It was a Sunday. On Sundays when he could not play tennis, he usually played golf. Now as he was about to start for the links, Peter rang up. From his voice Charles could tell that something was wrong.
‘I’ve got some bad news, Charles,’ Peter said. ‘This affair is much worse than we had any idea of. Sergeant Bray has just been here and what do you think? They’re going to drag the lake.’
Charles felt suddenly cold. Drag the lake! His knees began to tremble. Then savagely he pulled himself together.
‘Drag the lake, Peter?’ he repeated to gain time. ‘Whatever do you mean? They don’t suppose…?’
‘Yes,’ Peter answered, ‘they do. They think he’s dead. They think he’s in the lake. They’re starting now to drag. It’s perfectly dreadful!’
‘But I don’t understand. How…? What do they think has happened?’
‘I don’t understand either. They came for the keys of the boat-house and whatever they found I don’t know, but they came back and asked for the use of the boats.’
Charles was getting himself more in hand. ‘Peter, I’m so sorry,’ he said, ‘and also particularly on Elsie’s account. If there’s anything in this, it’ll be a nasty shock for her.’
‘Yes, she’s pretty much upset as it is. This coming on the top of the other, you know. I’m not surprised. I feel it myself.’
‘I’m sure you do. But I can’t bring myself to believe such a thing could have happened. Why should anyone – commit such a crime?’
‘I suppose to get the notes; how do I know?’
Presently Charles said that he would go over to The Moat to discuss the affair, and rang off. He was terribly upset. As he drove he went over again in minute detail what he had done in the boat-house. The more he recalled that dreadful time – and every moment of it was seared into his memory – the more convinced he became that he had left no trace of his presence. And yet a trace of some kind must have been found. The overwhelming question was: did the trace, whatever it was, point to him personally or only to the fact that someone had been there? At all costs Charles must find this out. The suspense, if he didn’t, would kill him.
But he mustn’t show more interest than the occasion ought to warrant. Could he face Peter and Elsie and the police and act as an interested outsider? Yes, he must. Any mistake now might be fatal.
He soon saw that so far as Peter was concerned, he need not have worried. Peter’s own manner was strange. Peter had undoubtedly taken the affair very much to heart and so had Elsie. After some talk the two men walked down to the lake. Three boats were in use, the two from The Moat boat-house and one belonging to Peter’s neighbour. In each were two men, one at the oars and one manipulating the large rake-like drag. Bray was in one of the boats. A constable stood at the boat-house and saluted respectfully as Peter and Charles approached.
Peter engaged him in conversation, but without result. The dragging was the authorities’ idea, and the constable did not know what had made it necessary. No, they had not found anything so far, but of course they hadn’t much more than started. He did not know what they had found in the boat-house, if anything. He could not say how long they would keep up their efforts. In fact the constable was an excellent police representative.
For some little time the three men stood watching the sinister operations. The police were working systematically and Charles felt sure that if they continued as they had begun, they would find the body. At present they were keeping to the shore, but each new path they swept was a little farther out. To reach the middle of the lake was a mere question of time.
The day dragged interminably. Charles could settle to nothing. He cancelled his golf and hung about The Moat with Peter. He was longing to go home and be alone, but he could not tear himself away from the chance of news. When night came and nothing had been found he could scarcely have told whether he was the more distressed or relieved.
The next day was the same. Indeed it was almost worse. He knew that the boats would by this time have crept a good deal nearer to that ghastly spot in the centre of the lake. He would have given a lot of money to know just how far they had still to go, but he dared not exhibit that kind of interest. No, there was nothing for it but to get through the day as best he could, showing pressing interest in nothing but his business.
That evening his body was aching all over from sheer weariness. For almost the first time in his life he was drunk when bedtime came.
On the following morning a splitting headache was almost a relief. It gave him something to think of, or rather it took his mind to some extent off the lake. He tried to concentrate on business. Almost he succeeded.
Then in the middle of the morning the news came. Peter rang up to say that the body had been found.
Chapter XVII
Charles Attains Security
Peter did not seem to have obtained much information beyond the mere facts that the body had been discovered and that the case was one of murder. He asked Charles to go over to lunch and discuss the situation. Charles, fighting his fears, agreed.
Charles found both Peter and Elsie still very much upset when he reached The Moat. Already Peter had been warned to remain at home for the next day or two, as he would be wanted at the inquest.
‘As if we hadn’t had enough of that sort of thing,’ Elsie complained. ‘I’m terribly sorry for poor Weatherup, though he was a man I didn’t really care for. But I’m also sorry for ourselves, having to go through all this police business again and so soon. I don’t think we’ll be able to stay here. This place has become utterly hateful.’
Charles asked for details of the discovery.
‘There’s not much to tell,’ Peter returned, and Charles soon found that this was the case. Peter, however, had two items of information, one of which Charles found disquieting and the other reassuring.
‘Did you know,’ went on Peter, ‘that the Scotland Yard man was here still and all this work at the lake has been done at his request? He’s been here asking questions and I found him at the lake yesterday. I went down to see how they were getting on and he was there talking to Bray. Bray was deferring to him in the most obsequious way.’
This was an unexpected blow. Charles, however, managed a creditable reply.
‘I thought – what’s his name? – French had gone back to town? hadn’t heard anything of him lately.’
‘I thought so, too, but we were wrong. I wonder what he thinks he’s getting at.’
Charles shook his head vaguely. It was what was so terribly agitating himself.
‘You say,’ he went on, ‘that it was definitely a case of murder. How did they know that?’
‘His skull was fractured. He had evidently been hit over the head with something heavy, and Bray thinks it may have been a piece of lead pipe. Two pieces of lead pipe were tied to the body to weight it down. It shows the affair was premeditated, doesn’t it, if the murderer had provided himself with weights.’
Charles agreed. ‘Makes it more mysterious than ever,’ he commented. ‘In the first place, if Weatherup was murdered for the money, how did the murderer know he had it on him?’
‘I don’t know,’ Peter returned. ‘I saw that difficulty myself. Indeed, I put it to Bray.’
‘What did he say?’
‘He said he had been puzzled by the same thing. The police are not giving much away.’
‘I thought you believed they agreed with me?’ put in Elsie.
‘Well, I did,’ Peter admitted slowly; ‘I thought so, but I’m not sure. I had precious little to go on.’
Charles turned to his cousin. ‘You had a theory, Elsie? What was it?’
‘I suggested,’ Elsie answered, ‘that some unknown person had burgled the house and that Weatherup had heard him and gone down. Perhaps he had followed him out and challenged him and the burglar had turned on him and murdered him to save himself being caught.’
‘That’s ingenious, Elsie,’ Charles declared. ‘To me that sounds
the most likely theory yet. And you say you think the police accept it, Peter?’
Peter moved uneasily. ‘I thought so, but I couldn’t be sure. As I say, I mentioned it to Bray, and he seemed impressed. I agree that it would explain a lot. But then it assumes that the burglar knew the money was in the desk, which doesn’t seem possible.’
‘Does it assume that?’ Charles queried. ‘Might the money not have been found simply by accident?’
‘Then what was the burglar looking for?’
‘Anything valuable. It would have been a reasonable enough assumption that there might be money there. But if not there would almost certainly have been something valuable.’
‘The dining-room was full of silver. Why didn’t he take some of that?’
‘Silver’s bulky and hard to get rid of. Money is what he’d look for. At least, I think so. What do you say, Elsie?’
They agreed that while not entirely satisfactory, this theory was the best so far put forward. ‘I’d be glad if it turned out to be true,’ said Elsie. ‘I hate to think of that man after all these years being just a common thief.’
‘Yes,’ Peter agreed, ‘I feel that, too. Weatherup wasn’t a bad soul. The old man liked him and indeed Weatherup was very good to him.’
‘Tell me,’ said Charles. ‘You said the key of the study window was missing. Was it found on the body?’
Peter hadn’t heard. He had forgotten to ask and Bray had not volunteered the information.
They continued discussing the affair during lunch, and then Charles went with Peter to the study to smoke a cigar.
‘There’s one thing, Peter,’ he said as they settled themselves with a decanter of port on the table between them; ‘I wonder has it occurred to you? This affair may make a considerable difference to your peace of mind. Have you realized that there is now no evidence that you were handling the old man’s bottle of pills on the night before his death?’
Peter nodded several times. ‘I thought of that,’ he answered, glancing meaningly at his cousin. ‘In fact in a way I’ve scarcely thought of anything else since the body was found. I’ve felt ashamed of myself, because I found myself actually glad that it had happened. Still, I suppose I had some excuse.’
‘Of course you had,’ Charles said warmly. ‘I don’t see how you could be anything else but glad. Not that I ever believed you had anything to fear. But now you won’t have it on your mind any longer.’
Peter seemed relieved. ‘I declare, Charles, it’s a comfort to hear you say that. Though I’m glad the way it has worked out, you understand I’m sorry about Weatherup. Poor fellow, it was a horrible death to die; and yet I suppose in a way it was an easy one. He couldn’t have felt anything, at all events.’
As soon as Charles could manage it, he took his leave. Talking about the affair was a terrible strain, and though he thought he had acquitted himself well, there was always the danger of making some slip. It would be so desperately easy to know a little bit too much, and once he had shown undue knowledge, nothing on earth could explain it away.
The rest of that day was a torment. Suspense! That was what tried him so desperately. Though his reason told him he was safe, his imagination kept on suggesting all sorts of possibilities.
Late that evening there was a telephone call from Peter. The police had just advised him that the inquest was to be held in the town hall at half-past ten on the following morning. Peter supposed that Charles would like to be present.
‘Yes, I’ll be there,’ Charles answered. ‘How’s Elsie keeping?’
‘Oh, all right. She’s not looking forward with much pleasure to to-morrow.’
‘She won’t be called, will she? I should have thought they’d take evidence of identification and adjourn.’
‘The constable who came round wasn’t sure. She’s been summoned on chance, at all events.’
To his surprise Charles slept like a log all that night. All the same he woke in a very depressed condition and with the thought of what he had done heavy on his mind. He had first the impression that he had just been dreaming a dreadful nightmare, and then he experienced the contingent feeling of relief that he was not really in the appalling position he had supposed. For a moment he lay luxuriating in the belief that the horror was non-existent. Then he remembered! The nightmare was real. The horror was actual. He was doubly a murderer. Moreover the knowledge would always be there. Nothing that he could do would blot it out. And there was not only this dreadful moral weight on him. He was in danger physically. He was in danger of death and of worse than death.
However, breakfast and strong coffee steadied his nerves and when he reached the town hall he felt cool and sure of himself. To-day at all events would not be so bad. He was not even to be called as a witness. All he had to do was to sit tight and say nothing.
History seemed to be repeating itself as he pushed his way into the crowded room. Once again Sergeant Bray showed him to a seat, where presently he was joined by Peter and Elsie and the two maids from The Moat. Once again the unemployed formed the larger part of the audience. Once again the interest was keen.
The coroner was the same Dr Emerson who had presided at the first inquiry. He settled down to the preliminaries with the same quiet efficiency as before. As murder was suspected, he was sitting with a jury and the members were now called.
The police were unusually strongly represented. As well as Sergeant Bray and his constables, both Superintendent Lucas and Inspector French were present. Charles’s anxiety was somewhat increased when they took their places, then he told himself that in any murder case they would come. It meant nothing to him.
Peter was the first witness. Peter had pulled himself together, and, while grave, he was quite collected and apparently free from nervousness. He listened to the coroner’s questions with attention and replied to them quickly and fully. To Charles he seemed a model witness.
First he stated that he had inspected the remains and that they were those of John Weatherup, his butler. He sketched Weatherup’s career so far as he knew it and testified to his excellent character. He had always found him strictly honest and he would be very much surprised indeed to learn that the man had stolen his money. He knew nothing of the deceased, however, prior to the latter entering the service of his father-in-law, the late Mr Andrew Crowther. Nor did he know anything of the man’s family; he had never heard the subject mentioned. He had no reason whatever to suppose the deceased was carrying on any intrigue. Weatherup was a somewhat secretive man and he, witness, knew really nothing of his private life. No, he certainly had not known of his being in any financial or other trouble. Had such circumstances obtained, he would have been glad to help Weatherup out, and he believed the man would have known this and applied to him. He had noticed nothing unusual in his manner prior to his death.
The coroner then asked about the money. Peter said that he had been going to an auction of agricultural machinery and he had obtained some cash as he wished to purchase on a fairly large scale. He had used some of it, leaving a balance of £135 10s. It was mostly in single notes, though there were a few fives. He locked the roll in his desk, there being no safe at The Moat. He mentioned that he had done so to his wife and to no one else. He did not think he could have been overheard in doing so, but of course he could not be absolutely certain. On the night of the robbery and tragedy he himself was in London. No, he was entirely puzzled by the affair and could not suggest any theory of what might have happened.
In reply to a juror Peter said that so far as he knew there was only one key to his desk and that he kept that on his ring in his pocket. The desk was certainly left open at times, but he had been careful to keep it locked while the money was there. No one therefore could have opened it accidentally and learnt of the notes.
Elsie was next called. She generally corroborated Peter’s evidence about Weatherup’s character and manner prior to his death and declared her ignorance of his family or private affairs. Then she told of the night of the t
ragedy. She had been lying awake. About three in the morning she had heard a loud report from somewhere downstairs. She had once heard a picture fall during the night and she thought this sounded much the same. She went down and had a look through the lower rooms. Everything however seemed normal and she supposed the sound must have been caused by a creaking board. No, she had not called the servants. Why should she, since she had been satisfied there was nothing wrong? Next day the police had shown her the split in the wood of the study desk. She was sure that split was fresh. The sound she heard might have been that wood splitting, but of course she could not say so definitely.
Next morning Weatherup had disappeared. She asked the maids and found that his bed had been slept in. She did nothing for a while, thinking that he had gone out and would presently return. He did not come however and about eleven she rang up her cousin, Mr Charles Swinburn, to ask his advice. Mr Swinburn went over to see her and they made a rough search of the house and grounds. When they found no trace Mr Swinburn advised informing the police. She agreed and asked him to ring them up and he did so. The police turned up in a few minutes.
No, she couldn’t understand what could have occurred. She had always found the deceased perfectly honest and she also would be very much surprised to learn it was he who had stolen the notes.
The maids were the next witnesses. They deposed that when the deceased had not appeared in the morning they had looked into his room. They had found that his bed had been slept in, and that the deceased’s ordinary clothes had gone: his dress waistcoat and trousers and an old tweed coat which he used to wear if he went out about the place in the evening. His manner had been quite normal on the previous evening and neither could imagine what had occurred. So far as either knew he had not received any letter or message during the day.
A slightly increased show of interest passed over the assembly when the next witness was called: Detective-Inspector French of Scotland Yard. He looked a pleasant, rather kindly and very ordinary man as he stood in the box and took the oath. He spoke quietly and courteously, but gave a good deal less information than his hearers would have liked.
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