by John Rhode
‘Yes, I have noticed that,’ said Dr Priestley. ‘What exactly did you see when you looked out of your window on Sunday morning?’
‘The first thing I saw was that the doors of No. 4 garage were open. And I thought that was funny, for knowing the house had been empty for some weeks, I couldn’t think who it could be. And while I was still looking a van came out. One of those Comet thirty-hundredweight vans that you see about, it was. Naturally, it being a closed van, I couldn’t see what was in it. And when the van was out in the yard, the driver got down, shut the garage doors, locked them and put the key in his pocket. Then he drove off, and that’s the last I saw of him.’
‘You did not recognise him?’ Dr Priestley asked. ‘He could not have been Coates, by any chance?’
The chauffeur shook his head. ‘It wasn’t Coates, sir, whoever it was,’ he replied. ‘It was a much younger chap than him. I couldn’t see his face properly, being right above him as you might say, and the light none too good. But I could tell he was a youngish man by the way he walked.’
‘Did either of you know that there was a van in the garage?’
Both shook their heads, and Jack took upon himself to answer the question. ‘I didn’t know and Fred says that he didn’t either. But there’s nothing remarkable about that. We both happened to be out on the Saturday afternoon and if the van drove in then there wouldn’t be anybody about to take notice. If often happens that there’s nobody in these mews for hours on end.’
‘Did you notice if there was a name on the van?’
‘Yes, sir, it belonged to the Peregrine Transport Co.,’ Fred replied. ‘I noticed that particularly, for I used to have a chum who worked for them. Their place is somewhere Islington way.’
‘What is their business?’ Dr Priestley asked.
‘Anything in the way of vans and lorries, sir. They’ll pick up anything for you, no matter what it is, and haul it where you like. And a very good firm to work for, my chum always said.’
After thanking the chauffeurs for their information Dr Priestley left the mews, accompanied by Harold. As soon as they were in the street he issued his orders. ‘Leave the keys at No. 3. Then fetch two taxis. I noticed as we drove up that there is a rank just round the corner.’
‘Two taxis, sir?’ said Harold inquiringly.
‘Yes. One to enable me to return home and the other to take you to Islington. You should have no difficulty in finding the office of the Peregrine Transport Co. When you have done so, make inquiries about the van which is said to have visited the garage of No. 4. I am particularly anxious to know the nature of the load it carried on that occasion.’
Harold carried out his instructions to the letter. With the help of his taxi-driver he was successful in locating the premises of the Peregrine Transport Co., not very far from the Agricultural Hall. He entered the inquiry office, and announced that he wished to trace the movements of a van bearing the name of the firm, which had been seen in Cheveley Street on the previous Sunday morning.
The clerk looked at him a trifle suspiciously. ‘You want to see Mr Gilson,’ he replied. ‘If you’ll wait here a minute I’ll go and speak to him.’
After a short interval, Harold was shown into an office and introduced to Mr Gilson.
‘Sit down, Mr Merefield,’ said the latter. ‘I understand that you wish to make inquiries about one of our vans. Before we go any further, I must ask you if there is any allegation that it was involved in an accident?’
‘Oh no,’ Harold replied. ‘There’s no question of any accident. I’ll tell you what it is. My employer has taken a lease of No. 4 Cheveley Street, which has been standing empty for some weeks. On visiting it this morning he found that some packages of goods had been delivered there, apparently in error. The only clue to the ownership of these goods is the fact that one of your vans was seen to leave the premises early on Sunday morning last. He hoped that you might be able to help us in the matter.’
‘What address did you say?’ Mr Gilson asked opening the drawer of a filing cabinet beside him.
‘No. 4, Cheveley Street, SW1. Not very far from Sloane Square.’
Mr Gilson consulted his files, then shook his head. ‘I can’t find a record of a van of ours having visited Cheveley Street on Sunday or at any other time,’ he said. ‘What makes you think that it was one of our vans?’
‘We have been told that your name was on it,’ Harold replied.
‘Well, it may have been our van, but it certainly was not in charge of one of our drivers. You see, a large part of our business consists in hiring out lorries and vans to other firms, who as often as not supply their own drivers. And, of course, if this particular van was on hire under those conditions, we should have no record of its journeys.’
‘This van was described to us as a thirty-hundred-weight Comet. Would that help you to trace it?’
‘It might, for we have only six vans of that type, all of which were bought this year. Three of them have been on hire recently and, now I come to think of it, I remember that one of these was returned to us on Monday last. It had been on hire for three weeks to a firm in the North of England who provided their own driver. I saw him when he brought the van back on Monday, and a very decent young fellow he seemed.’
‘I wonder if you could tell me the name of the firm?’ Harold asked.
Mr Gilson made another reference to his files. ‘Messrs. Ernest Willingdon & Sons, of Leeds,’ he replied. ‘They rang us up on the morning of July 26, and asked if we had a thirty-hundredweight van available immediately. They explained that they had several very valuable consignments of goods to be delivered in London during the following three weeks, and that they could not spare a van from their own fleet for the purpose. I said that we could help them out of their difficulty and told them what our terms were. They replied that as the matter was very urgent, they would send one of their men to London by the next train. The caller explained that he was Mr Francis Willingdon, one of the partners. “Our man will bring with him sufficient money to cover three weeks’ hire of the van and also the usual deposit on its value,” he said. And sure enough their man arrived that afternoon, collected the van, of which the number was ZOQ 1437, and drove it away. He brought it back last Monday afternoon, when I saw him. He told me that during the three weeks he’d done fifteen double journeys between Leeds and London. But we couldn’t check the mileage he had covered, for the speedometer cable was broken. He told me that it had happened on his very first journey and that he hadn’t had time to have it mended.’
Harold did his best to conceal his amazement. ‘Willingdon & Sons!’ he exclaimed. ‘No doubt that accounts for it. My employer is very well acquainted with that firm. He will now be able to get in touch with them and find out the reason for the packages having been deposited. He will, I am sure, be most grateful for the information which you have given me.’
Having apologised to Mr Gilson for the trouble to which he had put him, Harold hurried back to Westbourne Terrace. Dr Priestley listened to his report with manifest signs of approval.
‘You have done very well, my boy, very well indeed,’ he said. ‘I have no doubt that the van seen by the chauffeur in Cheveley Mews was indeed the van hired by Messrs. Willingdon.’
‘It’s most extraordinary that their name should have cropped up again, sir,’ Harold replied. ‘It was young Francis Willingdon, you remember, who took the cottage near Dr Thornborough’s house at Adderminster. Shall I ring up the superintendent and tell him about this?’
Dr Priestley raised his eyebrows. ‘The superintendent?’ he replied. ‘Certainly not. As recently as yesterday evening, in your presence, the superintendent gave me full permission to investigate for myself the matter of Sir Godfrey Branstock’s death. I propose to take advantage of that permission. And I will begin by dictating certain particulars which we shall need for reference.’
Harold got out pen and writing pad and Dr Priestley continued:
‘Particulars relating to a thirty-h
undredweight Comet van, the property of the Peregrine Transport Company, and alleged to have been hired to Messrs. Willingdon & Sons of Leeds.
‘Registered number of the van ZOQ 1437.
‘July 26. The van was taken from the premises of the Peregrine Transport Company, by a driver whose identity is at present unknown.
‘August 4. Sir Godfrey Branstock was found suffocated in his cellar at No. 3 Cheveley Street.
‘August 15. The van was seen leaving the garage belonging to No. 4 Cheveley Street at 4 a.m.
‘August 16. The van was returned to the premises of the Peregrine Transport Co.’
Dr Priestley made Harold read over these particulars. ‘Very good,’ he said. ‘The first point to be established concerns the whereabouts of the van between July 26 and August 15. Can we accept the driver’s statement to Mr Gilson that during that period it was engaged in travelling backwards and forwards between London and Leeds? The distance from London to Leeds is approximately 190 miles, and if the driver’s statement is to be accepted, he must have covered 270 miles on each day of the three weeks, including Sundays. There is no means of checking this figure however, since, when the van was returned to its owners, the speedometer shaft was found to be broken.’
‘I daresay that Willingdon & Sons would tell us how the van was employed, sir,’ Harold suggested.
‘It would, I think, be premature to trouble Willingdon & Sons at this stage of our investigations,’ Dr Priestley replied. ‘The next question is, when and why was the van deposited in the garage belonging to No. 4 Cheveley Street. The possibility exists that the van was never driven to Leeds at all, but spent the greater part of the three weeks unused in the garage.’
‘But surely, sir, somebody would have seen it if it had been there all that time!’ Harold exclaimed.
‘Who would have seen it?’ Dr Priestley replied. ‘It seems to me that there was very little likelihood of the van being discovered during that period. We will suppose that the van was driven into the garage on July 26, or two or three days later. Sir Godfrey Branstock was then alive. Mr Mayland had made his preliminary survey of No. 4, and it was most unlikely that anyone would enter the house until he was ready to proceed with the alterations. On Sir Godfrey’s death the question of the alterations fell perforce into abeyance until the ownership of the property could be determined. No. 4 was certainly entered by Mr Mayland and the Borough Surveyor on August 9, but their concern was solely with the cellar, and they did not inspect the garage.’
‘The driver of the van must have been in possession of the key of the coach-house, sir,’ Harold suggested.
‘Exactly. But, as we observed this morning, that key was not in the lock on the occasion of our visit. Where was it at the time when Stowell handed over the other keys to Sir Godfrey? If you were to call upon Stowell you might be able to persuade him to answer that question for us.’
That afternoon Harold departed upon his errand and returned with the necessary information.
‘I told Stowell that, with Mr Mayland’s permission, we had inspected No. 4 this morning, sir,’ he said. ‘I went on to say that in the course of our inspection we had found that the garage key was missing and asked him if he knew what had become of it. He told me that in Mr Fransham’s time the key was never kept in the lock, but when not in use was hung on a brass hook fixed just inside the area door.’
‘I noticed that brass hook,’ Dr Priestley remarked. ‘But I am certain that no key was hanging upon it this morning.’
‘Stowell told me that the last thing he did before shutting up the house was to take the garage key from its hook and go round to the mews. He told me that he didn’t use the intercommunicating door, because the bolts were all rusted up and he didn’t think it worth while to try and draw them. Having reached the mews he unlocked the garage door and went through into the harness room. He assured himself that the outer door there was safely locked and bolted, then went back into the mews, locking the door of the garage after him. He then hung the garage key on its accustomed hook and when he handed over the front door keys to Sir Godfrey reported that he had done so.’
‘That seems a very straightforward statement,’ said Dr Priestley. ‘We may assume, then, that the driver of the van took the key from the hook. How did he obtain access to the house in order to do so?’
‘I’ve been thinking about that, sir, ever since Stowell told me where the key was kept,’ Harold replied. ‘It occurred to me that we don’t really know that those three keys for the front door are the only ones in existence. If one has a key of that kind in one’s possession, it’s the easiest thing in the world to have a duplicate cut. Any ironmonger will do so without asking questions. We have been told that Coates had one of these keys when he was in Mr Fransham’s service. He might have had a duplicate cut, which he retained when he handed over the originals to Stowell.’
Dr Priestley nodded. ‘Quite right, my boy,’ he said. ‘But at present we have no reason to believe that Coates was the driver of the van. Such slight evidence as we have suggests that he was not. I would therefore enlarge your argument to this extent. Anyone who had even temporary possession of one of the front door keys could have had a duplicate cut.
‘We have now cleared the ground to this extent. We have shown the possibility of the van having been left in the garage belonging to No. 4 for almost any period within the limit of the three weeks. We are naturally tempted to ask why it was left there during that period.’
‘I can’t imagine, sir,’ Harold replied, feeling that he was expected to suggest an answer to this question. ‘Everything had been taken out of the house some time previously, so the van cannot have been employed in removing furniture or anything like that. And it can’t have brought anything, for the house, when we saw it this morning, was absolutely empty.’
‘That does not preclude the possibility that it brought something when it came and took that something away again when it left. And this, I felt sure, is what actually happened. We must not lose sight of the possibility that the van was in the garage at the time of Sir Godfrey’s death.’
Harold looked frankly puzzled. ‘I’m afraid that I don’t see the connection, sir,’ he ventured.
‘The connection is not apparent at first sight, I admit,’ Dr Priestley replied. ‘Take your pad again, my boy, while I dictate certain notes.’
When Harold was ready Dr Priestley dictated as follows:
‘It is possible that a fourth key to No. 4 exists. The possessor of this key would have access, not only to the house, but through the communicating door to the stabling and garage as well.
‘According to Stowell the bolts on the communicating door were so rusty that he made no attempt to draw them when he shut up the house. On August 21 the bolts and locks were found to work easily, and their appearance suggested that they had been oiled fairly recently.
‘Again according to Stowell, the garage key was hung by him on a brass hook inside the area door. It was not there on August 21. The van driver was observed on August 15 to lock the garage and put the key in his pocket.
‘The Borough Surveyor, in his conversation with Superintendent Hanslet, expressed some surprise that foul gas should have been able to percolate through the debris which choked the gully in cellar No. 4.
‘In the harness room belonging to No. 4 is a length of four inch stove pipe and a bend to fit it.
‘Upon inspection of the cellar door of No. 4 on August 21, it was found that the lower panels could be pushed away from the framework.
‘It seems probable that approximately an hour elapsed between the death of Sir Godfrey Branstock and Mrs Quinton’s visit to the cellar in search of him. During this interval, the accumulation of gas in the cellar must have dispersed to some extent. Had it remained at its former concentration, Mrs Quinton would probably have been overcome when she bent over her master’s body.
‘In the course of her evidence at the inquest, Mrs Quinton mentioned a buzzing noise, which she imagined to
be the sound of the motor of the refrigerator in the larder. When the presence of foul air had been established, it was assumed that this buzzing had had no actual existence, as such noises in the head are well-known symptoms consequent upon the inhalation of carbon dioxide. But Mrs Quinton heard the buzzing when she was standing in the basement before she descended into the cellar.
‘Although the cellar of No. 4 is not wired for electric light, the basement of that house is wired extensively. A point exists in the ceiling of the passage just outside the cellar door.’
‘That concludes my dictation for the present,’ said Dr Priestley. ‘Possibly if you consider those paragraphs, you may be able to deduce for yourself the true case of Sir Godfrey Branstock’s death. We will institute certain inquiries of our own into that matter after the weekend. But your first duty on Monday morning will be to collect, from their respective makers, full details of the principal types of domestic refrigerator.’
CHAPTER VII
During the afternoon of Wednesday, August 25, Superintendent Hanslet received a telephone message from Harold Merefield.
‘Dr Priestley will be very glad if you can make it convenient to dine with him this evening,’ said Harold formally, in a tone which suggested that the professor himself was standing at his elbow. ‘He would also like to know if Inspector Waghorn is available, and if so, whether he can accompany you?’
‘I shall be delighted to come,’ said Hanslet. ‘And I’ll bring Jimmy along with me. He happens to be in London at the moment and I’ll see that he’s free for dinner. Has the professor any fresh suggestions to make about the Adderminster affair?’
But Harold took no notice of this question. ‘Dr Priestley will be very pleased,’ he said. ‘Dinner will be served at eight o’clock as usual.’