Death at Breakfast

by John Rhode

  ‘He put the knife back where it came from. I’m not quite sure what he did with the clothes and other things brought by Knott. He may have thrown them into the sea with the body, or he may have burnt them in the studio fire. But the pyjamas, for some reason, he did not destroy. He put them at the bottom of the chest, perhaps thinking that they would never be found, or perhaps intending to dispose of them on some future occasion. He also destroyed his own evening shoes, for the reason, I suppose, that some blood had been spilt upon them. Like the nicotine on the crutches in the Bocarmé case, that Oldland was telling us about.’

  Hanslet frowned. The Harleston case was still unsolved and he did not care to be reminded of it. ‘Never mind that,’ he said sharply. ‘Get on with your own story.’

  ‘Gavin’s next move was rather a clever one. Under the circumstances, he couldn’t very well provide himself with an alibi. So he set to work to create the impression that he had got drunk and incapable that evening. He smashed the glass on the floor in the studio. He then went up to his own room and lay on his bed for Lizzie to find him in the morning. I fancy that the condition in which she did find him was not altogether unfamiliar to her. Later he invented the story of Knott’s departure by the seven-twenty to account for his disappearance. This story was accepted without question. Gavin counted upon no inquiries being made until some days after the crime, and as it turned out he was correct.’

  ‘Well, that’s a very pretty theory,’ said Hanslet. ‘From what you tell me, it’s probably correct. But you can’t very well charge Gavin Slater with murder until you’ve found the body, or at least some part of it. The local people are looking after that, you say? But you can’t stop with your hands folded while they’re doing it. What steps do you propose to take?’

  ‘Well, I’d like your advice upon that,’ Jimmy replied. ‘It seems to me that the first thing to do is to establish the motive. I’d like to make quite sure that Knott actually had that large sum of money with him. So far we only have Mr Slater’s word for it. I don’t doubt him in the least, but his sight is none too good, and what he took to be notes might have been something very different. It seems to me rather curious that Knott should have taken £750 down to Torquay only for the purpose of bringing it back again. I think I’ll slip round now to Slater & Knott’s office and make inquiries. I’ve just time to get there before they close.’

  Hanslet agreed to this, and Jimmy made his way to Chancery Lane. But Mr Grant, the chief clerk, could give him no information. ‘It seems to me very unlikely that Mr Knott would have carried so much money in his pocket,’ he said. ‘Unless, of course, he meant to dispose of it in some way at Torquay.’

  This suggested an idea to Jimmy. ‘Mr Slater, I understand, shares in the profits of the business,’ he said. ‘How are these usually paid to him?’

  ‘By cheque, twice a year in July and December,’ Grant replied. ‘Never, under any circumstances, in notes. I cannot imagine any reason why Mr Knott should convey money to his partner in that way. In fact, I think that you must be suffering under some misconception, Inspector.’

  Jimmy asked for the name of Mr Knott’s bank, but it was too late by now to make inquiries there that evening. He returned to Scotland Yard, not without misgivings. Hitherto he had had no doubts of Mr Slater. That old gentleman seemed to him the very personification of honesty. Now it seemed possible that he had fabricated the story of the £750. And, if that was the case, Jimmy’s neat theory of motive vanished into thin air. On the other hand, what could Mr Slater have had to gain by making such a statement? The disappearance of Mr Knott promised to be just as puzzling as the death of his clerk, Victor Harleston.

  Was there any connection between the two occurrences? This question had been at the back of Jimmy’s mind ever since he had heard of Knott’s disappearance. So far, there was absolutely nothing to show any such connection. But, after all, Knott had been Harleston’s employer. Was it possible that they had shared some mysterious secret between them? And if so, had this secret been so menacing to the Slater family that they had determined upon a double murder? This was a line of speculation which afforded Jimmy food for thought for the remainder of the evening.

  Next day he received the report of the experts upon the exhibits which he had submitted to them. The first object to be dealt with was the sheet. The report stated definitely that the stain upon it was caused by human blood, and was now some five or six days old. Further, the blood in question belonged to No. 1 of the four classes into which human blood has now been sub-divided.

  In the case of the pyjamas, the report stated that the stain on these indicated human blood of class one, and was apparently of the same age as that on the sheet. The encrustation on the knife was also human blood of class one. The leather of the boots was impregnated with salt, suggesting that they had been soaked in sea-water.

  Even more convincing in Jimmy’s eyes was the final section of the report. This dealt with the further examination of the knife and of the glass. On the hilt of the knife it had been possible to develop very satisfactory impressions of the four fingers of a right hand. Impressions almost equally distinct had been found on the sheath. These latter were of the thumb and finger of a left hand. The report described the position of these marks and proceeded to draw conclusions. ‘The relative positions of the prints found on the knife and sheath are distinctly suggestive. The impressions of the right-hand fingers on the hilt of the knife are in a line parallel to the axis of the blade, with that of the first finger nearest the end of the hilt. The impression of the thumb is not visible, though on the opposite side of the hilt to the finger impressions are those of part of a palm. This would suggest that the hilt was grasped in the right hand with the thumb overlapping the fingers. This would be the natural way in which to hold a knife with which it was intended to deliver a stab. The impressions of the left hand on the sheath are not so distinct. This would suggest that the sheath had not been grasped so firmly as the hilt. The position of the prints on the sheath suggest that this was held in the left hand while the knife was either withdrawn from it or thrust into it with the right.’

  The tumbler submitted for examination had also given favourable results. ‘Here again have been found the prints of the four fingers and thumb of a right hand. Upon comparing these prints with those upon the hilt of the knife, we have no hesitation in reporting that they were made by the same individual hand.’

  Good enough, Jimmy thought. The various items in this report bore out his theory in every respect. There could now be very little doubt that Gavin Slater had murdered the unfortunate Knott. But it would be a nuisance if Superintendent Latham and his men failed to discover some essential part of the body. Jimmy, who in his spare time had taken to perusing works on criminology, was well aware of the danger of taking proceedings for murder in the absence of the corpse. He was familiar with the notorious Campden case, in which a mother and her two sons were hanged for the murder of a gentleman who turned up bright and smiling some years later.

  Having read the report, Jimmy went to the bank of which he had been informed that Mr Knott was a customer, and interviewed the manager. The latter, upon the production of Jimmy’s credentials, agreed to answer his questions to the best of his ability. It transpired that Mr Knott had visited the bank on the previous Thursday morning. He had then asked to be informed of the amount of the balance standing to his personal account. Upon being told that this was in the neighbourhood of £800, he had written a cheque for £750, stating that he had a payment to make of this amount on the following day. When he was asked how he would like the money to be paid, he replied that he would like it in notes of £20 or less. The cheque was therefore paid with thirty-five £20 notes, three £10 notes and four £5 notes.

  Jimmy, as a matter of routine, took the numbers of these notes. He then made a few tactful inquiries about Mr Knott’s account. He learned that it was Mr Knott’s habit to allow it to accumulate until it reached a considerable amount. He would then purchase s
ecurities approximately to the extent of this amount. These purchases had sometimes been made by cheque, but on several previous occasions he had drawn comparatively large sums in notes. The transaction of the previous Thursday was therefore, not unprecedented.

  Jimmy went back to Scotland Yard to digest this information. So far as the money was concerned, Mr Slater’s statement was fully substantiated. Where was that money now? That was the question. He rang up the police at Torquay, gave them the numbers of the notes, and suggested that they should make inquiries at the local banks. He learnt, in return, that nothing further had been discovered having any bearing on the crime.

  The next step was to explore Mr Knott’s rooms in Crozier Court. Jimmy obtained the necessary authority and, armed with this, went to the Temple. He had very little difficulty in effecting an entry, as he found that the porter possessed a duplicate key.

  Mr Knott’s rooms were most comfortably furnished. They contained everything which might be expected in a bachelor’s quarters, and in addition a varied collection of books, suggesting that Mr Knott was a reader of catholic tastes. The appearance of the room suggested that their occupant had intended to leave them for no more than a few hours. A morning newspaper, bearing the date of the previous Thursday, was lying open on a table. Beside it was a memorandum pad on which was scribbled a note in pencil. This read: ‘Ring up for car to meet train at Paddington Friday.’

  A very thorough exploration of the room revealed nothing unexpected. A small cash box caught Jimmy’s eye, and some further search revealed the key to fit it. But upon opening the box, he found it empty, except for a cheque book in which only the counterfoils remained. Finally, Jimmy satisfied himself that there was no money concealed about the place. Unless Mr Knott had handed over the money to some other person before he left London, he must have taken it with him to Torquay.

  As he returned the key to the porter, the note on the memorandum pad recurred to his memory. ‘Do you happen to know if Mr Knott owned a car?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, he’s had a car for the last few years,’ was the reply. ‘He keeps it in a garage in Norfolk Street.’

  Jimmy sought out this garage and renewed his inquiries there. He learnt that Mr Knott owned a car which he used mainly at weekends. Sometimes, however, he would take it out in the course of the week. ‘Last Thursday for instance, he rang us up,’ said Jimmy’s informant. ‘He asked us to take the car round to Paddington Station and to meet him there at quarter past two on Friday.’

  ‘Did you do this?’ Jimmy asked.

  ‘Oh yes, we sent the car round all right. But Mr Knott didn’t turn up. The man waited for an hour or more then brought the car back here. And we haven’t seen or heard anything of Mr Knott since.’

  As Jimmy went back to Scotland Yard, he congratulated himself that everything was running smoothly. The statement which he had obtained at the garage was particularly instructive. The ten-thirty from Torquay arrived at Paddington at two-fifteen. It was perfectly clear that at the time Knott left London he had intended to return by that train. It seemed unlikely that anything should have occurred while he was at Torquay to make him change his mind. His decision to return by the seven-twenty was, therefore, a fabrication of Gavin Slater’s. His reason for making this false statement was only too obvious.

  Jimmy, during his course at Hendon, had been taught that method plays a very important part in successful detection. He had learnt a certain doggerel rhyme which now recurred to his memory.

  ‘What was the crime? Who did it?

  When was it done? And where?

  How done? And with what motive?

  Who in the deed did share?’

  Not very inspiring poetry, perhaps. But, all the same, of considerable assistance to the methodical detective. He proceeded to apply it to the present case.

  What was the crime? Presumably the murder of Mr Knott. Presumably, because the most convincing proof of murder was up to the present missing. That proof would be the whole or part of Mr Knott’s dead body. But murder seemed to be the only possible theory to account for Mr Knott’s disappearance. That his disappearance was not of his own volition, was proved from several separate sources. He had intended to return to London in time for his appointment at three o’clock on Friday afternoon. It was by now certain that he could not have been overtaken by any accident or sickness. Forcible detention seemed out of the question. Murder alone could account for his continued absence.

  Who did it? There could be only one answer to this question. Gavin Slater. The fingerprints on the hilt of the knife were in themselves almost sufficient testimony. But even if they had not been found the gravest suspicion must have fallen upon him. Though it was conceivable that one of the other occupants of the house might have delivered the blow, none of them had the physical strength to remove the body.

  When was it done? Between midnight and seven o’clock on Friday morning. That is, if Mrs Slater’s statement was to be relied upon. Her husband would hardly have ventured to act before her return, in case she should interrupt his proceedings. In any case, it had been done after Mr Knott had gone to bed, for he was wearing his pyjamas when the blow was inflicted.

  Where? In the room occupied by Mr Knott at his partner’s house. There was no question about that. The blood on the sheet was sufficient evidence.

  How done? With the knife found in the studio. The blood on this, on the sheet, and on the pyjamas, all belonged to the same class. This, though not conclusive proof, was extremely suggestive. Jimmy had already ascertained that the slit in the pyjamas was the same length as the width of the blade of the knife.

  With what motive? To secure the £750 which Mr Knott had with him. This seemed the only reasonable motive. The alternative was that Gavin Slater, notoriously aggressive when in liquor, had fastened some drunken quarrel upon Knott. But in that case surely he would have attacked him at once, downstairs in the studio. He would not have waited until he had gone upstairs and undressed. Unless, upon taking more drink after Mr Knott’s departure, his grievance had become magnified. He might then, after brooding upon it, have gone up with the knife in his hand. But, on the whole, the motive of robbery seemed the more tangible.

  Who in the deed did share? This point did not appear to Jimmy quite so easy to answer as the rest. The murder might have been the work of Gavin Slater alone. No trace of the complicity of anyone else had yet been found. It seemed incredible that his father should connive at the murder of his partner. To Mr Slater, it would appear like killing the goose that laid the golden eggs. But Jimmy was not so sure of Winifred Slater. She had not made by any means a favourable impression upon him. She might have assisted her husband in carrying out the deed. There was at present no proof or even suggestion of this. But Jimmy determined to keep the possibility in mind.

  With Hanslet’s consent, Jimmy returned to Torquay that evening. As soon as he arrived there he went to see Superintendent Latham. He showed him the expert’s report and told him of the results of his own further investigations. Then he ventured to put the question upon which everything depended. ‘Have you had any luck with the body, sir?’ he asked.

  The superintendent shook his head. ‘Not up to the present,’ he replied. ‘We have searched the garden very thoroughly. The body has not been buried there, of that I am pretty certain. But there are several places where it might have been cut up and where a bucket or two of water would have washed all the stains away. My own idea from the first was that the body had been thrown, either whole or dissected, into the sea. The fact that Gavin Slater’s boots were soaked with sea-water seems to support that. Now from the end of the road in which Mr Slater’s house stands, a path leads down to the rocks. I’ll show you the place in daylight tomorrow. That seems to me the most likely route to be taken by anybody in the house who wished to throw something into the sea. So I have concentrated on that particular point, and my men are making inquiries for anybody who might have passed that way during Thursday night or early Friday morning.
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br />   ‘I’ve also been talking to an intelligent fisherman, who sometimes puts down lobster-pots off those rocks. He tells me that between two and six on Friday morning there would have been a very strong tide running at the spot. Anything thrown from the shore between those hours would be swept out to sea. Before or after then, however, the tide would be setting inshore, and anything that did not sink fairly soon would probably be cast up somewhere on the shores of the bay. I’m having inquiries made all along the coast and it’s just possible we may hear of something.

  ‘So much for the body. But I’ve got a very definite piece of news for you from another direction. As soon as I got the numbers of those notes I sent them round to the banks. Not very long ago I had a message from the manager of one of them. A five-pound note bearing one of the numbers had been paid in to his branch on Saturday morning by the landlord of the Rose and Crown. The Rose and Crown is quite a small pub at the opposite end of the town to Mr Slater’s house.

  ‘The bank manager informed me that it is the landlord’s custom to bring his takings to the bank every Saturday morning. Last Saturday there was only one five-pound note among his money, so he will probably remember who he took it from. Would you like to go and see him? My car’s outside, and I can run you to the Rose and Crown in a few minutes.’

  Jimmy jumped at the offer, and they set out. The landlord of the Rose and Crown seemed somewhat perturbed at the sight of the superintendent, but upon being assured that his visit had nothing to do with any breach of the licensing laws, he regained his usual complacency. The superintendent introduced Jimmy to him. And Jimmy got to work without delay.