seri
es of experiments he had carried out to explain how he had reached the process, should such explanation ever become necessary.

  As the story gradually unfolded, strong emotion began to show beneath Tasker’s iron control. He seemed utterly appalled. For a while he could scarcely speak coherently. Then he conquered his feelings and grimly and with terrible clarity he pointed out that if the case went to trial, no jury on earth would doubt that murder had been done. The others unhappily agreed, and Tasker went on to add that he was now himself definitely an accessory after the fact, but that he would have to carry this risk, for he could not give King and Brand away. He accepted their story, and quite apart from his own fate and that of Joymount, he could not deliberately expose his two friends to the risk of being hanged for a murder which he honestly believed they had not committed.

  The younger men were a little overwhelmed by the way in which their chief accepted responsibility for their actions, but Tasker swept their appreciation aside without ceremony. Shrewd man of business that he was, he quickly saw King’s point about the cutting of prices.

  ‘We’ll carry on at our present figure,’ he said with instant decision. ‘We’ll not sell so much cement, but we’ll get a fine profit on what we do sell.’

  ‘That’s what I had hoped you’d do, Tasker,’ King returned. ‘But can you get that through the board without giving away the whole story?’

  ‘Oh lord, yes,’ said Tasker contemptuously. ‘Anyone could get anything through the board. Bramwell won’t be there, and nobody else knows anything about cement, or, one would think, anything else. When will you be ready to get going?’

  ‘In about a fortnight.’

  ‘Well, there’s nothing more that we can do about it, except to sit tight and say nothing.’

  With these sentiments the others were in the fullest agreement and the discussion presently terminated.