J. J. Connington

“ For twenty feet or so there were no tracks on the sand; then the footprints reappeared, sharply defined as before. At the sight of the gap Sir Clinton's face brightened.
“I want something solid here,” he said. “Stakes would be best, but we haven't any. A couple of cairns will have to do. Bring the biggest stones you can lift; there are lots up yonder above the tide-mark.”
He set them an example, and soon they had collected a fair number of heavy stones. Sir Clinton, with an anxious eye on the tide, built up a strong cairn alongside the last of Billingford's footprints which was visible. ”

“ Sir Clinton smiled a little sardonically.
“Not so fast, squire. You found a bag of pear-drops, I admit. But who told you that Peter Hay bought them and put them there?”
“It stands to reason that he did, surely,” Wendover protested. “The constable told you he kept a bag of sweets in the house for children.”
“Quite so. And there wasn't a second bag there, I'll admit. But let's confine ourselves to the pear-drops for a moment. One can't deny that they've got a distinctive perfume. Can you think of anything else that smells like that?”
Inspector Armadale's face lighted up. ”

“ Almost with surprise, he found himself disliking Armadale intensely; a great, coarse-fibred creature who cared nothing for the disaster which he was about to unchain within an hour.
Wendover awoke from his thoughts to find Sir Clinton looking at him with an expressionless face.
“Care to step off here, squire? Your face gives you away. You don't like the way things are trending? Better leave us to finish the job alone.” ”

“ Sir Clinton seemed thoughtful. It was only after a slight pause that he took up a fresh line of questions.
“Can you tell me anything about the present management of the thing? You have a power of attorney, I believe; but I suppose you leave matters very much in the hands of lawyers?”
Paul Fordingbridge shook his head.
“I'm afraid I'm no great believer in lawyers. One's better to look after things oneself. I'm not a busy man, and it's an occupation for me. Everything goes through my hands.”
“Must be rather a business,” Sir Clinton criticised. ”

“ It was when the inspector produced the pistol from Mrs. Fleetwood's blazer, I remember.”
“There's a flaw in almost every case that depends purely on circumstantial evidence, squire; and one can never guess how big that flaw is till one has the whole of the evidence together. It's safest to wait for all the evidence before publishing any conclusions; that's what I always bear in mind. Mistakes don't matter much, so long as you keep them to yourself and don't mislead other people with them.” ”

“ Sir Clinton looked up.
“Just as well for you, inspector, perhaps. If you'd hurried along at that rate at low tide you'd have run straight into the patch of quicksand, if I'm not mistaken. It's just down yonder.”
“What do you make of it, sir?”
“One might make a lot of it, if one started to consider the possibilities. They may have walked off along the beach on the part that's now swamped by the tide. Or they may have got into a boat and gone home that way. All one really knows is that they got off the premises without leaving tracks. ”

“ Sir Clinton interposed, as the tempers of his two companions were obviously near the danger-point. “You can't say anything's impossible except a two-sided triangle and a few other things of that sort. What it really amounts to is that you and the inspector differ pleasantly as to the exact degree of probability one can attach to his hypothesis. He thinks it probable; you don't agree. It's a mere matter of the personal equation. Don't drag in the Absolute; it's out of fashion in these days.”
Wendover recovered his temper under the implied rebuke; but the inspector merely glowered. ”

“ Wendover led the way out into the garden, where he selected a quiet spot.
“There's one thing that struck me about Mme. Laurent-Desrousseaux's evidence,” he said, as they sat down, “and that is: It may be all lies together.”
Sir Clinton pulled out his case and lit a cigarette before answering.
“You think so? It's not impossible, of course.”
“Well, look at it squarely,” Wendover pursued. “We know nothing about the woman. For all we can tell, she may be an accomplished liar. By her own showing, she had some good reason for wanting Staveley out of the way.” ”

“ The beach was empty. Farther along it, towards the hotel, a group of bathing-boxes had been erected for the use of hotel visitors. Less than ten yards from the turning-point of the footprints, on the other side of the groyne, Neptune's Seat jutted up from the surrounding sand. It was, as the inspector had said, like a huge stone settee standing with its back to the land; and on the flat part of it lay the body of a man. Sir Clinton bent down and scrutinised the surface of the sand around the turning-point of the track for some minutes, but he made no comment as he completed his survey. ”

“ The inspector had no time to admire his chief's forethought. The hunted car was now running on a line which would bring it between the old wreck and the edge of the incoming tide; and on the hard sands it was making tremendous speed. Armadale, leaning forward in the excitement of the chase, saw the long cones of its headlights illuminate the hull of the wreck for a moment ”

“ Sir Clinton continued. “Then there's the question of how it was done. I agree with you, inspector, that it was a job for more than one man. Quite evidently they had force enough to pin Peter Hay almost instantaneously, so that he hadn't a chance of struggling; and it would take two men—and fairly powerful fellows—to do that successfully. Also, if there were two of them, one could hold him in talk whilst the other sauntered round—perhaps to look at the squirrel—and got into position to take him unawares from the rear.” ”

“ Sir Clinton never allowed a criticism of a subordinate to pass unanswered.
“Armadale did his best, and in nine cases out of ten he'd have got what he wanted. You're looking at the thing from the sentimental standpoint, you know. The police have nothing to do with that side of affairs. Armadale's business is to extract all the information he can and then use it, no matter where it leads him. If an official had to stop his investigations merely because a pretty girl breaks down and cries, we shouldn't be a very efficient force in society.” ”

“ The inspector knelt down, and Wendover followed his example. They had no difficulty in seeing Sir Clinton's point.
“Of course,” the chief constable went on, “in the case of a woman's shoe, the thing is even more exaggerated owing to the height of the heel and the sharpness of the toe. Haven't you noticed, in tracks on the sand, how neat any woman's prints always look? You never seem to find the impression of a clumsy foot, simply because the impression is so much smaller than the real foot. Clear enough, isn't it?”
“You are most ingenious, Sir Clinton,” Mme. Laurent-Desrousseaux commented. ”

“ He could not deny that the personal attractions of Mme. Laurent-Desrousseaux were much above the average; and, despite himself, he felt a tinge of uneasiness in his mind. After all, even the cleverest men get caught occasionally; and it was plain enough that Sir Clinton was doing his best to make friends with the Frenchwoman.
They had just entered the hotel grounds when Wendover saw approaching them down the drive the figure of Cargill. The Australian seemed to have something to say to them, for he quickened his pace when he caught sight of Sir Clinton. ”

“ But congestion doesn't make marks on a man's wrists. It seemed to me worth ringing you up. If it's a mare's nest, then it's a mare's nest, and I'll be sorry to have troubled you. But I believe in having things done ship-shape; and I'd rather trouble you than get into hot water myself, if there's anything fishy about the affair.”
Inspector Armadale seemed rather dubious about how he should take the matter. To Wendover it almost looked as though he was regretting the haste with which he had brought Sir Clinton into the business. ”

“ Well, if the cats up the tree insist on making a noise like a murderer, you can't blame him, can you?”
“I don't like his damned flat-footed way of going about his job,” Wendover protested angrily. “One always supposed that people were treated as innocent until they were convicted; but your inspector interviewed that girl as if he were measuring her for a rope.”
“He's built up a wonderfully convincing case, squire; don't forget that.”
“But you admitted yourself that there's a flaw in it, Clinton. By the way, what is the flaw?”
But Sir Clinton did not rise to the bait. ”

“ Armadale's smile of triumph became even more marked. He turned once more to his bag, slipped his hands into his rubber gloves, and then, with every precaution, lifted a dusty-looking Colt automatic into view.
“This is a .38 calibre pistol,” he pointed out. “Same calibre as the cartridge-case we picked up on the rock, and probably the same as the bullet'll be when we get it from the body. I've examined the barrel; there's been a shot fired from it quite recently. I've looked into the magazine; it lacks one cartridge of a full load.” ”

“ Forgive and forget's my motto. It's easy enough to work on till someone does you in the eye.”
“So you say you know nothing about him?”
“I don't quite like the way you put it, inspector. It seems almost rude. But I don't know where he is now, and I'll kiss the Book on that for you if you want it.”
Armadale's expression showed clearly that he thought little would be gained by accepting Billingford's offer. He warned Derek Fordingbridge that his evidence might be needed at the inquest; then, with a cold nod to Billingford, he led the way out of the cottage. ”

“ So long as they can stand and gape at the digging down there, they won't worry us too much in the things we really have to do.”
“But seriously, Clinton, what do you expect to find?”
Sir Clinton turned a bland smile on his companion.
“Oh, shells, as I told you before, squire. Shells, almost certainly. And perhaps the brass bottle that the genie threw into the sea after he'd escaped from it—the Arabian Nights tale, you remember. Once one starts digging in real earnest one never can tell what one may not find.”
Wendover made a gesture of impatience. ”

“ A child could deceive you, Jay. You want to be deceived. You can't bear the idea that Derek's dead—that's what vitiates this stuff that you dignify by the name of evidence.”
“Vulgar abuse never hurts a spiritualist. We're used to it,” Miss Fordingbridge replied with simple dignity. “But you're wrong as usual, Paul. It wasn't at a séance that I saw Derek. ”

“ Sir Clinton took out his cigarette-case and handed it to his companions in turn.
“Let's have the unofficial view first,” he suggested. “What do you make of it all, squire, in the light of the classics?”
Wendover shook his head deprecatingly.
“It's hardly fair to start with the amateur, Clinton. According to the classical method, the police always begin; and then, when they've failed ingloriously, the amateur steps in and clears the matter up satisfactorily. You're inverting the order of Nature. ”

“ Her brother took up The Times and resumed his study of the share market, with evident relief.
“This hotel spoils Lynden Sands,” Miss Fordingbridge broke out after a short silence. “It comes right into the view from the front of Foxhills—great staring building! And, wherever you go along the bay, you see this monstrosity glaring in the middle of the view. It'll ruin the place. And it'll give the villagers all sorts of notions, too. Visitors always spoil a small village.” ”

“ Inspector Armadale, he said his name was.”
“Armadale? What the devil can he be wanting?” Sir Clinton wondered aloud. “Show him in, please.”
In a minute or two the inspector appeared.
“I suppose it's something important, inspector,” Sir Clinton greeted him, “otherwise you wouldn't have come. But I can't imagine what brings you here.”
Inspector Armadale glanced at Wendover, and then, without speaking, he caught Sir Clinton's eye. The chief constable read the meaning in his glance.
“This is a friend of mine, inspector—Mr. Wendover. He's a J. P. and perfectly reliable. ”

“ Sir Clinton shook his head.
“Not yet. There's just one thing I'd like to be sure about; and it may not be easy to see. There's a better light out here. Turn up the trousers from the ankle, inspector, and have a good look for marks—probably on the front of the shins. It's a long shot, but I've a notion you'll find something there.”
Armadale did as he was bidden.
“You're right, sir. There's a very faint mark—far fainter than the ones on the wrists—on the front of each shin, just as you said. It's more like a very faint bruise than a mark made by stumbling against anything. The skin's not broken. ”

“ I wasn't born a chief constable, you know. I was once a mere detective sort of person at the other end of the world.”
“Were you really? But, then, you don't look like my idea of a detective, either!”
Sir Clinton laughed.
“I'm afraid you're hard to please, Mrs. Fleetwood. Mr. Wendover's just as bad. He's a faithful reader of the classics, and he simply can't imagine anyone going in for detective work without a steely eye and a magnifying glass. It jars on his finer feelings merely to think of a detective without either of them. The only thing that saves me is that I'm not a detective nowadays ”