CHAPTER XVI
MISS MAYNARD'S statement made such an impression on Sergeant Westawaythat he determined to ride over to Staveley that afternoon and lay itbefore Inspector Murchison. He was so restless and excited at the newphase of the Cliff Farm murder which had been opened up by the younglady's revelations that he decided the matter was too important to beallowed to remain where it was until Detective Gillett returned toAshlingsea on the following day.
Besides, twenty-five years' rustication in Ashlingsea had made him somuch of an idealist that he actually believed that any zealous activityhe displayed in the only great crime which had ever happened during hislong regime at Ashlingsea would be placed to his credit in the officialquarters.
After a midday dinner Sergeant Westaway wheeled forth his bicycle and,having handed over to Constable Heather the official responsibility ofmaintaining order in Ashlingsea, pedalled away along the cliff roadto Staveley. The road was level for the greater part of the way andhe reached Staveley in a little more than an hour of the time of hisdeparture from Ashlingsea.
Several persons--mostly women--were in the front office of the policestation, waiting their turn to lay their troubles before the recognizedguide and confidant of Staveley, but the constable in charge, who knewSergeant Westaway, deferred to his official position by taking himstraight into the presence of Inspector Murchison and closing the doorbehind him.
The inspector was seated in his office chair talking earnestly to ashabby young woman who carried a baby, and was crying bitterly. Helooked up as Westaway entered, and then he rose from his chair, as anintimation to the young woman in front of him that he had given her asmuch of the Government's time as she had a right to expect. The youngwoman took the hint, rose to her feet and turned to go. On her way tothe door she turned round and said in a pleading voice:
"You'll do the best you can to get him back, won't you, sir?"
"You can rely on me, Mrs. Richards," responded the inspector, addingcheerily: "Keep your heart up; things are bound to come right in theend."
The young woman received this philosophic remark with a sob as sheclosed the door behind her.
"A very sad case, that," said Inspector Murchison to Sergeant Westaway.
"Eh--yes?" responded the sergeant absently, for he was thinking ofother things.
"She's Fanny Richards, the wife of Tom Richards, the saddler's son,"continued the inspector. "I've known her since she was _that_ high.Tom Richards was called up for service a little while ago, and hiswife moved heaven and earth to get him exempted. She went to the rightquarters too--she used to be housemaid there--but perhaps I'd betternot mention names. At all events, the tribunal gave her husband totalexemption. And what does her husband do? Is he grateful? Not a bit!Two days after the tribunal had exempted him the scoundrel clearedout--disappeared from the district with a chambermaid from one of thehotels on the front. I tell you, Westaway, the ingratitude of someof our sex to the women they have sworn to love and cherish makes meangry. But, however, you haven't come from Ashlingsea to discuss thefailings of human nature with me. What can I do for you?"
Before leaving Ashlingsea, Sergeant Westaway had withdrawn MissMaynard's statement from its official repository, and placed itcarefully in his pocket-book. His hand wandered towards his breastpocket as he replied that his visit to Staveley was connected with theCliff Farm case.
"And what is the latest news about that?" asked the inspector withinterest.
It was the moment for Sergeant Westaway's triumph, and he slowly drewhis pocket-book from his breast pocket and extracted the statement.
"I have made an important discovery," he announced, in a voice which hevainly strove to keep officially calm. "It affects a--well-known andleading gentleman of your district. This paper"--he flattened it out onthe table with a trembling hand--"is a statement made by Miss Maynardof Ashlingsea, which implicates Mr. Marsland, the nephew of Sir GeorgeGranville."
"In the Cliff Farm case?"
Sergeant Westaway nodded portentously, and wiped the perspiration fromhis forehead--for the office fire was hot and he had ridden fast.
Inspector Murchison took up the girl's statement, and read it through.When he had finished it, he turned to the front page, and read itthrough again. Then he glanced up at his colleague gravely.
"This is very important," he said. "It throws a new aspect on the case."
Sergeant Westaway nodded.
"This girl," pursued Inspector Murchison, "she is of fairly goodposition, is she not?"
Sergeant Westaway nodded again.
"Her mother is a lady of independent means."
"I've heard of them, and I've seen the young lady and her mother onceor twice when they've visited Staveley. Do you think the young lady istelling the whole truth here?"
"Undoubtedly." Sergeant Westaway's tone indicated that when a member ofthe leading family of Ashlingsea set out to tell the truth nothing waskept back.
The inspector got up from his chair and took a few turns up and downthe office in a meditative way.
"It's a most extraordinary disclosure that this young woman has made,"he said at length. "Extraordinary--and awkward. I do not know what SirGeorge Granville will say when he learns that his nephew, instead ofassisting the police, made a false and misleading statement. It is avery grave thing; a very dangerous thing in such a grave crime as this.It will give Sir George Granville a dreadful shock."
"It gave me a shock," said Sergeant Westaway.
"No doubt," replied the inspector. "But Sir George Granville--is adifferent matter. We must consider his feelings; we must try to sparethem. I hardly know what is best to be done. Obviously, the mattercannot be allowed to remain where it is, yet it is difficult to seewhat is the proper course of action to pursue. I think the best thingwill be to wait until Gillett returns from London and leave it to him.When do you expect him back?"
"I expect him back in the morning. I wired to him that I had obtainedmost important information."
"I'll be at the station when the London express comes in in themorning. If Gillett is on board I'll go on with him to Ashlingsea."
In accordance with this arrangement, Inspector Murchison arrived atAshlingsea in the morning, in the company of Detective Gillett.
If Sergeant Westaway expected praise from the representative ofScotland Yard it was not forthcoming. Detective Gillett seemed in apeevish humour. His boyish face looked tired and careworn, and his blueeyes were clouded.
"Let me have a look at this statement that you are making such a fussabout," he said.
Long afterwards, when Sergeant Westaway had ample leisure to go overall the events in connection with the Cliff Farm case, he alighted onthe conviction that the reason Detective Gillett was so offensive andabrupt in regard to Miss Maynard's statement was that he did not likeimportant information to reach the police while he was absent.
"It is a voluntary and signed statement by Miss Maynard, a young ladyof the district, who was at Cliff Farm the night of the murder," saidthe sergeant, with dignity.
"So much I know from Inspector Murchison, and also that the statementin some way implicates young what's his name--Marsland. Let me havethe document itself, Westaway."
The sergeant took it from his desk, and placed it in DetectiveGillett's hands.
"I have added on a separate sheet of paper a few notes I gathered inthe course of conversation with Miss Maynard. The most important ofthem deals with the fact that young Marsland was a captain in the Army,and that Lumsden was under his command in France."
Gillett began with an air of official weariness to read the documentWestaway had handed to him, but before he had read far the abstractionvanished from his face, and was replaced by keen professional interest.He read it closely and carefully, and then he produced his pocket-bookand stowed it away.
"Westaway," he said, "this is a somewhat important contribution to thecase." He paused for a moment and then turned sharply on InspectorMurchison. "I think you should have told me, Murchison
, how damaging apiece of evidence this is against young Marsland."
"Not so damaging," said the inspector, in defence. "You see, youngMarsland is Sir George Granville's nephew----"
"So you told me half a dozen times in the train," said Gillett, "and asI knew it before I wasn't much impressed with the information. What Isay is that this statement places Marsland in a very awkward position.He has been deceiving us from first to last."
"I admit it is very thoughtless--very foolish of him," replied theinspector. "But surely, Gillett, you don't think this young gentlemanhad anything to do with the murder?"
"I am not going to be so foolish as to say that it could not possiblybe him who did it. What does he mean by hiding from us the fact thatLumsden was under his command in France, and that on the night of themurder he met this girl Maynard at the farm. He seems to be a younggentleman who keeps back a great deal that the police ought to know.And I think you will admit, Murchison, that in that respect he isbehaving like a very guilty man."
"But there may be other explanations which will place his conduct in areasonable light--reasonable but foolish," said the inspector, with anearnest disregard for the way in which these words contradicted eachother. "Sir George Granville himself told me his nephew was an officerin the Army, but on account of his nervous breakdown the Army was nevermentioned in his presence. And as for keeping Miss Maynard's name outof his statement after she had asked him to do so--why it seems to methe sort of thing that any young man would do for a pretty girl."
"Especially if it played into his hands. If Marsland committed thecrime, he must have jumped at the chance offered him by Miss Maynardto keep silence about her presence at the farm, because that lefthim a free hand in the statement he made to Westaway. He had no needto be careful about any part of his statement, because he had not toharmonize any of it with what she knew about his presence there."
"And what are you going to do about her statement?" asked theinspector. "You will confront Marsland with it?"
"Yes, but before I do that I am going to make a search of the farm forclues."
"But you have already done that. Westaway told me that he and Heatherput in two days searching the buildings and the ground round the house."
"Inspector, you are not quite equal to the demands of the situation,"said the Scotland Yard man patronizingly. "Westaway, myself and Heathersearched the house, the outbuildings and the grounds for clues--fortraces left behind unwittingly by the murderer. Our impression then wasthat the murderer had got away as soon as he could--everything pointedto that. But in the light of this girl's statement we must now searchfor clues purposely hidden by the murderer. What was Marsland doingwhen he went outside the house and left the key in the door so as tolet himself in again? Hiding something, of course! And where would hehide it?
"There is only one place we haven't searched, and that is the well,"continued Gillett. "The reason I didn't have it emptied before wasbecause I was not looking for hidden traces--the circumstances of thecrime suggested that the murderer had gone off with the weapon thatended Lumsden's life. But this girl's statement showed that Marslandwent out of the house and came back. What was he doing while he wasoutside? This is what I am going to find out."
"I'll go up to the farm with you," said the inspector. "I want to seewhat comes of this. I want to know what I've got to say to Sir GeorgeGranville."
"You've got to say nothing; you leave it to me," said DetectiveGillett. "How long will it take to get the well emptied, Westaway?"
"Four or five hours ought to be long enough, if I can get a couple ofgood men," said the sergeant.
"See about it at once. Send Heather up with the men to superintend. Wewill drive out there this afternoon. I have some inquiries to make inthe village this morning, and I must also see Miss Maynard."
Gillett, after interviewing Miss Maynard and having his lunch withInspector Murchison at _The Black-Horned Sheep_, got into an antiquatedhooded vehicle, drawn by a venerable white horse, which SergeantWestaway hired at the inn to take them to Cliff Farm. The innkeeper,who, like all the rest of the town, was bursting with curiosity tolearn the latest developments in the case, had eagerly volunteeredto drive the police officers up to the farm, but Sergeant Westaway,determined that village gossip should learn nothing through him, hadresolutely declined the offer, and drove the equipage himself. They setoff with half the village gaping at them from their doors.
Sergeant Westaway had intended to ask Detective Gillett for detailsconcerning his interview with Miss Maynard, but he found that thesluggish and ancient quadruped between the shafts needed incessanturging and rein-jerking to keep him moving at all. This gave him notime for conversation with the detective, who was seated in the back ofthe vehicle with Inspector Murchison.
When they reached Cliff Farm Sergeant Westaway found another problem toengage his attention. A number of Ashlingsea people had been impelledby curiosity to take a hand in the pumping operations, until tiringof that mechanical labour, they had distributed themselves around thefarm, strolling about, gazing vacantly at the farm buildings, orpeering through the windows of the house. Constable Heather, who hadbeen sent up with the fishermen in order that constituted authoritymight be represented in the pumping proceedings, frankly admittedto his superior officer that he had been unable to keep the curiousspectators away from the scene.
On hearing this, Sergeant Westaway jumped from the vehicle, and strodeinto the farmyard with a stern authority which had never been weakenedby convivial friendship at _The Black-Horned Sheep_. It says much forthe inherent rural respect for law and order that he was able to turnout the intruders in less than five minutes, although the majority ofthem lingered reluctantly outside the front fence, and watched theproceedings from a distance.
The two fishermen whom Constable Heather had engaged for the taskof emptying the well had, with the ingenuity which distinguishesthose who make their living on the sea, reduced the undertaking toits simplest elements. A light trench had been dug on that side ofthe well where the ground had a gentle slope, and, following the lieof the land, had been continued until it connected with one of themain drains of the farm. Therefore, all that remained for the twofishermen to do was to man the pump in turns till the well was empty,the water pouring steadily into the improvised trench and so reachingthe main drain, which was carrying the water away to the ditch besidethe road. The originator of this plan was an elderly man with a roundred face, a moist eye, and an argumentative manner. As the originatorof the labour-saving device, he had exercised the right of superiorintelligence to relegate to his companion most of the hard labour ofcarrying it out.
"You see," he said to Inspector Murchison, who happened to be nearestto him, "Tom here"--he indicated his assistant--"wanted to dig a longtrench to yon hedge and carry the water out into the valley, but Isays 'What's the use of going to all that trouble when it can be donea quicker way?' I says to Tom, 'Let's put a bit of gumption into itand empty it the easiest way. For once the water's out of the well, itdon't matter a dump where it runs, for it's no good to nobody.'"
"Very true," said Inspector Murchison, who believed in being polite toeverybody.
"'Therefore,' says I to Tom, 'it stands to reason that the quickest wayto empty the well, and the way with least trouble to ourselves, will beto cut from here to that there drain there.'"
"How much longer will you be emptying it?" demanded Detective Gillett,approaching the well and interrupting the flow of the old man'seloquence.
"That depends, sir, on what water there's in it."
This reply was too philosophical to appeal to the practical mindeddetective. He declared with some sharpness that the sooner it wasemptied the better it would be for everybody.
"We are getting towards the bottom now, sir," said the man at the pump,who interpreted the detective's words as a promise that beer would makeits appearance when the water had gone. "It ain't a very deep well,not more than fourteen feet at most, and I should say another halfhour--maybe more--would s
ee the end of this here job."
"Very well, then, be as quick as you can."
The three police officers remained beside the well, watching thepumping. In a little more than half an hour the flow of water from themouth of the pump began to decrease. Then the pump began to gurgle andthe water stopped. Suction had ceased and the well was practicallyempty.
Under Detective Gillett's instructions the men who had emptied the wellremoved the boards which covered the top, and one of them went to thebarn and returned with a long ladder. Between them they lowered theladder into the empty well. The ladder was more than long enough toreach the bottom, for the top was several feet above the mouth of thewell.
"That will do, men," ordered the Scotland Yard detective. He climbed tothe edge of the well as he spoke.
"Have you a light?" asked Sergeant Westaway in a moment of inspiration.
For reply Detective Gillett displayed a powerful electric torch, andplaced one foot on the ladder.
"Better take the stable lantern, sir," urged the inventor of thewell-emptying plan. "You'll find it better down there than themnew-fangled lights. You'll be able to see further with a sensiblelantern."
"And you'd better put on my boots," said the other fisherman. "Thewell's a bricked 'un, but it'll be main wet and muddy down there."
Detective Gillett pronounced both ideas excellent and acted on them.Sergeant Westaway procured the stable lantern, and lighted it whilethe detective drew on the fisherman's long sea boots. Thus equipped,and holding the lantern in his right hand, with an empty bag overhis shoulder, the Scotland Yard man stepped on to the ladder, anddisappeared from view.
Sergeant Westaway intimated to the fishermen who had emptied thetank that the work for which they had been engaged was finished;but it was some minutes before he could make it clear to their slowintellects that their presence was no longer required. When they didunderstand, they were very loath to withdraw, for they had lookedforward with delight to seeing the emptied well yield up some ghastlysecret--perhaps another murdered body--and it was only by the exerciseof much sternness that Sergeant Westaway was able to get them away fromthe scene by personally escorting them off the farm and locking thegate after them.
He returned to the well to see Detective Gillett emerging from it.Gillett was carrying the bag and the lantern in one hand, and it wasobvious that the bag contained something heavy. The triumphant face ofthe detective, as he emerged into the upper air, indicated that he hadmade some important discovery. He stepped off the ladder and emptiedthe contents of the bag on the ground. They consisted of a heavypair of boots, hobnailed and iron-shod, such as are worn by countrylabourers and farmers, and a five-chambered revolver. The revolver wasrusty through immersion in the water, and the boots were sodden andpulpy from the same cause.
Inspector Murchison and Sergeant Westaway inspected the articles insilence. At length the former said:
"This is a very important discovery."
"I would direct your attention to the fact that it is a Webleyrevolver--one of the two patterns approved by the War Office for Armyofficers," said Detective Gillett. "Unless I am much mistaken it is a4.5--that is the regulation calibre for the Army. And I have discoveredmore than that!"
The police officers ceased looking at the articles on the ground, anddirected their eyes to the Scotland Yard detective in response to thenote of exultation in his voice. In answer to their look he put hishand into a side pocket and withdrew a small article which he hadwrapped in a handkerchief. Unrolling the latter carefully, he held upfor their inspection a pair of gold-rimmed eyeglasses.
The Mystery of the Downs Page 16