Death at Breakfast

by John Rhode

  ‘Fernside, like most criminals, could not resist the attempt to gild the lily. He had already done enough to suggest a violent encounter, in which he had been severely wounded. But he must needs improve upon his work. By this time he had, I think, exhausted the blood of the cat, and washed out the basin. For his final touch of realism, he required a further supply of blood, and this he secured by cutting or pricking his own finger. Having cracked his walking stick, possibly by bending it across his knee, he smeared the knob with this blood. He then smeared the bullet in a similar way. Finally he washed his hands, of which one of the fingers was still possibly bleeding, in the basin. This would account for the traces of human blood found in it.

  ‘The last act in the comedy took place on the afternoon of the 26th. Fernside drove up in a car and entered his flat, carrying an empty sack under his coat. Here he waited a favourable opportunity. No doubt he was watching through the window, and saw his neighbour return home. Then he filled the sack with something in order to bulk it out and stamped heavily down the stairs. He put the sack in the car and drove off. You already believed in the existence of a dead or wounded man. So that when you heard about the sack you assumed that it had contained the body. Fernside had shown tolerable skill in the achievement of his object. It was merely his ignorance of the powers of science that induced him to employ a cat. And he should have used a bullet which had actually been fired instead of one extracted from its case. By the way, with regard to the human blood found, did the experts’ report contain any further details?’

  ‘Merely that the blood on the stick, the bullet and the wash-basin appeared to have come from the same person,’ Hanslet replied. ‘In each case it was of the same class, number one. But look here, Professor, what was Fernside’s motive in all this? You say that he wanted to create the impression that he was dead? Why? Had he committed some crime? You might say that his possession of the notes suggested that he had murdered Knott. Or at least that he was in league with Gavin Slater. Is that the idea?’

  Dr Priestley smiled. ‘Stanley Fernside has undoubtedly committed a very grave crime,’ he replied. ‘But that crime was not the murder of Mr Knott. Although I have no doubt that he knew more about the disappearance of Mr Knott than any of us.’

  ‘You mean that he put Gavin Slater up to the job?’ Hanslet suggested.

  ‘No, I think that Gavin Slater was an unconscious tool in his hands. But let us examine Stanley Fernside a little more closely. I think we shall find that he exhibits rather striking peculiarities. He is in the possession of a considerable balance at the bank, which he apparently acquired within the course of the last three years. How did he accumulate this large sum? It could surely not have been the profits of his alleged occupation.

  ‘Then, in spite of his comparative wealth, he rents a flat in an obscure quarter of London. I do not imagine that the inhabitants of Banbridge Road are in receipt of large incomes. Nor, as I judge by your description, did he surround himself with any attempt at luxury. The flat is, I think you said, very plainly furnished.’

  ‘It contains only the barest necessities,’ Hanslet replied. ‘And even these are of the cheapest quality.’

  Dr Priestley nodded. ‘Just so. Now let us turn to another of Fernside’s peculiarities. He is rarely seen at his flat, and never during the week. Having opened his account, he never again appears at his bank. In fact, he only appears when it suits his purpose to do so, as, for instance, in Manchester on the 25th. He alleges that he spends the greater part of his time travelling at home and abroad. But you have been unable to trace his possession of a passport. And apparently he is unknown to people with whom he might be expected to be familiar. It would almost seem that he possesed the power of rendering himself invisible. Does all this suggest nothing to you?’

  ‘Only that he was up to no good and kept himself out of the way as much as possible,’ Hanslet replied.

  ‘He was up to no good, of that I have no doubt. But how did he contrive to keep himself out of sight? There is, I think, only one rational answer to that question. Stanley Fernside only existed when it suited his purpose to do so.’

  Hanslet looked puzzled. ‘I don’t quite follow you, Professor,’ he said.

  ‘And yet my meaning was sufficiently clearly expressed. Stanley Fernside was a second personality, a disguise if you like, assumed at his convenience by some other person.’

  ‘Well, that’s possible,’ Hanslet admitted. ‘But it doesn’t carry us much further. He may really have been John Smith and not Stanley Fernside. We know precious little about Stanley Fernside, and nothing whatever about John Smith.’

  ‘We know this at least about John Smith,’ Dr Priestley replied quietly. ‘He was sufficiently well acquainted with Mr Knott to induce him to give him an introduction as Stanley Fernside.’

  ‘That would be splendid, if Mr Knott were still alive,’ said Hanslet rather tartly. ‘But, since he isn’t, I don’t see that it carries us much further.’

  As some glimmering of the truth occurred to Jimmy he made a sudden movement in his chair. This attracted Dr Priestley’s attention. ‘Well, Inspector,’ he said, ‘have you any comment to make?’

  But Jimmy was far too diplomatic to step in where his superior knew not how to tread. ‘I was wondering what crime Stanley Fernside could have committed, sir,’ he said.

  ‘There is, I think, very little doubt that he is guilty of murder,’ said Dr Priestley in a matter-of-fact tone.

  ‘But dash it all, Professor, you’ve just said that you didn’t believe he murdered Mr Knott,’ Hanslet exclaimed.

  ‘Mr Knott is not the only victim whose death remains unexplained. I believe that Stanley Fernside, as we will continue to call him for the present, is guilty of the murder of Victor Harleston.’

  Hanslet opened his eyes wide at this. And then he laughed heartily. ‘Oh come now, Professor!’ he exclaimed. You’re always rubbing it in to me that conjecture unsupported by fact is a worse crime than murder. And if that isn’t pure guesswork I don’t know what is. Why, there’s nothing on earth to connect Stanley Fernside with the murder of Victor Harleston!’

  ‘Exactly,’ replied Dr Priestley tranquilly. ‘And that is the whole strength of his position.’

  Hanslet shrugged his shoulders. ‘I suppose you’ve some grounds for what you say. But to begin with, what possible motive could Fernside have had for murdering Harleston?’

  Dr Priestley glanced at him sternly. ‘You have from the first misunderstood the motive underlying the whole chain of events,’ he said. ‘You found an apparent motive for the murder of Victor Harleston, and this contented you. You were disinclined to seek for some deeper motive, not visible upon the surface. And yet, that such a motive existed can be deduced from the facts in your possession. It is possible to formulate the nature of that motive, and, upon further investigation, to prove its existence.’

  Hanslet considered this for a few moments and then shook his head. ‘I’m afraid I haven’t got there, Professor,’ be said.

  ‘Perhaps because you have neglected to consider certain indications. A few days ago I drew your attention to certain discrepancies in the statements of the various witnesses. First of all, with regard to the custom of Messrs. Slater & Knott in granting bonuses to their employees. In this respect the statement of either Mr Slater or Mr Knott was incorrect. Then, as to the prosperity of the business since the retirement of Mr Slater. It appears from your investigations that the business has flourished from that time. On the other hand, Mr Slater complained to the inspector that the profits were falling off.

  ‘Now it seems to me that it would be very instructive to have this point cleared up. This could be done without much difficulty. It would be necessary to ascertain the nature of the agreement between Mr Slater and Mr Knott, as to their respective shares of the profit. Mr Knott was, of course, aware of the amount of the profits, but he is said to have kept this knowledge strictly to himself. You will probably find that all record of this has disappeared,
with Mr Knott. But it should not be impossible to obtain a fairly close estimate. This having been done, it would be a simple matter to find out whether Mr Slater had obtained his correct proportion of these profits. If he has not, then Mr Knott has been guilty of consistent fraud.

  ‘I believe that this was actually the case. Mr Knott represents to his partner that the profits were decreasing. Mr Slater’s blindness would prevent him from checking the actual figures. He seems to have had implicit faith in Mr Knott, and probably accepted his statement without question. Mr Knott was thus enabled to appropriate large sums of money which should by rights have been divided with his partner

  ‘Now let us turn to the murder of Victor Harleston. You deduced quite correctly that the murdered man must have possessed certain special knowledge. Such, for instance, that he had been engaged upon the audit of Novoshave Ltd., that his half-brother Philip possessed a store of nicotine, that Novoshave Ltd., were about to issue a new type of razor, to be known as model K. You thought at first that this special knowledge could only be available to some member of the Harleston family. Later, as your investigations proceeded, you learnt that Mr Slater might have acquired it. But you have overlooked the fact that one person must certainly have possessed it. That person was Mr Knott. As the head of their firm of auditors, he would be fully conversant with the policy of Messrs. Novoshave. His knowledge of Philip he no doubt acquired from his partner, who had been concerned in the purchase of the share of Hart’s Farm. It is a matter of common knowledge that fruit farmers employ nicotine in quantities.’

  ‘Do you mean that Knott put Stanley Fernside up to murder Harleston?’ Hanslet exclaimed. But why, in Heaven’s name?’

  ‘Victor Harleston was murdered because he had become aware of Mr Knott’s frauds. Of that I think there is not the slightest doubt. Harleston was blackmailing his employer. He began by demanding that he should be granted a bonus—that would account for the different statements which you have heard on that subject. Knott was compelled to use considerable persuasion to induce Mr Slater to agree to this. But naturally he represented to you that the granting of the bonus was a very ordinary matter. He did not wish the subject to be pursued too closely.

  ‘But Harleston was not content with a mere £100. Knott was completely in his power. Harleston could at any moment go to Slater and tell him the state of affairs. Proceedings would have been taken and investigations made. In that case Knott would have been completely ruined.

  ‘So Harleston made a further suggestion. His silence could be bought. And he fixed the price of his silence at £20,000, less the £100 which he had already received on account. Knott would be forced to agree to this proposition. But he had no intention of completing the bargain. He pointed out to Harleston that he could not lay his hands upon £20,000 at once. The money was invested and securities would have to be realised. He promised to pay the money on a certain date, and that date, I expect, coincided very closely with Harleston’s death. I have already told you my interpretation of the figures found on the back of the letter. This theory would explain the source of the money that Harleston expected to receive.’

  ‘Well, Professor, we can find out about the profits and the share of them received by Mr Slater,’ said Hanslet. ‘If it turns out to be as you say, I’ll believe that Knott had a motive for murdering Harleston. But why was he murdered himself two days later?’

  Dr Priestley smiled. ‘Was he murdered?’ he asked conversationally.

  ‘Of that at least, the proofs are convincing,’ replied Hanslet confidently. ‘If he had committed suicide, his body would not have been disposed of so neatly.’

  ‘From the first, the facts struck me as a trifle too convincing,’ said Dr Priestley. ‘Every possible clue came to light and each at its appropriate time. The bloodstained sheet, the knife with which the crime was committed, the fingermarks of the murderer, the victim’s suitcase, stained with blood and containing some but not all of the victim’s belongings. Only the body was missing, and of that an adequate explanation was forthcoming.

  ‘And yet I am convinced that no murder was committed. Knott staged his disappearance to escape the consequences of his crime. He did it with the utmost efficiency, but I venture to think with rather too much emphasis. He had first of all to create the impression that his disappearance was involuntary. He did this by making it appear in advance that he had every intention of returning to London by three o’clock on Friday afternoon. You obtained evidence of that intention from every side. From his office, where he had made an important appointment. From his friend, with whom he was to dine that night. From the owner of the garage where he kept his car. It was all most convincing.

  ‘From the first, I think, he meant to fix the guilt upon Gavin Slater. He had to provide a motive, so he drew a sum of money which he carried on his person, exhibiting it both to Mr Slater and his son. Not a very convincing motive, perhaps, but he knew Gavin Slater’s reputation. It would be assumed that he had got drunk and was therefore in a state when he was hardly responsible for his actions. The sight of the notes might then have been a sufficient motive.

  ‘As to what happened that night at Torquay, one can only conjecture. But I think it is possible to reconstruct the events with a fair degree of accuracy. The statements of both Mr Slater and his son can be accepted as substantially correct. Knott and Gavin Slater were left together in the studio after dinner. Knott asked the other to show him the knife. He said that he would have to leave by the early train, knowing that Gavin Slater’s repetition of this statement later would sound very suspicious. He asked Gavin Slater to change a five pound note for him. He encouraged him to drink whisky until he saw that he was well on the way to a state of insensibility. And then he went to bed.

  ‘Mrs Slater came home about midnight, and no doubt Knott heard her enter her room. Then, after allowing a sufficient time to elapse, he took action. He had taken upstairs with him a tumbler, which is said to have disappeared. In this he collected a supply of his own blood, probably secured by the opening of a small vein. With this, he smeared the sheet and the interior of the suitcase. He removed the pillowcase and subsequently took it away with him. That, in my opinion, was rather a clever touch. It would be assumed that the pillowcase had been soaked in blood and that the murderer had destroyed it. He then dressed in his underclothes and lounge suit and put the remainder of his belongings in the suitcase.

  ‘His next scene of operation was Gavin Slater’s dressing-room. Here he found a pair of shoes, which he wetted liberally with salt and water. And at the same time he hid the tin of nicotine in the chest of drawers.

  ‘That tin of nicotine is to me very significant. I have no doubt that it was the one stolen from Philip Harleston. But why had Knott kept it so long? I think he wished to have a supply of poison available. If his guilt were to be discovered, it would secure him a rapid death. But now he felt that even though his guilt were suspected, no search would be made for him. The nicotine might now be disposed of. How better than by employing it to cast a further suspicion upon his supposed murderer?

  ‘Knott then went downstairs, carrying his suitcase, his pyjamas, and the glass with the blood in it. The suitcase, I suppose, he left in the hall. The other things he took into the studio where Gavin Slater was lying fast asleep. Or he may have waited until he heard Gavin Slater stumble up to bed. That I cannot say. In any case, having reached the studio, he took down the knife, being very careful not to obliterate Gavin Slater’s fingermarks. He unsheathed it, dipped the blade in the blood, and sheathed it again. Then he put it back on the wall, feeling sure that it could not escape an observant eye. He made a suitable slit in his pyjamas to correspond with the width of the blade of the knife, poured some blood round this and put the pyjamas in the chest. His work was now accomplished, and it only remained for him to leave the house.

  ‘This, he did, I think, at about six o’clock. He took with him his suitcase, his own hat, and Gavin Slater’s overcoat. He also had about him the pillo
wcase and the glass which had held the blood. He simulated Gavin Slater’s limp, so that in the uncertain light he might be mistaken for him. I have no doubt that the man seen by the gas-worker was actually Knott.

  ‘Whether or not he had studied the set of the tide, I cannot say. Probably he had, for he seems to be a man who leaves nothing to chance. At all events he threw the suitcase into the sea, trusting to its being discovered and washed up. The object of the suitcase, of course, was to suggest the means of disposal of the body. The tumbler he threw into the sea separately, careless of whether it were found or not.

  ‘His only care now was to leave Torquay unobserved. He did not care to risk the possibility of recognition at the station. He probably walked for some distance out of the town and then picked up an omnibus. At all events he reached the railway at some point and thence took a train to Manchester.’

  ‘Where I suppose he had a rendezvous with Stanley Fernside,’ Hanslet remarked.

  Dr Priestley smiled. ‘Stanley Fernside suddenly stepped into the picture at this point,’ he replied. ‘But is not that gentleman’s identity yet apparent to you? As a criminal, Knott is a very interesting study. He had decided to commit one crime, and a second was thrust upon him. His endeavours to escape the consequences of these crimes have at least the merit of ingenuity.