R. Austin Freeman

“ At length he turned to Pratt. "How much?"
"I shouldn't think a couple of hundred a year would hurt you," was the calm reply.
Pembury reflected. "What makes you think I am a man of means?" he asked presently.
Pratt smiled grimly. "Bless you, Mr. Pembury," said he, "I know all about you. Why, for the last six months I have been living within half a mile of your house."
"The devil you have!"
"Yes. When I retired from the service, General O'Gorman engaged me as care-taker of his place at Baysford, and the very day after I came down I met you, but, naturally, I kept out of sight. ”

“ In the course of the next half hour he acquired a cheap hand-bag, an artist's japanned brush-case, a three-cornered file, a stick of elastic glue, and a pair of iron crucible-tongs. Still insatiable, he repaired to a chemist's shop, where he further enriched himself with a packet of absorbent cotton-wool and an ounce of permanganate of potash; and, as the chemist wrapped up these articles, Pembury watched him impassively.
"I suppose you don't keep musk?" he asked.
The chemist paused in the act of heating a stick of sealing-wax. "No, sir, not the solid musk; it's so very costly. ”

“ Immediately opposite the lane was the police station, distinguished from the adjacent cottages only by its lamp, its open door, and the notices posted up outside. Straight across the road Pembury walked, still trailing the cane, and halted at the station door to read the notices, resting his cane on the door-step as he did so. Through the open doorway he could see a man writing at a desk. The man's back was toward him, but presently a movement brought his left hand into view, and Pembury noted that the forefinger was missing. This, then, was Jack Ellis, late of the Civil Guard at Portland. ”

“ Pembury demanded.
"Why, he's a sort of supernum'ary at the Baysford police station. He was in the Civil Guard at Portland in your time, but he got his left forefinger chopped off, so they pensioned him, and he got this billet. But he'll never reckernize you."
"Who is this General O'Gorman? I seem to know the name."
"I expect you do," said Pratt. "He was governor of Dartmoor when I was there, and, let me tell you, if he'd been at Portland in your time, you'd never have got away. The General is a great man on bloodhounds. ”

“ The murderer knew about the General's bloodhounds, and made use of them as a blind. He left this knife, smeared with blood and tainted with musk, to furnish a scent. No doubt some object also scented with musk would be drawn over the ground to give the trail. It is only a suggestion, of .course, but it is worth considering,"
"But, sir," the inspector objected eagerly, "if the murderer had handled the knife, it would have scented him too."
"Exactly; so, as the man is evidently not a fool, we may assume that he did not handle it. ”

“ When the cattle-boat that had picked him up off Portland Bill landed him at an American port, he brought all his ability and energy to bear on legitimate commercial pursuits, with such success that at the end of ten years he was able to return to England with a moderate competence. Then he had taken a modest house near the little town of Baysford, and here he might have lived out the rest of his life in peace but for the unlucky chance that brought Pratt into the neighborhood.
There is something eminently unsatisfactory about a blackmailer. ”

“ Parton," said he. "The poor fellow is quite dead. You had better help me carry him to the house."
Pembury watched them raise the body and stagger away with it up the avenue. He heard their shuffling steps die away, and the door of the house shut. And still he listened. From far away in the meadows came, at intervals, the baying of the hounds. Other sound there was none. Presently the doctor would come back for his bicycle, but for the moment the coast was clear. Pembury rose stiffly. ”

“ Having taken the finger-prints of the accused man, Ellis, and made several photographs of the strange finger-prints, we returned to town that evening. Thorndyke gave a few parting injunctions to the inspector.
"Remember," he said, "that the man must have washed his hands before he could appear in public. Search the banks of every pond, ditch, and stream in the neighborhood for footprints like those in the avenue, and, if you find any, search the bottom of the water thoroughly, for he is quite likely to have dropped the knife into the mud." ”

“ He walked around the elm, still looking earnestly at the ground, and presently continued:
"Now, here, in the soft earth bordering the turf, are the prints of a pair of smallish feet wearing pointed boots—a rather short man, evidently, by the size of foot and length of stride, and he doesn't seem to have belonged to the procession. But I don't see Pratt's; he doesn't seem to have come off the hard gravel."
He continued to walk slowly toward the hornbeam, with his eyes fixed on the ground. Suddenly he halted, and stooped with an eager look at the earth ”

“ The two between which he had entered were an elm and a great pollard oak, the latter being an immense tree whose huge, warty bole divided, about seven feet from the ground, into three limbs, each as large as a fair-sized tree, of which the largest swept outward in a great curve half way across the avenue. On this patriarch Pembury bestowed special attention, walking completely around it, and finally laying down his bag and cane (the latter resting on the bag, with the ferrule off the ground) , that he might climb up, by the aid of the warty outgrowths, to examine the crown. ”

“ He moved away thoughtfully (holding his cane by the middle now) , and began to walk slowly in the direction of Thorpe. For a while he was deeply meditative and his face wore a puzzled frown. Then it suddenly cleared, and he strode forward at a brisker pace. Presently he passed through a gap in the hedge, and, walking in a field parallel with the road, took out his purse—a small pigskin pouch.
Having frugally emptied it of its contents, excepting a few shillings, he thrust the ferrule, of his cane into the small compartment ordinarily reserved for gold or notes. ”

“ Quickly stepping to the hornbeam, he reached up for the tongs. His fingers slid into the looped handles of the tongs that grasped the knife, and he lifted it out from its hiding-place and deposited it on the ground a few feet from the body. Then he went back to the tree and carefully pushed the tongs over into the hollow of the crown.
At this moment a woman's voice sounded shrilly from the top of the avenue.
"Is that you, Mr. Pratt?" it called.
Pembury started, and then stepped back quickly, on tiptoe, to the body. For there was the duplicate knife. He must take that away at all costs. ”

“ The inspector indicated a spot near the middle of the drive, almost opposite the hornbeam, and Thorndyke, picking up a large stone, laid it on the spot. Then he surveyed the scene thoughtfully, looking up and down the drive, and at the trees that bordered it, and finally walked slowly to the space between the elm and the oak, scanning the ground as he went. "There is no dearth of footprints," he remarked grimly, as he looked down at the trampled earth. ”

“ He pockets the price of emancipation. but retains the key of the fetters. In short, the blackmailer is a totally impossible person.
Such were Rufus Pembury's reflections, even while Pratt was making his proposals, which he had never for an instant entertained. Pratt must be eliminated: it was a logical consequence. The profound meditations, therefore, in which Pembury remained immersed for the remainder of the journey had nothing whatever to do with the quarterly allowance; they were concerned exclusively with the elimination of ex-warder Pratt. ”

“ I was careful to pick it up by the ring, and I wrapped it in the handkerchief at once."
"Seven fifteen," said Thorndyke—"less than half an hour after the murder. That is very singular. Do you observe the state of this handkerchief? There is not a mark on it, not a trace of any bloodstain, which shows that when the knife was picked up the blood on it was dry. Things dry slowly, if they dry at all, in the air of an autumn evening. The appearances seem to suggest that the blood on the knife was dry when it was thrown down. By the way, sergeant, what do you scent your handkerchief with?" ”

“ It won't take long, and we can't be too careful."
"That's true," agreed Pratt. "Well, I'll tell you what. There's an avenue leading up to our house—you know it, I expect. The gates are always ajar, excepting at night. Now, I'll be down by the six thirty at Baysford. Our place is a quarter of an hour from the station. Say you meet me in the avenue at a quarter to seven. How will that do?"
"That will suit me," answered Pembury.
"Hallo!" said Pratt, suddenly. "This'll be Swanley, I expect. So long. To-morrow evening, in the avenue, at a quarter to seven."
"Very well," said Mr. Pembury. ”

“ Pembury's dislike of musk appeared to be excessive, for, when the chemist had retired to change half a crown, he took the brush-case from the hand-bag, pulled off its lid, and then, with the crucible-tongs, daintily lifted the bottle off the counter, slid it softly into the brush-case, and, replacing the lid, returned the case and tongs to the bag. ”

“ The longest-living author of this work died in 1943, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 79 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works. ”