The Secret of High Eldersham

by Miles Burton

  “The next thing was to find out if she had what is euphemistically known as a past. I had an idea that she might have had some connection with High Eldersham, and that that would explain her having some secret in common with Dunsford. But not a bit of it. She comes of an old Devonshire family, and seems never so much as to have set foot in this part of the country. At the end of my inquiries I was pretty well convinced that she was not the woman who visited the Rose and Crown.”

  “Well, what has happened since to shake your conviction?” asked Merrion. “You didn’t see her to-day, did you?”

  “No, but I saw somebody else. You noticed a party of four having tea in the lounge, I suppose? Perhaps you didn’t recognise any of them. But I did. That young fellow facing the door was the eldest son of Sir Jeremiah Witham.”

  “Was he, by jove!” exclaimed Merrion. “I’ve met old Witham often enough, but never his son. A particularly gay and joyous youth, I’ve always understood. More money than brains, I fancy. I shouldn’t have thought he’d have chosen the Tower of London as the object of a little outing with his pals.”

  “Nor should I. Now, look here, Merrion, what does it all mean? Dunsford is just an ordinary countryman, perhaps a bit shrewder than the common run, but that’s all. I lived with him for a week at the Rose and Crown, and I ought to know. Until he went to the Tower of London he had never slept out of High Eldersham for a single night and, since he’s been there, he’s been too busy to leave the place. Yet two most unlikely people, to our knowledge, have visited the Tower of London within the last fortnight. One must suppose they did so in order to communicate with Dunsford himself, since Lady Applegarth, finding he was not there, came on to the Rose and Crown. Leaving their motive aside, how in the world did Dunsford ever establish a connection with them?”

  Merrion shook his head. “I can’t imagine,” he replied. “Dunsford’s a dark horse, and will bear a bit of watching. But, if you don’t mind my saying so, you’re in very much the same position as I am. A lot of queer things seem to happen at High Eldersham, but none of them seem to have any but the remotest bearing on the murder of Whitehead, which is what we are trying to unravel. In the same way, whatever may be the dark secret shared between Dunsford and his fashionable friends, it doesn’t help us on at all.”

  “I’m well aware of that. But, dash it, one must begin somewhere and, for lack of any better clue, I started with this one of Dunsford’s. Somebody who was familiar with the Rose and Crown, even if they did not actually live in High Eldersham, committed the crime. That seems pretty certain. I saw Colonel Bateman before I met you, and he tells me that he has got the reports in from all over the county. Nobody seems to have seen a stranger of any kind anywhere near High Eldersham on the night of the murder, or, for that matter, anybody acting suspiciously. It is negative evidence, I know, but even negative evidence has its value. It is a matter of experience that nearly always, when a crime has been committed, the police are positively overwhelmed with stories of people having seen the criminal, or of suspicious actions on the part of half the surrounding population. In this case, there has been nothing of the sort. Not a word has come in, valuable or otherwise.

  “Now, I can’t help thinking that this is significant, especially taken in conjunction with this witchcraft business. It looks to me as though the High Eldersham people suspected, if they don’t actually know, that somebody about the place murdered Whitehead. If they thought it was a stranger, they’d be only too ready with information. As it is, they are convinced that the man met his death in consequence of the spell cast upon him, and the example of his fate is quite enough to induce them to hold their tongues. And if they think the criminal is some local worthy, they are probably right.

  “Look at it this way. I think we can assume that nobody in the village had a genuine grudge against Whitehead, except possibly Portch. If they had, we should have heard of it by now. Portch has an alibi which, at present at least, is unshakable. There is therefore no motive, in the accepted sense of the word. But, on the other hand, a member of the witch-gang—coven, don’t you call it—had invoked the aid of the assembly and had a spell pronounced against him. If the presiding genius of all this mumbo-jumbo was to maintain his reputation, it was up to him to see that some misfortune befell the wretched man. If he had no motive, strictly speaking, he had at least an interest in Whitehead’s death.”

  “Yes, I know,” replied Merrion. “It seems utterly far-fetched, but those are very much the lines upon which I have been reasoning. I’m pretty sure that once we find out who plays the part of the devil at these confounded meetings, we shall be on the track of the murderer. They are not necessarily one and the same, but there’s a connection between them, I’ll be bound. I have already laid my plans for being on the spot on the thirtieth.”

  “Well, I hope to heaven you’ll pick up some clue. I don’t mind confessing that I’m as far off as ever. The chief at the Yard isn’t best pleased, and I fancy old Colonel Bateman is beginning to regret that he called in outside assistance so hastily. At all events I’ll bet that Superintendent Bass is chuckling to himself.”

  “Let him chuckle. He wouldn’t have got even so far as we have, you may be sure of that. By the way, when you saw this Chief Constable of yours, did you happen to ask for news of Viney? I’m interested in his complaint, as you know.”

  “I did. The last report is that he is much better, and will be fit for duty to-morrow at the latest. Colonel Bateman told me that he had not troubled to send a substitute, as Doctor Padfield reported that Viney would only be away from duty for a few days at the most. The spell doesn’t seem to have worked very efficiently this time.”

  Merrion smiled at the sarcasm in his friend’s voice. “It’s all very well for you to laugh,” he said. “I’m still of the opinion that Viney’s illness had something to do with this witchcraft stunt. I’ve seen more of it than you have, and I don’t like the look of it a little bit. However, perhaps we shall find out more about that later. The point is now, are you likely to want me again within the next few days?”

  “Not unless you have anything particular to report. Why?”

  “Because I’m going to make myself scarce until the twenty-ninth, that is, to-morrow week. That afternoon, wind and weather permitting, you will find this craft lying where she is now, with me on board. I shan’t call again for a letter till then, as I don’t want to risk being seen about. Is that all right?”

  Young agreed to this course, and shortly afterwards left the yacht to return to London. After his departure, Merrion’s conscience smote him. He ought, he supposed, to have told him of the episode of the previous day. He comforted himself with the thought that he had, at least, dropped a hint of it.

  His motives for keeping silent were distinctly com-plicated. In the first place, had he told the Inspector of his suspicions that Hollesley was engaged in some smuggling enterprise, it would have been the latter’s duty to pass the information on to the customs authorities. This would have involved yet another series of inquiries at High Eldersham and, in Merrion’s opinion, if he were to be successful in getting to the bottom of the chain of mysteries of which that village was the centre, it was essential that nothing should be done to disturb the existing sense of security. Besides, Merrion himself had a scheme for solving that particular riddle, without calling in the aid of the customs authorities.

  Bound up with all this was his determination to shield Mavis, whatever it might cost. He never for a moment supposed that she was in any way involved in whatever dark doings might be perpetrated in the neighbourhood. But, until he had ascertained exactly where her father stood, it behoved him to move very cautiously. Any exposure of Sir William would inevitably react upon his daughter and, if it were to be brought about through his agency, Mavis would hardly be inclined to look upon him with friendly eyes in the future.

  “It looks as though I were trying to race with the hare and hunt with the h
ounds,” muttered Merrion to himself. “I can’t help it, I must know more before I take any definite action. I’m not going to do anything that would possibly hurt that girl, whatever crimes her father may have been guilty of. I’ve a good mind to chuck up the whole business and let Young ferret out what he can without me. And yet, that won’t do. If I’m on the spot, I may be able to tip the old boy the wink in time to enable him to clear out. Oh, lord, it’s a complicated business, right enough!”

  The more Merrion considered the matter, the more firmly he became convinced that the key to the whole puzzle lay in discovering the identity of the presiding devil. At present he had very little to guide him in that direction. He ran through the names of the more prominent men in High Eldersham with whom he was acquainted. His first suspicions had been that in the direction of Doctor Padfield. But, during the last assembly, the doctor had been chatting in his study with Young. That ruled him out. Hollesley was like-wise barred. He had only returned to High Eldersham two days after the meeting. Thorburn had suddenly assumed a new aspect owing to Young’s recognition of him as Gregson, but it seemed difficult to fit him into the role. For one thing, he had not been long enough in the place to establish the ascendency which the devil would require. Dunsford was a possibility; his movements that night had been suspicious. On previous occasions he could easily have come over from Gippingford in order to preside. Dunsford, as Merrion had remarked to the Inspector, was undoubtedly a dark horse.

  But Merrion could not get away from the disturbing thought that neither Dunsford nor any one else in High Eldersham, with one exception, possessed either the influence or the knowledge which seemed requisite. But this exception he refused to consider, until at least he had definite evidence against him. Newport’s announcement that supper was ready saved him for the moment from the opportunity for further reflection.

  Merrion’s first action next morning was to write a note to Young. “In case you cannot meet me on the afternoon of the twenty-ninth, I think it would be as well if you were to be within call on the night of the thirtieth. I feel pretty certain that I shall discover something then, and it may be necessary for you to act at once. Perhaps you could spend the night at the Rose and Crown? Of course, I can trust you not to take any independent action which might possibly queer my pitch. If you do not meet me on the twenty-ninth, drop me a line to the post office here informing me of your plans.”

  Newport went ashore to post this and to purchase supplies. When he returned Alisette got under way and slipped out of the harbour.

  During the following week Merrion endeavoured to soothe his restless mind by cruising along the coast, carefully avoiding any approach to the mouth of the Elder. It was not until noon the twenty-ninth that he arrived once more in Gippingford harbour.

  His first visit was to the post office, where he found a letter from Young, dated the previous day, awaiting him. “I’m sorry, but I shan’t be able to get down to Gippingford to see you on the twenty-ninth. I have been put upon a new case, which has certain points of interest. Nothing further has transpired in the other matter, and it looks as if the solution of that mystery now rested entirely with you.

  “Since you would like me to be at the Rose and Crown on the night of the thirtieth, I will certainly be there. You seem pretty optimistic about finding something out and, though I confess I don’t altogether share that optimism, I will help you in any way you suggest. Let me know if there is anything else that I can do.”

  Merrion pocketed the letter and returned to the yacht, where Newport was awaiting him. “All ready for sea?” he asked, as he stepped on board.

  “Yes, sir,” replied Newport. “We’ve got all the stores we want.”

  “Right. Start up the engine, and lend a hand with the hook. We’re bound for that old familiar lagoon once more.”

  Chapter XIX

  The lagoon was deserted when Alisette anchored in her old berth that afternoon. The day had been calm and overcast, more like autumn than early spring. The grey sea was smooth and unruffled, with a hint of mist upon the horizon.

  “Well, here we are,” said Merrion, as he and Newport stowed the sails and put the little vessel in order. “We’ve got a busy day ahead of us to-morrow. For one thing, that Belgian vessel is due, and I want to see if the cockling party is repeated after she has passed. It’s high water to-morrow morning at a quarter-past seven, and if she means to come across Vane Sand she will have to do it then. I want to be well out of the way in that little bay we found last time, so we shall have to make a start as soon as it is light. And then, to-morrow evening, I propose to make another excursion up the river, to that place I explored the other day.”

  “Very good, sir,” replied Newport. “You’d like to turn in early, I suppose?”

  “I don’t know,” said Merrion doubtfully. “I’d like to make a few inquiries this evening on shore, but I don’t want to run the risk of being recognised. Look here, Newport. They don’t know you in these parts. How would it be if you did a little scouting for me? It wouldn’t be the first time.”

  Newport grinned. “I’d be very glad to find out anything you want to know, sir,” he replied.

  “All right, then. It’s after four now, and the pubs in this part of the world open at six. Take the dinghy and row up to High Eldersham. You’ll have the tide with you, so it won’t be much of a pull. Keep your eyes open as you pass Mr. Hollesley’s place and see if there’s anybody about. A little farther on you’ll see a speed-boat moored, or, if she isn’t there, let me know when you come back. When you get to the wharf, tie up the dinghy and go ashore. Walk straight up through the village, and about a mile from the wharf you’ll come to a pub called the Rose and Crown. You’ve heard something about that place already.”

  “Yes, sir, the place I was talking about to Mrs. Fowler’s chauffeur the other day, where the landlord was murdered.”

  “That’s right. Go in there and find out what you can of the local gossip. I want to know if Mr. Hollesley is at home, and also Sir William Owerton and his daughter. You might find out as well whether the village policeman, whose name is Viney, has recovered from his illness. Keep your ears open for any remark about Dunsford, the man who keeps the Tower of London in Gippingford and who was at the Rose and Crown a short time ago.

  “I think those are the main points, but any other local gossip will be useful. You’ll have to have some story ready to account for your presence. Better juggle with the truth a bit. Say you come off a yacht lying at the mouth of the river, and that you are getting under way at daylight. That’s true enough, and it will account for the dinghy, if anybody happens to notice it. But don’t say that the owner’s on board. You and another chap are taking the boat up to Lowestoft, where he means to join her. Now then, off you go while the tide’s still running up. I shan’t wait up for you; so you can stay at the pub till closing time if you think it’s worth it.”

  Newport set off and reached the Rose and Crown without attracting any particular attention. The few people whom he met on his way through the village glanced at him incuriously, without so much as wishing him good-evening. It was just after six as he entered the inn, where he ordered a pint of beer and sat himself down in front of the fire. The landlord, who was apparently of a taciturn disposition, served him and resumed the occupations which his arrival had interrupted. Judging by the clatter of knives and forks which came from the kitchen, he and his family were having tea.

  It was some little time before customers began to arrive, singly and in pairs. Newport, a shrewd judge of such things, amused himself by guessing their occupations. They were labourers for the most part, heavy of face and slow of speech. Listening to them, Newport caught the names of Portch, Hosier and Hammond. But their conversation was not of any interest to him. It dealt with things rather than people, of the prospects of the hay crop, of the phenomenally early potatoes in somebody’s garden. Newport, whose knowledge of the soil was not hi
s strong point, found himself wondering from time to time what in the world they were talking about.

  But, as the evening wore on, men of a different stamp dropped in, forming automatically a group apart from the labourers. Newport detected a chauffeur, a man who might have been a farm bailiff, and a third who from his remarks seemed to be the proprietor of the village shop. A chance remark thrown in his direction enabled him to get into conversation with the latter, and very soon he had joined the group, his mug standing on the same table as theirs.

  He made no attempt to lead the conversation. His rôle was that of a stranger who had come up to the Rose and Crown to pass the evening, and was prepared to enjoy his beer in comfort. Sitting there, he looked the part of the not over-intelligent yacht-hand to perfection, his hands stuck in the fold of his blue jersey. Any slight feeling of restraint in the presence of a stranger which the group may have had soon wore off, and they were soon talking at ease among themselves, without paying any particular attention to him.

  In the course of a couple of hours he picked up several pieces of information. Sir William Owerton was at home, he and his daughter had been round the park that very afternoon, giving orders about lopping the branches of certain of the trees which threatened to grow out of shape. Newport gathered that Sir William was well liked by his employees, but they thought he would be better employed getting about the place a bit more, instead of staying shut up in the house all day. As for Miss Mavis, well, you never knew what she would be doing next. More like a boy than a girl she was, what with her boats and horses and such. Perhaps it was as well, since Master Lewis was away in India.