Nobody answered, because nobody had noticed Cribb’s quick exit to the corridor, after consigning Miss Crush to an armchair and Alice Probert’s smelling-salts. The sergeant’s sleuthing instinct could not be deflected. He had entered the house in pursuit of a quarry, and when a loose floorboard creaked overhead, he heard it, for all the commotion over Brand.
He mounted the stairs lightly, but two at a time, and reached the first floor landing, where five closed doors confronted him. Giving chase in a large house such as this was the very devil; he would rather track a man through the streets any day. These would be bedrooms, each with several possible hiding-places—bed, wardrobe, closet and possibly balcony. If he committed himself to a thorough search of one, he was giving his man the chance to slip out of another, down the stairs and away into the night. Lying in wait at the head of the staircase was just as futile. Any housebreaker worthy of his jemmy would resort to the drainpipes in an emergency.
Was this man a professional, though? Cribb doubted it. All the evidence so far pointed to a novice, and an incompetent one at that. In the circumstances it was not too much to hope that he might be susceptible to panic.
With one hand on the nearest door-knob, Cribb turned and unselfconsciously addressed the empty landing. ‘Very well, you men. I want a thorough search made of every room. Sergeant, take two men and start with that one. I shall be looking in here. Brown, go down for reinforcements, will you? We need half a dozen able-bodied men. At the double. Avoid violence if possible, everyone. The suspect may be ready to give himself up.’ Putting his hand over his mouth, he added in two well-disguised and distinctively different voices, ‘Very good, sir.’ ‘Right, sir’. He opened the door and slammed it shut immediately. Then he crossed the landing, treading heavily, opened the nearest door and stepped inside, leaving it ajar, to wait developments.
It was unfortunate after a dramatic cameo of such quality and ingenuity that he chose the room he did, for immediately on entering it he was felled by a crack on the head that would probably have brained him but for his bowler. He hit the floor in company with the shattered fragments of a water-jug and lay momentarily unable to move as his assailant stumbled over him and across the landing to the second-floor stairs.
By a stupendous effort of will Cribb engineered himself from the horizontal to the vertical and lurched outside, in time to meet Inspector Jowett, attracted upstairs by the voices.
‘Good God, Cribb! What are you doing now? ’
‘Pur—pursuing a suspect, sir.’
‘Which way did he go?’
‘Upstairs, sir,’ gasped Cribb.
Jowett put up his right arm, as if directing traffic. ‘Get after him, then. No time to lose.’
‘I might need help, sir.’
‘I’ll be the judge of that, Sergeant. I won’t be far behind you, depend upon it.’
It occurred to Cribb as he hobbled upstairs, supporting himself on the banister, that his impersonation of an inspector deploying personnel had lacked the spark of realism. Jowett did it much more convincingly.
He was halfway upstairs when he remembered Mrs Probert. It was all very well running your quarry to earth at the top of a house, but what if he chose to make his final stand in a room already occupied by a woman in fear of her life?
She would scream.
She did. It was powerful enough to rattle the stair-rods. She was still screaming when Cribb reached her. Insensible at her feet lay Professor Eustace Quayle. Beside him was the volume of Notable British Sermons Mrs Probert had hurled at his head.
CHAPTER
7
Pause and collect yourself! We understand!
That’s the bad memory, or the natural shock,
Or the unexplained phenomena!
‘HE HAS GONE, I’M afraid,’ said Dr Probert, refastening his shirtsleeves. Half an hour’s concentrated attempt to resuscitate Peter Brand had produced not a glimmer of life. The body lay as it had first been put down on the table in the library. The rest of Dr Probert’s guests and family stood in attendance.
‘Passed over?’ queried Miss Crush, unable, apparently, to accept the information.
‘Joined the majority, madam,’ said Strathmore, in language she would understand.
‘Support her, Alice!’ ordered Probert. ‘She’s going again.’
‘How the deuce does a thing like this happen?’ asked Nye, ignoring the attempt to stop Miss Crush from hitting the floor.
‘That will be for a coroner to decide,’ said Probert. ‘I suspect that the immediate cause of death is heart failure induced by an electric shock. The muscular contraction and the peculiar behaviour of the hair suggests nothing else to me. A man with a heart condition such as his would be vulnerable to a severe electric shock.’
‘But you led us to believe that the apparatus was entirely safe,’ said Nye. ‘How could he have received a severe shock?’
Probert shook his head. ‘William, I am at a loss to account for it. Everything will have to be examined by experts.’
‘That’s a fact, sir,’ said Cribb, speaking from the study. ‘We shall have to arrange for this room to be locked until it’s been seen. I’ve got a shrewd idea that unless you take precautions the housemaid will be here at some ungodly hour tomorrow morning pushing a carpet-sweeper through the wires.’
‘You may have the key for as long as you need it,’ said Probert, much subdued in manner.
‘I’ll take charge of it,’ said Jowett, leaving no doubt who was the senior officer present. ‘This is the moment I think, when I should explain to your guests, Probert, that I am a detective-inspector. My connection with Great Scotland Yard you have already disclosed, notwithstanding my request to the contrary. The man who interrupted the seance is Detective-Sergeant Cribb, and his arrival on the scene was as surprising to me as it was to the rest of you. We now know that he was pursuing a man who had illegally entered this house, the person known as Professor Quayle. Where have you put Quayle for the present, Cribb?’
‘The kitchen, sir. Handcuffed him to the range. He’ll keep nice and warm until we’re ready for him.’ Cribb smiled at Mrs Probert, who had come downstairs and was sitting inconspicuously between two bookcases. ‘That was as neat a knockdown as I’ve seen, ma’am, if you’ll allow me to say so.’
‘It was pure fright,’ said Mrs Probert simply. ‘I heard the voices on the landing underneath me and I came to the conclusion that an army was on its way up to my room. Waiting for them to burst in on me was too much to endure, so I stood at my door with the first thing that came to hand, the book I was reading. I thought it would show that I was not prepared to submit without a fight. I had a knitting-needle ready for the next man. It was a good thing you stopped the other side of Professor Quayle, Sergeant.’
‘I think we should not concern ourselves too much with Quayle at this juncture,’ said Jowett firmly. ‘It seems evident that by coincidence two lamentable events occurred in this house tonight within minutes of each other. Speaking as the senior police officer present, I must insist that the sudden death of Mr Brand has priority in our investigations. Can’t you cover him over, or something, Probert? The sight of him is obviously distressing the ladies.’
‘I’ll fetch a sheet,’ said Mrs Probert, going to the door.
‘A coincidence, you say,’ said Strathmore. ‘I’m doubtful of that, Inspector.’
Jowett crossed his arms challengingly. ‘Exactly what do you intend by that remark, sir?’
‘Why, that it seems reasonable to suppose that Brand’s accident and Quayle’s presence here are not unconnected. The men are professional collaborators, are they not?’
‘They were,’ said Probert.
‘And they lodged in the same house,’ continued Strathmore. ‘As an investigator of the occult, I am bound to reflect on what has happened this evening and ask myself whether Quayle was here in the role of accomplice, to assist the medium in producing fraudulent phenomena. It is nothing unusual in the annals of spiritualism,
I assure you.’
‘That’s a quick turn round,’ said Nye. ‘An hour ago you were ready to tell the world that eternal life was an established fact.’
‘And what grounds do you have for suggesting this was a fraudulent seance?’ demanded Miss Crush, now fully conscious, and brandishing the smelling-salts at Strathmore.
‘The things I heard and saw tonight were genuine, I am perfectly confident. You all experienced them—the rap-pings, the spirit hand and the oranges being thrown about and the vase overturned while we all had our hands linked. If you are suggesting Professor Quayle was in the room with us throwing fruit in our faces I think you have a lot of explaining to do. Do you suppose he was under the table as well, tugging at our clothes? Alice, you felt the hand touching you, didn’t you?’
‘Yes, I did, most certainly. It touched the hem of my dress and pulled it several times. And in the second seance, my hair was stroked. I told you all at the time. You could see that nobody was in the room but ourselves.’ Alice Probert’s eyes shone with earnestness. She spoke with all the passion of her nineteen years, her forehead creasing prettily with the importance of it all.
‘Delusions, indubitably,’ said Strathmore. ‘You were predisposed to expect something of the sort.’ He chuckled deep in his throat. ‘This isn’t the first time I’ve heard one of the fair sex claim that somebody touched her in the dark, my dear.’
She returned a withering look. ‘That is an observation that reflects only upon you, Mr Strathmore.’
‘Careful how you speak to my fiancée, sir,’ warned Nye, with as much effect as a man who puts Beware of the Dog on his gate after his pet has savaged the neighbour.
Probert had a constructive suggestion to make. ‘We might establish whether Brand was fraudulent by turning out his pockets. They will need to be emptied for identification purposes. If there’s a white glove in there, or a hand made of plaster of Paris, we shall know Strathmore’s suspicions are correct. What do you say, Inspector?’
‘I have no objection,’ answered Jowett, pleased to be consulted. It had begun to look as if he was losing control of the discussion. He took a step towards the body, checked and on second thoughts delegated the duty to Cribb. ‘Sergeant, come over here and go through the pockets, will you? I shall make an inventory as you do so.’
Cribb stepped briskly forward. ‘Left hand trouser pocket, sir: nothing. Right hand: some money, two shillings and sevenpence halfpenny. Hip pocket: nothing. Jacket pocket, left hand outside: cigarette case, silver, and box of safety matches, Bryant and May. Right hand: two keys on a ring. Ticket pocket: railway ticket, third class return, Richmond to Waterloo. Breast pocket, left hand inside: nothing. Right hand: wallet, pigskin, containing two penny postage stamps, three ten shilling notes and a photograph, somewhat dog-eared, of a lady in the—er—music-hall costume. There’s numbers on the back, sir.’
‘The back of the photograph, I trust,’ said Jowett drily. ‘Let me see.’
Cribb handed it discreetly face downwards to his superior. Jowett frowned. There were two sets of neatly-formed numbers: 469 and below it 9281, followed by a square, the same size as the figures.
‘Not significant, in my opinion,’ said Jowett, after a pause. He turned the photograph over, blushed, and handed it back to Cribb. ‘Carry on, Sergeant.’
‘Top pocket: nothing, sir. Waistcoat, left hand side: nothing. Right hand: silver watch and chain, inscribed “P. B.” That’s all, sir.’
Cribb put the objects in a neat arrangement on the table at the dead man’s feet. Mrs Probert came forward with a sheet and draped it over the body.
‘That seems to answer your point, Mr Strathmore,’ said Jowett. ‘There’s nothing here to suggest he was a fraud.’
‘I hope certain people feel suitably ashamed of themselves,’ said Miss Crush in a stage whisper.
‘Very well, the medium had no evidence of trickery on his person,’ Strathmore conceded. ‘That is not to have prevented him from passing things to his collaborator. I suggest we make a similar search of Quayle.’
‘Done, sir,’ said Cribb. ‘He’s carrying a railway ticket, twelve and sixpence and a hip-flask of gin, which fortunately survived his fall.’
Jowett gave the sort of cough a chairman gives to call a meeting to order. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I think we have explored this avenue of inquiry for long enough. It has produced nothing of consequence. I propose that we now confine ourselves strictly to the circumstances of Mr Brand’s unfortunate demise. Do I understand that you have something to contribute, madam?’ He peered warily at Miss Crush, who had been waving her hand throughout his speech.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Shouldn’t somebody go and fetch a policeman?’
Even in the presence of death, unforced laughter is difficult to suppress. It took several seconds for Jowett to restore order. ‘I believe, madam, that you were insensible when I introduced myself just now. I am Detective-Inspector Jowett of the Criminal Investigation Department, Great Scotland Yard, and I will suffice for a policeman. My assistant here is Sergeant Cribb, whom I was led to believe has already interviewed you at your house. He is a policeman, too.’
‘I should have remembered,’ said Miss Crush, flapping her hand at the inspector. ‘I think of him as a sensitive, you see, not an officer of the law. It would help if you both wore uniforms.’ She sighed and looked misty-eyed. ‘I think tall helmets are very chic.’
Jowett closed his eyes, and said with deliberation, ‘I need to determine the circumstances leading to Mr Brand’s decease. I shall require a statement from each of you, but before we begin the formalities, is there anyone with anything to say bearing on the accident which has not been mentioned already?’
‘I think so, sir,’ said Cribb. ‘If you’ll step into the study, I can show you.’ He crossed the room with Jowett following and crouched in front of the chair in which Brand had died. ‘Put your hand on the carpet here, sir. Feel it? It’s damp over quite a large patch eighteen inches in front of the chair. When we found the body the feet were positioned on this patch. I don’t regard myself as much of a scientist, but I know that water can conduct electricity, and that electricity tends to go to earth. If Mr Brand started with his feet under the chair on this dry area, but moved them forward during the experiment, mightn’t it have diverted the path of the current so that it flowed through the length of his body to earth? I think it’s pertinent to ask how the wet patch got here.’
‘That’s no mystery,’ said Probert at once. ‘I kicked over a bowl of salt solution we used to make a good contact for the terminals.’
‘When did this happen, sir?’
‘Halfway through, when Brand called me from behind the curtain. We were totally in darkness, if you follow me, and I blundered into the thing. It made no difference, though. He didn’t get a shock, or anything.’
‘Probably not, sir, if his feet were on the dry part of the carpet. He’d get his shock when he moved them forward.’
‘I see your point, Sergeant, but it still doesn’t explain how the shock could have killed him. The current couldn’t change, you see. It was no more than a tickle. Several of us tried it.’
‘Couldn’t feel a thing,’ Nye confirmed.
‘The transformer was the safeguard, you understand,’ continued Probert. ‘It reduced the electro-motive force to twenty volts, and that won’t kill a man, I assure you.’
Cribb looked thoughtfully at the wooden box from which the wires trailed. ‘This cable connected to the other side of the transformer leads up from the batteries in the cellar, does it, sir?’
‘Yes, that’s the main lead. It carries 416 volts. If I’d connected that to the chair it would have been lethal.’
‘And if there was a fault in the transformer?’
Probert shook his head emphatically. ‘I’m damned sure there wasn’t, Sergeant. Have it checked, by all means, but you’ll find it’s working perfectly. Otherwise we shouldn’t have got the galvanometer readings we did. Heavens, at 416 vol
ts the blasted galvanometer would have been burnt out!’
Cribb stood up and massaged the side of his face, a tactful way of indicating to Jowett that he was at liberty to take over the questioning if he wished. There was silence except for the rasp of Cribb’s side-whiskers, so he began again. ‘Dr Probert, you mentioned that Brand called out to you, and that was how you came to overturn the bowl of water. What did he want?’
‘He claimed that somebody had come into the study while he was in trance. He was most indignant about it, and only calmed down when we suggested it must have been a spirit. All the people in the house except my wife were present in the library, you see.’
‘That was what you supposed at the time, sir.’
‘Good God, I’d forgotten! It could have been Quayle who interrupted him—or even you!’
‘Not me, sir, I assure you, but Professor Quayle is a possibility. Quite an engaging one. I followed him into the house through the back door. You ought to have a word with your servants about that, sir. We spend a lot of time in the Force reminding people about doors they haven’t locked. Anyway, I think the professor must have heard me in pursuit, because he was nowhere to be seen by the time I got up here from the basement. It’s my guess now that he let himself in through the study door to give me the slip. He probably couldn’t see a thing when he first came in.’
‘Of course!’ said Nye excitedly. ‘The silly blighter cracked his foot against the transformer and shot 400 volts into Brand, poor beggar.’
‘Impossible!’ said Probert with a glare. ‘Brand was perfectly all right when we pulled aside the curtain. The accident happened later, between the time when we withdrew and closed the curtain for the second time and when the Sergeant came in through the library door. At that time Quayle was definitely not in the study.’
‘He’d given me the slip, sir,’ said Cribb. ‘The next I heard from him was the creaking of a floorboard upstairs after we discovered what had happened in here. He couldn’t get out through the basement because Captain Nye was down there switching off the current, so he went upstairs instead.’
A Case of Spirits Page 8