‘We discussed the matter at great length, but neither Cosgrove nor I had an alternative proposal to offer, and at last my father persuaded us against our better judgment to fall in with his.
‘I need not weary you by telling you all the arguments used, but at last the details were settled and we turned to the consideration of the false alibis.
‘In my father’s case it was considered sufficient that there should be no evidence of the visit, lest overmuch proof of our statements should show an element of design. Owing to my mother and sister being from home, he would in the evening be left alone in his study, from which he could slip down to the river with the practical certainty of his absence being unnoticed.
‘Cosgrove and I worked out the plans which, I believe, you know. Cosgrove’s required the help of his friend, Miss Belcher. Mine was dependent on footprints, and I proposed to report the alleged hoax played on me to the local police, so that these marks might be observed by them while still fresh.
‘Our plans had taken nearly three hours to work out, and we parted at the restaurant door. Later in the evening my father telephoned—we had arranged club calls—that Wednesday night would suit Dale.’
Again Austin paused and moved uneasily, and again Tanner had to admit to himself that so far the story they were hearing, while utterly unexpected and extraordinary, bore the impress of truth. Up to the present he had been unable to detect any inconsistency between it and the facts he had himself learnt. He was coming to the opinion that they were about to hear the truth of the tragedy itself, and he set himself to listen with renewed concentration as Austin resumed:
‘I bought the two pairs of shoes I required for my alibi, on that Monday afternoon. At home I locked one pair away, and took care the attention of my man should be called to the other. Then on the Wednesday evening I wrote the forged note from Miss Drew, and dropped it into the letter box on my hall door, where my man found it as I had intended.
‘Putting on the new shoes of which my man had had charge, I got a boat and rowed down to the boathouse. My statement about the hoax was obviously false, and the evidence of that girl and her lover in Dr Graham’s wood was true.’
It was evident that this admission, made in the calm matter-of-fact way in which Austin was speaking, came as a considerable shock to Lois Drew. But she made no remark, listening motionless and intent to what was coming—as indeed were they all.
‘The water gate was closed, and as I did not want Dale to see my boat and perhaps take fright, I went into the boathouse to open it. My father was there already, and he opened the gate, and I took the boat in. Presently Cosgrove turned up. He had motored from London.
‘We waited for a few moments and then Dale arrived. Directly he entered Cosgrove slipped behind him and locked the door, putting the key in his pocket. Dale was obviously taken aback when he saw three persons waiting for him, and when he observed the door being locked he got very white and frightened looking. But my father spoke to him quietly.
‘“You need not be afraid, Dale,” he said. “If you are reasonable, no harm will befall you. These are my son and nephew, who are as much interested in the affair as I am. We are going to make you a proposal, but I am afraid we are not going to give you the option of declining it.”
‘My father then explained clearly and quietly that he was willing to pay well for the preservation of the secret, and promised to purchase an annuity which would bring Dale in £320 a year for life. Dale interrupted that it was £500 he wanted, but my father replied that £320 was the sum he had decided on. I think it was the quiet, final way my father spoke, as if the reopening of the matter was by his decision made impossible, that first gave Dale a hint of what he was up against.
‘My father went on to point out that on his side he required an end of the annoyance, and explained about the confession. Dale then blustered and said he would see us all in a warm place before he signed. My father, still speaking very gently, said we would give him five minutes to make up his mind. He took a revolver from his pocket—he had previously shown us it was unloaded—and pointing it at Dale warned him that if he tried any tricks he would instantly be shot. And so we waited, my father calm and placid though keeping a wary eye on the other, Cosgrove nervous and smoking cigarette after cigarette, while I, also a little excited, kept pacing up and down the edge of the basin.
‘At long last the five minutes was up and my father spoke.
‘“Well, Dale?” he queried.
‘The man showed his teeth like an animal.
‘“I’ll see you in Hades first,” he snarled.
‘At a sign from my father Cosgrove and I sprang forward and seized the blackmailer. He was, as you know, small and elderly, and weakened from drink, and he was like a child in our hands. I held him while Cosgrove tied his hands and feet, in each case with silk handkerchiefs which would leave no mark on the skin. He grew very white, and a look of terror shone in his eyes, but he would not give way, and we felt that we had still failed to make him believe we were in earnest. My father tried to frighten him still further. He spoke again in a matter-of-fact tone.
‘“You think, Dale, we’re not going to carry the thing through? I can assure you all the details have been carefully worked out. If you do not sign we shall make that anchor”—he indicated that belonging to the largest boat which was standing in the corner with its rope attached—“fast to your shoulders and lower you into the basin. After ten minutes we’ll pull your body up, take off the handkerchiefs, carry your body out in the boat and slip it overboard where it will be swept down over the falls. There will be nothing to indicate your death was not an accident. Then I may tell you for your information we have all arranged carefully planned false alibis, so that we can prove we were not here tonight at all. On the other hand, if you sign, you get your freedom, and here”—my father took a paper from his pocket and held it so that Dale could read it—“is a cheque for £3000 for your annuity. So now, do you still refuse?”
‘“Your scheme won’t wash,” growled Dale. “No one would believe I would sign such a confession except under compulsion.”
‘“Quite right,” my father answered. “We wouldn’t suggest that you did it of your own free will. I would explain that the compulsion I employed was a threat to hand you over to the police. Come now, we can’t spend the night here. Will you sign or will you not?”
‘Dale did not move.
‘“Very well. Gag him and get the anchor on,” said my father.
‘Cosgrove gagged him, while I brought over the anchor, and the two of us then made it fast to Dale’s shoulders.
‘“Now over with him.”
‘We lifted our victim towards the edge. We intended really to duck him if he remained obdurate. But he didn’t. He couldn’t stand any more. Furiously he nodded his head.
‘“Stop,” said my father, and to Dale: “Do you agree?”
‘The little man again nodded.
‘We released him, and bringing him over to a shelf at the side of the room, gave him paper and ink and a draft of the confession, and ordered him to copy and sign it.
‘The man was shivering with fright and rage, but he did as he was told. At last we had a weapon, which, we believed, would save us from further annoyance
‘“Don’t imagine you can report this to the police,” my father warned him. “You would not be believed against our word and alibis, but we could prove the blackmail, and you would go to penal servitude. And now,” he went on, “we’ll deal as straight with you in the matter of payment. Here is a bearer cheque for £3000, which I hand to Mr Cosgrove Ponson. You and he can go up to town tonight, and he will cash it in the morning and hand you the money, seeing that you pay it into your bank and then send a cheque for it to the insurance company. The transaction will not therefore be traceable to me, as if any question arises Mr Cosgrove and I will swear the money was a gift from me to him to help to pay a pressing debt. That, I think, is everything.”
‘It was just quar
ter to ten. The whole business had only taken little more than ten minutes, and now nothing remained but to slip away quietly from the boathouse and establish our alibis. And then suddenly occurred that frightful business which robbed my father of his life, and has caused all this sorrow and suffering and trouble to the remainder of us.’
For the first time since he began to speak, Austin showed signs of emotion. He moved uneasily and seemed to find it difficult to continue. But he pulled himself together, and it was with a breathless interest that the others listened as he resumed.
‘I suppose you know the plan of the boathouse?’ He paused, and Tanner nodded. ‘Then I needn’t describe it. Before the tragedy my father and Dale were standing facing each other at the angle of the L-shaped wharf, that is, close beside the corner of the basin. Cosgrove and I had been beside Dale, but on the conclusion of the business we had moved away. Cosgrove had unlocked the door and gone out to see that no one was in the vicinity, and I was engaged in raising the water gate preparatory to getting out my boat.
‘My father was holding the confession in his hand, and it was probably the sight of it that gave Dale the idea that he might recover his lost hold on us. Presumably he thought he could seize the paper and bolt with it before either Cosgrove or I could stop him. However, be that as it may, I saw Dale suddenly spring forward and attempt to snatch the paper from my father’s hand. My father stepped quickly back. But as he did so, his heel caught in the rope by which my boat was moored, and he fell backwards, his head striking the granolithic floor with terrible force. He never moved again. We rushed forward, but he was dead.’
Austin paused and wiped the perspiration from his forehead, while his hearers sat motionless, amazed beyond speech at this unexpected dénouement. So this was the explanation of all these mysteries! No murder had been committed. The affair was an accident! If this story were true, the case against all these men would break down.
But was it true? Tanner, at least, had his doubts. These men had shown considerable ingenuity in constructing false alibis. Maybe this story also was only a clever invention. But on the whole the Inspector was inclined to believe it. It certainly rang true, and it was consistent with what he had otherwise learnt.
Austin had waited a moment, but now he continued:
‘I need hardly say we were speechless from consternation. Our first thought was to run for help—Cosgrove to Luce Manor, while I took my boat across for Dr Graham. But this, we saw, would involve disclosing the secret, and we hurriedly consulted in the hope of finding a way of avoiding the revelation. And then it flashed across our minds what a dreadful position we ourselves occupied. Might we not be suspected of murder? Here we had come secretly to the boathouse, having devised elaborate alibis to prove ourselves elsewhere. Though these alibis were not completed, enough had been done to make the whole business exceedingly fishy. We recollected that both Cosgrove and I not only stood to gain fortunes by the death, but were also, both of us, in special need of money at the moment. Then it was known I did not get on well with my father…
‘I need not elaborate the case; no doubt, Mr Tanner, you considered these matters before you arrested us. All I have to say is that we became panic-stricken and lost our heads. We made an appalling blunder. Instead of going for help and telling the truth, we decided to arrange the circumstances to suggest accident, and trust to our alibis in case suspicion should be aroused. It was so easy, for the plan had already been worked out to frighten Dale. We talked it over quickly, and thought we might improve on it.
‘We saw at once that it would seem much more natural if we suggested that my father had taken out a boat of which he had lost control, and had been carried over the falls. The injuries the body would get in the rapids below, would, we imagined, account for the bruise on the back of the head. By throwing the oars into the water nearer the other side of the river, they would not go ashore with the boat, indicating that my father had lost them, and thus explaining the accident.
‘The only thing unaccounted for was the motive which had caused my father to take out a boat at this hour. To meet this difficulty I made an entry in a small engagement book I found in his pocket, “Graham, 9.00 p.m.” I hoped it would be assumed he wished to make a private call on the doctor.
‘There is little more to be told. We lifted the body into one of my father’s boats, and I towed it out and set it adrift, dropping the oars in some distance away. Then I returned to the Halford Clubhouse, knocked up the attendant, and called on Miss Drew, all as you know. About three in the morning I put on the shoes I had kept hidden, slipped out of the house and made the tracks to the Abbey ruin, returning without my absence having been noticed. I put the shoes back in their hiding-place and next day, having sent my man on an errand, I cleaned them and changed them for the other pair. This latter pair I afterwards destroyed. The pair which had made the traces at the Abbey (the sole of one of which I had marked) was thus left in my man’s charge, and he was prepared to swear—quite honestly—that they had only been out of his possession at the time of the alleged hoax. Is there anything else you wish to know?’
Tanner asked a few questions, all of which Austin answered with the utmost readiness. Then, after receiving an assurance that his statement would receive the most careful attention of the authorities, the meeting came to an end. Austin was led out, and after a few words of conversation, Lois and Daunt took their leave.
CHAPTER XVI
CONCLUSION
THE doubts which Inspector Tanner had experienced as to the truth of Austin’s statement were short-lived. After a careful consideration of the story, Austin was subjected to a most searching examination on small details—such points and so many of them as no trio of conspirators could possibly have foreseen and provided for. Cosgrove, who made a statement similar to Austin’s, was also tested upon these points, and his answers convinced the authorities that at last the truth was known. At his request the false confession of blackmail, signed ‘Edward Dale,’ was given up by Miss Belcher, to whom it had been handed for safety. But what cleared the last shreds of doubt from the minds of those concerned was the statement of Dale. Not only did his testimony agree with that of the others, both generally and on the small matters in question, but he went further than either of them. He confessed fully that his action had been the cause of the tragedy, stating, which neither of the others, had done, that he had actually pushed Sir William back. He swore most positively he had no idea of injuring the manufacturer, nor had he noticed the rope or thought about the other’s tripping.
It was clear to the authorities that with any ordinary jury the defence would win, and indeed, both Tanner, his Chief, and the Crown Prosecutor themselves believed the explanation given by the three prisoners. The case against Austin and Cosgrove was therefore unconditionally withdrawn, and they were set at liberty.
Against Dale the matter was not so clear, a charge of manslaughter being considered. At last, however, it was decided he could not be proved guilty of this, his only punishable offence being blackmail. But as Austin and Cosgrove resolutely refused to prosecute, the charge was not proceeded with, and Dale also was set free. The cousins even agreed to pay him the £320 a year he had been promised, though they would not purchase for him the annuity.
All the cases thus collapsing, the Yard authorities did not consider it necessary to make known the illegality of Sir William’s marriage, and the secret was therefore preserved.
A few weeks, later two announcements were to be seen in the fashionable papers. First came:
‘PONSON—DREW. Dec. 29, 1920, at St George’s, Hanover Square, by the Rev. Sydney Smallwood, cousin of the bride, Austin Herbert, son of the late Sir William Ponson of Luce Manor, Halford, to Lois Evelyn, eldest daughter of Arthur Drew, of Elm Cottage, Halford.’
Below it was another announcement:
‘PONSON—BELCHER. Dec. 29, 1920 at St George’s, Hanover Square, by the Rev. Sydney Smallwood, Cosgrove Seaton, son of the late John Ponson of Oaklands, Gate
shead, to Elizabeth Clare (Betty), youngest daughter of the late Rev. Stanford Belcher, of St Aiden’s Rectory, Nottingham.’
THE END
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The Ponson Case Page 26