Death at Breakfast

by John Rhode

  Dr Priestley had agreed to receive them, and they went to Westbourne Terrace at the usual hour—nine o’clock.

  ‘Here we are, Professor,’ Hanslet had said. ‘I think you’ll be interested if you listen to this queer story that Jimmy has managed to unearth.’

  Encouraged by Dr Priestley’s favourable reply, Jimmy launched into an account of Mr Knott. He told the story exactly as it had developed under his own eyes, being careful to omit no essential detail. Once more he noticed that, at a sign from Dr Priestley, Harold Merefield took notes as he proceeded.

  Dr Priestley listened with his usual inscrutable expression. ‘A very curious chain of circumstances,’ he said when Jimmy had come to the end of his story. ‘Curious in more ways than one. I gather from your remarks, Inspector, that you have no doubt that Gavin Slater was the murderer of Mr Knott?’

  ‘There doesn’t seem to be much room for doubt, sir,’ replied Jimmy guardedly.

  ‘No, perhaps not,’ said Dr Priestley mildly. ‘You assume that the motive for the murder was robbery?’

  ‘It looks very like it, sir. We know that one of the notes issued to Mr Knott was changed by Gavin Slater. The remaining notes have not been found, but no doubt Slater has secreted them in some secure place.’

  ‘One of the remarkable factors of the case concerns what has and has not been found,’ Dr Priestley replied. ‘However, we may put that aside for a moment. What connection do you imagine to exist between the disappearance of Mr Knott and the murder of Victor Harleston?’

  ‘That’s just what’s been puzzling me, sir. It is a very remarkable thing that a clerk and his principal should be murdered within three or four days of one another.’

  ‘It is indeed remarkable. But it becomes still more remarkable if you attribute the motive of robbery to the murder of Mr Knott. Have you any reason to suppose that any member of the Slater household knew in advance that Mr Knott would have a large sum of money in his possession during his visit to Torquay?’

  ‘I don’t very well see how they could have known, sir,’ Jimmy replied.

  ‘Then this second murder must have been entirely unpremeditated. Gavin Slater must have become aware of his visitor’s possession of the money after his arrival at Torquay. He thereupon acted immediately, or as soon as he considered it safe to do so. How can you connect these circumstances with the murder of Victor Harleston?’

  As usual Dr Priestley had laid his finger upon the weakest link in the chain. Jimmy began searching for a suitable reply, but Dr Priestley continued without waiting for it.

  ‘If you maintain that Mr Knott was killed in order that his murderer might secure his money, you are immediately faced with a remarkable coincidence. I do not propose to discuss coincidence now. Your experience, Inspector, must already be sufficient to have taught you that coincidence plays a very large part in crime and its detection. But in this particular instance the appearances are so improbable that I am loath to credit them.

  ‘Let us express this coincidence as simply as possible. On Monday the 21st, Victor Harleston, a clerk in the employ of Messrs. Slater & Knott, was murdered. You will permit me to remark that the motive for that murder is not yet definitely established, will you not, Superintendent?’

  ‘It depends what you mean by “established,” Professor,’ Hanslet replied. ‘I’m not yet in a position to prove that Philip Harleston murdered his half-brother in order that his sister might inherit his money, but I don’t think that an intelligent jury would have any doubts upon the matter.’

  ‘Even the verdict of an intelligent jury does not establish logical proof,’ Dr Priestley replied. ‘You are at liberty to adhere to your theory of motive. It only makes the coincidence more glaring. On Thursday, the 24th, Victor Harleston’s principal, Mr Knott, goes to stay with his partner at Torquay. During the course of his visit, he is murdered by his partner’s son, for the sake of the money which he has with him. His death, then, has no connection, however remote, with that of Victor Harleston’s. It is really most remarkable that two men so closely connected for many years should be murdered within such a short period for totally different motives.’

  ‘Well, what’s the answer, Professor?’ asked Hanslet expectantly.

  ‘That is for you to discover,’ replied Dr Priestley tartly. ‘If I may offer a suggestion, it is this. That you should in both cases revise your opinion as to the motive.’

  ‘And how do you propose that we should set about doing that?’ Hanslet asked.

  ‘By seeking fresh facts in both cases and trying to interpret those facts in their true light. It may assist you to understand my meaning if you will allow me to put a few questions which seem to be pertinent. In the first place, Inspector, how did Mr Knott reach his partner’s house on Thursday evening? Did he walk from the station, for instance?’

  ‘I didn’t inquire, sir,’ replied Jimmy incautiously. ‘It didn’t seem to matter, since his presence in the house was definitely established.’

  ‘As you gain experience in criminal investigation, you will learn that every detail matters,’ Dr Priestley replied. ‘Now, that question brings me back indirectly to a remark I made just now. The contrast between what has been found in this case and what has not. We will suppose, since Mr Knott was carrying a large suitcase, that he took a taxi from the station to his partner’s house. The taxi-driver might possibly remember how his fare was dressed. But we may assume, I think, that he was wearing an overcoat of some kind and almost certainly a hat. Where are these?’

  Up till now, Jimmy had felt thoroughly satisfied with his conduct of the case. He had kept an eye upon all the essentials, and only the discovery of the body was wanting to complete his theory. But suddenly he felt that he had acted like the most inexperienced beginner. His only consolation was that Superintendent Latham had also overlooked the point.

  ‘I don’t know, sir,’ he replied rather shamefacedly.

  ‘Because it did not occur to you to inquire about them. You were so concerned with what you did actually find that you neglected to consider what you had not found. Yet negative results are frequently as important as positive results.

  ‘Let us examine the negative results in this case a little more closely. They may help to elucidate the very puzzling question of motive. You assume, I suppose, that Gavin Slater packed the suitcase with Mr Knott’s personal belongings, and disposed of these in order to create the impression that he had left Torquay by the seven-twenty train?’

  ‘Yes, sir. When the household found that Mr Knott had gone with his baggage they would have no suspicion.’

  Dr Priestley smiled gently. Jimmy had fallen into his trap. ‘Have you any reason to suppose that Mr Knott travelled to Torquay in a dinner jacket?’ he asked.

  It took Jimmy some seconds to realise the implication of this remark. ‘What a fool I am!’ he exclaimed at last. ‘I never thought of that.’

  ‘It is not always easy for the imagination to recall articles which should be present and are not,’ said Dr Priestley. ‘The housemaid stated, I understand, that Mr Knott dressed for dinner on Thursday evening. That expression implies that he took off the suit of clothes that he was wearing when he arrived and put on evening dress. Where is the suit in which Mr Knott arrived? Where are his underclothes? Where are the shoes he wore during the daytime? They were not apparently packed by the murderer in the suitcase. Yet why should he have omitted these items?’

  ‘I had an idea, sir, that Gavin Slater might have burnt Mr Knott’s clothes in the studio fire. There is a big stove there, very suitable for the purpose.’

  ‘He may have done so. Yet why should he have burnt some of Mr Knott’s possessions and thrown the rest into the sea? He appears in more than one instance to have employed a curious process of selection.’

  Hanslet thought it time to come to the rescue of his subordinate. ‘I think I can account for the points you’ve just raised, Professor,’ he said. ‘My idea is this: This man Slater packed everything he could find into the
suitcase. The suit which Knott wore during the day, his underclothes, his overcoat and his hat. He then carried the lot down to the sea and chucked it in. It is cast up on the beach, where it is found by the inquisitive Puddlecombe.

  ‘This honest labourer takes the suitcase home and examines its contents. Some of these he can find a use for, others he cannot. A dinner jacket and a pair of evening trousers, for instance, could be of no possible use to him. But the suit, the overcoat, the hat and the underclothes, all these would come in admirably for Sunday best. So he puts them aside and sends his wife to the pawnbrokers with the rest. That sounds pretty reasonable, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Reasonable enough,’ Dr Priestley replied. ‘I would point out, however, that a rather more thorough investigation on the spot would have cleared up this point. But, in any case, evidence of the process of selection to which I have referred still remains. The pillow case was taken from the room occupied by Mr Knott, and yet the bloodstained sheet was left. Mr Knott’s clothing was disposed of in one way or another, either by burning or by being thrown into the sea. And yet his pyjamas, gashed apparently by the knife stroke which killed him, were retained and hidden at the bottom of a chest. These preferences seem to me most remarkable. Have you formed any theory to account for them?’

  ‘I haven’t sir,’ replied Jimmy uneasily. ‘As regards the pyjamas I can only suppose that Gavin Slater preferred to hide them where he thought nobody would ever find them, than to take any risks in the disposing of them.’

  ‘Very little risk would be involved in burning them,’ Dr Priestley replied. ‘I maintain the facts that are at present ascertained are incapable of the explanation which you have put upon them. But since the investigation is by no means concluded, no doubt fresh facts will be brought to light. You mentioned, I think, that the interior of the suitcase was stained. Has the nature of these stains been ascertained yet?’

  ‘We submitted the case to the experts, sir, and their report came in this afternoon,’ Jimmy replied. ‘In spite of the immersion of the case in sea-water they have found it possible to identify the stains as being due to human blood; the stains were caused no doubt by the portions of the dismembered body carried in it.’

  ‘Have you considered what would happen to dismembered portions of a human body thrown into the sea?’

  ‘In this case, sir, I have,’ Jimmy replied. ‘The tide would sweep them out to sea, if they were thrown in before six o’clock on Friday morning.’

  ‘That is only correct up to a point. The specific gravity of the human body is slightly greater than that of sea-water. A man floats mainly by virtue of the air contained in his lungs and other cavities. If the air is removed from these cavities and they become filled with water, the body will sink. A dismembered limb, for instance, would sink slowly when thrown into the sea. During the time it was sinking, the tide would sweep it away, certainly. But it would ultimately come to rest upon the bottom at no very great distance from the place where it was thrown in.’

  ‘I’m afraid that won’t help us much, sir. If the limbs reached the bottom, there would not be much of them left by now. The local fishermen are accustomed to set their lobster-pots in that very spot and lobsters are notoriously fond of flesh, human or otherwise.’

  ‘So that your prospects of recovering any portion of the body are very remote?’

  ‘I’m afraid so, sir. But Superintendent Latham is doing everything he can.’

  ‘And if nothing is found after a reasonable period has elapsed, what then?’

  ‘That’s not for us to decide, Professor,’ Hanslet replied. ‘I suppose the Assistant Commissioner will consult the authorities, and they will advise what steps should be taken. It seems to me, from what Jimmy tells us, there’s a perfectly clear case against Gavin Slater. It wouldn’t be the first time that a man has been tried for murder, even though the body of his victim is not forthcoming. If a man is clever enough to dispose of the body, it doesn’t follow that he should be allowed to get off scot free.’

  Dr Priestley made no reply to this remark. His mind seemed to return to some other facet of the problem. ‘You have seen both Mr Knott and Mr Gavin Slater, Inspector,’ he said. ‘Did you notice any personal resemblance between them?’

  ‘Not the slightest, sir,’ replied Jimmy promptly. ‘They were not in the least alike. For one thing, Mr Knott was fair and broad-featured, while Gavin Slater is dark with a sort of scowling expression.’

  Dr Priestley frowned a trifle impatiently. ‘Personal resemblance is not necessarily confined to the face,’ he said. ‘Your reply, Inspector, is an example of the attitude of the majority towards possible resemblance. In comparing any two individuals, we start with their faces. This is perfectly natural. A single glance at the two faces satisfies us. They are not in the least alike. We know that we are never likely to mistake one individual for the other. So we go no further. We do not seek such other similarities between the individuals as may exist. We do not ask ourselves whether they are approximately of the same height, chest measurement and so forth.’

  Jimmy wondered if he would ever achieve enough efficiency as an observer to satisfy all Dr Priestley’s requirements. He tried to picture the figures of the two men as he had seen them.

  ‘Well, sir,’ he replied, after a pause, ‘they were much about the same height. I dare say Mr Knott was slightly the taller of the two. And I dare say their girth was about the same. Slater, I should think, was slightly broader than Knott. But, on the other hand, Knott was probably a trifle fatter.’

  ‘Do you see the possible significance of these personal similarities?’ Dr Priestley asked.

  Hanslet stepped in before Jimmy could reply. ‘I do, Professor,’ he said. ‘You’re thinking about the missing clothes, I can see that. If Jimmy’s right, there would be nothing to prevent Gavin Slater wearing Mr Knott’s suit and overcoat. He may have kept them because he wished to impersonate him at some time. At a distance and in a bad light, of course. And under circumstances where his limp would not give him away.’

  Dr Priestley smiled. ‘Why should Gavin Slater wish to impersonate Mr Knott after his death?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Hanslet replied with a slight shrug of the shoulders. ‘This isn’t my case, you know, Professor. It’s Jimmy’s. There may be a hint of motive in that theory of impersonation. I’d bear that in mind if I were you, Jimmy.’

  ‘The question of motive certainly requires reconsideration,’ said Dr Priestley. ‘I do not believe that the theories as at present advanced will eventually prove to be correct. I do not believe that the fates of these two men were disconnected incidents. I cannot suggest what connection may exist between them. To do so, in the light of my present knowledge, would be to indulge in pure conjecture. But I might be able to suggest a possible line of inquiry.’

  ‘I wish you would, Professor,’ replied Hanslet promptly.

  ‘I have listened very carefully both to you and to Inspector Waghorn,’ replied Dr Priestley judiciously. ‘I have noticed that, in the statements of the various witnesses as repeated by you, there are certain inconsistencies. This, of course, invariably happens in any investigation. No two people, however truthful they wish to be, will give the same account of any event or circumstance. But they might be expected to agree upon simple matters of facts familiar to them both. For instance, if I were to ask you in turn which was the nearest bridge across the river to Scotland Yard, you would both, in all probability, reply Westminster Bridge.

  ‘Now, the statements in this case agree with remarkable accuracy. The discrepancies are slight, and deal with details of no apparent importance. But still they exist. I will cite, for example, the matter of the bonus given to Victor Harleston before his death. Will you turn up your notes, Harold, and repeat to us what Mr Slater told the Inspector about the policy of bonuses followed by Messrs. Slater & Knott?’

  Harold looked through his notes until he found the required passage. ‘This is it, I think, sir,’ he said. ‘Mr Slater i
n his statement to the Inspector used the following words: “Our custom has been to grant bonuses only in exceptional cases. For instance, where the recipient has carried out some particularly difficult piece of work, or when his domestic affairs involve a considerable strain upon his income.”’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Dr Priestley. ‘That extract of Mr Slater’s statement will be sufficient. Now, the Inspector had previously spoken to Mr Knott about the same subject. Can you find the reference to their conversation on this occasion?’

  Once more Harold turned over his notes. ‘The Inspector asked Mr Knott whether the granting of bonuses was a matter of routine. Mr Knott replied, “Hardly a matter of routine. It has always been our custom to give a bonus to such of our clerks as has been with us fifteen years and whose service has been in every way satisfactory.”’

  Dr Priestley nodded to show that no further quotation was necessary. ‘A comparison of those two statements is interesting,’ he said. ‘The witnesses are two partners of a firm, and their evidence concerns a fact which must have been familiar to both of them. I say it must have been, because apparently the consent of both partners was necessary before a bonus could be granted. Yet their statements are diametrically opposed to one another. Mr Slater says that bonuses were only granted in exceptional cases. Mr Knott says that they were always granted if certain circumstances were fulfilled. How is this discrepancy to be explained?’

  The question was addressed to Hanslet. But he merely shook his head and laughed.

  ‘I don’t know, Professor,’ he replied. ‘But it isn’t of the slightest importance, for in any case Harleston got his bonus. Both partners are agreed upon that. Whether his family knew that he had got an additional hundred pounds, I can’t say. But I should think it more than likely that he said nothing about it.’