by J F Straker
‘Where did you get it?’ she asked, completely mystified. ‘And why is it important?’
‘I got if from Mr Connaught’s executors; they had found it stuffed away at the back of his desk. I don’t suppose he meant to keep it, so it’s lucky that they did.’ Pitt hesitated, and then said slowly. ‘Unless I am greatly mistaken its importance lies in the fact that, indirectly, it killed your grandfather.’
She gasped. ‘An envelope? But how?’
‘Because it should never have come into his possession.’ He spoke more briskly. ‘Thank you, miss — I won’t detain you any longer; those kids sound as though they need you in there.’ He jerked his thumb at the open window, no longer crowded with faces. Form One had lost interest in the police and were chasing each other round the classroom. ‘But I’d be glad if you would keep this to yourself — and from Mr Russell in particular. That fiancé of yours has an infinite capacity for meddling in police affairs — with unfortunate results. Better to leave him uninformed, or he might be tempted to interfere again.’
Anne was puzzled. Why an ‘infinite’ capacity? Surely Colin had interfered only once?
‘I’m all for keeping him out of it, Inspector,’ she assured him. ‘I won’t tell a soul.’
In the hall Pitt was waylaid by an indignant headmaster.
‘This is disgraceful, Inspector. The grounds are full of policemen —’
‘Three, sir. All they could spare me.’
‘— and on the very day the boys are leaving,’ Mr Latimer went on, unheeding. ‘The effect on parents will be disastrous. I am told they are looking for something. Well, whatever it is, I must ask you to call off the search at once. It must wait until tomorrow, or at least until after the boys have gone.’
‘No, sir, that’s impossible,’ Pitt said firmly.
‘But why, man, why?’ He was pleading now, not commanding. ‘Do you want to ruin me? What is it you expect to find?’
‘A corpse, Mr Latimer.’
Instantly Pitt regretted his bluntness. It was not the tactful and considerate reply which the question deserved. He pulled a chair forward and watched the headmaster’s long length collapse on to it.
‘I’m sorry, sir. I should have broken the news more gently. But you see now why the search must go on?’
‘Yes. Yes, of course.’ Mr Latimer looked a broken man. All the fight had gone out of him. ‘But — whose?’
‘Mr Moull’s.’
The other nodded as though expecting this reply. ‘Suicide, do you think?’
‘Possibly. We’ll know better when we find him.’
On the gravel outside a car drew up, a door slammed. The headmaster shook himself and stood up, wriggling his long neck as if the collar were throttling him. ‘More parents,’ he muttered, with a pleading look at the Inspector.
Pitt took the hint and went into the library. He was beginning to feel sorry for Mr Latimer. The man was autocratic and domineering, completely selfish in his lack of co-operation. But it was never pleasant to see a purposeful character deteriorate into the helpless, bewildered creature he had just left. If only ...
Then he smiled. There were voices in the hall, and dominating them came that of the headmaster. Mr Latimer was talking pleasantly but forcefully, giving his visitor no chance to utter the expected complaint. The deterioration, Pitt decided, had been very temporary.
He was about to send for Smelton when the telephone rang. ‘Pitt speaking,’ he said into the mouthpiece, and listened attentively to the voice at the other end of the wire. When it had finished he replaced the receiver slowly, wrote ‘pot cy — Trynn, King’s Road, Chelsea — June 22,’ in his notebook, and stood for a moment gazing thoughtfully at the closed library door, on the other side of which Mr Latimer’s heavy voice could still be heard. Then he shrugged. It was, after all, only what he had expected. Yet the man had been clever. He had only inferred the lie, he had not spoken it.
Smelton seemed more irritated than perturbed by the Inspector’s summons. He marched into the library, slammed the door behind him, and curtly demanded to be told what the police thought they were playing at. ‘You may have a job to do, Inspector, but so have I. Moull’s disappearance has left us short-handed, and until this afternoon is over the boys still have to be supervised. What is it you want now?’
Pitt looked at him. He disliked Joseph Latimer and he disliked Smelton. But, whereas Latimer had character, this little man had nothing but his bombast.
‘I wanted to ask if you slept well on the night of October the twenty-first,’ he said.
Smelton fairly bristled. ‘What sort of a joke is this?’
‘No joke, sir. That was the night, you remember, before Mr Connaught was drowned. I believe you spent it in the cells at Tanbury Police Station, didn’t you?’
The little man seemed suddenly to shrink still further in stature. Schoolteachers wilt easily, Pitt thought; first Latimer, now this chap. Maybe small boys have that ultimate effect; a gradual erosion, as it were, of one’s moral strength until suddenly it flops completely. Or — remembering Joseph Latimer — until at least it sags.
‘How did you know?’ asked Smelton, his voice a whisper of its former self.
‘We policemen tell each other things,’ Pitt said cheerfully. ‘Drunk and incapable, wasn’t it?’
He rallied at that. ‘No, certainly not,’ he said indignantly. ‘There was no charge; they merely gave me a bed for the night.’
‘But you were drunk, if not incapable?’
Not drunk, said Smelton. Certainly he had had a few drinks; but he wasn’t drunk — there hadn’t been time. And when the constable spoke to him he had already spent the little money he had had on him when he rushed out of the house; so he couldn’t go to a hotel and he couldn’t hire a taxi. And he thought it unwise to tell the constable about the car parked on the square; he knew that to be drunk in charge of a car was a serious offence, and that one could be charged with it even if one was not actually in the car. And at the police station the Sergeant had said —
‘All right. How did you get your head wet?’
‘Eh?’ Smelton, cut short in his flow of rhetoric, was left floundering. ‘Head wet? I don’t understand.’
‘I’m told that when you arrived at the school next morning your head was dripping with water. As though you had been in the river. Had you?’
‘Certainly not. But I’m not used to heavy drinking, Inspector, and I felt very muzzy the next morning. I stopped the car at the bridge on the way here, and went down to the river to sluice my head. There was no time to go home for a bath and a change, and I thought the cold water might brace me up.’ Smelton hesitated. ‘Is it necessary for this to go any further, Inspector? My reputation — one has to be so careful in this profession; and Mr Latimer is —’
‘I didn’t get much co-operation from you, Mr Smelton.’ Pitt stared at the little man for a moment and then relented. ‘All right, sir; I won’t mention this to your headmaster unless I find it necessary.’ He picked up the stick that Anne had seen him with earlier and regarded it thoughtfully. ‘I want a word with young Locking. He hasn’t left yet, has he?’
‘No, he’s still here. I’ll send him along. And thank you, Inspector. I — er — I had thought of sending a small donation to the Tanbury police.’ Smelton summoned a rather watery smile. ‘Payment, as it were, for a night’s lodging. Do you think that would be misinterpreted as a bribe?’
‘Probably,’ said Pitt. ‘But send it to the Standing Joint Committee, and you won’t have any trouble.’
***
It was Colin who drew the attention of the police to the smashed handrail on the bridge. ‘I’m not going to hang around the school to be pestered by inquisitive parents,’ he had told Anne after lunch. ‘I’ll go and help them look for Chris. I’ll be down by the stream if I’m wanted.’ And when she had pointed out that the police were not by the stream, but in the woods, he had grinned and said, ‘I know. But somehow I don’t feel comfortable with a lot o
f coppers around me. I’d rather be on my own.’
‘Look at that,’ he said to Sergeant Maddox, pointing to where the handrail on the downstream side of the bridge had been broken away. ‘It wasn’t like that on Saturday afternoon when I was down here with the boys.’
Maddox walked gingerly on to the bridge and peered down at the sharp rocks over which the water now tumbled in a sullen swirl. ‘He wouldn’t have much of a chance if he fell in there,’ he said. ‘It’s quite a drop. If he cracked his head on those rocks he’d be out cold.’
They made their way slowly down the side of the stream. The banks were high and thickly wooded; the water was muddy and still moving fairly fast. It was impossible to see the bottom. But gradually the banks became less steep, the ground levelled out, and the stream widened into a small lake some hundred yards before it joined the Tan. And it was there they found Chris Moull. He had drifted out of the main stream to the side of the lake, where he lay in shallow water face downward among the reeds.
The Sergeant blew his whistle. Colin turned away when the others arrived and they began to pull the body out of the water. He had been fond of Chris; he could not bear to look at him now.
Maddox came over and put a hand on his shoulder.
‘Nasty business this, sir,’ he said sympathetically. ‘Would you mind going ahead to warn them up at the school? We’ll be taking the body up there for the present, and it would be best to get the boys out of the way first.’
Colin nodded and set off up the slope. He was thinking fast, for he knew that if he was to act at all he must act now. At any moment the police might pounce and then it would be too late. There was no time now to balance pros and cons. Now he must decide — and act.
***
‘That’s what killed him, Inspector,’ said the doctor, pointing to a deep wound at the base of the skull. ‘And if he fell head first on to a jagged piece of rock that would account for it. The lacerations on the rest of the body were probably incurred as it was carried downstream by the current.’
The body lay on a trestle-table in the gymnasium, whence it had been brought while the boys were assembled in the study. The windows were too high for a boy to peer through, and the only precaution necessary after that had been the posting of a constable at the door. Pitt had promised the headmaster that the body would not be moved from the gymnasium until the last boy had left that afternoon.
He went out into the corridor with Maddox. A few boys were wandering aimlessly about, cap in one hand, raincoat trailing from the other. They showed little interest in the two detectives. Familiarity had bred acceptance of their presence in the school, and the boys’ minds were now concentrated on the holidays.
‘Any luck with Records, sir?’ asked Maddox.
‘Yes. Amazing, isn’t it? There might have been any of a dozen reasons, and by pure chance we hit the jackpot first go.’
‘What was it?’
‘Twelve months for embezzlement.’
‘Does that mean we can go ahead?’
‘I think we’ll have to. There’s a lot to do before the case is sewn up, but I daren’t wait for that.’ Pitt sighed. ‘Get Russell, will you? I’ll be in the library.’
But Colin Russell was not to be found. When a search of the building proved unavailing Pitt extended it to the grounds, and gave orders for the entire staff to be rounded up and assembled under police guard in the common room.
‘I’m not taking any chances,’ he said grimly to Maddox.
Then he sent for Anne.
She looked pale; her eyes were swollen with crying. ‘I don’t know where he is, Inspector,’ she said. ‘But when he came to tell me that they’d found Chris he looked well, odd. He talked oddly too. Of course, I know he was upset, but ...’ She began to cry softly in a tired, helpless manner. Pitt realised how near to breaking point the girl must be. But he had to find Russell.
He handed her a glass of water — why, he did not know — and she sipped it slowly, the tears still rolling down her cheeks.
‘I’m sorry to badger you, miss, but I must find Mr Russell. He —’
Anne interrupted him. ‘There’s nothing else wrong, is there? He’s not in any danger?’ she asked, alarm overcoming her distress.
‘No,’ he said slowly. ‘No, it’s not Mr Russell that’s in danger, I fancy.’
Relief at his assurance obscured from her mind the full meaning of his answer, and she relaxed against the back of the chair.
‘You say he talked oddly, miss. How?’
‘It was in the common room,’ said Anne. ‘We were alone, and after he’d told me about Chris he began walking up and down, not taking any notice of me, but talking to himself about having made a mess of something or other and whether he ought to take a chance. It didn’t make sense to me, and he wouldn’t explain, and ...’ A look in the Inspector’s eye stopped her. ‘Do you understand what he meant?’
Pitt nodded. ‘I think so. Go on.’
‘What was it?’
‘Never mind that now,’ he said impatiently. ‘Go on, please.’
‘Well, suddenly he came up to me and caught hold of my shoulders. I was frightened; I’d never seen him look like that before. He said if I discovered that he’d done something wrong — something for which the law could punish him — what would I do?’
‘And what did you tell him?’
‘I said I’d stick by him no matter what happened, because I love him. And so I do, Inspector. Besides, I know Colin; he’s inclined to make mountains out of molehills; he takes things so intensely. I knew he couldn’t have done anything really wrong. It just isn’t in him.’
‘What happened then?’
‘I was just going to ask him to explain when Diana — Miss Farling — came in to tell me that Mrs Dickson wanted to speak to me. I had to go, of course; and when I got back to the common room Colin wasn’t there.’
‘Didn’t Miss Farling know where he’d gone?’
‘She wasn’t there either.’
Pitt, more worried now than he wished the girl to realize, was anxious to be rid of her; he thanked her briefly and signalled her dismissal by opening the door. As she went out of the room there came the sound of voices from the hall, and he was about to close the door again when a shrill feminine voice made him pause.
‘Miss Connaught! Oh, I’m so glad I didn’t go without seeing you. I hear congratulations are in order. Miss Webber has just been telling me of your engagement to that nice Mr Russell.’
Anne uttered a low word of thanks.
‘Of course, I only met him once,’ the shrill voice went on, ‘but he’s terribly attractive in a manly way, isn’t he? I do think you’re frightfully trusting to let him go wandering around the country like that. She’s not as pretty as you, of course; but still — well, you know what men are.’
Pitt’s hand tightened on the door-knob as Anne said quietly, ‘I’m afraid I don’t understand, Mrs Spellman.’
‘Oh, dear, I hope I haven’t put my foot in it,’ said the voice. ‘But we passed them up the lane just now. Of course, I didn’t know then that you — oh!’
Mrs Spellman’s terrified shriek was echoed by Miss Webber as the Inspector almost leapt at them from the library. ‘Where did you see Mr Russell?’ he asked, grasping the woman by the arm and all but shaking her in his urgency.
Mrs Spellman, quickly recovering from her initial fright, freed her arm imperiously and looked sternly at her attacker.
‘Really!’ she exclaimed. ‘By what right —’
Pitt controlled his temper.
‘I’m a police officer, ma’am. Mr Russell is urgently wanted for questioning. Where did you see him?’
‘Why, down the lane, as I said. They were getting over a stile this side of the fork. If you’d asked me —’
‘The chalk pits!’ exclaimed Anne.
Pitt wheeled swiftly. ‘You know the place?’
Anne nodded, too frightened to speak. The Inspector’s unease had communicated itself to her
, and the vision of Colin climbing up the hillside to the chalk pits had somehow revived her former fears. But she was given no time to dwell on them. Pitt whisked her out of the hall and into the back seat of the waiting police car. He turned to her for instructions, and she pointed dumbly. With deceptive smoothness the car gathered speed, turned swiftly out of the gates, and sped off down the lane.
The short journey enabled Anne to recover her wits. As the fork came in sight she tapped the Inspector on the shoulder.
‘Stop just this side of the fork,’ she said. ‘There’s a stile on the right. The chalk pits are up there, on the other side of the hill.’
Pitt nodded, and spoke to the driver. As the car pulled up, so suddenly that Anne slid to the floor, he was out on the road and making for the stile. Anne and the driver followed. They were both young and fit, and gradually gained on the older man in front; but all three were panting heavily as they crested the slope and paused involuntarily.
On the lip of a deep chalk pit cut into the side of the hill a man and a woman were struggling, in front of them a thirty foot drop. Although the three watchers were less than fifty yards distant, they were powerless to intervene, for the pit lay between them and the struggling figures. For a few moments they stood motionless; then, with a loud shout, the Inspector was clambering down the near side of the pit and racing towards the cliff, the driver after him. Anne tried to follow, but her legs, her whole body seemed numb. She could only watch, hands tightly clasped, an unconscious prayer in her heart.
The policemen were half-way across the floor of the pit when one of the struggling figures reeled back, away from the cliff. For a moment the other teetered, arms flailing desperately. Then, with a cry that Anne was to remember for many days to come, it toppled over the edge and fell, a whirling octopus of arms and legs, down the white face of the cliff.
***
Anne recovered consciousness to find Colin kneeling beside her, an arm about her shoulders. Her relief at knowing he was safe caused her to burst into tears.
‘It’s all right, darling,’ he said. ‘It’s all right.’