Nemesis at Raynham Parva (A Clinton Driffield Mystery)

by J. J. Connington

  He swung himself over the balustrade of the verandah and disappeared among the bushes. Rather to their astonishment, minute after minute went by without his partners hearing the signal. Sir Clinton meant to exhaust their patience, and so take them off their guard when the crucial moment arrived.

  Suddenly, just as he was beginning to fidget, the sergeant heard the catch-word and sprang to his feet. He ran to the steps, mounted them, turned on to the verandah—and found it empty. Remembering his rôle, he hurried to the fatal window, and, just as he reached it, the curtain slipped back and he found himself face to face with Rex. The cigarette-case in Rex’s hand showed the sergeant that Sir Clinton had played his part successfully. At Rex’s gesture, Ledbury turned away as Elsie had done and retraced his steps along the verandah; whilst Rex turned back into the room again, after pitching the cigarette-case out among the bushes.

  At the foot of the verandah steps, Ledbury halted, since he had not been told to carry the play further than that. As he waited, he was surprised to see Sir Clinton emerge from the screen of bushes close beside him.

  “See now how it could have been done, sergeant?” he asked.

  “I’m not just sure yet,” Ledbury replied. “You were really on the verandah, for I heard your voice plain enough from that direction. And yet I didn’t see you when I got up there. And I’d have seen you plain if you’d bolted for the bushes.”

  Rex joined them at this moment.

  “Simple enough,” Sir Clinton explained. “I could reach the verandah without your seeing me, sergeant, because the corner of the verandah hid me from you as I crossed the space between the bushes and the balustrade. I got up to the window unobserved. I peeped through the curtains, then I shoved the cigarette-case inside the sill, low down; and I was careful to keep my shadow off the thin curtain, or Mr. Brandon would have seen it. I then pretended to fire, and dropped the pistol on the floor.

  “In the real affair, Mr. Brandon got a bad shake-up, naturally. He wasn’t likely to be over-observant. Now what I did, as soon as I’d given the signal, was simple enough. I just took a step or two along the verandah and slipped into the deep recess of the French window. When you came tearing up the steps, I was already under cover so far as you were concerned. And at my back was the heavy curtain of the French window, which transmitted no shadow that Mr. Brandon would have noticed.

  “Then came the scene at the window, and you rushed off to the steps while Mr. Brandon turned back into the room. All I had to do was to move off the verandah at the opposite end from you, taking care to keep outside the range of the window where Mr. Brandon was, until I got under cover of the bushes.”

  The sergeant considered this for some time without speaking.

  “You’ve beaten me, hands down, sir,” he admitted frankly at last. “That’s how it could have been done—and I never thought of that deep recess. What a fool I was! But we’re still as far away as ever from getting hold of the man. Who could he be?”

  “Dr. Roca had an accomplice,” Sir Clinton pointed out. “In the Quevedo business he had someone who collected information for him. That was clear enough. Now the whole of these foreigners seem to have been at sixes and sevens, so far as one can judge. What about this confederate?”

  A flash of enlightenment crossed Ledbury’s face.

  “You mean . . . was it this man Yarrow that’s in there? He might fit the case, sir. And, of course, coming up here and offering himself as a witness would be just a bit of bluff.”

  Sir Clinton shook his head.

  “No good, sergeant. If Yarrow had been standing in the recess of the French window, he couldn’t possibly have seen all the details which he described and which we checked. Besides, Mr. Yarrow isn’t so expert in taking cover as he seems to imagine. I saw him down at the lakeside myself, just as he stated. The brass end of his telescope was catching the sun and shining like a small heliograph. No, he’s all right.”

  “Then it must have been the commercial traveller, sir, the one that was here just before the Quevedo murder.”

  Sir Clinton refused to commit himself definitely.

  “Certainly,” he admitted, “if I wanted to pick up local news I’d hang about hotel bars just as your commercial friend seems to have done. But that’s not a criminal offence when it’s done within legal hours, sergeant. And suspicions aren’t much good alone, you know.”

  He felt for his cigarette-case mechanically and found it missing. The action seemed to remind him of a point.

  “Of course the murderer, whoever he was, had gloves on so as to leave no marks on the pistol. And, as there were no marks on it, he might think it safer to leave the weapon behind rather than risk being found with it in his possession if he were spotted.”

  Ledbury nodded to show that he grasped this point. Then he turned to Rex.

  “I’m not quite sure what your position is, sir. You may hear more of this, I’m afraid. You’re an accomplice ex post facto, you see.”

  Sir Clinton made no attempt to conceal a smile.

  “An accomplice of whom, sergeant? Mr. Brandon connived at Mrs. Francia’s escape. But Mrs. Francia is a witness in the case and not a criminal. I don’t quite see where the felony comes in, really.”

  “You have me there,” Ledbury admitted, scratching his ear furiously. “That’s a way I hadn’t looked at it, but it’s right enough now you point it out.”

  “One more thing,” Sir Clinton added. “I hate to leave loose ends. The murderer knew that Francia was in the smoke-room. How could he have found that out? you might ask. Simple enough. Suppose he was lurking amongst those bushes when I came up to the house at four o’clock. We stood at the front door and I offered to give Francia these sketches to read. We both went into the house. He’d have no difficulty in overhearing what I said. He’d know Francia would be left alone. And when I pulled the curtain of the smoke-room window, he’d see me there and guess Francia was there also. As soon as he saw me leave the house again by the front door, he’d know the coast was clear.”

  “That would be it, likely enough,” Ledbury admitted. “It does fit neatly together, now you’ve explained it. I wish I’d seen what that deep recess meant.”

  Sir Clinton’s hand made another futile search in his pocket.

  “You might hunt up that case of mine for me, Rex. You know whereabouts it fell when you pitched it out of the window. And when you’ve found it, please wait for me. I must go up and see how Elsie’s feeling.”

  He turned to Ledbury.

  “You’ll get everything put through now, sergeant? There’ll be an inquest, of course. I’ll have to give evidence there, I take it. But, beyond that, I hope I’ll never hear another word about this case. I’ve had all the experiences I’m in need of this time; and I hope I’ll never touch criminal work again.”

  Chapter Twenty

  IN SAFE DEPOSIT

  In his study, Sir Clinton Driffield was busy clearing up his affairs before leaving on his impending mission abroad. On the desk beside him lay a number of freshly written sheets of manuscript; and, when he had completed his work, he rose and rang the bell.

  “Get Orton,” he said to the servant who answered his summons, “I want you both to witness my signature.”

  While this formality was being carried out, Sir Clinton took the precaution of screening the wording of the document from the eyes of his witnesses with a sheet of blotting-paper. Then, dismissing the servants, he picked up his pen again, and began to write a short note.

  “DEAR SHIELBRIDGE,—Before leaving for the Continent, I shall send you a key and instructions which will give you access to my safe—No. 8039—in the Oxford Street premises of the Central and Suburban Safe Deposit Co. This safe contains a single document enclosed in an envelope inscribed ‘The Vicente Francia Case.’

  “Unless you get convincing proof of my decease, you need do nothing in the matter.

  “If I die—a motor accident may happen to any of us—you are to do nothing unless someone is broug
ht to trial for the murder of the late Vicente Francia. But should I be dead, and should anyone be put on trial, you will take immediate steps to procure the document and hand it over to the Public Prosecutor.

  “Yours,

  “CLINTON DRIFFIELD.”

  Sir Clinton addressed the envelope of this letter to his lawyer, one of the few men whom he trusted implicitly. Then he picked up the written sheets bearing his witnessed signature and re-read his statement once more, to ensure that no errors had crept in.

  “Since by mischance an innocent man might be accused of the murder of the late Vicente Francia at Fern Lodge, Raynham Parva, I leave the following statement of the case, for use in the event of my unforeseen death.

  “There fell into my hands certain documents proving beyond doubt that Vicente Francia was engaged in the White Slave traffic; that he had gone through a ceremony of marriage with my niece merely to further his trade; and that he was planning to secure three other girls as well, using my niece as his bait.

  “Further, I had clear evidence that he murdered the late Dr. Esteban Roca at the Bale Stones, near Raynham Parva. Since Francia’s death, I have communicated this evidence to the police; and, owing to the death of the murderer, the case has been dropped without the public learning the inner history of the affair.

  “With all this evidence in my hands, I had four courses open to me:

  “1. To stand aside completely. The four girls would then have accompanied Francia to the Argentine, where they would have been wholly at his mercy. The Centre’s organisation is quite good enough to compass the complete disappearance of a girl out there. Naturally, I dismissed this course immediately.

  “2. To intervene privately. This would have saved a public scandal; but, since my niece was married to Francia, it would have left her tied for life to him and unable to contract a fresh marriage even if she separated herself from him. This course, also, I rejected.

  “3. To offer the evidence in my hands to the police; and get Francia hanged as he deserved. This would have freed my niece, certainly; but simultaneously it would have stamped her as the widow of a peculiarly loathsome parasite and murderer. After careful consideration, I rejected this course also.

  “4. To eliminate Francia. This course had three main advantages. It would liberate my niece completely from her marriage entanglement. It would also leave her the widow of a murdered man and not of a convicted murderer; and of the two states, the former seems a shade less derogatory. In all probability, if there was no trial, Francia’s career would not come to public knowledge. Finally, Francia’s elimination would atone for the fact that I had become his accomplice ex post facto by failing to denounce him as soon as the evidence in the Roca murder case fell into my hands. By suppressing that evidence, I had saved him from execution by the law; but if I removed him myself, I should be restoring the balance which I had thus disturbed.

  “There were two obvious objections to this fourth course: one moral, the other practical. The moral one did not trouble me greatly. No one would carry humanitarianism to the extent of protecting a plague-stricken rat; and Francia’s trade put him, in my mind at least, on a level with any other type of vermin. Quite apart from my personal feelings in the matter, he was the sort of person who is much better dead.

  “Remained the practical objection. I had not the slightest intention of risking much in the matter. It would have been mere quixotry to take any appreciable risk in order to wipe out a thing like Francia. Consequently I spent some thought upon the problem of providing myself with a complete alibi; and finally I worked out a detailed scheme.

  “In the first place, I timed the smouldering of one of my cigarettes when it had been lit and laid down on the edge of a shelf. I then obtained some strong thread and soaked it in a solution made from chlorate of potash tabloids. When dry, it was converted into quite a good slow-match which could be ignited at a smouldering cigarette.

  “I then removed from Francia’s attaché-case the automatic pistol he had used in the murder of Roca. To avoid repetition, I may say that in handling the pistol I was always careful to wear rubber gloves so as to avoid finger-prints.

  “My young nephew had broken his air-gun, and, on opening it up, I found the spiral spring broken in two. The smaller fragment fortunately proved suitable for my purpose. I compressed this bit of spring—a powerful one—and fastened it, still compressed, by means of a bit of the slow-match thread which I had prepared. This compressed spring I jammed between the trigger and trigger-guard of the automatic pistol so that when the thread gave way the spring drove back the trigger and fired the pistol. One end of the slow-match thread was utilised to tie down the safety-catch embodied in the pistol-grip, since otherwise the pistol would not have been fireable.

  “The other end of the slow-match thread I laid across a smouldering cigarette.

  “This arrangement provided me with the means of exploding the pistol at a given moment, even though I myself were at a distance. I may say that I tested and re-tested the action of the infernal machine until I could gauge exactly how long a period would elapse between setting it and the explosion. At first I was troubled by a tendency of the slow-match to go out when it reached a knot; but, by dosing the knot with a stronger solution of chlorate of potash, I got over the difficulty and made the contrivance thoroughly reliable.

  “The rest of the matter needs no lengthy description. I arranged that Francia should occupy the chair in the smoke-room which had its back to the window. When he had sat down, I pretended to notice that the sun was on the paper he was reading; and I went to the window to draw the curtain. Under cover of looking out of the window for a moment or two, I jammed the pistol in position among the books on the window-shelf; put down my burning cigarette on the ledge; laid the slow-match across the cigarette at a point which would be reached by the smouldering in a few minutes; and drew the curtain over the window-recess. I then left the room and went down to the lake, thus securing a perfect alibi.

  “The operation of the contrivance will now be quite clear. When the cigarette had smouldered away to the critical point, the slow-match which lay across it became ignited. It in turn smouldered away until the spark reached the part of the thread which was holding the spring compressed. The release of the powerful spring pressed home the trigger, firing the pistol and shooting Francia in the back. To make quite sure of the result, I filed the tip of the bullet.

  “I had satisfied myself in my experiments upon a further point. The spring, after driving home the trigger, expanded sideways and jerked itself clear of the trigger-guard, carrying with it the remaining bit of thread which had been used to tie down the safety-catch on the pistol-grip. It is unnecessary to go into details; but I had fixed up the thread in such a way that the slow-match burned along to a control-knot and made the operation certain. The result of this was that the spring and the thread, which might have suggested something if they had been discovered, were dropped on the floor when the pistol went off; and the rest of the slow-match burned away so rapidly that in a moment or two all trace of it was gone and the main bit of evidence was destroyed. Luckily, my young nephew is rather careless with his Meccano fittings, and, as a number of these were strewn over the floor beside his table, the bit of spring seemed merely one of these odds and ends—the more so since the rest of the spring was lying amongst his Meccano toys on the table.

  “When the pistol exploded, the sliding jacket of it flew backwards, and struck the back of the book-shelf; and of course this resulted in the pistol being jerked from its position and thrown forward, so that it fell on the floor. This concealed the fact that it had been on the book-shelf at all.

  “There were only two possible flaws in the scheme. One was that Francia might smell the cigarette smouldering behind him and might get up to see where it was. This seemed hardly on the cards, since he was smoking a similar cigarette himself when I left him, and the fumes of the one would cover the smell of the other.

  “The second flaw lay i
n the possibility of someone coming into the room and throwing back the window-curtains. But that, when I arranged the affair, was so unlikely in the short time allowed for the action of the infernal machine that the risk seemed negligible. I had located everyone in the party at the house that afternoon, and Francia seemed unlikely to be disturbed. The advent of my niece and Rex Brandon was outside the calculable bounds. In any case, there was no direct evidence to connect me with the pistol. No one knew of any motive which would have made me contrive Francia’s death. Other people might have a grudge against him, however; and, the window being open, it would have been quite possible for an outside agent to steal up on the verandah and plant the infernal machine in position from outside the house.

  “Of course, on the road down to the boat-house, I took the precaution of getting rid of the rubber gloves I had used in handling the pistol at the last moment. When I returned again to the house, I took care to muddle Sergeant Ledbury sufficiently by assisting him in his investigation; and when the vital bit of evidence appeared—the spiral spring—he paid no real attention to it, but regarded it merely as something which had been dropped off the table at some time or other by accident.”

  Sir Clinton finished the perusal of this document, and once more glanced back at one or two sentences.

  “H’m!” he said to himself. “It seems clear enough. Any small omissions can be filled in by people of normal intelligence, I think.”

  He placed the papers in an envelope and sealed them up securely. Then he smiled, a trifle grimly.

  “The County police are calling in the C.I.D. We’ll see what they make of it, now that Ledbury has got off on the wrong scent and lost some of the evidence in his hurry. In any case, it’s not likely to worry me. I’m off to-night on that Government mission abroad; and if I don’t find it convenient to turn up again, that packet of bearer bonds will be sufficient for my simple needs.”