John Oakley

“ Pepster rejoined.
I nodded smilingly, but did not further discuss the matter though I divined Thoyne’s move. He had taken Tulmin away in order to divert suspicion from young Clevedon. How far Thoyne had taken Tulmin into his confidence I did not know. Perhaps he had bluffed him as he had tried to bluff me. And at all events he would have paid him well. Whatever faults Thoyne may have possessed any form of parsimony was certainly not one of them. ”

“ I said. “It comes to this—if you suspect me of having any hand in killing Sir Philip Clevedon with a three-cornered hatpin, you have no right to question me. It is against your rules, isn’t it, for you to trip me up and entrap me? If I am not under suspicion I do not quite see whither your questions lead. You may produce the handcuffs or take me into your confidence. But in any case,” I added with a quick smile, “I reserve my defence.”
“You are a bit off the rails, Mr. Holt,” Pepster returned with unabated calm. “I know of nothing which should connect you with the murder, nothing at all. ”

“ If she notifies me that she cannot marry me, I have no power to compel her. But I am not prepared to take your word for it. The decision must come from herself.’ Mr. Thoyne said, ‘That is your last word, is it?’ to which Sir Philip replied, ‘My first word and my last. As far as I am concerned I am engaged and remain engaged until the young lady herself notifies me that the engagement is at an end.’ Then Mr. Thoyne said, ‘If you don’t release her I shall find a way of making you—I shall find a way.’”
The old lady ceased reading and glanced at Kitty over the top of her spectacles. ”

“ The next witness was Miss Kitty Clevedon herself and I confess I awaited her coming with more than ordinary interest. Of one thing I was certain, that she would say exactly what she wanted to say and not a word more, and that no intrusive scruples would confine her too urgently to the truth, unless, indeed, the fact that she was on oath might have any influence with her, which I doubted. I have always found that a woman’s conscience is in that respect far more elastic than a man’s. ”

“ The jury retired into the study—the room in which Sir Philip’s dead body had been found—to consider their verdict. It was not quite such a simple matter as one might suppose. My fellow jurymen were deeply impressed with the heavy responsibility thrust upon them, quite unnecessarily so, since a coroner’s verdict does not matter a snap of the finger one way or the other.
“Now, gents all,” said Tim Dallott, our foreman, “the question is—suicide or murder? Why should he want to commit suicide? And if he did, where did he hide the bottle? ”

“ The trained newspaper man is never at fault when it comes to selecting evidence. He seems to know by instinct what is crucial. The longest report of any case does not represent more than a twentieth part of the evidence actually given, but the points are all there always. And the reporters knew quite well that the absence of poison from the bottle and siphon might make all the difference between suicide and murder. Had the whisky been poisoned Sir Philip Clevedon might have put it there himself. ”

“ When I had finished with Martha I went out and met Detective Pepster strolling in casual fashion through the village. I should have missed him in the darkness but that we stepped at the same time into the light cast across the roadway by the “Waggon and Horses,” Tim Dallott’s roadside inn, famed far and wide among visitors to the Dale. ”

“ Yes, Society is based on the prevalence of the normal. When you hear, for instance, that one man has killed another, you take it for granted there was a reason—what we call a motive. And the motive is vital. Sometimes the why of a murder reveals the who, and sometimes the who explains the why. But the two must go together.”
“Your philosophy is both interesting and accurate,” I said. “And what of the hatpin?”
“Ah, the hatpin,” Pepster replied thoughtfully. ”

“ Some of them are, but not those who know their job.
“Well, suspect—that’s rather a big word,” Pepster said thoughtfully. “You see, the law says a man is innocent until he is proved guilty, but a detective who knows his business proceeds the other way about. Everybody is guilty in his eyes until the facts prove their innocence. There is only one man I am absolutely sure did not commit this murder, and that is myself, but nobody save me has any call to be sure even of that. Now you, for example—could you prove an alibi for that night if I took it into my head to charge you?” ”

“ Pepster was very angry that Tulmin had slipped through his fingers and apparently regarded the old man as an ally of the enemy.
“Taking me with you!” the old fellow cried, in the quavering accents of age. “Taking me where?”
“To prison, old chap,” Pepster replied cheerfully. “People who won’t answer questions often find themselves in gaol.”
It was pure bluff and Pepster’s superiors would probably have had something rather drastic to say had they overheard it. But the detective knew pretty well how far to go, and with whom it was safe to go even that distance. ”

“ Nothing was known of the murder then. He recognised you only because you struck a match to light your cigarette. But you were alone.”
He nodded to Sergeant Gamley and picked up his hat.
“Would it be impertinent,” I asked, “to inquire whether you have any clue, any idea, any theory—”
“Oh, I never theorise,” Pepster replied with bland serenity. “It is only story-book detectives who theorise. Theories are too much of a luxury for professionals. Facts are my stock-in-trade. I do not travel outside those.”
“You have the hatpin,” I suggested.
“Yes,” he replied vaguely, “we have the hatpin.” ”

“ The real duty of the jury is to determine the cause of death, for, though it may declare that So-and-so was a murderer, the actual demands of the law are satisfied if the jury simply decides that a murder has been committed. A coroner who knows his business does not travel far outside the brief allotted him by the police, and generally manages—though not invariably—to keep his jury within the limits assigned himself. ”

“ I had not long to wait before making further acquaintance with my pretty midnight visitor. Our second meeting took place within a few hours of the police call and on the same day. I had been out for a long walk across the hills and was tramping steadily along the high road towards Stone Hollow, when I saw, gleaming through the darkness—it was already dark though only late afternoon—at probably the loneliest and most desolate spot in the Dale, the headlights of a motor-car evidently at a standstill. ”

“ In a very long and varied experience I never knew a newspaper man to break a promise or violate a confidence. Some journals, of course, make a speciality of crime investigation on their own account, and clever enough they are at it. But even they will suppress an item of news if the police ask it, and frequently when they discover some fact unknown to the police will inquire before publishing whether it is desirable or safe. ”

“ Do you know him?”
“Lady Clevedon is in the car,” the girl said a little hurriedly. “Will you come and speak to her?”
“Is it a breakdown?” I queried.
“No,” the girl responded, “it is Hartrey. We have lost him.”
But I had no immediate opportunity of questioning her as to the missing Hartrey, or the manner of his going, for “Kitty,” as the old lady had addressed her, had run to the door of the car and pulled it open, to reveal old Lady Clevedon, white of hair, very erect of figure, rather stern of face and with keen, searching eyes that just now were full of wrath. ”

“ Thoyne murmured, with a groan. “I was hoping it would end the case. I never want to be mixed up in another murder mystery. It is the very deuce.”
“Suppose Clevedon, having quarrelled with Tulmin, and knowing you also had penetrated his secret—”
“Do you mean it was suicide?” Thoyne cried, his whole face lighting up. “If you could prove that I would—I would give you a cheque for ten thousand pounds. It would settle such a lot, wouldn’t it? Suicide, yes, I think after all it must be suicide.” ”

“ And I proceeded to recount the past history of Sir Philip Clevedon and Tulmin, and Thoyne’s connection with it. Pepster heard me to the end in silence.
“This case,” he said, when I had finished, “is the very devil. I’m half inclined to think Tulmin did it after all. At any rate there are three of them in it—Tulmin, Thoyne and Nora Lepley, but which is which—or are they all three in it?” ”

“ Thoyne,” I said, “I am not on any side—I am not for or against anyone. I deal p. 191only in facts. If I convinced myself that young Clevedon murdered Sir Philip, I should say so. I have no reason for thinking that he did and certainly no desire to drag him into it. I am not fighting you nor anybody. You do not think young Clevedon murdered Sir Philip, or you try not to think so, but at the back of your mind is the fear that he did. You are therefore prejudiced but not, as you may think, in his favour. Your very horror of the possibility persuades you to treat it almost as a probability. ”

“ Pepster repeated, as we strolled towards Stone Hollow. “Why has Thoyne taken Tulmin out of the way?”
“It may be only a coincidence,” I observed.
“It would be a curious coincidence,” Pepster remarked. “Not that I rule coincidences out myself. They happen. I have run up against some very queer instances in my time. I once had a case in which a man prepared a dose of poison for another man. The latter died of poison and the other gave himself up to justice. A clear case—but when the post-mortem took place it was found that the victim had died of quite another sort of poison altogether. ”

“ But, generally speaking, the law as it is and as it is administered aids the criminal and hampers the police, despite which, however, the latter are wonderfully successful.
Still, I can hear someone saying, many crimes go unpunished, many criminals remain undiscovered. True, but one has to remember that many criminals are known against whom there is no clear proof. The conviction of a wrong-doer is a matter of evidence not of belief. ”

“ No doubt Thoyne and Kitty had explained to them my part in the story. As they became more and more immersed in their plans for refurnishing White Towers and in various social p. 240activities, the mystery dropped more and more into the background. That was all the better for me. The necessity of consulting other folk and especially of explaining, or of concealing, because it more frequently amounts to that, is always something of a nuisance when one is engaged in delicate investigations.
But I had a little passage with Lady Clevedon the elder that was not entirely without entertainment. ”

“ It had grown dark, and was raining heavily; and as she stood in the shadow, gazing rather longingly at a warmly lighted inn, the door of which stood invitingly open, revealing an interior that seemed to be all bright reds and warm browns, and which, at all events, promised shelter, a heavy motor-van, on the sides and back of which was painted, in big, white letters, “Job Greentree, Carrier,” drew up, and from it descended a big man muffled in enormous coats, and sporting a huge beard. ”

“ I told him in a few words what Stillman had discovered regarding Thoyne and Mary Grainger.
“It’s a rum story,” Pepster said thoughtfully. “Of course the child is Thoyne’s, and that would account for the grudge, as you say. But it doesn’t explain why he should accuse Thoyne of murder. He must have had something at the back of his mind. It can’t be wholly an invention.”
“I saw Tulmin a day or two back.”
“Gad! and where is he?”
“In London. I asked him who murdered Philip Clevedon, and he replied that Thoyne did it.” ”

“ I went on remorselessly, “the police do not tell all they know. Sir Philip Clevedon was murdered with a hatpin—just so. But we mustn’t say that. Let us suppose he died of poison and that will throw the real murderer of her guard. Or suppose he had taken poison and was still living when you stabbed him. If a doctor had been promptly brought he might have been saved. ”

“ When I reached Stone Hollow again I found Detective Pepster awaiting me, looking, for him, a little disconsolate.
“Well,” was my greeting, “how has Fate treated you?”
“No luck, none at all,” Pepster said gloomily. “I am just back from Dublin with no news. Clevedon went to Dublin on February 20th, but there all trace of him ended. I could learn nothing.”
“I have been more fortunate than you,” I returned smilingly. “I can carry him a bit farther than that. He was in Midlington on February 22nd and left there on the morning of the 23rd.” ”

“ Tulmin went on, almost as if talking to himself, “that was why Thoyne offered me a job and was so anxious to get me away. Yes, and then he almost pushed me off that blasted yacht of his, and told me to come to London and wait for him. I see his game. He wanted me out of the way, so they’d think—but I didn’t do it, though I know who did.”
I did not allow so much as an eyelid to quiver. p. 268If Tulmin stopped talking now I might never get him again.
“It was Thoyne himself—the swine,” he went on. “I saw him give Clevedon the dope that killed him—in a white packet. ”

“ I replied. “It is a frequent and formidable poison because it is so swift and unerring in its effect. The victim is dead before help can possibly reach him.”
“That is true,” Crawford agreed. “Death may be a matter of seconds, of minutes at most. But, now, tell me, have you met cases in which a man, having taken a dose of prussic acid, lies calmly down and is found as tranquil and orderly in posture as if he had died in his sleep?” ”

“ The average detective, though he may indulge in theories, depends really on facts and is wise not to wander very far from them. And he will find, if he is sufficiently practised and astute, that facts breed facts, and that a clue, even if it does not lead to the required solution, does often produce other clues that continue the chain unbroken. ”

“ I responded.
“Women sometimes wear a mask, Mr. Holt.”
“Yes?”
“It may be for a purpose or it may be by habit.”
“Yes.”
I glanced quickly at Kitty and found her surveying the old lady with sombre eyes from which all the laughter had fled. She at all events had been wearing a mask.
When the two ladies had gone Dr. Crawford and I sat down to a whisky and soda apiece and a cigar. He seemed ill at ease, restless and rather unhappy until I casually reintroduced the subject of the Clevedon mystery, then he seemed in some curious way to brighten up.
“Aye, murder cases,” he said reflectively. ”