by Vernon Loder
“What’s up now, Joan?” Wint asked, coming up. “More trouble?”
She explained briefly, and he nodded assent. “What a man! Well, I got through to Parfitt all right. Mrs. Hayes is in gaol. Bow is at Cwyll, and is trying to get bail for her. He has seen a solicitor, and asked him to appear for Mrs. Hayes before the magistrates, and Parfitt says Bow is also going up to town to see his own solicitor about counsel.”
“What a beastly business for him,” said Joan, sympathetically. “He will be distracted. I am sure they were very much in love with each other.”
“There is just a chance that he may be cited as an accessory,” said Wint. “Parfitt did not say so definitely, but I got a hint that it was so.”
Chapter XXII
A House Divided
“WHAT a horrible complication.” said Joan, when Wint had told her all Parfitt had said to him. “Our failing to find the gaff, too, seems to be a point against Mrs. Hayes. Does he think she came on it somehow and used it?”
“The theory is that she may have done. That would equally apply to Bow. We believe that he and she were both decent people, but I suppose the police may say he was the wife’s lover, and go on the assumption that they conspired together to make away with him.”
“Are the police doing anything more?”
“Yes, there’s a small army of them coming down, to go over the river banks with a fine-tooth comb. Parfitt’s fair enough. He didn’t sound too confident when he spoke about Mrs. Hayes. I can’t help feeling that she impressed him with her frankness.”
So far as they both knew, their search with Davis for the lost gaff had not helped Parfitt in his investigations. In reality, Parfitt had begun again to consider the question of the gaff after Wint had spoken to him over the telephone.
Up to this point, it had been assumed that the gaff which killed Hayes was one owned by an angler, who had killed Hayes, or dropped by a local fisherman, and picked up by the murderer, either Mrs. Hayes, or Edward Bow.
It now occurred to the Inspector that the fact that Hayes had not brought a gaff to Pengellert did not prove that he had none. There were salmon in the Cwyll, but it was really a sea-trout river, and this was Hayes’s first visit to it.
There was a chance that a visit to Mrs. Hayes’s English home might give him information on that point. Still, he could question her without leaving Cwyll, or wire to the servants in charge putting the question.
But a visit to her house would not only decide if Hayes had a gaff, and if that gaff was still in the house. It would enable him to hear something that bore on the mystery.
Hayes apparently went on fishing excursions alone. Was it the fact that Bow had not seen Mrs. Hayes after her marriage until he came upon her by chance at the Horn Hotel? Was it possible that Bow had gone down at any time to see her in her husband’s absence?
The answers to those questions would confirm or deny the credibility of an important witness. A man who had kept away from the woman, with whom he was still in love, after she had married another man, was not the type to conspire to murder the husband. The fact suggested a certain moral scrupulousness.
On the other hand, if Bow had been meeting Mrs. Hayes secretly, he was a liar, and something of a hypocrite.
Hayes had not been the type of man to win the love or respect of anyone. His servants, Parfitt thought, would be more likely to take Mrs. Hayes’s side. Rudeness to those he thought his inferiors was as marked a trait in the character of the late Mr. Hayes as was a cold superciliousness with his equals. If there was an intrigue, Parfitt could hardly imagine the servants rushing to Mr. Hayes with the information that he had a rival.
Parfitt made up his mind to go, visited the Chief Constable at his home, and talked the matter over with him. Mr. Rigby was impressed. If, later on, it was decided to cite Bow as an accessory, it would be necessary to know the exact relations between him and Mrs. Hayes.
“I hope the magistrates will sit the day after tomorrow,” he told the Inspector. “I am going to oppose bail. I think the case is too serious for that. Could you manage this job to-morrow?”
“Leaving by the early train I can manage it, sir.”
“Right. Then carry on. Go home and have a rest now. I’ll inform the Superintendent. If Hayes had a gaff at home, and it is not there, we shall know that she must have brought it here in her car. If she did, we’ll find it.”
Parfitt went home, and to bed. He left very early next morning, and travelled to a little town near which the Hayes had lived. It was only three-quarters of a mile from the station, a largish country-house, in five acres of grounds, and Parfitt went there afoot.
It was obvious that the parlour-maid who opened to him was unaware that her mistress was in prison, equally obvious that the death of Mr. Hayes had not caused any deep sorrow in his household. So far, the Inspector had guessed rightly.
“I am an inspector, engaged in the investigations with regard to the late Mr. Hayes,” he told her. “I want to ask you a few questions.”
The girl had never seen a live detective-inspector before, but she looked interested rather than alarmed, as she asked him to come into a sitting-room and gave him a chair.
“What’s your name, may I ask?” he began, taking out his note-book and pencil.
“Jane Hope,” she replied promptly. “Unmarried, and twenty!” she added, with a twinkle. “Anything else?”
He smiled. It was well to keep on good terms with the servants if he was to get any useful information.
“That won’t be for long, Miss Hope, I’m sure,” he said. “I expect you are particular, as you have a right to be.”
She thought him a very nice policeman, and smiled back. “I’m the parlour-maid here, if that helps, Inspector.”
“Been here long?”
“Four years. My sister is cook. Then there is two housemaids, Doris and Ellen.”
“You’ll do for the present, Miss Hope. I understand that the late Mr. Hayes was frequently away fishing.”
“Often he was.”
“By himself?”
Jane grinned. “Yes, he was. He never took her. And good for her, too!”
“Oh, you did not like Mrs. Hayes?”
“Me? Of course I do! All of us does. I meant it was nice for her not having to go always with that——” she stopped. I suppose I oughtn’t to say that, though.”
“You are suggesting that there was no love lost between Mr. and Mrs. Hayes?”
“There wasn’t! None of us could understand how she put up so long with the old pig. Why, there I am again!”
“But she had friends, of course—company. I presume that your mistress saw people when he was away.”
“Well, she did, of course. Her friends wouldn’t come when he was here—only old Miss Gee. She stood up to him proper.”
Parfitt felt that he was getting on. “I see. Very natural. Now I want to hear all about the relations of Mr. and Mrs. Hayes, so perhaps you will give me the names of the friends who visited the house when Mr. Hayes was away.”
He watched her face closely as he put the question, but the girl did not show any signs of embarrassment.
“What for?”
“I may have to interview them.”
“Ow. I see. Well, get your little book ready. There’s about twenty.”
She reeled off a long list of names, without a pause, and when she had finished, Parfitt thanked her.
“Only three men among them?” he added.
“Two men, and Mr. Bailey Himp; who’s a bit of an old woman!” she said, beginning to enjoy herself when she saw that her sallies were not checked by the Inspector.
He laughed. “What about Mr. Bow? Have you forgotten him?”
Her stare was genuine enough. “Mr. Bow? Don’t know him.”
“Mr. Edward Bow. Didn’t he come here when Mr. Hayes was away?”
“Not unless I was asleep all the time. Never saw him or heard of him.”
“Sure?”
“Hones
t.”
“Have you been here, not on holiday, on every occasion when Mr. Hayes went away fishing?”
“Since I’ve been here, I was, yes.”
“Did Mrs. Hayes ever go away when he was away?”
“Not that I remember.”
“Now look here, Miss Hope,” said Parfitt, becoming suddenly grave and grim. “You may have to give evidence on oath to what you have said. You are quite sure that that is the simple truth?”
She looked indignant. “Call me a liar?”
“Very well. You understand the position now, and you are ready to swear if necessary that Mr. Bow never came here?”
She tossed her head. He was not such a nice policeman after all.
“No, nor Mr. Arrow neither!” she retorted. “Nor Mr. Bowstring!”
“That’ll do!” said Parfitt sternly. “Send your sister to me at once. The cook!”
“I will, but don’t you call her a liar! She’s got more temper than me!” said the girl hotly, and flounced out.
But the cook told him no more than Jane had done, and stoutly denied having seen a Mr. Bow. Then Doris came in, to tell the same story; and, finally, the under-housemaid, Ellen, arrived to be interrogated.
Ellen was small and nervous, and only too ready to give any information he required. Parfitt did not attempt to put her at her ease. There are some witnesses who cannot tell the truth unless they are alarmed, some who wilfully tell lies if harried.
“What about this Mr. Bow who was a friend of Mrs. Hayes?” he began. “When was he here last?”
Ellen stared. “No Mr. Bow comes here, sir,” she said. “Not here he can’t; it being an odd name.”
“In other words, you would remember it if you had heard it before,” said the Inspector, who saw that she was a truthful young woman. “Well, that must be a mistake. You know your master was murdered, don’t you?”
“I heard so, sir.”
“Do you remember when he went away this last time to fish? Do you know who packed for him?”
“Yes, sir. Doris did.”
“All his things?”
“Not his fishing things, sir. He never allowed anyone to touch those. And we wasn’t to dust the room where he kept them.”
“Do you know what he took with him, rods, in a case, and a gaff?”
“I don’t know what a gaff is, sir.”
“Well, it’s a kind of large hook, fastened to a stick or shaft.”
“I’ve seen the large hook, sir, but not the stick. But he kept those in what he called his snuggery. It’s upstairs, sir. Shall I show it to you?”
“Yes, please,” said Parfitt, and was taken upstairs to a small room, which contained rod-cases and cabinets, tackle-boxes, and a couple of chairs.
The Inspector examined the cabinets, and the rods in them. There were two empty spaces, obviously those for the rods he had taken with him on his last trip, but there was no sign of a gaff.
“Did Mrs. Hayes come up here before she left, Ellen?” Parfitt asked.
“Yes, she did, sir. She come up here and came down again, and she said that the room would have to be cleared and tidied soon, and I said Master would never allow it, and she said she would give orders about it when she came back.”
“Did she usually override Mr. Hayes’s orders?”
“No, sir; never that I knew. Mistress is an angel, I say.”
This was fierce for the timid Ellen, who left it to be inferred that devil was the perfect synonym for Mr. Hayes.
“But she proposed to have this room of his tidied—H’m!”
In a corner of the room, there stood an implement which attracted Parfitt’s attention. It was a shaped shaft, with a sort of spring loop on top, and a cord attached.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“Don’t know, sir, one of Master’s fishing things.”
“Go down and ask any of the others if they know what it is.”
“Yes, sir.”
But Parfitt, left to himself, could make nothing of the thing. Then Ellen came back with:
“Please, sir, Jane says Master called it a ‘tailer.’”
Light broke in upon his mind. A salmon is one of few fish that can be landed by being gripped by the root of the tail without slipping from the hands of its captor. He saw now that the loop on the end of the shaft was slipped over a salmon’s tail, and tightened by means of the cord.
“Has he had this long?”
“Since I come three years ago, sir.”
“Where did he keep the gaff you saw?”
Ellen might not be allowed to dust, but she had undoubtedly looked into various boxes. She went to one now, and lifted the lid.
“In here, sir.”
“But that’s only a foot long?”
“There’s three of them here still,” said Ellen helpfully.
He looked, recovered his sense of humour, and laughed. Conger-hooks, for sea fishing! “What I mean is a hook six times as big as that. But never mind. Did Mr. Hayes ever go to Scotland?”
“Last autumn, sir, and sent the mistress back a salmon.”
“Did he take this tailer with him?”
“Yes, sir. I saw him with it.”
“Quite sure?”
“Yes, sir. I didn’t know what it was for. I thought it might be some kind of rod.”
Parfitt had drawn blank. It was evident that Hayes did not use a gaff. The only result of his visit to the house had been partially to confirm Mrs. Hayes’s and Edward Bow’s statements that they had not met since her marriage.
But what Ellen had said about the forbidden tidying of the room stuck in his mind. According to the servants, Mrs. Hayes had shown admirable patience in dealing with her disagreeable husband. Why, then, had she suddenly taken it into her head to decide that her husband’s cherished sanctum should be invaded and cleaned?
This seemed a small and indefinite thing on which to build a theory, but in detective work the imponderables count for very much more than is commonly imagined, and especially in a case where the evidence is circumstantial. There guilt or innocence turns upon character, habits, changes of conduct, slight in themselves, but necessary bricks in the erection of the pyramid of proof.
As Parfitt journeyed back to Wales in the train, he was trying to collate and classify his thoughts, and like so many others, he found this easier to do when he put his ideas on paper.
Sitting in a corner of an empty third-class smoker, he opened his note-book, and began to write rapidly.
“MRS. HAYES. Until recently exhibited amazing patience where her husband was concerned. For years, apparently, to take a small example, he would not allow the servants to tidy or dust his snuggery.
“Shortly prior to her sudden dash to Wales, she instructed the under-housemaid that the room would shortly be seen to; ‘cleaned up’ is the impression she gave the maid.
“Mr. Hayes’s infidelity had given her far more frequent and just cause for anger, but she bore with that. Why worry about such a small detail as the untidiness of his room? Was this resolution of hers a sign that she intended to make a stand against her husband’s petty tyranny?”
or:
“Was the remark made to the under-housemaid because she was aware (Mrs. Hayes) that her life with Hayes was shortly coming to an end?”
Parfitt read what he had written, and wrinkled his brows. He refilled his pipe, smoked reflectively for a minute, and began again:
“Q. Taking it as an hypothesis that Mrs. Hayes intended to rid herself of her husband, would she have made what appears to be an incautious remark to a maid?
“A. It is quite possible; for the following reasons: She hoped that the murder would not be discovered as her work. She could not know that I would interrogate her maids, who could not be supposed to have any evidence bearing on the crime. She might not think that the statement would be interpreted as I have interpreted it, tentatively. She may have made the remark in irritation; as we all make unwise remarks on occasion.”
&
nbsp; Parfitt thought that was logical enough, but flawed logic is too easily admitted unless the amateur logician submits his arguments to a close analysis. The detective officer has too much experience of defending counsel to pass an unbaked theory. He read his notes over three times, and then frowned.
“It’s just possible that counsel would see that point,” he mused. “It ought to be put before the prosecutor, anyway.”
So he began to write once more.
“(1) As Mr. Hayes was killed with a gaff, and there is no proof that any other weapon was brought down by Mrs. Hayes (unless she took a gaff with her when she set out) it cannot be said that she premeditated murder. In that event, her remark to the maid has no significance.
“(2) If she secured a gaff before she left home, or if it can be proved that she did bring a weapon with her, both unlikely contingencies, as I see now, the case is different. She intended to murder her husband, and spoke to Ellen thoughtlessly of the time when she would have the house to herself.
“Against that is to be put the absence of the other weapon, and the unlikelihood of Mrs. Hayes buying or borrowing a gaff knowing that her husband would be killed with it, when the lender or seller might come forward to mention the transaction.
“Memo: Inquire if Bow could have given her a gaff.”
Parfitt read the last notes, did not see how he could improve on them, put away his book, and began to read his paper.
Chapter XXIII
The Magistrates
THE country magistrate is a very necessary person, and useful within limits, but as a rule he is not the man best adapted to unriddle murder problems of any complexity.
The Cwyll magistrates, before whom Mrs. Hayes was brought next day, were, to a man, excellent citizens, and capable of administering the petty justice that deals with poachers, road-hogs, school-defaulters, and rowdy revellers.