But if they remained in the finished product, it should be possible for an analyst to find them. Was there not here a way by which he might reach a conclusion?
French felt himself in such an extremity that he couldn’t afford to ignore any possibility. Accordingly he put through a call to Professor Greenaway, a London chemist consulted by the Yard in cases of difficulty. Explaining about the process, he asked if the Professor thought the new product might be distinguishable chemically from other cements?
Greenaway replied with reason that he had never heard of the cement and therefore didn’t know whether it could or not, but that if the Chief-Inspector would send him a sample, he would soon find out.
Wondering if at last he was on to his solution, French went out and bought two bags of cement, one of Chayle manufacture and one of Joymount. He had them specially packed in boxes and took them to Town as passengers’ luggage. Then getting them into a taxi, he drove to the Professor’s house.
He found Greenaway ready enough to help. He was, he said, interested in cements, and if there was a new one on the market he wanted to know all about it. ‘You leave your packages round with the caretaker at my lab,’ he directed, ‘and I’ll have the affair put in hand first thing in the morning.’
‘You’ll ring up the Yard, sir, when you’ve anything to report?’
‘I’ll ring up the Yard.’
It was not till the following evening that a message came through. Would French call round at the laboratory as soon as possible?
French, it can be imagined, did not lose much time.
‘Well, Chief-Inspector,’ said Greenaway. ‘So far as I can see, you’ve got a bull’s-eye. These two samples you sent me are identical, and what’s more, they’re different from all other brands of cement I’ve ever come across. And though I say it myself, I don’t believe there is any cement on the market that I don’t know about.’
French felt slightly overwhelmed. ‘By Jove, sir! That makes a bit of difference to me. Does it mean that the two samples were made in the same way?’
‘I should say, absolutely. They’re identical with one another chemically, you understand, and different chemically from other brands. Physically they seem indistinguishable from others, and of course there hasn’t yet been time to test for efficiency. But you may take it both your samples were made by the same process.’
French hesitated. ‘I wonder, sir, if you would be prepared to give evidence to that effect, should it become necessary?’
‘That the samples are identical, yes; that they were made by the same process, no. I have no doubt of it, but, of course, I can’t prove it.’
This was good, but not good enough. Again French sat in thought. ‘You would know, sir, if you went through both works, Chayle and Joymount, whether their process was the same?’
‘Probably. With the information I’ve got from the analysis I should know what to look for, and I think I should find it.’
‘Then, sir, if it should become necessary, would you be prepared to make the inspections?’
‘Certainly. You didn’t find out for yourself if new machinery had been installed?’
‘I’m afraid not, sir,’ French admitted. ‘There was no suggestion from anyone at Chayle of new machinery. They all spoke as if it was a different way of using their existing plant.’
‘Well, I should be delighted to make an inspection. I assure you I’m immensely interested in the whole business.’
French could scarcely contain himself with satisfaction. Here was a discovery of the very first importance. It was true it did not in itself prove motive, but it was the foundation upon which such proof must and, he was sure, could be built. This was the biggest step forward he had taken since he went to Southampton!
Presently he saw that it established another very suggestive fact. It proved that the Joymount representatives had not been straight in their statements. They had not said anything which could suggest knowledge of the process, and under the circumstances this was keeping back material evidence. French was also now fairly satisfied that the agreement with Chayle must have been connected with the process. If so, it was surely very different from what had been shown him. Probably he had been put off with a part of it only.
But just here French saw a difficulty. Samson! Samson had supported these false stories. He must have known Joymount had stolen the process, and he had said nothing about it. Samson surely had everything to gain by the unmasking of the Joymount rogues. If they were defrauding Chayle they were defrauding him. Why had he lied also—against himself?
As he sat in the train on his return journey to Southampton, French pondered over this point. He could not, however, solve it satisfactorily, and he passed on to another.
This was the exasperating old friend of the placing of the cyclometer and charge on the launch. It now seemed evident that this had been done by the Joymount men at their own wharf, and he thought he knew how, but there remained that devastating question of when? None of them had had any opportunity. French metaphorically set his teeth as for the hundredth time he settled down to wrestle with the difficulty.
In the first place it seemed clear that the thing could only have been done by Tasker, Brand or King. Those three were in control. They had negotiated the agreement, and probably only those three knew the details of the process. Those three had probably determined on murder—they were the only ones who had a motive. If so, it was unlikely in the last degree that they would have trusted anyone else with their dreadful secret.
Assume, then, that one of these three principals were guilty, when could he have carried out the job?
Not when the launch arrived at Joymount. The visitors were met on the wharf by King, and conveyed by him straight to the office, where Brand and Tasker were awaiting them. There certainly would not have been time to tamper with the launch.
Equally certain was it that it could not have been interfered with just before the Chayle men’s departure. The six men had remained in company right from the time of leaving the office until the Chayle party had set off for home.
It must, therefore, have been done at some intermediate period. There was one such possible and only one.
During the proceedings the three Joymount men had left their visitors on the plea of discussing the proposals in private. This was the explanation given to the Chayle men of the withdrawal, and it was convincing enough, but was the further reason given by the Joymount men to French so satisfying? Tasker had explained that he had wanted some further figures to be got out, to assist him in his bargaining. French found this harder to believe. Surely, under the circumstances, Tasker would have had all the figures he wanted before the meeting began?
The point was a small one, and yet to French it threw a certain suspicion on that withdrawal.
According to the statements of all concerned, what exactly had happened? On the suggestion of Tasker, the three men had gone to Brand’s office, the reason given being that as Brand was the accountant, he could more easily get at the required figures. Tasker and Brand had then worked together getting these figures out.
In the meantime King, in response to a request by Tasker, had gone into his own office, which was next door, and had there got out a further statement, the exact details of which had not been mentioned. This was a typed statement. King had declared that he had not left the office during the period. This declaration was confirmed by Tasker, Brand and Samson. All three said they had heard King’s typewriter practically continuously, and also at intervals King’s voice upraised in song. Also about the middle of the period, King had called out a question to Tasker about the work he was doing. Tasker had shouted an answer and the typing had been resumed. Samson, moreover, had heard question and answer.
It was obvious, that if these statements were true, no one had left the offices. But if no one had left the offices, the Joymount trio could not have put the explosive on board the launch. Therefore by hypothesis, some, at all events, of the statements were false
, and perhaps all.
French switched his mind over from the statements to the personalities of those making them. During his long experience he had become extraordinarily skilful in the reading of character and he knew, practically always, whether his informants were speaking the truth or lying. Now of these four men, Tasker, Brand, King and Samson, there was only one of whose word he would place any reliance at all, and that was Brand. It was not so much, indeed, that he believed in Brand’s truthfulness, as that he considered Brand incapable of deceiving him. Brand was a man of comparatively weak character. He was timorous, and whatever his morals, French was sure he had not the stamina for serious crime.
Now French had been a good deal interested in Brand’s manner. Brand had given all the indications of a bad conscience. At French’s examination, which had been of the mildest type, he had been hard put to it to overcome his terror. French was positive that he knew something incriminating and was afraid it would come out. On the other hand everything he had said about the happenings on this particular evening had borne the unmistakable ring of truth. French indeed had come to the conclusion that Brand was as puzzled about the launch explosion as he was himself.
The other three men were of sterner stuff, and French was sure they could lie without giving themselves away as Brand would do.
Was there any way, therefore, in which Brand could have been tricked by the others during that momentous ten minutes?
French thought he might expand the problem slightly. Considering the probabilities only, it seemed to him that if Brand were tricked, Samson must have been so also. It wasn’t exactly likely that Samson would have been party to an attempt to murder himself.
For five minutes French smoked fiercely as he concentrated on the problem. Then he gave a little laugh and a shrug. The problem was no problem at all! If King and Tasker had employed a very old trick, King could have left the office and placed the charge. A gramophone!
What would have been easier, when King withdrew into his own office, than to set a gramophone going? It would supply all the noises of typing and movement required, besides calling out that question to Tasker. On returning to the office after visiting the launch, the gramophone could easily have been stopped and put away, its sounds being replaced by those of King’s real movements. The thing had been done before many times, both in books and in real life.
By this scheme both Brand and Samson could have been tricked, but—and this interested French even more—it involved the co-operation of Tasker. Tasker would have had to fix up the interlude in accordance with a prearranged programme if the gramophone were to be used, and he would have had to prevent any undesired voyages of discovery by Brand. Also King’s question and the reply would have had to be rehearsed beforehand. French saw with satisfaction that if he could prove the use of a gramophone, it would give him a case against Tasker as well as King.
For another half hour French considered ways and means of learning whether a gramophone had or had not been used. Then thinking he saw his way, he left the hotel and, with Carter, went to the principal gramophone shop in the town.
He saw the manager and explained his business. He wanted to know how people could make gramophone records for themselves. Was there any apparatus sold for the purpose, and where was it to be had?
The manager was not encouraging as to the possibilities. Apparatus for the purpose had been designed and put on the market, but it had not proved very satisfactory, and most people who wanted a good record went to one of the gramophone companies and had it made by their professional staff. Practically all the gramophone companies made such records, and these were kept absolutely private.
In answer to a further question, the manager did not believe a record could be made by a private individual which would sound really lifelike. There would almost certainly be defects which would stamp it a record.
If this information were correct, French thought it unlikely that King would have attempted to make his own record. The discovery of his trick would have been too serious. On the other hand, he would consider himself safe in employing a company, as he would not believe the question of a gramophone would arise. It would therefore be worth finding out whether any gramophone company had made such a record.
French accordingly sent a note to the Yard, giving a résumé of what the record must have contained, a note of the dates between which it must have been ordered, and a copy of his photograph of King. He asked that a letter should be sent to each of the gramophone companies, asking for information on the subject.
The next day was Sunday, and French took what he considered was a well earned holiday in the bosom of his family. On Monday morning he called at the Yard before returning to Southampton, and it happened that while he was in the building a reply to his circular came in.
It was from the Etna Gramophone Company of Reading. They rang up to say that they thought they had made the records referred to in the Yard’s letter of Saturday. French could scarcely believe in his good luck. Slightly awestruck, he and Carter hurried to Paddington and took the first train to Reading.
The manager of the Etna Company was, he declared, only too anxious to oblige the officers, but they must recognise that his company gave a guarantee of privacy when making records for outside individuals. This he could not break unless he was shown that it was his duty to do so.
French took the confidential man-to-man line. ‘We have reason to suspect,’ he said, ‘that that record was used to make an alibi, while the man it featured was engaged in committing a particularly brutal murder. You cannot, sir, shield such a man,’ and he went on to give his assurance that if it turned out that the record had been used innocently, nothing that was said would be made public.
This had the desired effect, and the manager at once gave his information.
On the 14th of November he had had, he said, a telephone call from a man giving his name as Clement Allworthy, asking if the Etna Company made special records for private individuals, and if so, at what charges. The information was given him, and he said he wanted a record made, and that he would call and have it done. An appointment was thereupon fixed up for the following day.
At the time arranged he turned up, repeating the name Clement Allworthy, and adding the address: ‘Cloony’, Babbacombe Road, Torquay. He said he had a bet with some friends which arose out of a discussion on spiritualism. He had bet his friends that with the help of modern science he could reproduce everything that had been done at a certain séance at which they had all been present. One of the items included the medium’s typing a message which was written on a sheet of paper in another room, and which he had not seen. This feat Allworthy proposed to reproduce with the help of a gramophone. He wanted to create the illusion that he was typing continuously, while actually he hurried to the other room, read the message, hurried back, and then typed it. The record was to be largely of typing, but it was also to have some humming and speaking which would prove his identity. It turned out that one record would not last the required time—fifteen minutes—so three were made, ‘Allworthy’ explaining that he had an automatic change gramophone. The records turned out to be very good, and the man paid for them and took them away. Both the manager and the operative who had attended to ‘Allworthy’ were positive that he was the original of the photograph which had been sent from the Yard.
‘We keep the master record of every recording,’ the manager concluded, ‘and if you like I can let you hear these three.’
Nothing could have suited French better. He agreed eagerly and he could have shouted with delight when he heard King’s voice humming and calling out his question to Tasker.
His satisfaction grew deeper as in the train back to Town he thought over what he had learnt. Here was proof of his theories as to the deaths of Haviland and Mairs. It would be utterly impossible for King to explain the purchase of the records otherwise than by admitting his guilt. And as he, French, had already seen, they proved not only King’s guilt, but Tasker’s also
. But they didn’t prove the guilt of either Brand or Samson. Both these men might easily have been, indeed almost certainly had been, deceived.
French wondered had he enough evidence for an arrest. At first he thought he had, then he realised that there was a good deal of the case of which he was still ignorant. He decided to try to get some further information before showing his hand.
Then, just as the train ran in beneath the Paddington roof, he thought he saw his way. Could he force a confession from Brand?
Brand was obviously a man of weak character, fearful and timorous, but French imagined he was also in his way conscientious. From his observation he felt sure that the man had a secret on his mind which was worrying him intensely. That he was the dupe of the other two French now believed.
French wondered could he make him tell what he knew. Police pressure would, he felt, be powerfully backed up by the man’s own internal urge, and he might not have the strength to resist both.
On reaching Southampton French explained his idea to Goodwilly, and then rang up Brand. He was sorry to trouble Mr Brand, but would he be in Southampton in the early future? He didn’t think so? Well, would it be too much to ask him to come in? They had got some information which somewhat puzzled them, and they wanted his help to clear it up.
Brand said that if it was necessary he would go in specially. French thanked him, and a meeting at the police station at Southampton was fixed up for late that afternoon.
In due course Brand turned up, looking rather anxious. French had arranged the stage for the act, and Brand was shown into a dismal waiting-room. He was left there for twenty minutes, in the belief that the delay would increase his apprehension.
At last he was shown into Goodwilly’s office. There he found Goodwilly, French, and Carter, all of whom looked preternaturally solemn. They greeted him briefly and without apologising for having kept him waiting.
‘We want a little information from you, Mr Brand,’ began French, ‘but before you make a statement it is my duty to warn that what you say will be taken down and may be given in evidence. You understand also, that you are not bound to answer my questions unless you wish to, and that you may, if you desire, have a solicitor present.’
Mystery on Southampton Water Page 27