The Mystery of the Downs

by John R. Watson and Arthur J. Rees

  CHAPTER XXI

  DETECTIVE GILLETT cycled across to Ashlingsea the following morning,after spending the night in Staveley as the guest of InspectorMurchison. The morning was clear, the downs were fresh and greenbeneath a blue sky, and the sea lapped gently at the foot of thecliffs. In the bay the white sails of several small boats stood outagainst the misty horizon. But Detective Gillett saw none of thesethings. His mind was too busily engaged in turning over the latestaspects of the Cliff Farm case to be susceptible to the influences ofnature.

  He reached Ashlingsea after an hour's ride and decided to call on MissMaynard before going to the police station. The old stone house and itsgrounds lay still and clear in the morning sun. The carriage gates wereopen and Gillett cycled up the winding gravel drive. The house lookedsilent and deserted, but the shutters which protected the front windowswere unclosed, and a large white peacock strutting on the lawn in frontof the house uttered harsh cries at the sight of the man on a bicycle.

  The bird's cries brought a rosy-cheeked maidservant to the front door,who stared curiously at Gillett as he jumped off his bicycle andapproached her. A request for Miss Maynard brought a doubtful shake ofthe head from the girl, so Gillett produced his card and asked her totake it to her mistress. The girl took the card, and shortly returnedwith the announcement that Mrs. Maynard would see him. She ushered himinto a large, handsomely furnished room and left him.

  A few minutes afterwards Gillett heard the sound of tapping in the halloutside the door. Then the door was opened by the maid who had admittedGillett, and he saw an elderly lady, with refined features and greyhair, looking at him with haughty dark eyes. She was leaning on anebony stick, and as she advanced into the room the detective saw thatshe was lame.

  "I wanted to see Miss Maynard," said Gillett, making the best bow ofwhich he was capable.

  "You cannot see my daughter." She uttered the words in such a manner asto give Gillett the impression that she was speaking to somebody somedistance away.

  "Why not?"

  "She is not at home."

  "Where is she?"

  "That I cannot tell you."

  "When will she return?"

  "I do not know."

  "But, madam, I must know," replied Gillett. "Your daughter has placedherself in a very serious position by the statement she made to thepolice concerning the Cliff Farm murder, and it is important that Ishould see her at once. Where is she?"

  "I decline to tell you."

  "You are behaving very foolishly, madam, in taking this course. Surelyyou do not think she can evade me by hiding from me. If that is herattitude I will deal with it by taking out a warrant for her arrest."

  "I must decline to discuss the matter any further with you."

  Mrs. Maynard moved towards the bell as she spoke, as though she wouldring for a servant to show the detective out of the house. Gillett,seeing that further argument was useless, did not wait for the servantto be summoned, but left the room without another word.

  He rode down to the Ashlingsea police station, with an uneasy feelingthat his plans for the capture of Brett were not destined to work outas smoothly as he had hoped. It had seemed to him a simple matterthen to see Miss Maynard in the morning, "frighten the truth out ofher," ascertain from her where her lover was hiding, and have himarrested as quickly as the telegraph wires could apprise the policein the particular locality he had chosen for his retreat. But he hadoverlooked the possibility of the hitch he had just encountered.Obviously the girl, in finding that Marsland had not been arrested, hadbegun to think that her plans had miscarried and had therefore decidedto evade making any further statement to the police as long as shecould.

  Gillett was hopeful that Sergeant Westaway, with his local knowledge,would be able to tell him where she was likely to seek seclusion inorder to escape being questioned.

  He had not conceived the possibility of Miss Maynard having takenfright and disappeared from the town, because he deemed it impossiblethat she could have known that he was aware how she had tried tohoodwink the police. Yet that was the news that Sergeant Westawayconveyed to him when he mentioned the young lady's name.

  "She left Ashlingsea by the last train from here last night--the 9.30to Staveley, which connects with the last train to London."

  "What!" exclaimed the detective. "Do you mean to tell me you've let thegirl slip out of your hands? Why the blazes didn't you stop her fromgoing?"

  "How was I to stop her?" replied the sergeant, in resentment at theimperative tone in which the detective spoke. "I didn't get home fromStaveley last night until nearly ten o'clock and after looking in hereI went straight to bed. The station-master told me about an hour agothat she had gone. She came along just before the train started, andhe put her in a carriage himself. He thought it a bit strange, so hementioned it to me when I was down on the station this morning. I rangup Inspector Murchison in order to let you know, but he told me you'dleft for here."

  "She's gone to warn Brett--she's in London by now," said Gillett. "Thequestion is how did she get to know that I was coming over to see herthis morning and expose the tissue of lies in her statement to you.How did she get to know that the game was up? You've said nothing toanybody, Westaway, about the conversation that took place last night atSir George Granville's house?"

  "Of course I've said nothing," replied Sergeant Westaway. "She had gonealmost before I got back here last night."

  "It beats me," said Gillett. "Who could have warned her?"

  He picked up the telephone book off the office table, and turned itsleaves hurriedly. When he had found the number he wanted he took up thetelephone and spoke into the receiver.

  "Double one eight Staveley, and be quick. Is that Sir GeorgeGranville's? Is Mr. Crewe in? Yes, at once please. Is that you, Mr.Crewe? It's Gillett speaking. The girl has gone--cleared out. I cannotsay: I've no idea. What's that you say? Oh, yes, I'll telephone toScotland Yard and tell them to keep a look out for her, but I am afraidit won't be of much use--she's had too long a start. But it's nowmore necessary than ever that we should act quickly if we hope to layour hands on the man. I think the first thing to be done is to make athorough search of the cliff road for the actual spot where the job wasdone. Oh, you have? By Jove, that's good! I'd be glad if you'd comewith me then, because it's on your theory that it was done away fromthe house that I'm working----"

  Police Constable Heather entered the office at this point with amessage for his superior officer. Sergeant Westaway, divided by anxietyto hear the telephone conversation and a determination that hissubordinate should not hear it, imperiously motioned Constable Heatheraway. But as Constable Heather misunderstood the motion and showed noinclination to depart, Sergeant Westaway hurriedly led him out of theoffice into the front garden, heard what he had to say, and dismissedhim with the mandate that he was on no account to be interrupted again.He then returned to the office, but the telephone conversation wasfinished, and Detective Gillett was seated in the sergeant's officechair, looking over a document which Sergeant Westaway recognized asMiss Maynard's statement.

  "Crewe's going to drive us along the cliff road this afternoon to seeif we can locate the spot where Lumsden was shot," said the detective,restoring Miss Maynard's statement to his pocket-book and looking up."I've arranged to meet him the other side of the cutting at the top ofthe farm, and we will drive back along the road in his car."

  "Did Mr. Crewe express any opinion as to who--who had warned MissMaynard to take to flight?" asked Sergeant Westaway eagerly.

  "That was not a matter for discussion through the telephone," respondedGillett curtly. "I'll talk it over with him this afternoon. I'llcall for you here, at two o'clock. I've several things to do in themeantime."

  They met again at the appointed hour and cycled along as far as CliffFarm, where they put up their bicycles. Then they walked up the hillfrom the farm. At the end of the cutting, they saw Crewe's big whitecar, stationary, and Crewe and Marsland standing on the greenswardsmoking cigars. The two polic
e officers advanced to meet them.

  "It's a bit of very bad luck about this girl disappearing, Mr. Crewe,"said Gillett. "What do you make of it? Westaway thinks she may havegone to stay with friends at Staveley, and that her departure at thisjuncture is merely a coincidence."

  "Miss Maynard would not pay a visit to friends by the last train atnight," said Crewe.

  "Then somebody warned her that the game was up and that safety lay inflight."

  "I'm afraid that's the only reasonable explanation for herdisappearance," replied Crewe. "But who warned her?"

  "That's the point!" exclaimed Gillett. "I have been thinking it overever since I discovered she had gone, and I've come to the conclusionthat it must have been that infernal little dwarf or her husband,though what is their object is by no means clear. Who else could ithave been? The only other people who know that I intended to unmask herare yourself, Westaway and Mr. Marsland. By a process of eliminationsuspicion points to the Granges."

  Crewe did not reply. While Gillett was speaking a flash of thatinspiration which occasionally came to him when he was groping in thedark for light revealed to him the key by which the jigsaw of clues,incidents, hints, suspicions, and evidence in the Cliff Farm murdercould be pieced together. But the problem was one of extraordinaryintricacy, and he needed time to see if all the pieces would fit intothe pattern.

  It was at Detective Gillett's suggestion that they walked up to the topof the hill, to the headland where Marsland's horse had taken fright onthe night of the storm.

  He took Crewe's arm and walked ahead with him, leaving the sergeant tofollow with Marsland. As they went along, he unconsciously revealed theextent of his dependence on Crewe's stronger intelligence by layingbefore him the remaining difficulties regarding the case. His chiefconcern was lest Miss Maynard should warn Brett in time to enablehim to slip through the net which had been woven for him. To Crewe'sinquiry whether the London police had come across any trace of him heshook his head.

  "No, he is lying low, wherever he is. My own belief is that he hasnot gone to London, but that he is hidden somewhere in the Staveleydistrict. I shall look for him here, and Scotland Yard is watching hisLondon haunts. He's a pretty bad egg, you know. We've a record of himat Scotland Yard."

  "What has he done?"

  "He's identical with a fashionable rogue and swindler who, under thename of Delancey, kept a night club and a gambling hell in Piccadilly,during the first year of the war. We had reasons for closing the placewithout a prosecution, and Delancey, instead of being sent to gaol, wasallowed to enlist. He returned to England a few months ago, invalidedout of the army, where he was known under the name of Powell. Sincethen he has been employed by the Government in secret service work:mixing with the Germans who are still at large in this country, andgetting information about German spies. He was given this work to dobecause he speaks German so fluently that he can pass as a Germanamongst Germans.

  "I suppose this girl Maynard will try to join him wherever he is,"resumed Gillett, after a pause. "It's a queer thing, don't you think,for a well-brought-up English girl of good family to make such a foolof herself over an unmitigated scoundrel like Delancey or Brett, orPowell, or whatever he calls himself? From what I have learnt up atStaveley this girl first met Brett about three months ago. I do notknow how they came to know each other, but from her visit to Cliff Farmon the night of the murder I think that Lumsden must have introducedthem. There was some bond between Brett and Lumsden which I have beenunable to fathom. It is true they knew each other through being inthe army together, but that fact doesn't account for their continuedassociation afterwards, because there was nothing in common between thetwo men: Brett was a double-dyed scoundrel, and Lumsden was a simple,quiet sort of chap.

  "It may have been the attraction of opposites, or, it is more likelythat Lumsden knew nothing about Brett's past," continued Gillett."Brett was certainly not likely to reveal it, more especially after hemet the girl, because then he would keep up his friendship with Lumsdenin order to have opportunities of meeting her at Cliff Farm. She alsoused to visit Brett at Staveley; they've been seen together thereseveral times. Apparently it was Brett's idea to keep his meetings withthis girl as secret as possible, and for that reason he used to seeher at Cliff Farm with Lumsden's connivance. Nevertheless, he was notaltogether successful in keeping his love affair dark. On two occasionshe was seen walking with the girl on Ashlingsea downs, not far from hermother's house, and there's been some local gossip in consequence--youknow what these small country places are for gossip."

  "You've put this part of the case together very well," said Crewe.

  "Oh, it's not so bad," Gillett laughed complacently. "Of course itwas Scotland Yard that fished up all that about Brett's antecedents.I flatter myself that we do that kind of thing better in London thananywhere: it's difficult for a man to get rid of a shady past inEngland. However, I'd be more satisfied with my work if I had Brettunder lock and key. What a fool I was not to go straight across to thatgirl's house last night after I saw you, instead of waiting till themorning!"

  "It wouldn't have made much difference: I think she was warned bytelephone, and probably the person who warned her knew you did notintend to look her up until the morning. If you had altered your plansshe would have altered hers."

  "I could have telephoned to have her stopped at Victoria or LondonBridge."

  "Not much use," responded Crewe, with a shake of the head. "Shewouldn't have revealed Brett's hiding-place."

  "I'd have kept her under lock and key to prevent her warning him," saidGillett viciously.

  "Quite useless. Her detention would have been notified in the press.Brett would have taken warning and disappeared. By the way, Gillett,I'll be glad if you will refrain from referring to the doubt I formerlyexpressed about Brett's guilt. And I must ask Westaway to do the same."

  "I thought you'd come around to my way of thinking," said Gillett. "Itwas plain to me that it couldn't be anyone but Brett. However, you canrest assured I won't try to rub it in. We all make mistakes at thisgame, but some don't care to acknowledge a mistake as candidly as youhave done, Mr. Crewe."

  The cliffs rose to a height of three hundred feet at this part of theroad, and a piece of headland jutted out a hundred yards or so into thesea--a narrow strip of crumbling sandstone rock, running almost to apoint, with sea-worn sides, dropping perpendicularly to the deep waterbelow. Just past the headland, on the Staveley side, the road ran alongthe edge of the cliffs for some distance, the side nearest to the seabeing protected by a low fence, and flanked by "Danger" notices at eachend. Crewe pointed out the danger post which had been knocked out ofthe perpendicular--it was the one nearest to the headland.

  Detective Gillett examined it very closely, and when Marsland and theSergeant joined them he asked Marsland if he could point out to him theexact spot where his horse had taken fright on the night of the storm.

  "I think it was somewhere about here, Crewe? It was about here we sawthe hoof marks, wasn't it?"

  Crewe measured the distance with a rule he had brought with him fromthe motor-car.

  "A trifle more to this way--about here," he said at length.

  Gillett glanced over the edge of the cliff, and at the white waterbreaking over the jagged tooth-pointed rocks nearly three hundred feetbelow.

  "By Jove, you can congratulate yourself that you happened to be on theright side of the road," he said, addressing himself to Marsland. "Ifyou'd gone over there, you wouldn't have stood much chance."

  "It was purely good fortune, or my horse's instinct," laughed Marsland."The road was so dark that I didn't know where I was myself. I couldn'tsee a hand's turn in front of me."

  "The marks of the car wheels ran off the road at this point, bumpedinto the post, and then ran on to the road again." Crewe traced thecourse with his stick. "Brett had a narrower escape than Marsland. It'sa wonder that the impact didn't knock away that crazy bit of fencing."

  "When Brett is on his trial it will be necessary fo
r the jury to visitthis spot," said Sergeant Westaway solemnly.

  "We've got to catch the beggar first," grumbled Gillett. "But let's getalong and see if we can hit upon the spot where the murder was actuallycommitted. How far along is it, Mr. Crewe, to where the countryman youtalked to saw him pass?"

  "A little more than five miles from here."

  "Then somewhere between the two places the murder must have beencommitted, I should say."

  "I know the place--approximately," replied Crewe. "I've been over theground several times, and I've been able to fix on it more or lessdefinitely."

  "How did you fix it?" asked Gillett curiously.

  "I had several clues to help me," replied Crewe, in a non-committalvoice. "Let us get back to the car and I will drive you to the place."

  They walked back to the car and drove slowly along the winding cliffroad. About two miles from the danger post the road turned slightlyinland, and ran for a quarter of a mile or more about two hundred yardsdistant from the edge of the cliff. At this point the downs began torise above the level of the road, and continued to do so until theywere above the heads of the party in the car. It was not a cutting;merely a steep natural inclination of the land, and the road skirtedthe foot of it for some distance. A ragged fringe of beech-trees grewalong the top of the bank; doubtless they had been planted in this bareexposed position of the downs to act as a wind screen for the sheepwhich could be seen grazing higher up the slope.

  Crewe pulled up the car and looked about him, then turned his head andspoke to Gillett:

  "This part of the road is worth examining. There are several featuresabout it which fit in with my conception of the scene of the crime."

  The four men got out of the car and walked forward, looking about them.Crewe walked a little ahead, with his eyes roving over the rising bankand the trees at the top. Several times he tried to clamber up thebank, but the incline was too steep.

  "What are you trying to do?" said Gillett, who was watching hisproceedings curiously.

  "I am trying to fit in my theory of the crime by actual experiments. IfI can satisfy myself that Lumsden was able to climb this bank at somepoint I believe we shall have reached the scene of the murder."

  "But why is it necessary to prove that?" asked Gillett, in a puzzledvoice. "Brett might have met him on the road, shot him from the carwhich had been pulled up, and then carried the body to Cliff Farm."

  "My dear Gillett, have you forgotten that the bullet which killedLumsden took an upward course after entering the body? If he had beenshot from the car it would have gone downwards."

  "Damn it! I forgot all about that point," exclaimed Gillett, reddeningwith vexation.

  "Lumsden couldn't have been shot on the road, either, because in thatcase the bullet would have gone straight through him--unless the manwho fired the shot knelt down in the road and fired upwards at him,which is not at all likely. Furthermore, Lumsden was shot in the backlow down, and the bullet travelled upwards and came out above theheart. Therefore we've got to try and visualize a scene which fitsin with these circumstances. That's why I have been looking at thisbank so carefully. Let us suppose that Lumsden was walking along theroad and encountered his would-be slayer. Lumsden saw the revolver,and turned to run. He thought his best chance of escape was across thedowns, so he dashed towards the bank and sprang up it. He had almostreached the top when the shot was fired. That seems to me the mostpossible way of accounting for the upward course of the bullet."

  "I see," said Gillett, nodding his head. "Brett might have fired fromhis seat in his car, in that case."

  "Precisely," returned Crewe. "But the weak point in my argument is thatso far we have not reached a point in the bank which is capable ofbeing scaled."

  "A little further along it narrows and is less steep," said Marsland,who had been listening intently to Crewe's remarks. "Come, and I willshow you."

  He led the way round the next bend of the road, and pointed out a spotwhere the branches of the trees which formed the wind screen hung downover the slope, which was much less steep. It was a comparatively easymatter to scramble up the bank at this point, and pull oneself up on tothe downs by the aid of the overhanging branches.

  Crewe made the experiment, and reached the top, without difficulty; sodid Gillett. Marsland and Sergeant Westaway remained standing in theroad below, watching the proceedings.

  The downs from the top of the bank swept gradually upwards to thehighest point of that part of the coast: a landmark known as theGiants' Knoll, a lofty hill surrounded by a ring of dark fir trees,which gave the bald summit the appearance of a monk's tonsure. Thishill commanded an extensive view of the Channel and the surroundingcountry-side on a clear day. But Detective Gillett was not interestedin the Giant's Knoll. He was busily engaged examining the brushwoodand dwarf trees forming the wind screen at the point where they hadscrambled up. Suddenly he turned and beckoned to Crewe with an air ofsome excitement.

  "Look here!" he said, as Crewe approached. "This seems to bear out yourtheory." He pointed to the branch of a stunted beechtree, which hadbeen torn away from the parent trunk, but still hung to it, witheredand lifeless, attached by a strip of bark.

  "If Brett shot Lumsden as he was scrambling up the bank, Lumsden mighteasily have torn this branch off in his dying struggle--the instinct toclutch at something--as he fell back into the road."

  "It's possible, but it's not a very convincing clue by itself,"returned Crewe. "It might just as easily have been torn off by theviolence of the storm. The thing is to follow it up. If Lumsden wasshot at this point the bullet which went through him may have lodged inone of the trees."

  Gillett had begun to search among the scattered trees at the top ofthe bank very much like an intelligent pointer hunting for game. Heexamined each tree closely from the bole upwards. Suddenly he gave ashout of triumph.

  "Look here, Crewe."

  He had come to a standstill at a tree which stood a few yards on thedowns away from the wind screen--a small stunted oak with low andtwisted branches. Fair in the centre of its gnarled trunk was a smallhole, which Gillett was hacking at with a small penknife. As Crewereached his side, he triumphantly extracted a bullet which had beenpartly flattened by contact with the tree.

  "By Jove!" he exclaimed. "What a piece of luck! What a piece of luck!"

  He held the bullet in the palm of his left hand, turning it over andover with the penknife which he held in his right. He was so absorbedin his discovery, that he did not notice Crewe stoop and pick up somesmall object which lay in the grass a few yards from the tree.