Inspector French: Sir John Magill's Last Journey

by Freeman Wills Crofts

  On showing his credentials the matter became simple. A clerk was summoned who led French to a small private office and produced the records covering Sir John’s account. But there was nothing even remotely resembling the transaction mentioned by Mallace. The last money which had passed between uncle and nephew was a cheque for 500 guineas dated December 23rd, and as similar cheques had been issued on the same date on previous years, French took this to be merely an annual Christmas present.

  Of course the fact that there was no record of it did not mean that the transaction had not taken place. The money might have been paid in cash. There was simply nothing to confirm or disprove its existence.

  On returning to the Yard French found that two important letters had come in. The first was a reply from the Campbeltown police. The sergeant wrote that he had called on Dr MacGregor, who remembered visiting Victor Magill—the original of the photograph enclosed—aboard the launch on the date and at the hour mentioned. Victor was suffering from a contused injury to his left knee such as might have been caused by the fall on the companion steps which he described. The injury was genuine beyond the slightest possibility of doubt and the doctor estimated that it must have been incurred at about the time stated by Victor. Its results would be practically, total disablement for a couple of days, followed by three or four weeks of lameness.

  French gave a sigh of relief. That settled the launch party. Whether or not its members might have been indirectly connected with Sir John’s murder through the theft of the plans, it was now certain that none of them had taken any actual part in the crime itself. Certainty on any point in this troublesome case was a new and a pleasant experience for French and he felt that to have obtained so much of it was nothing short of a triumph.

  The second letter was from Rainey. He was—he said—profoundly interested in French’s theory about Breene. He had for the second time gone into the matter of his alibi and—reluctantly—he had been forced to the conclusion that it was good. There was definite evidence that Breene was in the hotel during lunch, tea and dinner on the Thursday and breakfast on the Friday. This evidence was not dependent on a single waiter, who might have been squared. The head waiter had seen him also. In the morning the chambermaid had gone into his room to pull up the blinds and swore that he was in bed.

  Admittedly Breene was not seen between the close of dinner at about 7.40 p.m. and the call next morning. But that he remained in the building during this critical period was proved by two things. First, if he had been out all night, Rainey’s men believed it would have been impossible for him to have returned unobserved to his bedroom. Second, the chambermaid had seen that the light was on in his room for about half an hour between eleven and twelve. Rainey appreciated French’s idea greatly, but … and so on.

  French sighed again, this time from disappointment. The Breene theory, then, was a washout. He turned his thoughts back to the quartet.

  Would not the discovery that Victor’s alibi also was good end his investigation into the movements of the quartet? Personally he thought so, then he saw that Superintendent Rainey would not be satisfied unless the complete activities of the four were demonstrated. As a matter of fact it would not take so long to finish the thing up. He had already interviewed Victor, Joss and Mallace. It would be necessary only to see Teer. He would do that at once and then be done with the whole wearisome affair.

  But when he reached Teer’s rooms in Rudolph Street, Hampstead, it was only to find the man was from home on a business tour. It appeared that he also was the travelling representative of a London firm—Messrs Livesay & Pullman, the paint manufacturers. French therefore called at the firm’s head office in Queen Victoria Street and obtained Teer’s itinerary. From this he learned that the man was at present in Edinburgh and was working slowly southwards through Berwick, Newcastle and the great north-eastern towns to York and the Midlands.

  French decided that as he had to go to Barrow, he would do so first, then cross the country and intercept Teer at some convenient centre.

  He took the afternoon train from Euston, slept at Barrow, and in the morning was early at the establishment of Messrs Thos. Wivell & Sons. There he saw the senior partner, showed his official card and stated his business. A Mr Maurice Mallace had recently hired a motor launch for a cruise to Scotland. Would Mr Wivell kindly tell him all he could about the transaction?

  Mr Wivell was not communicative. He remarked impassively that he would be pleased to give the inspector any information in his power, then dropped into silence.

  French accordingly fell back on questions. By dint of a rigorous examination he learned that some three weeks prior to the date of the cruise, Messrs Wivell had received a letter from Mallace asking if the Sea Hawk, which he had once before had on hire, was available for a fortnight’s cruise from Wednesday, October 2nd. The Sea Hawk was a most comfortable boat; eminently suitable for the purpose. Though admittedly old, she was a fine sea boat, steady as a rock and dry in all weathers. Her cabins were roomy and well fitted and all her equipment was first-class. She would do ten knots or more at a pinch.

  On writing Mallace that he could have her, he replied that he would come down to make the final arrangements. He had done so a week later, had looked over the boat, had paid half the hire and had given Messrs Wivell a note of several stores which he wished to have put on board. His instructions had been carried out.

  On the Wednesday night Mallace and a friend, whose name was believed to be Magill, had arrived at Barrow station at 8.0 p.m.; that was by the 1.30 p.m. train from Euston. There they had been met by Messrs Wivell’s clerk and driven to the wharf where the Sea Hawk was lying. She had been brought in there by a mechanic, who had remained to hand her over to Mallace. On reaching the wharf, Mallace had again examined the boat, and had checked over the stores from his list. Everything appearing in order, he had taken over and started forthwith. A fortnight later he had returned the launch and paid the balance of the hire.

  French said he was obliged for all this information, but would like to see the clerk and mechanic.

  The clerk, who first appeared, had little to add to his employer’s statement. He had met Mallace and Victor off the London train on that Wednesday night, and had driven them in Wivell’s car to the Sea Hawk. There he had checked over the stores and seen the two men start. That was at 9.15 p.m. exactly. He knew because Mallace had discussed the probable time of their arrival at Portpatrick and the calculations had depended on the hour of leaving Barrow. The launch had headed north. He recognised both men, Mallace from his description and Victor from his photograph. No, Mr Magill was not then lame.

  The mechanic was next summoned. He confirmed what had already been stated as to the start and agreed that the hour was 9.15 p.m., remembering, it for the same reason.

  So far, then, Mallace and Victor had spoken the truth. There could be no doubt that the cruise had started exactly as they had stated. According to their story they had called next at Portpatrick and then at Campbeltown. Their statements as to the Portpatrick call were true, for French had already investigated that, and in the case of Campbeltown the sergeant’s letter provided an adequate check.

  Teer, therefore, was French’s next care. Looking up the man’s itinerary, he found that next day he would be quartered at the Boar’s Head Hotel in Newcastle. To Newcastle therefore French booked, arriving just in time for dinner.

  He had no trouble in getting in touch with his new quarry. That huge bulk seated at a table near the fire could be no one else. French, after waiting till the man had settled down to smoke in a corner of the lounge, dropped into a chair beside him and presently got into conversation.

  French was not prepossessed by his appearance. Though good looking enough in a rather coarse way, Teer’s face was unattractive. Except, when wearing a conventional smile, his mouth was harsh and cruel, his jaw too heavy, and the expression in his eyes more than a little sinister. He was immensely big and powerful, a man, French felt, who would take a stron
g line and who would not be easily turned from his purpose.

  In considering his method of approach, French found himself at a disadvantage. His suspicions of Teer were vague and unsubstantial. Of actual fact there was nothing against him except that he was a member of a suspect party. It was true that, instead of reaching the King’s Arms at Stranraer in the evening, as he had written to the manager, he did not turn up till the following morning, but this was not in itself suspicious, and the delay might well have a satisfactory explanation. It was obvious that he might be entirely innocent and it therefore behoved French to move cautiously.

  From the man’s appearance. French believed his only chance of learning anything was by directness. Therefore after they had discussed a heavy shower which had deluged the city just before dinner, and a street accident by which two lorrymen had lost their lives, he drew his chair closer, glanced round as if to make sure that they were not overheard, and asked, confidentially if he was not addressing Mr Dennis Teer.

  ‘My name,’ Teer admitted. His manner was slow and impassive and he showed neither curiosity nor interest at the question.

  ‘Mine is French—Inspector French of New Scotland Yard. I came and sat here with a purpose, Mr Teer. I wanted a word with you in the hope that you could give me some information about a case I’m working on.’

  Teer neither moved nor changed his expression, but French thought his eyes flickered and they certainly took on a wary look. In spite of the man’s outward calm, French felt sure he was inwardly keenly alive to what was taking place. Teer puffed deliberately at his cigar, then asked quietly: ‘What do you want to know?’

  ‘A rather impertinent question, I’m afraid, Mr Teer,’ French smiled. ‘I want to know what sum, if any, you were owed by Mr Victor Magill during the last four or five months and whether such debts, again if any, have been paid?’

  Teer turned slowly round and fixed French with a stare which gradually became aggressive.

  ‘Well, you haven’t half a cheek on you, have you?’ he rumbled. ‘What blanked business of yours is that?’ French glanced round again as if anxious for secrecy. Though he lowered his voice, he answered briskly:

  ‘My business all right, Mr Teer. I’m on a murder case—the murder of Sir John Magill in Northern Ireland. No doubt you’ve read of it? The relations between Sir John and his nephew, Victor, are being investigated. It had been alleged that Sir John paid Mr Victor a large sum four or five months ago to clear off certain gambling debts. It is further alleged that part of these debts were to you. We want to check up the whole affair, hence my question.’

  ‘Who told you Victor Magill owed me money?’

  ‘“Acting on information received.” That’s the phrase, as you doubtless know. But seriously, Mr Teer, I want this information. It is my duty to inform you that you are not bound to answer my questions, but if you can see your way to do so I shall be obliged.’

  The big man remained silent, staring at French out of his small, shifty eyes. French sensed an inimical intent which might have boded ill for him were he in the other’s power. Presently Teer seemed to come to an unwilling decision, and his words showed that this was for conciliation.

  ‘I’m hanged if I can see what business of yours my money transactions with Victor Magill are, or what they have to do with Sir John’s death,’ he said at length, continuing reluctantly: ‘However there’s nothing secret about them and I don’t want it to look as if I was holding anything back. We did a bit of betting and gambling, both of us, in one way or another, horses sometimes, but mostly poker. Sometimes he won from me, and sometimes it was the other way round, but the amounts about balanced. During the last few months the luck was more with me than otherwise and in settling up he paid, about a hundred. It was a game, you understand, and we were always friendly about it. At the present moment we’re all square. That what you want?’

  French admitted that his question had been answered, and with a confidential air proceeded to discuss the murder, pointing out incidentally that in his view the explanation of the whole affair lay in Ireland, hinting that Malcolm’s conduct seemed far from satisfactory, and saying that if he himself had a free hand he would be operating at Larne and not in Newcastle-on-Tyne.

  Whether Teer swallowed all this he could not tell, but he seemed to do so and after some further chatting French made a move to go. Then he paused and said: ‘It’s a funny thing, Mr Teer, that I should be speaking to you today. I once ran you to earth, though it was entirely by mistake. Rather unusual, that, you’ll admit.’

  Teer answered casually, though the wary look remained in his eyes.

  ‘Ran me to earth by mistake? I’ve not the least idea what you’re talking about, Inspector. I’m not conscious of having been run to earth by you or anyone else.’

  ‘I ran you to earth at the King’s Arms at Stranraer on the morning of Thursday, the 3rd instant. But I wasn’t really looking for you. It was Mr Joss, and curiously enough it was on this same case. Mr Joss had travelled from Euston in the same sleeper as Sir John and I wanted to know if he had seen him en route. He had left the train at Stranraer, so I naturally tried round the hotels. I got on his track at once, as I thought. “Oh, yes,” they said, “a big man. Yes, he came in time for breakfast that morning you speak of.” That seemed all right until I found that he had dark hair and had come in his car. It was you, Mr Teer. When I mentioned red hair they said: “Oh, yes, he came here also, about half an hour earlier.” That was Mr Joss. I’ve seen him since, but though he travelled in the same sleeper as Sir John they didn’t meet.’

  Teer murmured vaguely.

  ‘You had trouble that night, had you not, Mr Teer? They said at the hotel that they had been expecting you on the previous evening, but you hadn’t turned up.’

  Here was the crisis of the conversation. French had spoken in the most offhand manner he could achieve, but he was nevertheless keenly anxious as to the fate of his sally. A tiny thrill shot through him, as once again he saw the flicker in Teer’s eyes, and felt alert tenseness behind the man’s impassive features. His instincts, extraordinarily keen through long practice, told him the other had realised danger and that the battle between them was joined. For a moment Teer hesitated, then he replied easily; too easily, French imagined.

  ‘I should just think I had trouble that night. Curse it, I feel annoyed even now when I look back on it. You know those occasions when everything goes wrong, one thing after another. Well, that was one of them.’

  French had an overwhelming suspicion that the tale he was about to hear had been prepared for just such an emergency as the present. He controlled his feelings, however, and showed merely a conventional interest.

  ‘For some days before joining my friends in the launch,’ went on Teer, ‘I was touring in my car just as I am at present. I suppose if you were talking to Joss and Victor Magill you know that four of us went on a launch tour to Scotland? I was in this part of the world, in fact on that Tuesday night I slept here in this hotel. I was to join the launch at Portpatrick on the Thursday morning, and it was my intention to drive my car through to Stranraer on Wednesday. I reckoned it would take me about five hours to do the run and I intended to leave here about four, have an early dinner at Carlisle and push on about seven or later, arriving at Stranraer about eleven.

  ‘I carried out this programme, except that I delayed longer over my dinner than I had intended, and it was eight o’clock as I turned out of Carlisle. Then my bad time set in. I passed Dumfries all right, but a few miles farther on I had a puncture. It was not a serious matter for I had a spare wheel, but when I tried my torch I found it was run down and I had to do everything by feel. The pressure was low in the spare and I had to pump it up. This was all in the day’s work and I only mention it because I lost time over it. I daresay I was the most of an hour fumbling about there in the dark.’

  ‘That would bring it to about ten when you got started, I suppose?’

  ‘Later than that. It was easily half past t
en when I got away again. However I reckoned on being into Stranraer by one o’clock. I made pretty good running past Castle-Douglas and Newton-Stewart, but on the high ground between there and Glenluce my engine stopped.

  ‘I don’t know if you are familiar with the country there, Inspector. It’s wild open moorland, very lonely and deserted. You wouldn’t pass a soul there after dark. Just the very worst place for breakdown. However, that’s the place a breakdown would naturally happen.’

  French admitted that such was also his experience of life.

  ‘Well, I worked and worked at my engine, but it was all no use. Every now and then it would go a few revs. and then stop again. I guessed my jet was choked and I tried to take it out in the dark, but I couldn’t manage it. I dropped bits of the carburettor on the road and I had the devil’s own job finding them again. You see, I was afraid to use matches, even if I had had anyone to hold them for me. At last after trying, I suppose, for a couple of hours, I gave it up and settled down to make the best of it for the night. I walked about a mile each way along the road, but I couldn’t find a house, so I rolled myself up in the car and slept there. Fortunately it was a saloon, but even so it was darned cold. As soon as it was light I had the carburettor out and found, as I expected, that the jet was choked. I soon had it in again and off she went as right as rain. I got to Stranraer about seven o’clock, as you already know.’

  French was impressed by the recital, and that in two ways. First as to the actual story. It was one of those statements which might so easily be true or false. Such a run of bad luck and such a breakdown were eminently possible, and if it had taken place Teer’s action was reasonable, if not inevitable. Judged on the probabilities there would be no difficulty in accepting the statement.

  On the other hand if Teer had been up to any games, it was just the sort of story he would tell. And French could not forget his feeling that it had been prepared for use in emergency.