Ten Star Clues

by E. R. Punshon

  “Duplicate keys,” said the colonel gloomily. “Any one may have had them. Mr. Longden had the safe key in his possession till early morning. He may have had a duplicate key to the office door as well. It’s a perfectly simple lock. Plenty of keys would open it. Most unsatisfactory. I could open it myself with a hairpin.”

  That was about as far as their inquiries took them that night, though it was late before they agreed that nothing more could be done till morning. And then Bobby sat up till the small hours, putting on paper, as he always liked to do, the chief impressions he had derived from the events, the talks, the interviews of the day. One by one he passed in review the various actors in recent events, and if he began to see, or, rather, to think he saw, the faint outline of a pattern beginning to appear, it was an outline so faint, so strange, indeed so fantastic, involving so many suppositions, that until he could secure some solid evidence to support it, he felt his wisest course would be to keep it to himself.

  “It might be,” he said half aloud. “Cold-blooded devilry,” he mused. “Quick thinking and quick action, too. Only—too much guess-work. Won’t do to say anything yet. Won’t do to let my bird suspect there’s any suspicion yet. And then,” he added, this time quite aloud and with sudden depression, “I may be entirely wrong. Probably 9am.

  Next morning, at the Midwych county police headquarters, which incidentally he entered by the back way so as to avoid the many newspaper men who were clamouring for information, and so thronging round and about the front entrance as to make access thereby a complicated process—but how magnificently had the colonel strode through their serried ranks, just like the hosts of the Israelites passing through the held-up waters of the sea —Bobby showed his chief the long memorandum he had drawn up.

  “I thought,” he remarked, “those talks and interviews we had were all extraordinarily interesting. So many different motives turned up we had had no idea of before, there seemed such a complicated interplay of character and interests, the people concerned were themselves all so striking and unusual in their different ways.”

  “All very well,” grunted the colonel, “but what solid conclusions do we get out of it all?”

  “I don’t think any as yet,” admitted Bobby. “I think that’s what makes it so fascinating. It’s like watching through a smoke screen. You get a glimpse and then it’s gone again. You see what looks like something solid and next moment you see it’s only a smoke wreath. You see a figure clearly and even while you are watching you see it turn into another and then vanish entirely, so that there’s nothing there at all. I jotted down a few notes last night,” he added.

  As he spoke he handed to the colonel the memorandum he had written during the night. The colonel began to read, impressed already by the heading.

  ‘TEN POSSIBLES’

  “Ten possibles,” he read out. “Ten? how do you make that out?”

  “Well, sir,” Bobby explained, “we examined nine people who all seem in it more or less deeply—all their interests touched in one way or another. And then I thought it better to include an unknown. It may be there’s someone we have had no hint of as yet. It’s even possible the murderer might be a burglar Lord Wych interrupted. Or someone we don’t know about but deeply concerned in getting the claimant safely in possession at once. Or something like that. I don’t think we must forget the possibility. I don’t think it is more than a bare possibility, but I think we must keep it in mind.”

  “I only wish it would turn out like that,’ the colonel said slowly. “I don’t like to think of any of these people having been guilty of such a brutal murder of such an old man—people like Ralph.” He paused, a little disconcerted that the name had got itself uttered like that, for indeed it was the one uppermost in his mind. “Incredible,” he said loudly. “Or Lady Wych. More than incredible. A disgraceful idea.” He glared so fiercely he might almost have been hoping to annihilate utterly such a thought. But it remained. He said:— “There’s the vicar or Clinton Wells for that matter. It might be either of them, I suppose.” He said this almost longingly, so pleasant would it be to think that none of the Hoyles were concerned in this murder of the head of their family. “Only why should they?” he added in a more depressed tone. “Or Martin,” he added, this time still more longingly, for the butler would have been an even more acceptable culprit. “I don’t trust the fellow, but then again: Why should he? And there’s that little chit of a Longden girl,” he concluded darkly. “Enough impudence for a dozen.” Bobby did not entirely agree with this last judgment, but he said nothing, and the colonel picked up the memorandum again, and began to read it.

  It started with a list of the ten suspects—or ‘possibles’ to adopt Bobby’s more prudent phraseology he had recently a opted on a suggestion made by his wife, who thought it a shame that people should be called ‘suspect’ when all that was really meant was that it was possible—and often not more than possible—that they were guilty.

  “Suspect’s a propaganda word,” Olive had said severely. “It’s what the lawyers call ‘imparting prejudice’. And it’s not fair.”

  So Bobby had written ‘possibles’ and not ‘suspects’, and the colonel, not very much liking this innovation, read on:—

  ‘A

  THE POSSIBLES

  Three women.

  A1. Lady Wych (wife)

  A2. Anne Hoyle (grand-daughter)

  A3. Sophy Longden (companion-secretary)

  Three men (relatives)

  A4. Ralph Hoyle (great-nephew)

  A5. Arthur Hoyle (cousin)

  A6. Bertram Hoyle (soi-disant)

  Three men (outsiders)

  A7. Mr. Longden (vicar)

  A8. Mr. Clinton Wells (lawyer)

  A9. Martin (butler)

  and

  A10. X, a possible unknown, and, at present, wholly hypothetical stranger.’

  “Seems a fairly complete list,” observed the colonel. “Who is your favourite? Might as well shut your eyes and stick in a pin, as far as I can see.”

  “Yes, sir,” agreed Bobby. “I don’t think any one of them can be ruled out at present.”

  The colonel went on reading:—

  ‘B

  Focal Points.

  B1. Is the claimant, Bertram, genuine or a fake?’

  “I should have thought,” commented the colonel, “that the first focal point was the murder.”

  “Well, sir, in my view of the case,” Bobby answered, “I should say the murder was more the symptom, the symptom of a deep-seated wrong. My own suggestion would be that the cause lies in these rival claims to the title and estates. If we knew more about that, we might find we knew more about the murder.”

  The colonel looked a little doubtful, but he said nothing. He went on:—

  “‘Focal points’—where is it? Oh, yes.”

  He read:—

  ‘B2. The weapon. The Wych estate office pistol and the Castle Wych pistol are both missing. Presumption is that one or other was the weapon used. But which? And why has the other vanished?’

  “Now there,” said the colonel, “I’m with you. Find the weapon, find the murderer. Difficult, though, to understand why both have gone.”

  He continued to read:—

  ‘B3. What is the meaning of the statement made by Lord Wych to Ralph that it was no business of his, and no injury had been done him?

  The colonel passed this without comment, evidently thinking it a minor point, and proceeded to the next section.

  ‘C

  IDENTITY OF PLACE AND TIME

  I

  Regarding the three women

  They were all on or near the scene of the murder at the relevant time.

  C1. Lady Wych

  Mr. Longden states that he saw the figure of a woman he believed at the time to be that of Lady Wych, near the open french windows of the library about the time of the murder. Questioned on this, Lady Wych had a heart attack, which may have been genuine or a convenience. It is not improbable that
she will always have heart attacks when questioned, and, as these may be genuine, it will not be possible to press her too closely. As the vicar is also to some degree under suspicion, his statements cannot be accepted at their face value, unless confirmed, as this is not.

  C2. Anne Hoyle

  Her bedroom is near the service stairs, giving quick and easy access to the library. At night, the servants having gone to bed, this could be used with little risk of observation or interruption. Bertram states that Miss Anne was not in her room at the relevant time, and that he saw a pistol in her possession shortly before the murder. She denies both statements and offers plausible explanations. If his story is true and she was not in her room, where was she? It must again be remembered that all statements made by Bertram, himself one of the possibles, must be received with caution, unless confirmed.

  C3. Sophy Longden

  Finger-prints prove she was in the library at a late hour, probably about the time of the murder. But that does not prove there was not someone there later, without leaving finger-prints or other traces. She refuses to answer questions, and it may therefore be assumed that she saw something about which she intends to remain silent. It seems probable, therefore, unless she is guilty herself, that she is shielding someone. This may be Ralph, with whom she evidently sympathises, her father, Lady Wych, or, of course, someone else. No way to decide this at present.

  II

  The three male relatives

  C4. Ralph Hoyle

  Admits violent quarrel with the late earl. Left the castle about half-past ten. States that he went straight home, sat outdoors in the garden for a time, made some notes for a business interview, and then went to bed. No corroboration, and he could easily have returned to the castle had he wished to do so.

  C5. Arthur Hoyle

  Strong likelihood, but no actual proof, that he was hiding in the castle grounds during the evening. His motive might have been curiosity concerning the result of the interview between Ralph and the late earl, Ralph having openly stated his intention of having a ‘showdown’. He denies presence in castle grounds, states that he spent the evening taking a drive in his car for pleasure. Can produce no supporting evidence.

  C6. Bertram Hoyle

  Admits being out of his room and near head of service stairs at the relevant time. States that he was on his way to the bathroom, but there are two other bathrooms nearer. A suggestion coming from Anne Hoyle is that he was trying to enter her room. Does this suggest complicity between the two?

  III

  The three outsiders

  C7. Mr. Longden

  Admits presence in castle grounds at the time of the murder and that he was in possession of the key of the safe in which the Wych estate office pistol was kept.

  C8. Martin

  Denies that he was near the library after eleven, but is certainly lying, since he betrayed knowledge of the late earl’s having been smoking, which seems to have been unusual with him so late at night. Naturally Martin is accustomed to using the service stairs, which lead almost directly from the door of his room to that of the library. Query: Did the late earl catch Martin listening at the door, threaten to kick him out then and there, and was the result a struggle and the murder?

  C9. Clinton Wells

  Is able to give very full account of his movements and reasonable explanation for his absence from the dinner. But no corroboration for the relevant time. The castle is within reach by car or cycle from his house. He knew there was likely to be a serious quarrel between Ralph and his great-uncle. No motive known, but, as with Martin, possibility that he was eavesdropping, was detected by the late earl, and that a struggle and the murder resulted.

  IV

  Finally X, the unknown quantity

  A possible and hypothetical burglar of whose existence there is no evidence and of whom nothing can be said since of him nothing is known.’

  “I only wish there were,” sighed the colonel as he laid down the memorandum and looked sadly at Bobby. “Or that there was something to show it was one of the three outsiders—clergyman, lawyer, butler. But I’m afraid—” He shook his head and left the sentence unfinished. Then he said:— “What your memo comes to is that the whole lot of them had the opportunity?”

  “Yes, sir,” agreed Bobby.

  “Doesn’t take us much farther forward,” pronounced the colonel glumly and resumed his reading.

  ‘D

  WEAPON

  D1. A point three-two self-loading pistol (commonly called an automatic) was employed by the murderer. Two such weapons are known to have been accessible. Both have disappeared. One, belonging to the late earl, was kept in a drawer of the library table. The case is still there. All concerned had access at one time or another to the library, and could easily have secured the pistol by simply opening the drawer at any convenient moment. Anne Hoyle is said (by Bertram, all of whose statements must at present be accepted with reserve) to have been in possession of a pistol that was presumably on a balance of probabilities, and if Bertram’s story is true, the one taken from the library. It is a strong point in favour of the truth of his statement that it was made before the murder occurred. Anne Hoyle’s explanation is that she gave him a glimpse of a metal cigarette case and told him it was a pistol and that he believed her.

  D2. The second pistol of the required calibre known to have been available is that kept in the Wych estate office safe and seen there on the morning of the murder by Mr. Longden and Clinton Wells, both of whom support Ralph Hoyle’s statement that he locked it up in the safe. Mr. Longden admits he picked up Ralph Hoyle’s keys by mistake and had them, including the key of the safe, in his possession till the following morning. The key of the office was, however, in the possession of the typist, Miss Higson, and her evidence and that of the caretaker and office-cleaner, Mrs. Gregson, is that no one entered, or could have entered, the office after Miss Higson left. Obviously Ralph Hoyle had every opportunity to provide himself with duplicate keys, both of office and safe. The evidence of the typist and office-cleaner is only negative and can only be accepted with reserve as indicating that in their opinion the office was not again entered after the typist left.

  D3. It is even possible that Ralph Hoyle deliberately offered Mr. Longden, a notorious wool gatherer, the chance to go off with his keys—in the way which conjurers call “forcing” the card or other object they want selected by the person supposed to be making a free choice. Clinton Wells, since Ralph is his client and apparently inclined to be careless about the custody of his keys, had probably equal opportunities of providing himself with duplicates.’

  The colonel laid down the memorandum again and looked more worried than ever.

  “What it comes to,” he said, “is that almost every one had a chance to get hold of the keys at one time or another. And every chance to get hold of one or other of the automatics. But then why are both missing?”

  “Yes, sir, that’s a very puzzling feature,” Bobby agreed, looking almost as worried himself. “I can’t think of any reasonable explanation.”

  “There must be some connection,” the colonel remarked hesitatingly. “Can’t be merely a coincidence—or has it just happened that one pistol got mislaid?”

  “Well, it doesn’t seem very probable,” Bobby said. “I can’t say I much care for coincidence as the explanation of a puzzling detail. Too simple.”

  “The doctrine of economy,” suggested Colonel Glynne, “that the simplest explanation is probably the true one?”

  “I shouldn’t say that applies in a case like this,” Bobby answered. “If two automatics are missing, there’s a reason, and one of them was probably the one the murderer used.”

  “Yes, but which?” asked the colonel. “Until you know that, we don’t know—” He was about to say ‘which’, but just in time changed the word to ‘much’. “We don’t know much until we know that,” he repeated firmly, “and we can’t know until we find them and where the devil are they? tell me that.”


  As Bobby made no effort to supply the desired information the colonel scowled heavily, picked up the memorandum and began to read it again:—

  ‘E

  MOTIVE

  E1. Countess Wych

  Family honour? It has been much talked about and may be the motive, but the reason is obscure. Could she and her late husband have had different ideas of what “family honour” means? Is there any significance in her reference on the night of the murder to an ancestress who shot her son to save disgrace to the family name? Could she have intended to shoot the earl for some such reason?’

  The colonel paused in his reading and put the paper down.

  “I can’t think it,” he said angrily. “I won’t think it. Good God, we don’t live five hundred years ago, do we? when that sort of thing was possible.”