Fatal Venture

by Freeman Wills Crofts

  Malthus seemed slightly taken aback. “You’re candid at least,” he returned, “but all the same you really mean you do suspect me.”

  “No, sir. As a reasonable man, you’ll understand my position. I’m telling you the exact truth. With my present information it’s theoretically possible that you may be guilty. I want more information from you which will prove your innocence and get your name off my list of possible suspects.”

  “And if I refuse to give it?”

  “You’re entitled to do so, but, of course, that would arouse my suspicions in earnest, and I shouldn’t stop till I got the information elsewhere.”

  For a moment Malthus didn’t reply and French could see that he was thinking intently. Then he shrugged. “Well, since you’re taking up a reasonable attitude, I’ll answer your questions – with this reservation: that I may defer the answer to any question till I have consulted my solicitor.”

  This was what French had been working for, as, if Malthus had insisted on his rights, it would have held up the enquiry.

  “That’s quite all right,” he agreed. “Then I’ll go ahead. I’ve really only one question to ask, though its answer may involve others. Tell me, please, in detail, all you did on the day the ship called at Portrush.”

  Malthus seemed surprised. “But you’ve got some bee in your bonnet about the purchase of the ship. Wouldn’t it be well to clear that away before we go any further?”

  “If you wish to make a statement about that, I shall be glad to hear it.”

  “Oh, well, I see what’s in your mind and I’d like to say that, though there might have been a little feeling about that affair at the time, it’s long since dead. And there wasn’t any real feeling either. We tried a little business trick to outwit Mr Stott, but he was too smart for us. We didn’t expect him to bear malice for our action, and we didn’t bear any for his. Do you think Mason and I would have come on board if the thing was rankling?”

  “Since you’ve raised the question, why did you come on board?”

  “I can tell you that. When we thought of doing this steamer stunt, it was for cruising for the small man as Bristow originally intended. And I may tell you incidentally that if we had pulled it off, we’d have offered Bristow a share. However, that’s another matter. What I want you to understand is that we had no idea of the gambling.”

  “I follow.”

  “When Stott adopted this luxury gambling it left the small man’s cruising scheme still unexploited. We still wanted to try it, but there was no ship available. Now, the Yosemite Valley, a big American boat, is to be sold and she would just do the job. We thought of buying her and came aboard to see first just what the cruising amounted to: I mean, what we could offer as to scenery and shore excursions and so on.”

  “You met the deceased?”

  “Yes, we met him and had a laugh over our experiences and formally buried the hatchet.”

  “I see, sir. I’m glad to know that. Now perhaps you’d answer my original question?”

  Malthus seemed annoyed. Evidently he had imagined that his explanation should have removed the need for an alibi. But French thought otherwise.

  It seemed that a cousin of Malthus’, a widow named Hetherington, lived with her friend, a Miss Dormer, at Dungiven, a small town some thirty miles from Portrush. On going ashore on that eventful Tuesday, he and Mason had hired a car and driven by a roundabout route to Dungiven: up the Valley of the Bann and through Magherafelt and Draperstown and over the Sperrin Mountains. This had taken them till lunchtime. They had stayed with the ladies for tea, leaving in time to catch the ship’s boat from Portrush just before six.

  French realised that if this were true, it constituted a complete alibi for his first two suspects and he began to try for more details. As Stott was alive till after four, he was interested only in their return journey.

  “You say you left Dungiven at half past four, Mr Malthus. Have you any way of checking the time?”

  “Well, we had reckoned that we should leave at half past four to give us plenty of time to catch the boat. You see, we had to take back and square up for the car.”

  “Quite. Did anyone else but yourselves note the time?”

  Malthus considered. “I think so,” he answered, “though I couldn’t really be certain. The ladies wanted a walk, and we took them with us for two or three miles and they walked back. I remember Miss Dormer had to go out that evening and she was fussy about the time they’d be back. She might remember.”

  French thought this was all he needed for the present. The validity or otherwise of the alibi would depend on its confirmation by Nugent. He therefore thanked Malthus and went to Mason’s cabin, where that gentleman was awaiting him.

  Mason’s story agreed in every material point with that of Malthus’, but he said further that he had discussed the time of departure with both ladies and he was sure both remembered it. They had had tea specially early, which he thought would fix it in their memories.

  Wyndham Stott’s was the next name on the list, but as it was now getting on to twelve and people went to bed early on board, he decided to postpone his interrogation till the following day.

  Next morning the Hellénique was in Bantry Bay and the excursion was to Glengariff and Killarney. As it was such a good trip French had been reluctant to ask the Stotts, Bristow and Morrison to abandon it so that he might obtain their statements. However, he had no alternative, and all more or less willingly agreed to stay on board.

  He began after breakfast with Wyndham. Wyndham appeared anxious to dissipate any suspicions his stepson’s manner might have aroused in French’s mind. “He’s an ill-mannered young ass,” he exclaimed, “but you mustn’t take him too seriously. I think he has an inferiority complex and feels he must bounce and swagger to keep his end up. But he’s not really a bad sort. You’ll find he’ll come round presently and do all you want.”

  “He’s right about the solicitor, you know,” French pointed out. “You can all follow his example if you want to.”

  “I’m aware of that, but as far as I’m concerned I have nothing to hide and I feel that a man who has reached your position would not twist facts. I’m sure the rest of us take the same view, even Luff, though he did talk like a fool.”

  “I’m grateful for that, sir,” answered French, and chatted on the cruise till they had settled down in the deserted music room.

  “Now,” he went on, “I’ll be glad of information of any kind which you think might be useful to me. Secondly, I want to know the relations which existed between all of you and the deceased, particularly whether anyone was on bad terms with him or had cause to hate him. Lastly, I have to ask you and the others to account for your time on the afternoon of the cruise. Now, sir, perhaps you’d start off.”

  Wyndham was quite ready to speak, but he had nothing very interesting to tell. Generally speaking, the deceased was not popular. He had, or could have when he chose, an unpleasant manner, and he seldom curbed it or went out of his way to smooth the way for others. He was also a keen and successful business man, and, as the Chief Inspector knew, one man’s gain meant another’s loss and, there must be many financial casualties who had no cause to love him.

  Wyndham made no bones of the fact that neither he nor the rest of the family liked John, but in no case was there active ill feeling between them. The general attitude was illustrated by his own. While he saw as little of the deceased as possible, when they did meet they were always friendly. John’s feeling towards him was shown by the fact that he had – so Wyndham believed – made him his heir.

  “That’s a point I forgot to mention,” French put in. “I wonder if you could tell me the provisions of the will?”

  Wyndham shook his head. “I couldn’t,” he replied. “I know that he told me some time ago that I should be his heir, as I was the only close member of his family left. He said there would be several legacies to other people, but that I should have the larger portion.”

  “You can�
�t give an idea of the amounts?”

  “Not with any degree of accuracy. John was usually supposed to be worth about a million, and if I were to get the larger portion, I should have, I suppose, not less than six hundred thousand. But I can’t stand over any of these figures.”

  “Quite so, sir. Then your own will? I don’t know that I’m in order in asking, but if you don’t mind, I should like to know its provisions.”

  Wyndham hesitated. “I don’t quite see what that has to do with the affair,” he protested, “but I don’t mind telling you. I have divided what I die possessed of into three parts: two go to my wife and one to my daughter, both absolutely.”

  “Thank you very much. Now for the formal question as to your movements on last Tuesday afternoon. Perhaps you’d kindly account for the whole time you spent ashore. Particularly mention the names of persons you met. We always have to check up alibis.”

  “I understand. All the family except my uncle – myself, my wife, my daughter and my stepson – spent the morning at the Salmon Leap at Coleraine. We lunched at Portrush with some friends, the Atkinsons. They live in a house, ‘Mera Maw,’ not far from the Ladies’ Bathing Place, but they entertained us at the Northern Counties Hotel.”

  “Good,” said French. “That provides an excellent start. Yes?”

  “We stayed with them for a little time after lunch and then the party broke up. The Atkinsons were driving to see some cousins at a place called Castlerock, a few miles along the coast, and they wanted us all to go on with them. However, I didn’t particularly want to do so, and they were strangers to my wife and Percy. Margot was different. She had stayed with them a couple of years earlier at Capri and they had been kind to her, and she felt she couldn’t turn the invitation down. So she went along with the Atkinsons. The other three of us separated at the hotel.”

  “And what did you all do, sir?”

  “My wife left me to have a round of golf on the Ladies’ links and Percy disappeared; he didn’t say where he was going. I went for a walk. I don’t play golf, but I’m fond of walking and I walk when I can.”

  “Quite so. And where did you go?”

  “I took a bus to Portstewart and walked out along the strand to the mouth of the Bann. I’m interested in rivers and currents and I knew that a lot of money had been spent there with moles and training banks and so on, and I wanted to see the work. I followed the bank of the river for a mile or two up towards Coleraine, then turned back across sand-dunes and fields to Portstewart. There I got a car back to Portrush.”

  “Where did you get tea, sir?”

  “I didn’t have any. At teatime I was out on the sand-dunes and when I reached Portstewart there was only time to get over to Portrush and catch the last boat to the ship, the walk took longer than I had anticipated and I had to hurry back.”

  “The last boat left about six?”

  “Yes, at six nominally – actually at five minutes past. I got to the slip at five minutes to and had to wait ten minutes.”

  “Did you meet anyone on your walk?”

  “No one that I knew. There were people at Portstewart, of course, and I think I met people on the strand beyond it, but I don’t remember anyone along the river.”

  “Where did you get your car?”

  “At a garage in the main street. I don’t remember its name, but it was about halfway round the bay.”

  French considered. “Thank you very much, sir,” he said at last. “That’s all I want at present. Some other point may arise later, but there’s nothing more in the meantime. I wonder if you’d ask Mrs Stott to come here if she’s not engaged?”

  Though French had not suspected Wyndham of the crime, he had hoped to have been able to eliminate him entirely from doubt. Now he could not do so. He believed that the man could, so far as time went, have committed the murder. He unrolled a one-inch Ordnance map which Nugent had also brought him and scaled the distances. Yes, he felt sure he could have done it. If Wyndham had reached Portrush at 5.55, he would not have left Portstewart till nearly 5.50, the distance being only three and a quarter miles. If, further, the murder had been completed by, say, 4.30, as seemed likely, there would have been ample time for him to walk from the Hollow to Portstewart, using the route past Portstewart Station and Magherabuoy, which would have kept him in the country and out of Portrush. And the same applied in the opposite direction. There would have been plenty of time for him to have reached the Hollow after his luncheon party, even if he had first taken a bus to Portstewart. For the present, therefore, Wyndham must remain on the list of suspects.

  French’s further cogitations were brought to an end by the entrance of Elmina Stott. French had only met her on the previous evening and he had not taken to her. Now she was strongly on the defensive and her manner was brusque and unhelpful. Indeed, she seemed to be taking a leaf from her son’s book. French chatted a little on the general situation before coming to actual business, trying to obtain her reactions to both people and events.

  He did not learn very much except to confirm his ideas of her character. She spoke critically and rather slightingly of her husband and French felt that Wyndham could not have too easy a time. Also, he was sure she hated and was jealous of Margot, probably partly for her looks, and partly for the fondness which evidently existed between father and daughter. Altogether Wyndham’s second marriage could not have proved an unmixed blessing either for him or Margot.

  As to her movements on the Tuesday, these were simple enough. After the luncheon party – which began at one and ended at a quarter to three – she walked directly to the Ladies’ Club House, played a round of golf, had tea, and returned to the boats about half past five. All the afternoon she was in the presence of several other people, who could vouch for her.

  Margot came next on the list. The more French saw of Margot, the more he admired her. He had liked her when they had first met in the flying boat, and she had since been unfailingly pleasant to him, as well as really friendly to Mrs French. Mrs French had quite fallen in love with her, proclaiming her delight in meeting any young person so good and kind and unspoilt.

  From his preliminary discussion with her, French learned little that he had not already known. Margot was deeply attached to her father and had evidently deplored his marriage. It looked as if she did not care for Elmina, though French doubted if her feeling amounted to actual jealousy. But of her dislike of Percy there was no doubt whatever. She could not keep the distaste out of her tone when she spoke of him.

  On the Monday she had lunched at the Northern Counties Hotel and there had learnt from the Atkinsons that their cousins, the Donnellys, with whom she had stayed in Capri, were at Castlerock and were hoping to see her that afternoon. It was inconvenient, as she had meant to go to the Causeway; but the Donnellys had been so kind to her abroad that she felt she could not refuse. There was another reason which weighed also with her. Clara Donnelly, the daughter, had been offered a job as private secretary to a man Margot had known in Egypt and she wanted some confidential advice as to whether acceptance would be wise. This also Margot felt she could not refuse.

  French was puzzled by her apparent eagerness to justify her visit to Castlerock. “But did it really matter to you which you did?” he therefore asked.

  “Well,” she answered with some hesitation, “it did in a way. You see, Mr Morrison had asked me to let him show me the Causeway and I had agreed. He had been there before and knew what to look out for. So I had to ring him up and say it was off.”

  “Did you ring to the ship?”

  “No, to the Causeway Hotel. He lunched there.”

  Her slight unwillingness to speak tended to confirm a rumour that French had heard from many sources. It was the general opinion on the ship that she and Morrison were in love and that an engagement might be announced at any time. If so, French sincerely hoped he was mistaken about Morrison’s shoes.

  That was the only point of interest he learnt from Margot. She had gone to Castlerock, retur
ning with the Atkinsons to Portrush just in time to catch the ship’s boat at six o’clock.

  French looked at his watch. It was getting on for lunchtime. He thought he had done enough for that morning and that Morrison and Bristow could wait till the afternoon. He would go for a breather on deck before lunch.

  But on his way he ran into Percy Luff. The young man stopped him. His aggressiveness had largely evaporated. French had expected it would, though not so quickly.

  “I say,” he accosted French, “I think I was a bit short last night. I’ve been hearing what you asked the others, and if that’s all you want from me, I don’t mind answering your questions.”

  From Luff this was an apology and a handsome one. French took it as such, replying in a friendly way: “That’s all right, Mr Luff; it’s all the same to me. But what about your solicitor? You were quite right about that, you know.”

  Luff seemed surprised. “I didn’t do the old boy in, so I don’t mind about it,” he replied. “All the same I don’t want anything said about where I was. I don’t mind telling you, you understand, provided it goes no further.”

  French shook his head. “I can’t promise that, I’m afraid,” he returned seriously. “If it’s not material evidence in connection with the case, I’ll keep it to myself. If it is, it may have to come out in court.”

  Luff seemed relieved. “It has nothing whatever to do with the case, but it concerns a lady aboard this ship and I don’t want her name dragged into it.”