Then taking Samson’s figures, he began to work.
The first question was to find how many times the cyclometer driving wheel revolved while registering one mile. This was not difficult. The 26 inches diameter of a bicycle wheel meant about 7 feet circumference. Each rotation of the bicycle wheel—each 7 feet—moved the cyclometer driving wheel one tooth. Therefore five teeth—one complete revolution of the cyclometer driving wheel—was made every 35 feet. Dividing this 35 feet into 5,280, the number of feet in a mile, gave 150, the number of times the cyclometer driving wheel revolved while registering one mile.
The cyclometer however had registered 100 miles. Therefore its driving wheel had revolved 15,000 times.
Now the cyclometer driving wheel was of the same diameter as Samson had given for the propeller shaft. Therefore since the apparatus had been placed on board the propeller had revolved 15,000 times also.
Samson had said that the motor—which was coupled direct to the propeller shaft—revolved 450 times per minute. Therefore dividing 450 into 15,000 would give the number of minutes during which the motor had been working. French quickly made the division. The answer was 30!
The motor had then been running for thirty minutes between the time the apparatus was fixed in the boat and the explosion. French gasped as he saw what this meant.
He turned up his notes to check his memory. Yes, he was correct. From the hour the launch left Joymount until the explosion, the time of actual running was estimated to be 30 minutes! This estimate was obviously approximate, and his calculation was also necessarily approximate. But with this proviso what closer and more utterly convincing conclusion could have been reached? Here was the most absolute proof that the apparatus had been put into the launch at Hamble or Joymount! Hamble was out of the question: therefore it was at Joymount.
Of course there was still the chance that Samson’s figures were wrong. But with such a result French didn’t believe this for a moment. In any case, the enquiries he had made would check them up. No, he might take it that somehow the Joymount people were guilty.
And he was justified. Before he left the police station answers came in from both the motor firm and Kendrick. In each case Samson’s figures were confirmed.
French’s mind was in a maze of doubt as they crossed again to Southampton. He had gone into the question of the guilt of the Joymount men on the ground, and he had been completely satisfied as to their innocence. Now it looked as if he had been wrong!
But where had he been wrong? How could the thing have been done? He could not see. He felt almost as if he was going mad. It could not have been done! And yet, seemingly it had!
His success had stimulated his brain. As they drew in to the pier at Southampton still another idea struck him. Contributory evidence was within his reach. That loading of the coaster! Was there anything to be noted about that?
He wondered. The cement trade was not an urgent trade. Cement was not a perishable commodity, and a few hours’ delay in the time of its delivery would not usually be important. Of course this did not always follow. Some job might be held up for want of supplies. But normally a day one way or the other in the time of delivery wouldn’t matter.
Did it not look, French thought, as if the essential of the affair was to have a number of men on the wharf that night? In other words, was there a real urgency for the sailing of the ship, or was it necessary to prove that no one went on board the launch?
French thought the point was sufficiently important to justify a run down to Plymouth. Accordingly he and Carter spent the afternoon travelling west. They arrived too late to do anything that night, but next morning found them at the harbour office.
There French’s card procured them immediate attention. The coaster, Lucy Jane, Captain Foggatt, had put into Plymouth on the 21st of November, with a cargo of cement from the Joymount Company of Hamble. French wanted to know the consignees. Would they be good enough to look the matter up for him?
The harbour authorities had no objection, and in a few minutes the two police officers were on their way to the depot of Messrs Rawle & Tomkinson, Builders’ Supplies Merchants, near Friary Station.
There they saw Mr Rawle. French explained that his enquiries were delicate and secret, and he begged that Mr Rawle would kindly keep them strictly to himself? Mr Rawle said he would do anything to oblige. French was obliged. He was interested in the coasting steamer Lucy Jane, and was getting a record of her movements over a certain period. The matter had of course no connection with Messrs Rawle & Tomkinson—it was with the ship only that he was concerned. He understood she had brought Messrs Rawle & Tomkinson a cargo of cement about the 21st of November? Was this so, and if so, could Mr Rawle tell him the exact date she had arrived and whether the cargo had been promptly discharged?
Rawle couldn’t say offhand, but he would find out. He rang and gave the necessary instructions. Presently he received certain details. The Lucy Jane had discharged 190 tons of cement on the 22nd November. There had been nothing remarkable about the speed of the discharge. It was in fact quite normal.
French asked a number of other questions, dilated on the haste with which the trip seemed to have been carried out, and suggested that perhaps the cement was overdue, and was wanted urgently. Mr Rawle however said that that was not so. The cement was received well inside the contract date, and there had been no urgency about it whatever.
This, French thought, was extraordinarily suggestive, but not yet entirely conclusive. Though there was no urgency about the cargo, the ship herself might have been wanted elsewhere. He stepped into the post office and rang up the Weymouth police. He was still engaged upon that business of the Lucy Jane. He would be obliged if they would let him know when the coaster had left Weymouth, for where, and with what cargo.
The reply was waiting for him at Southampton. The ship had lain at Weymouth for two days, and then had taken aboard a lot of empty cement bags and had left for the Joymount Works!
Then there definitely had been no need to load cement on that Tuesday night! Why then had it been done? French could imagine only the one object: to have men and lights on the wharf during the visit of the Chayle contingent, so as to prove that no one could have tampered with the launch. And this late loading could only have been arranged by the Joymount men!
French thought that this fresh evidence removed the last shred of doubt as to Joymount guilt. There had been, as he put it to himself, some hanky-panky on the wharf that night. He had already tried to discover what it was, and failed. Never mind, there was one good rule to observe in cases of failure. Try again! He knew that he was now on the right lines, and that was half the battle.
The immediate question then was, How had the explosive and the apparatus for discharging it been put on board the launch unseen by the workers on the wharf? Because it now seemed certain that this had been done.
It was a question he had put to himself on many previous occasions, but never heretofore had he been able to imagine the answer. But now suddenly and unexpectedly a possible method flashed into his mind. It was a perfectly simple and perfectly obvious method, and he could have kicked himself for not having seen it sooner.
He wondered whether merely seeing it were enough? Was there any possibility of failure in it which would make a test desirable? Over this point he puzzled for some time, then he decided a test would be more satisfactory from every point of view.
He remembered that when visiting Major Ashe he had noticed that boats were to be hired at Hamble. Leaving Carter to his own devices, French went down to Hamble and after considerable trouble—it was not the season—he succeeded in hiring a light skiff for a day or two. He put down a deposit for it and rowed off alone.
He could see the Joymount wharf across the little estuary. By an unexpected piece of luck it was deserted. It was the only time he had seen it without a steamer. He rowed over to make a closer examination.
It was late afternoon when he hired the boat, and it was dark when he comp
leted his survey and set off on his journey back to Southampton. Immediately on arrival he called to see Superintendent Goodwilly.
‘I want to try a small experiment, Super,’ he explained. ‘You remember we discussed the possibility of an explosive being put aboard the Chayle launch while it was lying at the Joymount wharf. We decided it couldn’t be done. I’m now not so sure and I want to see if I can do it.’
Goodwilly was interested and asked what French wanted him to do.
‘Give me a boat and three men and some lights,’ French answered. ‘We’ll go down to the place, reproduce as far as we can the conditions of that night, and then I’ll try to go aboard the launch unseen.’
‘A boat, three men and lights? I can do that. When would you like to have them?’
‘I’d like to be there about four tomorrow morning.’
This was evidently not what Goodwilly had expected. However, he made no difficulty about it, and the matter was arranged.
‘As a matter of fact I’m interested,’ Goodwilly went on, ‘and if you’ve room I shouldn’t mind going out with you myself.’
‘Cheers!’ cried French. ‘I shall be glad of your help.’
About three o’clock the next morning a small petrol launch left Southampton with French, Goodwilly, Carter and three constables. It was a fine morning, but cold and very dark. There was no wind and Southampton Water was calm as a duckpond. Only twice did the launch roll: when a great liner and a six-thousand-ton tramp passed them on their respective ways up to and down from the harbour. The navigation lamps shone clear and bright, but save at Southampton itself, there were few lights ashore.
Almost complete silence reigned among the men as the launch chugged busily seawards. Except for French and the Super, all would have much preferred to be in bed. But to French this experiment meant a good deal. If it were to succeed it would mean that he had solved his problem. It would not mean the end of his case, because to see how a thing might have been done is very different from proving that it was done. But if he knew he was on the right track it would prevent him from dissipating his energy on blind alleys and allow him to concentrate on that one point of obtaining his proof.
When they turned into the Hamble French had the motor stopped and oars shipped. ‘If we don’t make a noise,’ he said, ‘we may escape notice—which would be very much to the good. Our lights will probably be seen, but that we can’t help. Let’s take what precautions we can.’
Silently they drew in towards the wharf. French’s luck had held, there were still no vessels alongside. Presently they floated up to the steps at the end of the wharf and made fast.
‘Now everyone, out with the lights,’ French directed, and he assembled everyone on the wharf.
It took only a few moments to set the stage. The lamps which were lighted on the wharf on the night of the tragedy were duplicated by those brought in the launch, and Carter and the three policemen were placed where the workers had stood, and were instructed as to the kind of lookout they were required to keep.
‘That’s how it was that evening,’ French explained to the Super. ‘I argued that no one could cross the wharf and go down those steps unseen by some one of the men.’
‘I’d swear it,’ Goodwilly answered. ‘No one could have, and no one did.’
‘Very well,’ said French, ‘lend me something of yours: something personal that I couldn’t copy.’
‘My pouch?’
‘The very thing.’ It had silver mountings and bore the Super’s initials.
‘Now,’ French went on, ‘I want to make some preparations. Will you wait for me and then we’ll try the experiment.’
Goodwilly nodded and French moved away towards the gate into the yard and vanished behind some sheds. Goodwilly glanced at his watch and then settled down to wait. He thought that in spite of their lights they might well remain unobserved. The only windows in the works which overlooked the wharf were those of the offices, and they would now be deserted, it being unlikely that the watchman would leave the ground floor. If anyone were awake at Hamble and looked out of his window, he would see the light, but unless such a person happened to be connected with the management, it would convey little to him. French had been right to keep their movements silent.
Presently French appeared from behind the huts and approached.
‘How long have I been, Super?’ he asked as he came up.
‘Twelve minutes,’ Goodwilly answered. ‘Are you ready now to get going?’
French answered the question with another.
‘Did anyone pass since on the wharf?’
‘No one.’
‘Better ask your men.’
‘My dear French, I was here myself. There was no one.’
‘Ask them all the same,’ French persisted.
The men, appealed to, declared that the Superintendent was correct. No one had passed.
‘That’s all right,’ said French with satisfaction. ‘That works.’
Goodwilly looked at him. ‘What do you mean?’ he asked.
‘Only,’ said French, ‘that your pouch is now on the cylinder cover of the engine.’
Goodwilly looked at him keenly. ‘You’re a caution,’ he declared, and then laughed. ‘How did you do it?’
‘I deserve to be kicked from here to Southampton,’ French declared. ‘The thing’s so absolutely simple that I should have thought of it at once, but I just missed it. Come along to the other end of the wharf and I’ll show you.’
They walked off behind the sheds as French had done a few minutes earlier. French edged along the works wall till they had passed the end of the wharf—the opposite end to that of the boathouse and steps. Then stooping, he crept down the pitched slope towards the edge of the water.
‘You see, it’s possible to get down to the sea without being noticed from the wharf,’ he pointed out.
Once below the level of the wharf deck, they were secure from observation, no matter what lights might be burning there. French led the way along the sloping pitching to the end of the wharf. There he put out his hand, and catching a rope which lay along the slope and was tied to something above, he pulled it. The boat which he had hired in the afternoon appeared. With the aid of a small torch both men got aboard.
Having cast off the rope, French pushed the boat in under the wharf. There it floated in a sort of cavern between the rows of tall gaunt concrete piles, and beneath a roof which was the deck of the wharf. Quickly and silently they passed down the strange alleyway, till the bow bumped lightly on the steps. True it was the back of the stairway that they had reached, but a moment sufficed to make fast the painter and enabled French to step across the handrail. Another step would have brought him to the police launch, which was so close to the wharf as to be hidden from the watchers above.
‘Our Joymount friends keep a couple of skiffs in there,’ French said, pointing to the boathouse. ‘It would have been easy to transfer one beforehand to the other end of the wharf. That all right, Super?’
Goodwilly was enthusiastic. French’s reconstruction was unquestionably the solution of this part of the problem.
‘When you led me below,’ he said, ‘I thought we were going to walk along the walings—I suppose the thing has walings. I never thought of the boat.’
‘I thought of the walings early on,’ French answered. ‘But they wouldn’t have worked. You could only walk along the walings at low water. But the explosion didn’t occur at low water. No one could have got along them in four or five feet of water, at least not without getting wet and dripping water into the launch. And no one did get wet that night and there could have been no water dripped into the launch or one of those three would have noticed it.’
‘That’s really very good, French; I congratulate you. But, surely, there’s a difficulty still—two difficulties, in fact? First, though this shows a possibility, it doesn’t prove anything; and second, I understood that none of the Joymount people left the office during the Chayle visit.’
French nodded. ‘You’re right, both times. I know very well we’re not through, but we’re getting along.’
Goodwilly was enthusiastic about their progress as the party turned homewards. A constable was left with the boat to row it over to Hamble and collect French’s deposit, and the others chugged back to Southampton.
22
French Gets Help from a Victim
After breakfast that morning, French retired to his room and set himself systematically to attack the next stage of his problem. If Joymount were guilty, as now seemed certain, why had they committed these horrible crimes? What was their motive?
It was easy enough to suggest one. He had thought of a very adequate motive right at the beginning of the case. He had seen that if Joymount had stolen the process, and if Chayle had discovered the theft, Chayle might use their knowledge to levy blackmail. Particularly strong would be their hold if in addition they could prove that the Joymount men had murdered Clay.
French saw that the kernel of the situation was whether or not Joymount had stolen the process. He must know this. If they had, it would be practical proof of their guilt of the murders; if not, he, French, was still completely at sea.
How could he find out?
He attacked the question from every point of view that he could think of. Of course, he had been over the ground already some dozens of times, entirely without result. Still his entire case now depended on his reaching a conclusion. He must do it.
Presently he began to consider what exactly the process consisted of. Broadly speaking, an improved method of making cement. He turned this over in his mind like a cow chewing the cud. He had never been able to get actual details of the process, the tacit assumption always being that it was too technical to discuss with a layman. But Haviland had said that it involved putting in some additional chemicals which acted as a flux and reduced the amount of heating required. French now wondered what happened to those chemicals. Must they not remain in the finished product? He did not see how they could be taken out.
Mystery on Southampton Water Page 26