“(2) He introduced the Marquis de Crémont to Forge and knew that Forge had bought that emerald.
“(3) If, as seems probable, M. Salmond, the murdered senator, had had an affair with Margaret Gask, Huskisson would have been jealous and may have called on the senator from motives of jealousy and the robbery may have been a sudden impulse. On the other hand, if M. Salmond had communicated to Margaret Gask the whereabouts of his secret hoard she might well, in view of their relationship, have passed on the information to Huskisson and the robbery could have been premeditated.
“M. Goron is so convinced in his own mind of Huskisson’s complicity that he is anxious to institute extradition proceedings for bringing him back to France to be charged with the murder of Salmond. I have pointed out to him that extradition would never be granted on such slender grounds.
“I have had another interview with Mlle Coulon. When I hinted to her M. Goron’s desire for the extradition of Huskisson she laughed and said, ‘You might as well apply for the extradition of Mr Forge, who is just as likely to be guilty.’ Then she asked me if we had traced the fur coat and when I shook my head she said, ‘And yet that coat is lying under your very noses—you British police.’
“I cannot help thinking that Mlle Coulon knows more about the disposal of the missing fur coat than she has yet admitted. I do not suggest that she is withholding information in order to impede the course of justice, but I think that there is at the back of her mind a desire to enhance the services of the French police and not allow Scotland Yard to carry off any of the credit should the case be solved. I hinted this to M. Verneuil, who nodded gravely but said that the young woman was very clever and could be entirely trusted to bring out the truth, giving credit where credit was due.
“ALBERT DALLAS, Detective Inspector.”
Richardson arrived at the signature with surprise, seeing that several other pages were attached. He began to read the next page with enhanced interest.
“I had just finished writing the foregoing report when further information of a most important nature reached me from M. Goron. He had traced the car and wished me to call upon him at once. On my arrival he lost no time in telling me that one of his men stationed in Montargis, about seventy miles from Paris on the route to the Riviera, had found the missing car in a garage in that town; that it had been brought in by an Englishman for repairs. On examining the engine the garage owner, Jean Robillot, had discovered that one of the pistons had seized, owing to defective lubrication, and that the repair would take two or three days. The Englishman seemed in a desperate hurry to go on; he said that he had to visit a sick friend and that it might be a matter of life and death. He suggested to Robillot that they should make an exchange—he taking a second-hand French car and leaving his own car in Robillot’s hands. This exchange was effected.
“M. Goron suggested that he should drive me down in his fast car in order that we might investigate the transaction on the spot and this seemed to suit the interests of the department admirably, especially as there seemed to be no question of expense. Accordingly we started at once and reached Montargis in little over an hour. We found Robillot in some perturbation because he had had a visit from two members of the gendarmerie and he did not understand what the trouble was about; he had acted with perfect good faith and the Englishman had got a fair exchange. Was it suggested that the Englishman had sold him a stolen car or that he was discontented with his bargain? M. Goron soothed him tactfully and asked to be allowed to inspect the car. Robillot pointed out that the number plate appeared to have two numbers—one displayed on the front and the other on the back. He asked me whether this was the custom in England. I said that it was not usual and when I asked him what papers had been handed over with the car he said that the vendor had insisted on taking all the papers away on the plea that they would be useless to any new owner as they were English.
“M. Goron and I searched the car carefully but found not a scrap of any document beyond the licence pasted on the windshield. This had the same number as Douglas Oborn’s car—P.J.C.4291. On the reverse side of the number plate was the number A.L.N.576. We removed the number plate and I shall bring it with me when I come; meanwhile perhaps you will be able to have enquiries made about the second number, A.L.N.576.
“A careful examination of the licence on the windshield betrayed the fact that the last figure in the date had been tampered with—1936 was made to appear as 1937. The licence may have been that used by the brother last year, cleverly altered to serve when necessary on this car. We obtained from M. Robillot a detailed description of the car which he had given in exchange for this Austin Twelve. It was a Citroën of 1931, in good condition and painted a light beige colour. Robillot protested volubly that his car was as good as the car he had taken in exchange, but when twitted by M. Goron he had to confess that in very wet weather she would stop suddenly, owing to water getting into the ignition; but as the purchaser was on his way to the Riviera he was not likely to encounter wet weather.
“I enclose herewith full details of the engine and construction of the Austin Twelve car in order that its history may be traced. If you require the car or the licence to be sent over please let me know as early as possible.
“M. Goron has now issued a circular order to his staff to trace the Citroën car now being driven by James Oborn. I should be glad to receive instructions by return as to what charge I am to hold him on.
“ALBERT DALLAS, Detective Inspector.”
Richardson laid down the report and rang the bell for Superintendent Lawrence, who had an engaging habit of collapsing on the carpet, or so it seemed from his attitude, when required to deliver counsel to a higher authority. Richardson had felt on many occasions what a loss he was to the light comedy stage.
“Now, Mr Lawrence, I have a conundrum for you, as my expert adviser upon French criminal procedure. Inspector Dallas is hot on the trail of James Oborn, against whom we have nothing but a charge of dangerous driving and using a false number on his car. These offences were committed in this country, but he is now outside our jurisdiction in France.”
Lawrence’s reaction to this address was, as Richardson had foreseen, to collapse on the carpet or to disintegrate into his component parts so that nothing could be done to clear up the mess except by using one of the patent vacuum cleaners.
“Well, sir, those are the only definite charges that we can make against him at the moment, but we have reason to suspect him of having been concerned in the murder of Miss Gask.”
“H’m. We should have all our time cut out to prove a charge of that kind.”
The component parts of Superintendent Lawrence were beginning to reintegrate. “Yes sir, we should, and when it came to getting the Bow Street magistrate to authorise extradition proceedings we should find ourselves up against it.”
“There are occasions when the quality of legal proceedings has to be strained and this is one of them if we are to get any further in this case. Inspector Dallas has, in addition to his flair for detective work, a marked ability in coming to a friendly understanding with foreign officials.”
“He has, sir; but I was thinking about Sir John Coulter at Bow Street.”
“Well, we must get Dallas to persuade his friends in the Paris police force to hold Oborn for us until we’ve drawn the cord closer round him. Will you send him the necessary instructions?”
Chapter Nineteen
SPOFFORTH HAD SPENT an almost sleepless night, for he was now face to face with a sensation new to him: that of being himself a suspect. There was no reticence about his fellow servants below stairs; the butler had even attempted to draw him out upon the practice of the Yard in its attitude towards ex-convicts who were trying to make good. True, he had given him evasive replies, but he could not shake off the feeling that the butler was poisoning the minds of his fellow servants against him and that he was beginning to be looked upon by them as a spy. The fact that the house had been the scene of a murder was enough to upset t
he nerves of most of them and Spofforth realised that his position would soon become untenable.
The attitude of the people above stairs was no more reassuring. He had been engaged with a specific object, namely, to investigate the murder of Miss Gask and the theft of the emerald, and so far he had been unable to make any discovery of importance. Mr Forge, as he knew, regarded him as a hopeless failure; Mr Oborn treated him with open and contemptuous amusement.
It would require some dramatic development to restore his position, but whence could such development come? Of all the people he was called upon to watch, the man who seemed to have some secret to hide, if one might judge from his manner, was Gerald Huskisson, but so far there was nothing tangible to support this suspicion. He had made an exhaustive search in drawers and cupboards, outhouses and the grounds for the weapon that could have killed Margaret Gask, but with no result. Even a meticulous attention to the correspondence that came to the house produced nothing; in the rare opportunities that he had had for steaming open letters his labour had been lost, and both his employer and his guests had a habit of screwing up their letters and throwing them into the fire. There had been, it is true, one small discovery that afternoon. Huskisson had always shown a rooted objection to having his suits taken out of the room to be brushed. This in itself was sufficient to put Spofforth on his mettle. If there were nothing compromising in the pockets, why this objection to having the suit brushed downstairs as in every well-regulated household? That afternoon he had had the luck to find a suit belonging to Huskisson lying on a chair in his bedroom; he had taken it away and gone rapidly through the various pockets. In the watch pocket of the waistcoat he had found a cloakroom ticket for Waterloo Station dated December twentieth. He had quickly noted down the date and the number. On returning the suit to Huskisson’s room, neatly folded, he had come upon its owner, who turned upon him furiously, demanding why his suit had been taken from the room.
“It was perfectly well known to Curtis that I objected to having my clothes brushed downstairs and he must have told you.”
“No sir; doubtless he forgot to mention it.”
“Then I’ll give him hell for forgetting it.”
Why all this heat? Had the suit anything to conceal? Could it be that that little cloakroom ticket hid the clue to an important secret? If so, Huskisson must be an exceptionally foolish person to have made a fuss about a trifle and so have drawn suspicion to it. Spofforth began to toy with the idea of what would happen if he took the particulars of that ticket to Waterloo and asked to be allowed to examine the contents of the package. Clearly the cloakroom attendant would refuse, quite properly, to allow the package to be searched unless he were accompanied by a senior officer of the C.I.D. Before he had finally dropped off into an uneasy sleep he had made up his mind to consult Chief Constable Richardson on the possibilities of getting a look at this package.
When he took in Mr Forge’s early morning tea he asked permission to run up to town for a couple of hours.
“Where are you going?” asked Forge.
“To the Yard, sir.”
“You don’t mean to say that you have found out something?”
“Not exactly, sir; but I want to consult the people up there.”
Forge had no consideration for the feelings of his subordinates. “Well, while you’re up there you might ask them whether they think that you are doing any good by stopping here.”
“I will, sir.” Spofforth left the room hoping that his visit to the Yard would produce something that would restore his own self-esteem.
On arrival he was informed by the doorkeeper that Mr Richardson was engaged with Superintendent Lawrence and would not like to be disturbed, but he would send up his name and in the meantime he could take a seat in the waiting room. He was not long kept waiting. The messenger entered the room and enquired his name and on hearing it told him that both the chief constable and Superintendent Lawrence would like to see him at once. He followed the messenger into the chief constable’s sanctum.
“I’m very glad to see you, Mr Spofforth. I want to hear how you are getting on.”
“I thought you would like to know, sir, that Mr Douglas Oborn received a visit yesterday from his brother, Mr Charles Oborn, who is a practising solicitor in Salisbury.”
“Ah! We knew, of course, about this brother. Were you able to glean anything about the object of this visit?”
“Not very much, sir; but I was able to gather that the two brothers, Charles and Douglas, were not on very friendly terms. Another fact which may be important is that the butler, Alfred Curtis, seems to have some kind of understanding with the Oborns. I know that Charles, the solicitor, had a private conversation with Curtis.”
“In view of the fact that Curtis is an ex-convict this development is certainly important. You had, of course, no opportunity for gathering the gist of their conversation, but you must not relax your efforts to find out what the connection is between them.”
“This is very difficult, sir, because it is now clear that Curtis suspects me, but I will do my best. Mr Forge was indiscreet enough to tell Mr Oborn that I am a detective and if I am right in thinking that he has an understanding with the butler he would have passed the information on to him.”
Richardson forbore to point out that it was owing to his own clumsiness that the nature of his employment had been guessed by Oborn.
“To turn to another person,” said Richardson. “What do you make of Huskisson? I understand that the French police entertain suspicions against him.”
Spofforth brightened. “Then perhaps, sir,” he said, “the little matter I have to see you about will not seem trivial.” He went on to describe Huskisson’s dislike of having his clothes removed for brushing and mentioned the finding of the cloakroom ticket in one of the pockets.
“A cloakroom ticket!” exclaimed Lawrence. “I once brought a murderer to justice with nothing more damning in the way of evidence than a cloakroom ticket. Did you take possession of the ticket?”
“No sir, because I did not wish to excite Mr Huskisson’s suspicions, but I’ve taken full particulars of the ticket—the date and so forth. Here they are.” He handed a slip of paper to Lawrence.
“December twentieth,” said Lawrence. “Why, that is actually the day following the murder of Miss Gask.”
“We shall have to examine this package in the cloakroom,” said Richardson.
“Yes sir; but I could not hope to get the cloakroom man at Waterloo to let me examine it without the superior authority of the Yard. Even then he’s such a stickler for rules and regulations that he will demand the authority of his own immediate superior.”
“Very well,” said Richardson, “he shall have all the authority that he wants.”
“It will mean your going personally to Waterloo Station, sir,” objected Lawrence.
“Oh, we can get over that. I’ll give you a written authority to examine the package in the presence of the railway officials without taking it away. They will surely not object to that.”
“But supposing it’s a locked suitcase, sir. Are we to force the lock?”
“No, take Rawlings with you: he’s got the proper outfit for a job of this sort and what he doesn’t know about modern locks…”
“Very good, sir,” said Lawrence. “Then I’ll take with me the written authority in official form and start off with Mr Spofforth and Rawlings immediately.”
They traversed the journey from Scotland Yard to Waterloo on foot; the pedestrian traffic was too thick to allow conversation and Spofforth was free to review his own position. He reflected that the parcel deposited in the cloakroom might turn out to contain nothing but underclothing; in that case he would not have added to his reputation by making a fuss about a trifle. On the other hand, should a search of this package produce important evidence his reputation would be made.
On arriving at the station it became clear that Lawrence not only knew his way about but had a friendly acquaintance with the men
on the floor upstairs. He wasted no time in going to the cloakroom, but, leaving Spofforth and Rawlings on the wide platform below, he ran up the stairs to the room of one of his acquaintances, who rose to shake hands with him.
“I’m very glad to see you, Mr Lawrence. It’s some time since you had occasion to pay us a visit. What can I do for you?”
Lawrence explained his business.
“Oh, that’s a very simple matter,” said Mr Cummings. “In fact I can do it off my own bat. You don’t want to carry the package away but only to see what’s in it?”
“Yes, but if it contains anything in the way of evidence for us I shall want you to hold it and not give it up to the depositor until you hear from us again.”
“Very good; that shall be done. You say you have the number and date of the deposit receipt?”
“Yes, here it is.”
“I’d better come down with you. We’re a bit short-handed at this season and I can’t get the cloakroom man to come here, but we shall be quite private at the back of the office down there.”
They made their way to the cloakroom and entered it by a side door at the bottom of the stairs. Mr Cummings called, “Somers,” and the principal cloakroom attendant came forward. “We want to have a look at a package deposited under this number. This gentleman comes from the Yard. You might bring the package round to the back where we shall be private.”
Somers went to a shelf above their heads and descended the stepladder with a suitcase.
“It’s locked,” said Cummings. “I don’t like to force it open.”
“Oh, that’s all right. I’ll fetch my colleagues: one of them is an expert at this kind of job.”
He went out and beckoned to the two men standing on the platform outside. “It’s a suitcase,” he explained, “and it’s locked, but I suppose that little fact won’t stand in your way, Rawlings.”
A Murder is Arranged Page 13
