Before turning from this general inspection to examine details French got out his dusting apparatus and went over everything which he thought might bear finger-prints, particularly the handle, key and edges of the french-window and of the door between the study and the hall.
On the latter he got prints, several of them, but the handles and key of the french-window were absolutely clean. With his little flashlight camera he made records of all the prints he had come on.
The french-window next secured his attention. It was locked, but the key was in the door. French unlocked it and opened it. The second half of the door was fastened at top and bottom by running bolts which engaged with the lintel and step respectively. All the fittings were of strong construction and in good order.
French closed and relocked the window, then going out through the hall door, he tried to open it from the outside. It was as he had thought. No one could have entered without a key.
He had just returned to the study when Lucy knocked at the door. She understood he had had no breakfast, and if he liked she would bring him in something on a tray.
French was really grateful, and said so. Breakfast was becoming quite a problem. He didn’t want to take the time necessary to go into Farnham for it, but he knew that when he grew hungry the quality of his work fell off. On the other hand, he did not like to ask for anything in a house in which he was a potential enemy.
He seized the opportunity of Lucy’s arrival with the tray to make some enquiries. She had, she said, gone over the floor with the vacuum sweeper on the Friday, and she was satisfied that no sand could possibly have been left on it then. At the same time she had dusted the furniture. It was her business to see that the window was secure every night, and she had always done so. The study was now but little used, and so far as she was aware, the french-window had not been unlocked for a week. Yes, she had looked at the window on Saturday night, and it was then locked. She had not actually touched it; it was not necessary. You could, as she pointed out, see the bolt of the lock between the two doors. No, she had no objection to French taking her finger-prints to see whether they were the same as those on the door to the hall.
His meal finished, French interviewed the other members of the house. At once he obtained important information. Julia told him that she had both opened and closed the french-window on the previous day, the Sunday of the disappearance. She had gone into the study during the morning; she could not say the exact time, but she thought about twelve; and it had seemed to her stuffy and unaired. She had therefore opened both halves of the window. She had gone in again just before lunch, and she had then closed and locked both halves. She had not actually passed out through the window; she had merely opened and closed it.
French then enquired if any other member of the household had passed in or out through the window since the floor had been swept on the Friday. No one appeared to have done so, except possibly unhappy Ursula Stone herself. This, however, was considered unlikely by everyone. French agreed with them for the simple reason that all Ursula’s shoes bore fairly high heels, and it was therefore improbable that she was the person who had left the sandy traces.
All this, if true—and French had no reason to doubt it—was significant. If Julia had opened and closed the window about lunch-time on the Sunday, her fingerprints should still be on it. As they were not, it followed that someone afterwards had opened and closed it and, moreover, that this person had either worn gloves or had taken the precaution to wipe the handles after use.
French, rapidly thinking over his next step, decided that he should spend no more time in the house. If other traces of the tragedy remained, they would last longer under cover than they would in the open. Better to see first if he could pick up anything more outside.
Suppose Ursula had been murdered in the study and her body carried out and hidden in the thicket: were there any indications as to the direction in which the remains might afterwards have been taken? French thought there were.
If Earle had been murdered and the method of this latter crime were the same as that of his case, the bodies would have been disposed of in the same way. Now French did not believe that Earle’s body had been hidden in the wood. The search had been too thorough. It must then have been removed by car, for the fact that he had been unable to find a possible car was not really evidence that one had not been used. The same considerations would obviously apply in Ursula’s case.
The path past where the body had been laid ran out on the road just at the back of St. Kilda. Here the starting of a car would be clearly heard by anyone within. It was unlikely therefore that that end of the path had been used. Nor did French think the other end would have been employed, as this debouched on a road more than a mile away: too far to have carried the body. But French remembered that another path crossed this one at right angles a little farther into the wood, and came out on the St. Kilda road four or five hundred yards nearer Farnham. This was surely the most suitable place. These were the only paths near the house.
French decided to try the end of this cross path before going farther afield. He therefore retraced his steps to opposite where the depression in the grass had been found, and continued along the path in the direction of Farnham.
Though he did not examine the ground so meticulously as before, he kept a sharp look-out for bloodstains or other marks. But without result. He saw no signs of blood, and though there were plenty of footprints in the patches where the grass had given place to sand, these were so poorly defined as to be useless.
He reached the cross path, and, turning to the right, continued till he came within a few yards of the road. Then once again he began his thorough inspection of every inch of the ground.
His search was soon rewarded. Behind a clump of bushes, in a place hidden both from road and path, was another depression in the grass similar to that found by the constable. French was delighted. This was the kind of achievement which always filled him with satisfaction. He had thought what might have occurred, he had tested his idea, and now his investigations had proved that his guess was correct. That was the way to use one’s imagination! And that, he told himself, was where most of his confrères came short.
The body then had been carried here from its first resting-place, and here it had lain till its removal by car had been made possible. So far French felt no doubt as to the sequence of events.
He spent a solid hour searching the ground about this second depression, but without result. There were no further traces of blood and no one concerned seemed to have dropped anything. The absence of blood he could understand. The body, immediately after the murder, had been carried to the first thicket. But it had lain there for some time, during which all bleeding would have ceased.
He was about to give up and return to St. Kilda when he made a further discovery. On a branch of furze at the side of the road he found a tiny strand of light green wool.
Light green wool! He remembered that in the description of Ursula sent to the Yard one of the items was, “dressed in light green woollen jumper”. An important find!
This discovery practically proved his assumption that the body had been removed in a car. French began searching for wheel-marks. Yes, there they were! A car had pulled in towards the edge of the road where the path debouched. But unfortunately the marks were too blurred to be of any use in identifying the vehicle.
Well satisfied with his progress, French returned to St. Kilda to find that Sheepshanks and his helpers had completed their work and were waiting to see him before taking their departure. They had found nothing of interest.
“Well, I’ve got something,” said French, and he told the sergeant about the second depression, the wool and the wheel-marks. “You might report to the super and get all enquiries pushed on about cars seen on the roads last night. The super’ll know what’s wanted. I’ll follow you into Farnham presently.”
When the police
had gone French re-entered the house. One or two small points still remained to be seen to. He asked for Julia.
“Sorry to trouble you again, Mrs. Earle, but I wanted to get a little further information, this time about Miss Stone. Can you tell me anything of her general history and circumstances?”
Julia told him what she knew: that Ursula had been at school with herself and her sister; that she was the daughter of a clergyman long since dead; that she had a little money; that she lived in a small cottage on Bathwick Hill, Bath, and that she interested herself in the local children’s hospital.
French, having noted these details, turned to his next point. Going once more to the garage, he examined the car with scrupulous care. He wondered whether it could have been the vehicle used. Sheepshanks had told him that one of the first things he had done on arriving at St. Kilda had been to feel the radiator. It was then cold. That had been at a few minutes past nine. As once again French made sure that the water had not been changed, he wondered how long it would take to cool.
He did not know. It depended on many factors: the level of the water, how hot it had been, how cold the night was, how far the garage protected it; all superimposed on some kind of constant for the make of car. He guessed from three to four hours, but he had no idea if this was correct.
Three to four hours would mean that the car could have been used up to about six o’clock and still show no traces of heat. Supposing Julia—and possibly Marjorie—were guilty, when could they have used it?
Lucy had gone out at half-past three and had testified that at that hour Ursula was alive and well. How long would the murder have taken?
French did not believe the sisters would have made a move till Lucy had gone some time, lest the girl should have forgotten something and come back. Suppose they had waited for half an hour and at four the fateful blow had been struck. Ursula’s body could have been carried to its resting-place in the first thicket inside five minutes, and the two criminals could have been back at the house by 4.15. When could the body have been taken on the second stage of its journey?
That it had lain in that first thicket for some time seemed evident from the condition of the grass, and also because if it had not lain there for some time it was difficult to see any reason for its having been put there at all. Suppose it had lain for half an hour. It could then undoubtedly have been carried on to the second halting-place, and Julia and/or Marjorie could have returned to St. Kilda before the Campions’ arrival at 5.15. After their departure at six the car could have been taken out and the body finally disposed of.
French saw that while the suggested timing was tight, this theory was possible, and yet as a theory he was not pleased with it. It did not somehow seem likely. As a matter of fact, while he didn’t feel so sure about Julia, he could not picture Marjorie Lawes as a party to such a crime.
Did the two women, he wondered, know the Campions were coming that afternoon, so as to fit their operations in with the visit? This seemed an important point and he asked both. They denied it, convincingly enough. He took a note, however, to see the Campions on the matter.
Reserving judgment on the possible guilt or innocence of the sisters, French decided that his most pressing line was the tracing of the car by which the body had been conveyed. He would slip into Farnham for some lunch while he considered how this could best be done.
Chapter XIV
Slade’s Sunday
As French drove through the pleasant Surrey lanes his thoughts switched over from the Lawes sisters to another of his former suspects, Reggie Slade. Could Slade have had anything to do with this second mystery?
He had, of course, thought of Slade directly he had heard of Ursula’s disappearance, just as he had thought of Julia and Marjorie. But now the possibility of Slade’s guilt must be seriously considered.
That Slade alone should have encompassed the kidnapping or death of Ursula he didn’t think likely. For one thing, he did not see how Slade could have entered the study. Nor did he believe Slade could have prevailed on Ursula to meet him there. But if one assumed that Slade and Julia had been acting in concert, these difficulties vanished.
Suppose Slade and Julia had agreed to murder Ursula—leaving the possible motive out of account for the moment. Suppose they worked out a plan by which Julia was to get Ursula down to the study and there murder her and carry her body out to a prearranged place: the first thicket. This would be Julia’s part in the affair. Slade would then come into the picture. He would carry the body from the Thicket No. 1 to Thicket No. 2, where he would leave it while he went for his car. Returning, he would lift it on board and run it to its final destination.
This theory at first sight seemed to cover the facts. But further thought showed that it didn’t quite. It didn’t account for the footprints both behind the bush and on the carpet.
French puzzled over this; then suddenly he saw a possible explanation. If the crime were carried out jointly, would not Slade, rather than Julia, have committed the actual murder? In this case, would not Slade have waited behind the bush for Julia to let him in, Julia then calling Ursula down to the study?
To French this seemed extremely likely. Moreover, it accounted more satisfactorily for the two halts during the passage through the wood. Slade, on getting the body away from the house, would secrete it in the first hiding-place he could find, so that he might return to make sure that Julia was all right and that no traces of the crime remained. He would then carry it to the second thicket, again leaving it hidden while he went for his car.
French was pleased with his progress. His theory was taking shape. Three points, however, remained unaccounted for, and on these he now concentrated.
The first was the motive for this second crime. Why should anyone desire the life of this pleasant, kindly, harmless lady? Of all people in the world Ursula Stone seemed about the last to inspire feelings of fear or hate.
But wait a minute. Was she so harmless as he had supposed? Suddenly French saw that she might be anything but harmless; so dangerous indeed to these two people that they would have a very adequate reason for wishing her dead. Suppose in some way Ursula had discovered the truth about Earle’s disappearance? If Julia and Slade were guilty of Earle’s murder, this would mean nothing less than the hangman for both of them. If so, small wonder that Ursula was sacrificed!
The second difficulty was comparatively trifling: the fact that he, French, had come to the conclusion that both these people, Julia and Slade, were innocent of Earle’s death. But this did not weigh very much with him. His former conclusion was not divinely inspired. He might even have made a mistake.
The third difficulty, however, was overwhelming. What about Nurse Nankivel? If Earle had been murdered, what had happened to the nurse? It was inconceivable that she also had been murdered. There could have been no motive.
As French considered this argument it seemed to grow slowly stronger and more unanswerable. Did it not mean that Earle had not been murdered at all, but that he and the nurse had gone off together, as French had originally concluded? Why, he asked himself, had he changed his mind on this point? Simply because of the possibility that Ursula Stone had been murdered. Was this really convincing?
On second thoughts he believed not. Ursula’s death—if she had died—might not have been connected in any way with Earle or his disappearance. Her murderer—again, if she had been murdered—might purposely have made the crime look like a voluntary disappearance, with the very object of its being erroneously connected with Earle’s.
Then French saw further that if Earle had not been murdered, it invalidated the only motive he had been able to think of for Ursula’s death. Therefore had Earle been murdered after all?
French swore. The thing was a regular dilemma. If Earle had not been murdered, there was no motive for Ursula’s death: if he had, there was no explaining the nurse’s fate.
French turne
d into the hotel for lunch. As he sat over his roast beef and greens it occurred to him that it might be wise to broadcast for news of Ursula. It was evident that the murderer had not intended suspicion of murder to arise, and it might be no harm to let him think his ruse had been successful.
Accordingly, having sent the necessary application for the broadcast to Scotland Yard, he once again returned to the seat of war. Calling at Altadore, he asked for Slade. The young man was at home, and this time did not keep French waiting. He appeared at once, wishing French good morning in an almost obsequious manner.
“Sorry to trouble you again, Mr. Slade, but it’s the same business over again. This affair of Miss Stone is so like that of Mr. Earle that we have to go on the same lines in each case. I hope you’ll help me all you can.”
Slade nodded. “I understand, inspector. I’ll help you all I can and all that. But I expect it won’t be much. Don’t know anything about the affair, you know.”
“I don’t suppose you know anything directly,” French returned smoothly, “but you may be able to help me indirectly. You were at St. Kilda in the afternoon, quite possibly only a short time before Miss Stone disappeared. Though you may not have seen her, you may have seen someone else who did, and from whom I might get my information.”
“Didn’t see a soul. I’d tell you at once if I had, but I met no one.”
“Just what time were you at St. Kilda?”
“’Bout three. Don’t know exactly, not within a few minutes, you know; but about three.”
“Quite. And what did you do after you left?”
“Went to Petersfield. I’ll tell you.” Slade was speaking almost eagerly. “Dagger and my sister went over to spend the day with some people at Arundel, so I was by myself for lunch. It was pretty ghastly all alone, and after lunch I took out the Bentley and went over to St. Kilda to try and get Mrs. Earle to come out for a run. That was why I went over, you know.” He paused expectantly, but French not replying, went on. “But she wouldn’t come. So I was at a loose end again. I thought I’d go over to Petersfield and see some people. So I did. The man I wanted to see was out, but I did find a couple of chaps I knew. We had some drinks and so on. I soon got fed up with it, so I came back, back here. I had a wash-up and a change and then I went back to the golf club. It wasn’t so bad there. I found some chaps and we had a spot of bridge. We dined together and played on till the place closed at eleven. Then I came home and went to bed. That all you want?”
The Hog's Back Mystery Page 17