Fatal Venture

by Freeman Wills Crofts

  “How do you know that?”

  “I’ve seen it.”

  “Could they have gone into court in England? A French boat, you know.”

  “It was drawn up and signed and witnessed in England and stamped with an English stamp. I don’t think the boat could affect it.”

  Nugent shook his head sagely. “He’s got round it somehow, old Stott has,” he insisted. “Try it again. Chief Inspector. Let’s have the agreement out and see if we can find a hole in it.”

  Among French’s notes was a copy of the document. He now read it clause by clause. When he came to that giving the percentages each man was to get, Nugent called a halt.

  “Read that again. Chief Inspector,” he demanded. “The nett profits of the said undertaking shall be divided between the said three partners to this agreement in the estimated proportions that their ideas, money and help shall have contributed to its success, this being at present estimated as follows: to the said John Mottram Stott, forty-five percent, to the said Charles Bristow forty-five percent, and to the said Harry Morrison ten percent.”

  Suddenly Nugent slapped his thigh. “There you are,” he exclaimed with animation. “There’s the thing at last! Don’t you see?”

  “Got it, you think?” French’s manner was tense.

  Nugent seemed equally excited. “Well, see,” he returned. “It says, ‘this being at present estimated at so and so’.”

  “And if it does?” French’s manner was slightly testy.

  “Well, couldn’t he have got out of that? It means that those percentages were liable to revision if the respective contributions of the three partners were altered. Suppose Stott put in another hundred thousand after the concern had been running a while; under that he could claim a larger percentage.”

  “Yes, that would be a reasonable provision. But we don’t know that he did put in anything extra.”

  “Don’t we?” Nugent returned. “What’s the date of that agreement?”

  “October the first, 1937.”

  “There you are. That was after they had begun their negotiations and before Stott had decided to buy the ship. Now what happened – if I’m not greatly mistaken – between these dates?”

  French moved impatiently. “I hope I’m not being half-witted, but I don’t see what’s in your mind.”

  Nugent made a gesture of horror at the idea. “Well, wasn’t it this?” he exclaimed. “Wasn’t it between those two dates that Stott thought of the gambling?”

  French sat quite still thinking this over. “You mean that as a result of putting in the gambling idea, Stott would demand a larger percentage?”

  “I mean that Stott might have argued that the entire profits came from the gambling and that as a cruise the affair would have been a washout.”

  “Not easy to prove that.”

  “If you have the books under your own control you can prove a whole lot.”

  “Then you think he might have refused Bristow any share at all?”

  “I do. I think it’s what he’s done.”

  French considered this again. “But, look here,” he said at last. “Even if you’re right, I don’t see how it would lead to murder. How would killing Stott alter the percentages?”

  “Revenge, most likely. If Bristow couldn’t enjoy the cash, he’d take damned good care Stott wouldn’t either.”

  French was far from satisfied. Murders for revenge did take place about women, but seldom, he thought, about money. Even if Bristow had lost some of what he expected, he could not complain, provided the profits really did come from the gambling. The man, moreover, had a good salary and an extraordinarily interesting and comfortable life. No, there was not enough motive here.

  Then suddenly French saw. If John Stott would by a legal quibble evade payment, Wyndham Stott would not. Even if Wyndham thought of the scheme, which was doubtful, he would never adopt it. He might be a gambler, but he was both straight and generous. With Wyndham in control, Bristow would get his money.

  Here was ample motive, and when French considered it further he found corroboration. Wyndham was generous and straight, but Percy Luff was neither. Suppose Wyndham should die and the control go to Luff? Would Bristow not then be as badly off as ever?

  Here seemed to be the explanation of the button and Mercer letter episodes. If Luff were executed for the murder, it would not only meet this difficulty, but it would ensure Bristow’s own escape from suspicion. To arrange matters that Luff should be convicted would be a very important part of the scheme.

  Nugent was enthusiastic about the idea. To the DI it seemed to clear up the entire case. “In theory,” he added after a panegyric. “But it hasn’t been proved yet.”

  “I’ll get the proof all right,” French returned optimistically, “but what I want help in is an arrest, and that’s your pigeon.”

  Nugent thought an arrest premature, but French was insistent, and eventually he carried the day. The Hellénique was then moving down the coast from Aberystwyth to Swansea, while the excursionists drove through the Welsh hills. The warrant could be got that day, and he and Nugent could cross that night to Liverpool, making the arrest at Swansea on the following evening. It could be carried out either ashore or on board inside the three-mile limit, according to whether Bristow had or had not taken the excursion.

  This programme was carried out. Armed with the warrant and accompanied by a stalwart Northern Irish constable, French and Nugent took the night boat from Belfast. When the coaches arrived at Swansea on the following evening, Bristow was among the first to alight. French went up to him, while the other two closed in.

  “I’m sorry, Mr Bristow,” he greeted him, “that we have an unpleasant duty to perform. It had better be done privately. Will you come away from the others, please? No,” he went on, as an ugly light showed in the man’s eyes, “these are police officers from Portrush: you can’t do anything.”

  Bristow’s face went a dead white and for a moment French thought he was going to faint. But he pulled himself quickly together. French, indeed, admired his coolness. With a curt nod he turned and went with them.

  * Orangemen’s Day, July 12th.

  20

  PROOF

  French found the further working-up of the case easier than he had anticipated.

  First he dealt with the photographs. He went into Bristow’s movements after he left Portrush early in August. The Hellénique was then off the Channel Islands and Bristow had returned to her via Belfast, Liverpool, London and Southampton. On the whole, French thought, it was more likely that he had dealt with the photographs personally, and therefore he began by concentrating on these places. Reproductions were circulated to the local police, with the gratifying result that a photographer was found in Southampton who had made the enlargements. When this man stated that he had been given the order on the date on which Bristow passed through Southampton on his way to the Channel Islands, and when further he picked out Bristow’s photograph from a dozen others, French felt that the foundation-stone of his structure was well and truly laid.

  This foundation was still further strengthened by his discovery of twenty tiny perforations, such as might have been made by drawing pins, in the wooden panelling of the wall of Bristow’s sitting room. These were distributed in four lots of five each, and spaced just where the four corners of an enlarged photograph would come. When he found that the ceiling light shone most brilliantly on the upper right hand corner of this parallelogram, he felt he knew what had happened. No doubt Bristow had changed the bulb for a more powerful one when making his exposures, but no proof of this need be looked for, as that larger lamp would now no doubt be overboard.

  Among Bristow’s papers, French came upon the next course of the structure he was building. The file labelled “Claims” contained several letters from a lady who had had her left hand crushed between the boat and the ladder when coming aboard. These, he saw at a glance, bore the handwriting of the Mercer-Luff letter, and he was able, after a good
deal of work, to find in them the exact model for every word or letter of that work of art.

  In connection with this find was the further one of a book of Bristow’s pen-and-ink sketches – not of a very high class perhaps, but showing that he had quite enough skill to carry out the forgery.

  The third major discovery could not be placed in the category of proof, but it was so suggestive as not to be far removed from it. In a folder marked “Personal,” locked carefully in the safe, were a lot of figures showing that Bristow had been trying to estimate the relative returns from the cruising and gambling sides of the undertaking. It was interesting to note that he had begun this work – the sheets were methodically headed, numbered and dated – just one week after he had written to Stott complaining of his failure to pay the percentages. Doubtless in that week he had had Stott’s reply.

  Another important find among Bristow’s papers was a carbon copy of a statement which at first puzzled French, but which, when he had grasped its significance, threw a flood of light on a side of the case which up till then had been completely beyond his grasp.

  It was locked away in the same “Personal” division of the safe and was headed “Proposed Hotel at White Rocks.” Obviously it was a summary of the arguments for building such an hotel. There was a sketch map attached, and as French glanced at it and read the paragraph labelled “Site,” he felt he understood how Bristow had managed to lure his victim to his end. The paragraph read: “The hotel should be built on the small plateau immediately at the back of the saucerlike depression named ‘McArtt’s Hollow,’ as this ground is of a suitable size and commands admirable views of the sea and coast. The Hollow itself, protected from the winds by its lip, would make a charming and sheltered garden or small park.” A further paragraph near the end of the statement was also significant: “This matter should be treated as absolutely confidential. If you are even seen approaching the place, two and two will be put together and the price of the land will soar.” Well done, Bristow, thought French. With all this ingenuity, you ought to have succeeded. He could imagine the man saying: “It’s a marvellous place, Mr Stott, and there’s a fortune in it. Don’t take my word for it, but come and see it for yourself.” And Bristow might well have gone on: “The first idea I put up to you has brought you in money and this one will too,” until Stott agreed to meet him there at 4.30 on that fatal day.

  Why, French wondered, had the man not destroyed so compromising a document? He puzzled over this for a while, then presently saw the reason. Bristow must have something to account for his own presence at the Hollow, should he unluckily be seen there, and it would be less dangerous to show the document than to be unable to offer an explanation. Such were the main items of the case which French, in association with Nugent, later handed to the Public Prosecutor of Northern Ireland. In his able hands they proved sufficient, and at the next assizes Bristow was found guilty and sentenced to death. A point which told heavily against him – though incidentally inducing some sympathy with him – was the establishment of the motive. Meaker gave evidence that John Stott had consulted him on the question of whether he could avoid paying Bristow any part of the profits, on the ground that cruising without gambling was a dud scheme. He had had to advise that this would be legal and Stott had decided not to pay.

  When Bristow learnt that there was no chance of a reprieve, he made a statement which showed that French’s theories were substantially correct. One point which French had been unable to explain was that he had made a sandbag and carried it folded in his pocket from the ship. On his way to the Hollow he had filled it with sand, emptied it after the murder, taken it back to the ship and that night thrown it overboard.

  For Bristow the arrival of Malthus and Mason had been a splendid accident, and he had at once decided to make his attempt while they were on board. He did not go so far as to try to prevent them having an alibi, but he thought their presence would at least cloud the issue, while investigation into their movements would give time for the scent to cool.

  Incidentally, he would have preferred to murder Stott on board and throw his body into the sea, but he realised that, owing to the legacy, the body must be found.

  Bristow also explained that when he had first visited Portrush it was a showery day, and he had taken two sets of photographs, one while the sun was shining and one while it was cloudy, so as to be able to use whichever would suit the weather on the second visit.

  French had every reason to be satisfied with his part in the affair, but he was still profoundly conscious of his failure in his original job: somehow to get the gambling stopped. Then suddenly it occurred to him that it was just possible that he was in a position to accomplish this also.

  While going through Bristow’s papers he had come on another file labelled “Casualties.” It was not connected with the murder, and at first he had not imagined it could be of any value to him. It contained some rather dreadful reading. “Casualties” were people who had come to grief through the gambling. In the seventeen months during which the ship had been running, there had been nine cases of more or less complete ruin. Three men and one woman had committed suicide, three had gone abroad and disappeared, and two had been reduced to beggary at home; besides which there were many letters telling of serious loss, and either begging for help or protesting that the rooms should be closed. Now, it occurred to French that an experiment might be worth trying.

  He invited Wyndham Stott to his cabin, handed him the file and asked him to read the contents. “That’s what these rooms are doing, Major Stott,” he said quietly, “and they’re yours now.”

  Wyndham Stott had been a different man since Margot had asked Morrison’s help to get him from the tables. He had never again taken too much drink, and had practically given up gambling. Apart from these small failings, he had always been decent and kindly, and it was on his better nature that French had decided to play.

  Here again, perhaps slightly to his surprise, he was successful. Wyndham read the documents with a deepening frown, and at last exploded.

  “Damn it all, French! This is a hellish business! I had no idea of this side of it. I’m not going to be responsible for this kind of thing. I’ll shut it down.”

  So, strongly backed by Margot, eventually he did. Quietly he approached the firm of shipbreakers who had originally wanted the Hellénique, and the first thing the public heard was that she had already been sold for breaking up, and that her cruising would be discontinued as soon as existing bookings had been worked off.

  A couple of months later French and his wife received an invitation to the wedding of Margot and Harry Morrison – one of the few occasions on which French had become a real friend of former suspects.

  “The murder case was a legitimate win, French,” Sir Mortimer Ellison said in closing the affair, “but getting the gambling stopped – don’t talk to me of flukes! However, we’ll keep that dark. The PM will never know we’re not as brainy as we seem.”

  French glanced at him. The twinkle was in his eye. It was all right. French smiled happily.