CHAPTER XXV
THE search for the body began in the morning, at low tide. InspectorMurchison had come from Staveley to superintend, and from the landingplace he and Sergeant Westaway directed the operations of theAshlingsea fishermen who had been engaged to make the search.
Some of the townspeople who had walked up from the town to witness theproceedings thought that the body would be swept out to sea and neverrecovered, but the fishermen, with a deeper knowledge of a treacherouspiece of sea from which they wrested their living, shook their heads.If the gentleman had fallen in near the deep water of the landing-placethe undercurrent might have carried him out into the Channel, but therewere too many reefs and sand-banks running out from the headland, andtoo many cross-currents, to let a body be carried out to sea.
They gave it as their opinion that the body would be found before hightide, either in one of the shallows near the big sand-bank, a quarterof a mile out, or in one of the pools between the reefs whose jagged,pointed edges showed above the surface of the sea nearer the headland.
The sea lay grey and still under an October sky of dull silver. Theboats, as they came from Ashlingsea, put in at the landing-place toreceive the instructions of the police officers standing there,and then started to search. There were two rowers in each boat, andstanding at the stern was a man holding the rope to which the grapplingirons were attached. Slowly and mechanically the boats were rowed outsome distance to sea, and then rowed back again. The men in the sternwatched the ropes in their hands for the first sign of tautness whichwould indicate that the grappling irons had hooked in to something.Frequently one of the irons caught on a piece of rock, and when thishappened the boat had to be eased back until the irons could bereleased. The boats searching further out, near the sand-bank, usednets instead of grappling irons.
Crewe, who had driven over in his car from Staveley, after watchingthis scene for some time, turned back to the road in order to put uphis car at Cliff Farm. Marsland had not accompanied him. The young manhad motored over with his uncle, who, after hearing from his nephewa full account of the events of the previous night, had insisted onparticipating in the search for the missing man. Sir George Granville,on arriving at the headland, had scrambled down the cliff with someidea of assisting in the search, and at the present moment was standingon the landing-place with Inspector Murchison, gesticulating to therowers, and pointing out likely spots which he thought had escapedtheir attention.
Crewe, on regaining his car, found Marsland leaning against it,contemplating the scene before him with indifferent eyes. He noddedbriefly to the detective, and then averted his eyes. Crewe explainedhis intention regarding the car, and Marsland said he might as well godown with him. He got up into the front seat with the same listlessnessthat had characterized his previous actions, but did not speak againtill they reached the farm.
At the house Crewe and Marsland met Detective Gillett, who had gonethere to store his bicycle preparatory to watching the operations ofthe fishermen searching for the body.
"I have had a pretty busy time since you came along to us last night,"he said, referring to the visit of Crewe and Marsland to Ashlingseapolice station to report the fall of Brett over the cliff. "We gotthe money--L12,000 altogether. There was L8,000 in the motor-boat andL4,000 here in the bottom of the old clock case, as you said."
"What about the girl?" asked Crewe. "Was she there?"
Detective Gillett looked in the direction of Marsland before replying.
The young man, with the same air of detachment that had marked hisprevious actions, had wandered some distance down the gravel-walk, andwas carelessly tossing pebbles from the path at some object which wasnot apparent to the two men in the porch.
"I found her searching along the cliffs with a lantern," said Gillett,in a low voice. "She was looking for Brett; she told me that she hadheard a scream and she thought he must have fallen over accidentally. Ididn't enlighten her. Poor thing, she is half-demented. She has got itinto her head that she is responsible for some document or paper whichBrett had given into her safe-keeping, and which she handed back tohim last night at his request before he went to the farm to look forthe money."
"Doesn't she know what is in the paper?" asked Crewe quickly.
"Her mind is in such a state that it is useless to question her. Shekeeps repeating that it was to be opened in the event of his death. Itwas only after great difficulty I ascertained from her that she hadgiven the paper back to Brett last night. I am anxious that Brett'sbody should be recovered in order to ascertain what its contents are."
"I should think the girl would have a fair idea of the contents."
"I think so too, but she is not in a fit state to be questioned atpresent, and may not be for some time. The strain has been too much forher. In my opinion she is in for a severe illness."
"Where is she now?"
"At the station. Of course, I had to take her into custody on a chargeof attempting to steal this money. Whether the public prosecutor willgo on with the charge or whether he will bring any other charge of amore serious nature against her remains to be seen."
Marsland, who had abandoned his stone throwing, had strolled back tothe porch in time to hear Gillett's last remarks.
"It is a strange thing to find a girl of her type in love with such ascoundrel," he said.
"Quite a common thing," said Detective Gillett, speaking from theexperience of the seamy side of life which comes under the attention ofScotland Yard. "There are some women brought up in good surroundingswho seem to be attracted irresistibly to scoundrels. You never knowwhat a woman will do. By the by, it is a good thing, Mr. Marsland, thatyou did not hit him when you fired at him last night. If you had killedhim I should have had to arrest you, and the case would have had to goto a jury. Of course, there is no doubt how it would have ended, but itwould have been an unpleasant experience for you."
"I shouldn't have minded that," was the young man's answer.
Gillett regarded this declaration as bravado, and merely continued:
"As it is, you are virtually responsible for his death in frighteninghim over the cliff, but the law takes no account of that."
"I should prefer to have shot him," said Marsland.
"Ah, well, I must get away and see what they are doing," said theScotland Yard detective, who obviously disliked Marsland's attitude. "Isuppose I'll see you again during the day?"
When he had gone off towards the cliffs Crewe turned to Marsland andsaid:
"I am going to have another look at the place--now that this case isconcluded."
He entered the house and Marsland followed him. The interior lookedmore sombre and deserted than ever. The fortnight which had elapsedsince the tragedy--during which time the place had been leftuntenanted--had intensified the air of desolation and neglect thatbrooded over the empty rooms, had thickened the dust on the moth-eatencarpets and heavy old furniture, and gave an uncanny air to thestaring eyes of the stuffed animals which hung on the wall in glasscases--dead pets of dead occupants of Cliff Farm.
Crewe and Marsland looked through the house, entered the room where thegrandfather clock stood, and Crewe pointed out the mark of the bulletwhich Marsland had fired at Brett the previous night. In his excitementhe had fired too high, and the bullet had gone into the wall abouteight feet from the floor, between two photographs which hung on thewall. One of these photographs was of James Lumsden, the eccentric oldowner of Cliff Farm, who had broken his neck by falling downstairs. Theother was Frank Lumsden, whose dead body had been found in the house byMarsland thirteen days before.
"That was the second time I missed Brett," said Marsland, staring atthe bullet hole in the wall between the photographs.
"The second time?" echoed Crewe. "Do you mean that he was the burglarat whom you fired a week ago?"
"Yes. I came into the room just as he was getting out of the window.I caught only a glimpse of him but I knew him instantly. I had apresentiment that he was near and that is why I happened to
be wearingmy revolver."
"What was his object in breaking into the house?"
"He wanted to be sure that I was the man he had to fear just as Iwanted to be sure that he was the man I wanted to kill. An hour beforeI had broken into his rooms at 41 Whitethorn Gardens, for the purposeof making sure about him. I saw his photograph there, and that is all Iwanted."
"And it was you and not he who was in the house when Mrs. Penfieldcalled out that the police were in the house?"
"Yes, that was I. I didn't understand why she called out, but it servedas a warning to me that she expected him. And so when I got back to myuncle's I got my revolver out of the drawer. The first I heard of himbeing in England was when Inspector Murchison told us, although I wasprepared in a way after finding that Lumsden had been here. Murchisonspoke of him as Brett, but I did not know him by that name. So to makesure I got Mrs. Penfield out of the house by a hoax on the telephoneand broke into the place in her absence. I did not know that it was youwho came back with her."
"But his object in breaking into your room was probably to get somearticle of yours which would help to bring suspicion against you withregard to Lumsden's death. No doubt it was he who took the glasseswhich were subsequently found in the well. As you lost a pair ofglasses in the storm and arrived at the farm without them, Miss Maynardprobably mentioned the fact to Brett. Did you tell her that you hadlost your glasses that night?"
"I forget. Oh, yes, I did! I mentioned it when we were looking at thecryptogram on the stairs."
"He was certainly an enterprising scoundrel."
"Don't you wish to know why I wanted to kill him?" asked the young manafter a pause.
"I do, very much."
"I feel that I must speak about it," he said. "And you are the only manto whom I can. You heard Murchison tell us that Lumsden and Brett, ashe called himself, had been tortured by the Germans but that they gaveaway no information. That is their version; let me tell you the truthabout them. Both of them belonged to my company in France. Lumsden hadbeen under me for four or five months and I had nothing against him.He was a fairly good soldier and I thought I could depend upon him.Powell--or Brett--had come over with a recent draft. One night when Iwas holding a short advanced trench to the south of Armentieres I sentLumsden and Brett out on a listening patrol. The trench we were holdingwas reached through a sap: it was the first of four or five that werebeing dug as jumping off places for an attack on the German trenches.
"It was just about midnight that I sent Lumsden and Brett out andthey ought to have been back by 2 a. m. It was the middle of summerand dawn commenced about 3 a. m. Either they had been captured or hadlost their way and were waiting for dawn. When it was light enough tosee the landscape, two figures appeared on the parapet of a Germantrench in front about three hundred yards away. They were calling andgesticulating to us. At that distance it was impossible to make outwhat they were saying, but from their gestures we gathered that theGermans had deserted the trench and it was ours if we liked to go overand occupy it.
"It came as such a surprise that none of us stopped to think; but ifwe had stopped no one would have thought of treachery. The men wentover the parapet--every one of them. It was a race--they were laughingand joking as to who should be there first. And when we were withinforty yards or so there was a volley from rifles and machine guns.The bullets seemed to come from every quarter. The men were takenby surprise and they dropped almost before they had time to realizewhat had happened. I was one of the first to go down but it was only abullet in the leg. As I lay where I fell I was struck by another bulletin the shoulder. Then I crawled to a shell hole for shelter. I foundseven of my men there, all of whom had been hit.
"We were not there long before the Germans commenced to lob handgrenades into the shell hole. How I escaped death I do not know: it wasan awful experience to see those murderous bombs coming down and to bepowerless to escape from them. I saw several of my poor men with limbsblown off dying in agony, and from what I learned subsequently much thesame thing had happened in other shell holes where men had crawled forshelter. Out of my company of 82--we were not at full strength, and Ihad only three second lieutenants besides myself--I was the only one tocome through alive. And I lay in a state of semi-collapse in the shellhole for two days before being rescued when our men drove the Germansout of their trenches."
"A dreadful experience," said Crewe sympathetically.
"These two miserable loathsome creatures, Brett and Lumsden, to savetheir own lives, had beckoned my company into the trap. They had beencaptured by the Germans, and no doubt were tortured in order to makethem do what they did. But as British soldiers they should have diedunder torture rather than be guilty of treachery. The memory of how mypoor men died without having a chance to defend themselves haunts meday and night. I hear their voices--their curses as they realized thatthey were the victims of a horrible act of treachery, their cries andmoans in the agony of death."
He sat down on the upturned clock case and buried his face in hishands.
CHAPTER XXVI
"AM I the first man to whom you have told this story?" asked Crewe, ina gentle voice.
"Yes," said Marsland. "It is not a story that I would care to tell tomany. It is not a story that reflects any credit on me--my companywiped out through treachery on the part of two of my men."
"But when you came back to England, wouldn't it have been better tohave reported the matter to the military authorities and have had Brettand Lumsden tried by court martial?"
"I did not know they were in England until I came down here: I thoughtthat if they were not dead they were prisoners in Germany. I have nowitnesses for a court martial, and after being off my head in thehospital for a couple of months I doubt if a court martial wouldbelieve my story. Counsel for the defence would say I was sufferingfrom delusions. And it would have driven me mad if such a scoundrelas Brett had been acquitted by a court martial for want of evidence.Besides, the satisfaction of having him shot was not to be comparedwith the satisfaction of shooting him down myself just as if he were adog."
"But it is a terribly grave thing to take human life--to send a man tohis death without trial."
"I have seen so many men die, Crewe, that death seems to me but alittle thing. If a man deserves death, if he knows himself that hedeserves it a hundredfold, why waste time in proving it to others? IfI had shot Brett I should doubtless have had to stand my trial formurder. But if the police searched all over England could they havefound a jury who would convict me if I saw fit to tell my story in thedock? Told by a man in the dock it would carry conviction; but told bya man in the witness-box at a court martial it might not."
"I believe there is some truth in that," said Crewe, in a firm, quietvoice. "But it is a matter which must be put to the test."
Marsland stood up and fixed on him an intent gaze.
"What do you mean?" he said. "If Brett is dead he died by accident--bya fall over the cliff. The law cannot touch me."
The detective did not speak, but his eyes held the young man's glanceintently for a moment, and then traveled slowly to the portrait ofFrank Lumsden on the wall.
"I mean that," he said slowly.
"Do you know all?" Marsland asked, in a voice which was little morethan a whisper.
"I know that it was you who shot Frank Lumsden."
"Yes, I shot him!" The young man sprang to his feet and uttered thewords in a loud, excited tone which rang through the empty house. "Andso little do I regret what I have done, that if I had the chance torecall the past I would not falter--I would shoot him again."
"Sit down again," said Crewe kindly. "Do not excite yourself. You and Ican discuss this thing quietly whatever else is to happen afterwards."
"How long have you known that I did it?" asked Marsland, after a pause.
"It was not until yesterday that I felt quite certain. What annoysme--what offends my personal pride--is that my impetuous young friendGillett picked you out as the right man before I did. He was wro
ngin his facts, wrong in his deductions, wrong in his theories, andhopelessly wrong in his reconstruction of the crime. He had no morechance of proving a case against you than against the first man hemight pick out blindfolded from a crowd, and yet he was right. True, hecame to the conclusion that he was wrong when I put him right as to thecircumstances under which the tragedy occurred, but that doesn't soothemy pride altogether. If there is one lesson I have learned from thiscase, it is that humility is a virtue that becomes us all.
"But, after all, I do not think I have been so very long in solving theproblem," the detective continued. "It is only thirteen days since thetragedy took place, and from the first I saw it was a complicated case.I never ruled out the possibility of your being the right man afterBrett and Miss Maynard tried to sheet home Lumsden's death to you. I donot think she was fully in Brett's confidence--in fact, it is fairlyobvious that he would not tell her the story of his treachery. But heknew that you had shot Lumsden and she caught at his conviction withoutbeing fully convinced herself. Brett's conduct was inconsistent withguilt. But it was consistent with the knowledge that Lumsden had methis death at your hands and that he himself would share the same fateif you encountered him.
"I am under the impression that he reached Lumsden a few minutes afteryou rode away from the spot, and that Lumsden was then alive. Probablyhe was able to breathe out your name to Brett. The latter helped thedying man into the motor-car and started to drive back to Staveleyfor medical aid, and after passing the thatched cottage on the righthe became aware that Lumsden had collapsed and was past human aid. Sohe decided to take the body to the farm, and in order to disappear,without drawing immediate suspicion on himself, he tried to indicatethat Lumsden was shot in the house.
"Then he disappeared because he was afraid of you. If he had got youunder lock and key he might have risked coming into the open and givingevidence against you. But I rather fancy that his intention was toget away to a foreign country with old Lumsden's money, and then putthe police on your track by giving the true circumstances under whichLumsden was shot."
"Did he write to you?" asked Marsland.
"No."
"I was always afraid he would. What put you on my track?"
"The conviction that you had warned this girl to clear out as Gilletthad obtained some awkward facts against her. You were the only personwho had any object in warning her, though Gillett thinks you had evenless reason to do so than Brett. I regarded you merely as an averagehuman being and not actuated by Quixotic impulses. I remembered thatshe had tried to sheet home the crime to you and therefore you hadlittle cause to be grateful to her--so far I am in accord with Gillett.But if you knew that she had nothing to do with the tragedy, and if youfelt that Gillett's close questioning might lead to information fromBrett which would tell against you, it was common sense on your part toget her out of the way."
"It is wonderful how you have divined my mind and the line of thought Ifollowed," said the young man. His even tones were an indication thathe was regaining his composure.
"Next, there was your attempt to kill Brett instead of helping me tocapture him. That told against you. True, it indicated that you hadwhat you regarded as a just cause of deadly hatred. But if you wereunder the belief that Brett had killed Lumsden it would have suited youbetter to capture him than to shoot him. Your shot at Brett showed methat you knew it was not Brett who had killed Lumsden, and also thatyou feared if Brett were arrested he would charge you with shootingLumsden."
"Go on," said the young man breathlessly.
"There is little more to tell," said Crewe. "I had to ask Gillettyesterday not to refer to the doubts I had expressed to him regardingBrett's guilt. I was afraid he might do so in your presence and thatwould have put you on your guard. The final proof came when Gillettdiscovered the bullet in the tree where Lumsden fell. At the momentGillett found the bullet I picked up these in the grass."
Crewe produced from his waistcoat pocket a pair of eye-glasses.
"So that is where I lost them!" exclaimed Marsland. "It never occurredto me before. I have no recollection of their dropping off--I suppose Iwas too excited to notice they had gone."
"Your meeting with him was accidental?" said Crewe.
"Quite. I had been out riding on the downs and when I struck the road Iwasn't sure which way I had to go to get home. I saw a man coming alongthe road and I rode up to him. It was Lumsden. I tell you, Crewe, hewas terrified at the sight of me--no doubt he thought that I had beenkilled in France. As I was dismounting and tying up my horse he pleadedfor his life. He grovelled at my feet in the dirt. But I didn't wastemuch time or pity. I told him that he had earned death a hundredfold,and that the only thing I was sorry for was that I could kill him onlyonce. He sprang up the bank in the hope of getting away, but I broughthim down with a single shot. I saw that he was done for and I left himgasping in the agony of death. I had no pity--I had seen so many mendie, and I had seen my company of good men go to their deaths becauseof his treachery.
"I rode back over the downs, and caring little which way I went I lostmy way and was overtaken by the storm. Eventually I saw the farm andwent there for shelter. And upstairs I found the dead body of thisman Lumsden. It was the strangest experience of my life. I did notknow what to think--I could not make out how the body had got there.And when Miss Maynard asked me to say nothing to the police about herhaving been there I thought it was the least I could do for her. I knewthat whatever errand had brought her there she had nothing to do withhis death."
There was a long pause during which the two men looked at one another.
"You think that I had just cause for shooting him?" said Marsland.
"I think you had no right to take upon yourself the responsibility ofsaying 'The law will fail to punish these men and therefore I willpunish them without invoking the aid of the law!'"
"I do not regret what I have done. As I said before, if I had to gothrough it again I would not hesitate to shoot him. Perhaps it isbecause I have lived so much with death while I was at the front thathuman life does not seem to me a sacred thing. These two men deserveddeath if ever men did."
"You believe that no jury would convict you?" said Crewe.
"I do not see how a jury of patriotic Englishmen could do so. But Ido not care about that. I have finished with my life; I do not carewhat becomes of me. When I recall what I have been through over therein France, when I think of the thousands of brave men who have diedagonized deaths, when I see again the shattered mutilated bodies of mymen in the shell-hole with me--I want to forget that I have ever lived.All that remains to be done is that you should hand me over to thepolice."
"That is a responsibility which I should like to be spared," said Crewegravely. "I think we may leave it to Brett."
"To Brett!" exclaimed Marsland, springing to his feet again in renewedexcitement. "Do you think he has escaped death; do you think he has gotaway?"
"I feel sure he was killed. But if his body is recovered the policewill learn from it that it was you who shot Lumsden."
"How will they find that out?"
"The girl Maynard has told them that he had an important paper in hispossession when he was drowned and that is why they are so anxious torecover the body. They do not know the contents of the document but itis an easy matter to divine them. Let us look at this matter in the wayin which Brett must have looked at it after thinking it over carefully.He knew that you had shot Lumsden; he knew that if he met you his lifewould not be worth a moment's purchase. The shot you fired at him whenhe was breaking into your room at Staveley was an emphatic warning onthat point, if he needed any warning.
"Do you think that he would not take steps to bring his death andLumsden's death home to you in the event of his being shot down? Ifhe had got out of the country, as no doubt he had hoped to do, hewould have put the police on your track for shooting Lumsden. If thepolice recover Brett's body, they will find on it a document settingforth Brett's account of how Lumsden met his death. No doubt his a
ndLumsden's treachery will be glossed over, but your share in the tragedywill be plainly put."
"I overlooked all this," said Marsland quietly. "Let us walk across tothe cliffs and see what they are doing."
They left the farm and walked slowly towards the cliffs, each immersedin his own thoughts. There were a few groups of people on the road, andanother group at the top of the hill. Suddenly there arose a shout, andthe people on the road started running towards the cliffs.
"They've found it!" The cry of the people on the beach below wascarried up to the cliffs, and Crewe and Marsland, looking down, saw thefishermen in one of the boats close to the cliff lift from the waterthe dripping, stiffened figure of a man which had been brought to thesurface by the grappling irons.
THE END
* * * * *
Transcriber's Notes:
Punctuation errors repaired.
Page 38, "parnership" changed to "partnership" (junior partnership in)
Page 57, "that" changed to "than" (than the one in)
Page 133, "fadded" changed to "faded" (The faded wrappings)
Page 197, "gudge" changed to "grudge" (grudge--a man whom)
Page 207, "particulary" changed to "particularly" (and particularlywith)
Page 209, "Gillet" changed to "Gillett" (said Gillett confidently)
Page 270, "writting" changed to "writing" (Babylon by writing)
The Mystery of the Downs Page 25