They Found Him Dead Part 26

"Thank you, Adrian!" said Jim in a broken voice. "I undoubtedly owe my life to you."

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

Mr. Harte, learning at the breakfast table of the night's happenings, was torn between pride in the success of his invention and disgust at having slept through the disturbance. He thought it excessively funny that his father should have sprung the alarm, and when rebuked by his ungrateful stepbrother for having set such a b.o.o.by trap outside his door, said indignantly that it was not a b.o.o.by trap, and how on earth could he have guessed, anyway, that his father would go wandering about the house in the middle of the night?

His mother staunchly supported him and agreed that the alarm should be set every night. Mr.

James Kane said that this was what drove a man from home and expressed a desire for the police to make haste and clear up the mystery.

"I must say, I think it's high time they did," said Lady Harte; "I begin to wonder whether they're doing anything at all. Most unsatisfactory!"

She might have been comforted had she known that Sergeant Hemingway was saying much the same thing.

"We get no forrader," he grumbled. "We've got no less than nine suspects for Clement Kane's death, and though this attempt on young Kane seems to whittle the number down a bit at first glance, when you go into it you find it's made the whole thing in a worse muddle than what it was before.

Take Pretty Paul. You might have thought we'd got him in a cleft stick when we found out about him being on the premises when Clement was shot, but not a bit of it! He pulls out a highly unconvincing story of what he'd been doing, and those Pembles go and corroborate it. It's disheartening, Chief. Are we looking for one murderer or two murderers, that's what I'd like to know?"

"So should I," said Hannasyde.

"Well, to my way of thinking, there's just one person behind the whole show, and I've a strong notion it's Paul Mansell. Myself, I don't fancy Jim Kane. If he was clever enough to make away with two cousins without leaving a single clue behind him, I can't see what he wants with a couple of faked attempts on himself. We hadn't got a thing on him, which he must have known. What's more, if he loosened that nut on his car, he was taking a tidy risk. Suppose it had come off in the middle of the town, and he'd sailed into an omnibus, or something? Nice mess he'd have made of himself! Suppose there'd been another car coming towards him when the nut did come off? He fits the first two murders-I give you that; but he doesn't fit this latest denouement. If we're after someone who fits the two murders and the two attempts, all we've got is a couple of Mansells-and of the two I'd put my money on Paul-and this Leighton, whom we haven't seen. For the life of me, Super, I can't see why you're so shy of thinking it might be Pretty Paul."

"I don't like his motive," replied Hannasyde. "The stake isn't big enough."

"Well, I don't know," said the sergeant. "I've known a man to murder his own mother for the sake of a few hundred pounds' insurance money."

"We're not dealing with a criminal of the poorer cla.s.ses, nor have I known a man to murder three people for the sake of a few hundred pounds."

"Dare say he expects to make a few thousands."

"No doubt. But there's a difference between expectation and certainty. There's also another factor which you're leaving out of account. When Clement Kane was shot, James Kane, standing in the garden hall, saw nothing. Not so much as an agitation in the bushes. You may contend, if you like, that it would have been possible for the murderer to have shot Clement through the study window and to have dashed into the cover of the shrubbery in a very few seconds. But I've seen that garden hall. James Kane states that the door into the garden was open; if it had been shut he could still have seen out, because the upper panels are glazed. The sound of a shot so near at hand must have had the effect of making him look round immediately. An involuntary reaction. He says he did look round and stepped out at once through the open door. I've stood in that garden hall, Hemingway, and I've seen that it commands a view of the shrubbery. I can't understand how James Kane could have failed to observe any movement at all in the garden. If the murderer escaped, not into the shrubbery but by the path running along the side of the house to the front avenue, it is incredible that Kane should not have caught a glimpse of him when he looked out. He heard no footsteps on the gravel, either before or after the shot. One can argue that, as he had only just entered the garden hall when the shot was fired, he need not necessarily have heard anyone approaching the study. But surely he must have heard a hasty retreat? If we are to exonerate James Kane himself, we look like being faced with a far more fantastic possibility, which is that old Mrs. Kane murdered Clement, and James Kane knows it."

"Revenge?" inquired the sergeant.

"That, and dislike of having him and his wife firmly established at Cliff House. She believes that Clement killed her son: that much seems to be certain. One of the doubts in my mind is whether she could have handled as heavy a gun as a .38."

"Yes, but if she did it, and Jim Kane knows it, what about the attempts on him?" objected the sergeant. "Are you making Sir Adrian responsible for them?"

"It's a possibility. They may, on the other hand, have been faked by himself, partly to throw me off Mrs. Kane's scent, partly to protect himself. Tortuous, I know, but the human brain is tortuous."

The sergeant sighed. "You're making it sound worse than ever, Chief. I'm blowed if I see where we are now."

"On the wrong track," replied Hannasyde promptly. "We've got to find the gun which shot Clement Kane."

"What you might call a tall order," remarked the sergeant. "If it was James Kane who did it, the odds are he took it out to sea in that boat of his and dropped it overboard. If it was Dermott, after all, we might find it at the bottom of the lake, but more likely he disposed of it miles from here. If it was young Mansell, there's no saying where he got rid of it. Of course, I had a look in the shrubbery, but there was no sign of the ground having been disturbed, and I can't say I expected any. It isn't in human nature to leave the weapon close to the scene of the crime, now, is it?"

"That's a ready-made argument which won't stand investigation," answered Hannasyde. "I agree that in nine cases out of ten you won't find the weapon near the scene of the crime, except of course in those instances where the murder has been faked to look like suicide. But the more I go into this case the more I feel convinced that we're up against a very astute mind. Moreover, unless the murderer was either Paul Mansell or Trevor Dermott, we have to remember that he had very little time in which to dispose of the gun before confronting Inspector Carlton. It's true Carlton didn't search anyone, but I hardly think the murderer would have been foolhardy enough to have run the risk of being found with the weapon on his person. Instinct would urge him to get rid of it immediately."

"Yes, that's good psychology, Super," conceded the sergeant. "What are we going to do? Drag the lake?"

"If all else fails. But neither James Kane nor Mrs. Kane could have disposed of the revolver as far from the house as that, let alone the certainty of their being seen by Dermott and Mrs. Clement Kane, who were there. I think it must be concealed in, or near, the house."

"That bank of rhododendrons? Terrible Timothy searched there, and so I did myself."

"No, I thought of that; but I don't believe we shall find it there. If the murderer hid it there he must surely have buried it, for we were bound to search that bank. I don't see him doing that. It would have taken time, he might have been seen from the house, and at any moment one of the gardeners might have pa.s.sed by. If he got rid of the gun on the premises he must have done it quickly. Now, isn't there a big rain tub standing not ten feet from the study window?"

The sergeant blinked at him. "There is, of course, but are you suggesting that anyone would have the almighty bra.s.s to drop the gun in there where it might be discovered any minute, Super?

Why, he'd have to be crazy! The very fact of the tub being so handy would be enough to put him off!"

"Perhaps he banked on us thinking that," said Hannasyde with a slight smile.

The sergeant scratched his chin. "I'm bound to say it's about the last place I'd look for the gun.

As a matter of fact, I've never banked much on finding it there at all."

"Nor I. Which is where I think we may have been wrong. We'll go and investigate that tub."

But when the sergeant was confronted with the big green rain tub standing so blatantly against the wall of the house, he shook his head and said: "He wouldn't have had the nerve."

"Whoever committed this crime had plenty of nerve," replied Hannasyde grimly. "See if you can find a long stick."

The sergeant said: "That's easy," and moved towards a round bed of roses beyond the edge of the shrubbery and calmly uprooted the stake that supported one of the standard trees. Hannasyde took it from him, and, mounting the brick platform on which the tub stood, lifted the wooden lid, and lowered the stick into the dark water, probing and stirring. The sergeant watched him with interest but without hope.

"There is something lying on the bottom!" Hannasyde said. "I've just moved it." He withdrew the stake, threw it aside, and stepped down from the ledge of bricks. "Turn that spigot, Sergeant! I want the tub emptied."

"That'll make us popular with the head gardener," murmured the sergeant, but he turned the spigot and stood back while the water splashed down onto the gravel path, forming first a pond and then a river.

It was not the head gardener who took exception to the gathering flood, but Ogle, bouncing out upon the two detectives from the garden hall. "You turn that tap off this instant!" she commanded angrily. "The idea of it, making all this mess! You've got no right to come here ruining the flower-beds and making the place not fit to go near! What do you want with that tub? Who gave you leave to touch it, I should like to know?"

Hannasyde paid no attention, leaving the task of getting rid of her to his subordinate, who accomplished it in record time. She darted back into the house, promising to tell Mr. James what damage was being done to his property, and in a few moments came back with him at her heels.

"There, sir!" she said. "Tell them to stop it this instant! The mistress wouldn't allow it, not for one moment! The impudence of it!"

"All right, Ogle! You trot along," said Jim. He looked from the lake at his feet to the superintendent and said, as Ogle withdrew reluctantly into the house: "I say, must you? You're not exactly improving this bit of garden. What's the great idea?"

"I shouldn't do it if I didn't think it necessary, Mr. Kane," said Hannasyde rather curtly. "It won't do any serious damage to the garden, I a.s.sure you. The tub's only half-full."

"Thanks very much," said Jim, his jaw hardening a little. "And now perhaps you'll explain just what you're up to?"

"Certainly," said Hannasyde, looking at him under his brows. "I am pursuing an investigation.

Have you any objection?"

"I have," said Jim. "I object most strongly to having any part of my property damaged without my permission being first obtained."

"I beg your pardon," said Hannasyde instantly. "Have I your permission to empty this tub?"

For a moment Jim's smiling eyes held no hint of a smile but, instead, a distinctly grim expression. Then his excellent temper rea.s.serted itself and he gave a laugh and said: "Carry on!"

"Thank you," said Hannasyde, watching the dwindling flow of water from the spigot.

Jim lit a cigarette and stood half in, half out of the garden hall, leaning his big shoulders against the doorframe. "As an example of simple faith, this performance must be pretty well unrivalled," he remarked.

Hannasyde glanced up. "Yes? And why, Mr. Kane?"

"Don't be silly," said Jim. "Do you suppose I haven't grasped what you're up to? You're quite obviously hunting for the fatal weapon. Of course it would be concealed in a rain tub bang on the scene of the crime."

"We shall see," said Hannasyde. "Give me a hand, will you, Sergeant?"

The sergeant, secretly in sympathy with Mr. James Kane's evident scepticism, stepped into the flood and a.s.sisted his superior to lower the heavy tub off its platform onto the ground and to tilt it onto its side. A little muddy water trickled out of it, and, as they tilted it still farther, something was heard to slide inside it, grating on the wood.

"Right up!" Hannasyde said.

The sergeant got his hands under the bottom of the tub and gave it a hoist. A Colt .38 revolver clattered down the side of the tub and fell into the pool of water with a splash.

"Well, I'll be d.a.m.ned!" said Jim, staring.

"Sometimes, Mr. Kane, the obvious place is the right place," said Hannasyde calmly and bent to pick up the gun.

It was at this somewhat inopportune moment that Mr. Harte came wandering round the corner of the house, his whole bearing proclaiming the fact that he was bored and did not know what to do with himself.

At sight of the two detectives the cloud left his brow, and he pranced up to them, full of zeal and curiosity. "Hullo, Sarge! What are you doing?" he demanded. "Golly, what a mess! I say! What have you found?"

The sergeant, who had been staring at the gun in Hannasyde's hand as one bemused, recollected himself with a start and said: "Look here, sonny, you trot off and tell yourself an anecdote! We're busy."

"You've found the gat!" cried Mr. Harte. "Gos.h.!.+ I say, what's that weird thing on the end of the barrel?"

Hannasyde raised his eyes from the revolver and glanced thoughtfully at Mr. Harte's eager countenance.

The sergeant was trying to edge him away, but Mr. Harte had no intention of leaving. "All right, Hemingway," said Hannasyde quietly. "It doesn't matter."

The sergeant sent him a quick, puzzled look but stopped trying to get rid of Mr. Harte.

Jim, frowning at the revolver, said: "I don't understand. Isn't that thing a silencer?"

"It is," replied Hannasyde.

"But then, that can't be the gun you're looking for," Jim objected. "It made the h.e.l.l of a noise!

They heard it in the hall."

"Very odd, isn't it?" said Hannasyde unemotionally.

He slid the gun into his pocket and turned towards the house. His intent, questing gaze fell on the little brick platform built for the tub to stand on; he stepped up to it and bent, closely scrutinising it.

He picked something up very carefully. "Now I'm beginning to understand," he said.

The three others craned forward to see what lay in the palm of his hand. "That's a bit of burnt-out fuse!" Jim exclaimed.

"My Lord!" muttered the sergeant and went down on his knees by the platform. "Here's another bit, Chief. That seems to be the lot."

"About eighteen inches of it," said Hannasyde, measuring the fragments with his eye. "Say three minutes' burning time." He glanced up at the pipe which fed the rain tub. "It must have slipped down behind the tub from--" He paused and raised a hand to one of the brackets clamping the pipe to the wall, feeling it carefully "--from this bracket," he concluded, bringing his hand away with another tiny fragment of the mottled fuse in it. "There should be a detonator," He looked down at Mr. Harte and said with a faint smile: "If you want to be useful, see if you can find it."

"You bet your life!" said Mr. Harte fervently and proceeded without any more ado to create havoc amongst the antirrhinums planted thickly in the bed along the wall of the house.

The sergeant, his eyes fixed on Hannasyde's face in an expression of shocked inquiry, opened his mouth to speak, encountered a steady look from Hannasyde, and thought better of it. He joined Timothy in the search for the detonator. It was Timothy who presently let out a squeak of triumph and held up between an earth-stained finger and thumb a bra.s.s object like a cartridge which had been pinched at the open end. "Look, is this it?"

"That's it," said Hannasyde, taking it from him.

Jim was still looking bewildered. "How did it work?" he asked.

"Quite simply," Hannasyde replied. "One end of the fuse was inserted at this end. Then the sides of the cap were very carefully pinched together so that they gripped the fuse. Do you see? It was then hung over that bracket, and the other end split and set light to. Standard fuse, which it is safe to a.s.sume this is, being white, burns at the rate of six inches a minute, and I should judge that we've found just about eighteen inches of it. What you and the others heard, Mr. Kane, was not the shot that killed your cousin, but the detonator going off."

"Good G.o.d, then that accounts for my not seeing a sign of anyone when I looked out!" Jim said.

"My cousin was shot some minutes earlier?" Hannasyde nodded. "Yes, but I still don't quite get it. I gather that it lets me out, but--"

"What do you suppose can have been the reason for setting the fuse, Mr. Kane?"

"Alibi!" gasped Mr. Harte, executing a slight war dance. "Whoopee!"

"Alibi," repeated Jim. "Yes, of course. Sorry to be so dense. But--"

"Oh, Jim, you a.s.s!" said Timothy. "You couldn't have done it, because you didn't get yourself an alibi! Golly, I do think this is fun!"

"I've grasped that," said Jim. "But what I don't immediately perceive is, which of us did benefit by this contraption. Neither of the Mansells established an alibi, nor did Dermott, nor did-in fact, none of us did except Miss Allison, I suppose, and you can't seriously suspect--"

Mr. Harte drew a shuddering breath and fixed the sergeant with a glittering and accusing gaze. "I told you so!" he said. "I told you you ought to keep an eye on him!"

"Keep an eye on who?" demanded the sergeant.

"Pritchard, of course! It's obvious!"

"Pritchard?" said Jim. "My good lad, what on earth should he have to do with it? He's only been employed here since old Barker died last year, so he had no expectations of a legacy. Besides--"

Mr. Harte danced with impatience. "The Hidden Killer! He knew when Cousin Silas went out that night, and of course he followed him! And then he fixed up this affair to give himself an alibi for doing Cousin Clement in, and n.o.body ever bothered to find out where he was before he went to answer the front-door bell, because it looked as though he couldn't possibly have done it!"

"But why?" said Jim.

"Cousin Maud's husband!" hissed Mr. Harte.