The two men smiled.
‘Right,’ French went on. ‘That’s it. You hold your tongues. Not a word to a single soul. Hard lines, I know, because it would make a good story; but it’s only till the gang are caught. Have I your word?’
Both men gave it, but Pugg added complainingly that he didn’t yet know how the thing had been done.
‘You know a darned sight more than you should,’ French returned. ‘But I’ll make you this promise: when the gang’s arrested you’ll hear the whole thing. Now,’ he turned to Carter, ‘for that walk and then breakfast.’
20
Stranraer
Shortly after French and Carter reached the King’s Arms, Harvey and Ormsby turned up in the car.
‘No trouble, Mr French,’ Ormsby declared. ‘The whole thing went like clockwork. Just as easy as falling off a log.’
‘Tell me about it.’
‘I slid down that ladder,’ went on Ormsby, ‘like as if it was greased and when I got to the ground I found myself lifted and carried across the rails. I hadn’t known that was in the programme, but Harvey whispered it was to get me close under the wall of the other platform, so I’d not be so conspicuous if anyone started to cross the line. So I lay quiet while the train went out and until everyone left the down platform. Then Harvey whispered to come on, but I thought that was hardly the game, me being a corpse, so I didn’t make any move and—’
‘The lazy blighter just lay there like a log and I had to carry him the whole way,’ broke in Harvey indignantly. ‘But he’ll not do it again,’ he added, with more satisfaction. ‘I dragged him over the rails by the feet.’
‘Excellent,’ French approved. ‘I expect you children made twice the noise Teer did, so if you were able to get clear away, he certainly could. You saw no one?’
‘Not a soul. We got to the car and drove to Kirkandrews Bay, waited there half an hour, and then came on straight here. No trouble anywhere.’
‘Well, you deserve your breakfast.’
For some time conversation waned under the stress of more serious matters. Then pipes and cigarettes were lit and desultory remarks began to be made. Presently exchange of ideas became normal.
They discussed the weather, their tobacco, the great adventure and similar experiences of the past, until at last French, glancing at his watch, declared that the hour for conference had arrived.
‘I want to go right over this affair as it now appears to me,’ he said. ‘You will all hold watching briefs and pull me up if I say anything you think not quite O.K.’
He settled himself more comfortably in his chair, stopped his pipe with the end of a pencil, and began:
‘I’d better make it clear right at the start that there’s a lot in this affair that I’ve not yet got the hang of myself. There’s a doubt about the motive, there’s a doubt about the linen-silk plans and there are doubts about Malcolm Magill. All these and other things have still to be gone into and that’ll be our next job. What I’m going to discuss with you now is simply the method of the actual murder—what we tested last night—together with one or two things leading up to it or following from it. First I’ll tell you what I believe these people did, then I’ll explain why I believe it, and lastly we’ll consider whether my reasons are sound.’
He stopped and looked round while his hearers, each in his several way, expressed approval.
‘We begin with these four, Teer, Mallace, Joss and Victor Magill—for that is the order I should put them in—being desirous of Sir John Magill’s death. Let us leave their motive in the meantime. Well, they meet and work out their scheme. The first thing is to get Sir John to travel by the Stranraer boat express. We may take it that is done with the silk-linen story as stated by Joss.
‘It is a tale well calculated to fetch Sir John and it fetches him all right. He agrees to visit Belfast. Doubtless by dilating on the rough weather and the short sea passage, Joss gets him to decide on the Stranraer route, and to clinch the matter and to enable him to engage communicating berths, Joss undertakes to make the sleeping car reservations.
‘Whether, therefore, Sir John has solved his problem and has agreed to take his plans to compare with those of Joss’s friend, or whether, as I am inclined to imagine, he has not solved it and has no plans, doesn’t really matter. In either case the alleged Belfast process is used to induce the old man to travel to Ireland by the Stranraer route. We know further, both from Joss’s admission and our own inquiries, that this story of Joss’s is a pure fabrication—he has no friend in Belfast, nor has he ever worked at a scheme for combining linen and silk. Joss then goes to Euston and engages communicating berths on the right side of the train, that is, the side which will be away from the platform at Castle-Douglas.’
‘How does he know, sir, which side of the train the berths would be on?’ Ormsby inquired.
‘That’s another thing we’ve still to find out,’ French admitted. ‘He asked the reservation clerk, but the clerk was not able to tell him. However he must have learned it somehow.
‘After the train starts Joss carries out the actual murder as we reconstructed it. He drugs Sir John, kills him, wraps the body in a dark cloak and pushes it out of the train at Castle-Douglas. Victor gets in by means of the ladder and Joss helps him to make up to personate the dead man. So much for Joss. His act is now over and he meets Teer at Stranraer and they join the launch at Portpatrick.’
There was a little murmur of appreciation as Joss passed from the stage and interest focused on his successor.
‘Now let us take Mallace,’ went on French. ‘Mallace is the nautical member of the quartet and he concerns himself with the launch. He arranges its hire and its start from Barrow in such a way that these can be checked over by inquisitive detectives. He had two witnesses of the start, the clerk and the mechanic, and he calls their attention to the hour in such a way that it is not likely to be forgotten. These two, furthermore, will swear to Victor’s departure and so lay the foundation of his alibi.
‘Mallace presumably leaves Barrow at the slow speed of six or seven knots, but as soon as he has passed out of observation he increases to the maximum of ten or more. At Tarn Bay he goes inshore, anchors, puts Victor ashore in the dinghy, returns on board and runs the launch single-handed to Kirkandrews Bay, taking care to arrive about a quarter to five. There he again anchors and goes ashore in the dinghy. He meets Teer, who has just arrived with the body of Sir John. They put the body into the dinghy and while Teer returns to the car Mallace rows back to the launch, gets the body aboard, hides it and then runs at full speed to Portpartick. At Portpatrick, by making remarks with muffled replies, he tries to establish Victor’s presence on board. As soon as Joss and Teer have arrived he goes to Stranraer to visit his firm’s agents, thereby supplying a reason for the selection of that particular itinerary for the cruise.’
‘Very clear, sir,’ M’Clung remarked in answer to French’s pause and look of inquiry.
‘Good. Then let us take Teer. Teer’s business is land transport. He is actually on a business tour in the north and he has a car. Under the circumstances it is only reasonable that he should use this car to join his friends, so his arrival at Stranraer and his subsequent garaging it there are unsuspicious.
‘Teer’s movements are pretty clear. He starts from Newcastle for Stranraer, leaving a good trail. He establishes firmly his visit for dinner to the hotel in Carlisle. Again, after giving his destination as Stranraer he starts off in the Stranraer direction. But he circles round and runs down through Cumberland to Tarn Bay, picks up Victor and runs him to Castle-Douglas, parks the car, comes down with Victor to the station, takes over the body of Sir John from Joss and when the station is quiet carries the body to the car. Then he runs to Kirkandrews Bay, carries the body down to the sea, and helps Mallace to get it aboard the dinghy. He returns to the car, drives to Stranraer, picks up Joss, reaches Portpatrick and goes aboard the launch.’
As far as attention and interest were concerned, French
had no reason to complain of his audience. The four men sat eagerly drinking in his exposition. M’Clung, of course, already knew most of it, but to the others it was new and they found it as thrilling a tale as they had listened to for many a day. Carter indeed had let his pipe go out in his absorption, a signal compliment to the narrator.
‘Now for Victor,’ French went on in satisfied tones. ‘It is after Victor leaves the train at Stranraer that his movements become interesting, but for the sake of completeness I will begin at Barrow with him also.
‘Victor travels to Barrow with Mallace and accompanies him from there to Tarn Bay. He goes ashore, drives with Teer to Castle-Douglas, and wearing a dark cloak, climbs into the train. With the assistance of Joss he makes up as Sir John. On reaching the boat he virtually is Sir John. The light at that hour is not good, and as Sir John had not been that way for seven years, those who remember the old man do not question Victor’s identity. All the same he is taking no risks. He engages a private cabin, goes to it at once, and remains there until the boat reaches Larne. At Larne he is practically safe. No one remembers his uncle and he acts the old man’s part with assurance.’
Ormsby moved uneasily.
‘What about his clothes, sir?’
‘His clothes? Whose clothes?’
‘Victor’s clothes, sir. When Victor got into the train he undressed and went to bed and when he got up he dressed in Sir John’s clothes. What about his own?’
French shrugged.
‘A matter of guesswork, I’m afraid,’ he answered. ‘Either Victor left his clothes with Teer in the car and climbed into the train wearing only the dark cloak, or he gave them to Joss to pack in his suitcase. In either case the clothes must have been taken ashore at Lurigan for Victor, as Sir John’s were wanted to reclothe the body. I don’t think that’s a snag, Ormsby. It could have easily been got over.’
Ormsby, slightly apologetic, agreed, and French resumed.
‘At Larne, Victor lays a satisfactory trail, as he does also at the Station Hotel in Belfast. The call there enables him to order a taxi in a way which will enable it to be traced—through the hotel porter. Incidentally there was a hint of the truth in that, if we’d had the wit to see it. If this had really been Sir John; he’d have gone to the Grand Central Hotel, not to the Station. He would never have made a mistake about a thing like that. Well, Victor drives to Sandy Row, and that for two reasons. Firstly, if suspicion be not aroused, it will suggest that he is about to visit the engineering firm who have previously worked for Sir John, and consequently that the latter’s visit to Belfast really is about the invention. On the other hand, if suspicion be aroused, it will provide corroboration of the story that Joss will tell later to account for his actions in the case.
‘He has now to put away time until the evening. Belfast is full of people who knew Sir John, so he cannot remain in any public place. Nor at this stage can he go where he might be traced, such as to an hotel. Nor yet can he remove his disguise, as he will want it again later on. What then is he to do? Only one thing is possible. He must hide. And so he hides. He hides until the exigencies of his plot call him again to action.’ French grinned. ‘A good phrase that, eh?’ he pointed out. ‘“Called to action by the exigencies of his plot.” I’ll remember that for my report.’
The others smiled and French went on.
‘Victor chooses what is perhaps the best hiding place within a dozen miles of Belfast, and it is for him a pure accident that he should be seen both going to it and coming away. But this, as you all know, is just the kind of accident that happens to such plans.
‘He has with him in Sir John’s despatch case the dark cloak and ladder he used for getting into the sleeper. These he now buries, and it must be admitted that it was only one chance in a million that they were found.’
‘He made a mistake there all the same,’ M’Clung declared.
‘Why?’ French asked curiously.
‘Sure weren’t they found where he hid them? He should have given them to Joss to throw into the sea.’
French considered.
‘I don’t know that you’re right,’ he said at last. ‘If he threw them into the sea the chances that they’d never be found were a million to one. But there was the millionth chance. They might have been brought up in a trawl. No. He may have committed an error or judgment, but it was certainly no worse than that.’
‘Well, that was what he did anyway and lucky for us,’ M’Clung conceded, ‘What do you think he dug the hole with, sir?’
‘Guesswork again, M’Clung. Probably in the dispatch case he also had a trowel. However he buries them somehow, and then he spends what we may be sure was a very cold and miserable day.’
French paused as if at the end of a chapter, and a little wave of movement ran over his audience as they changed their positions and settled down once more to listen. Carter, his curiosity considerably assuaged, leaned forward surreptitiously and relit his pipe.
‘A minor mistake in Victor’s staff work was that he allowed himself to run short of provisions and therefore had to lay a trail on the way back to the station. He could not, of course, foresee that his visit to the shop at the head of Duncairn Gardens would become known. Well, he reaches the Northern Counties station, travels by the eight o’clock train to Whitehead and there once again begins to lay a deliberate trail. He impresses his personality—or rather Sir John’s—on the stationmaster by asking for someone who he knows is not there, and rings up Malcolm, mimicking Sir John’s voice. Then he walks out along the road towards Larne, presumably hides until Malcolm has passed in his car and then stages the struggle. Doubtless, he cuts his arm, or perhaps his gum to get the necessary blood, and he tramples the grass and breaks the twigs and throws the hat into the hedge.
‘Remember that we are not so far considering motive, but only putting up a theory of what actually happened. Victor’s next object is to get to Lurigan and his only way is on his own feet. The distance is about fourteen miles and he has from, say, half past nine to half past two—five hours. As he is now presumed to be dead, he is naturally anxious to do the journey unseen. To walk by the railway, deserted at that hour, is his obvious plan, and here again he has a stroke of real bad luck in being seen by the cleaner at Larne. However, in due course, he reaches Lurigan.
‘In the meantime the launch with the other three conspirators and with Sir John’s body on board has left Portpatrick. It runs at full speed to Lurigan. There it is anchored and the party come ashore with the body and spades. Soon the burial is complete and the party—all four of them this time—regain the launch and head full speed for Campbeltown.
‘Victor has already begun to pay for his misdeeds and now his payment continues. He must hurt his knee. That, we may be sure, is done for him and done thoroughly. Joss’s theatrical knowledge again comes in handy and he colours it up to show the necessary age. This colouring has doubtless been very carefully studied beforehand. The knee looks after its own swelling. The party arrive in due course at Campbeltown and Dr MacGregor is called in to confirm the alibi. Some scheme, isn’t it?’
There were further shiftings of position with congratulatory and appreciative murmurs, but few constructive comments. Then French invited the others to trot out their views.
At first it didn’t seem as if they had any, but gradually it began to appear that the sergeants were not really so satisfied with the theory after all. For some minutes they hedged, then Carter cleared his throat with emphasis and expressed what seemed to be in all their minds.
‘It’s a good theory and you could put up a strong case for it and all that,’ he began, ‘but there’s a thing I don’t altogether follow. Maybe, sir, you’d say what you think about it.’
‘Right-ho,’ French approved. ‘A chain’s weakest link. Forge ahead, Carter.’
Carter moved restlessly as if not quite sure of himself.
‘It’s this way, sir,’ he said at length. ‘All this movement seems to me to be more complicated th
an is needed. If they only wanted to kill Sir John would they not just have put a bullet into him or given poison instead of a sleeping draught? Why bring in all this business of the launch and the car?’
French nodded.
‘A point, Carter; quite a point. I’m glad you’ve raised it.’ He thought for a moment, then went on: ‘I don’t think I agree with you, Carter. It seems to me that these people’s scheme was good, in fact, I don’t see how you could well get a better. Sir John was murdered in the train. We may start with that, because if we suggest something else we begin to discuss an entirely different murder which did not take place. Now if he was simply shot or poisoned as you suggest, it would be immediately evident that the murderer was among the passengers or train crew. Elimination would be undertaken by the police, with the result that the reservation of the communicating berths would come out, Joss would be identified with Coates, and the necessary motive would be found. The thing would end with a nine o’clock walk for Joss. Joss wasn’t having a risk of that kind, so he and his friends adopted a safeguard: they decided to conceal the fact of the murder. And how could it be concealed? Only surely in the way they did it—by removing the corpse and providing a living substitute. If Sir John travelled through to Belfast, he obviously couldn’t have been murdered in the train. His murder was then staged at Whitehead at a time when the launch and presumably the whole quartet were in Portpatrick Harbour. Now that appeals to me as being a thundering good scheme. And for the life of me I don’t see how it could have been done more simply than it was. No, Carter, I don’t agree that it was too elaborate. If I had been in their place I should have considered such a safeguard well worth the trouble.’
Carter agreed. He had not looked at it like that, and he thought now that the inspector was right.
Inspector French: Sir John Magill's Last Journey Page 24
