Depths of Deceit

by Norman Russell

  At Box’s bidding, the maid Mary had positioned herself gingerly on the edge of an upright chair. Like any well-trained servant, she felt uncomfortable at sitting down in the reception rooms of her mistress’s house. She was nervous, Box noted, and a little frightened.

  ‘Sir,’ Mary began, ‘I’m going to tell you what happened on the night of the fourteenth, when Mr Barnes was killed, but before that, I’m going to tell you about him and Mrs Barnes, and what took place on 8 August—’

  ‘When you say Mrs Barnes—’

  ‘Sir, if you interrupt me, I’ll get all flummoxed. Just let me tell you things in my own way, asking pardon, sir, for being so forward. The first Mrs Barnes was a nice lady, but the second one, Mrs Laura, was very flighty. I don’t think there was much to it, myself, but she had an eye for attractive men like Mr Harper. And there were others she’d make up to, if I cared to name names, which I don’t. There was no real harm in it, but Mr Barnes, he was ever so jealous! He used to lay traps for her, and later you’d hear him saying things like, “Who was that young man you were speaking to in the shrubbery? Why do you go into Carshalton every day? Who are you seeing?” Things like that.

  ‘And then one day – it was the 8 August, a Wednesday – a man called at the house while she was out, and asked to see Mr Barnes. He wouldn’t give his name. I showed him into the morning-room, and Mr Barnes came through from the works to see him. There’s a little pantry leading off the morning-room, and I went in there to dust some crockery. I wasn’t really listening, but I heard this man say that he was a private detective, and that he had evidence to show that Mrs Barnes was seeing a man secretly in Carshalton. He used a funny word – candlestine, some word like that.’

  ‘Clandestine. It just means secret.’

  ‘That’s right: that’s the word he used. I shouldn’t have stayed, but I was ever so interested! The master was very upset. “I knew it!” he cried, and things like that. The detective then told him that he could prove what he’d said, by taking him to a place here in Hackbridge, where he’d find the couple, meaning this man and Mrs Laura Barnes, together in – in something or other. It was French, I think.’

  ‘In flagrante delicto.’

  ‘That’s right. Master and Mistress had separate bedrooms, you see, so I suppose it was possible. And then the detective said that he would meet Mr Barnes in the conservatory at three o’clock in the morning of the 15 August, and lead him to the house where Mrs Barnes and this man would be. I wondered, myself, who’d engaged this detective, because poor Mr Barnes obviously hadn’t. Anyway, the master never asked him. Had it been me—’

  The maid stopped speaking, and looked a little confused.

  ‘Had it been you, Mary, what would you have done?’

  ‘Well, sir, I’d have waited until the morning of the fifteenth, and then I’d have peeped into the mistress’s room to see whether she was there or not. But he didn’t, when that day dawned.’

  ‘What happened after Mr Barnes and the detective had finished speaking?’

  ‘They left the morning-room, sir, and I slipped back to the kitchen. In a moment the hall bell rang, and I went to show the detective man out.’

  ‘Can you describe this detective to me, Mary?’ asked Box. ‘You’ve told me some very valuable things so far. What did this man look like?’

  ‘Well, he was about fifty, I’d say, with brown hair going bald. Nicely spoken, he was, with a quiet voice. He was wearing a dark overcoat and a black bowler hat. He was tall, and rather thin. He looked more like a manservant than a detective, but that might have been a disguise, mightn’t it?’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Box replied. Secretly he thought to himself: no, he wasn’t a detective, and he wasn’t a manservant. He was a certain Mr Crale, secretary and sneak. He asked Mary to continue with her story.

  ‘I thought about that man, and what he’d said about Missus, for a long time, and then I made up my mind to watch what happened in the early hours of the fifteenth. I didn’t mean any harm, and I never thought there was going to be a murder—’

  ‘Of course you didn’t, Mary,’ Box reassured the now tearful maid. ‘Now, don’t start to cry. Just tell me what you saw.’

  ‘At about half past two – this was in the dark hours of the morning, on the fifteenth – I crept downstairs and went into the little flower-room off the conservatory. I hid myself in an alcove beside the big cupboard there, and left the door slightly open. Nothing happened for what seemed ages, and while I waited, the pitch dark seemed to grow lighter, and I could see the potted plants, and some pieces of furniture. They say, don’t they, that your eyes can get used to the dark?

  ‘Suddenly, I heard the French window creak open, and a man stepped quietly into the conservatory. It was him – the detective man. I watched him as he stood there, and I could hear his breathing. He sounded as though he’d been running. But—’

  Mary suddenly turned pale, and began to tremble. Box placed a reassuring hand on hers. What ailed the girl? What had she seen?

  ‘Sir,’ said Mary, making an effort to regain her composure, ‘I suddenly felt that there was someone else in the conservatory! There was a kind of stirring in the darkness at the far end, as though someone was concealed there. It was horrible! I think the detective man felt it, too, because he made a funny little frightened sound, and half made to bolt for it. But he held his ground, and a few moments later the master came in from the house. He was fully dressed, but he hadn’t put on an overcoat.

  ‘“Is that you?” he whispered, and his voice sounded cruel and gloating. Somehow, it didn’t seem like the master at all, but it was him, sure enough. “Yes, it’s me”, the detective said. “Follow me quietly, Mr Barnes”. The detective turned and almost ran out of the window into the dark garden, and then – and then a black shadow suddenly reared up out of the darkness, Mr Barnes cried out, and there was a terrible thud, followed by the sound of something heavy falling to the floor. I saw and heard nothing else, sir, because I fainted away with fright.’

  The girl now began to sob quietly, hiding her face in her hands. Here was the witness I should have interviewed at the outset of this case, thought Box. She was here when I first visited the house, but I never thought to speak to her. She witnessed her master’s murder, but fear made her keep her own counsel. What had made her tell him the truth now?

  ‘I was terrified, sir,’ Mary continued, ‘and told nobody about what I’d seen, not even Miss Hetty, as she was then. I tried to forget it, and pretend that it had been all a dream. But when Miss Hetty became mistress of the house, and married Mr Harper from the works yard, I told her the whole story. She and I had been good friends, in spite of our different stations, and the time had come for her to know the whole truth. When she received your letter, saying that you were coming to see her again, she said that I had to tell you everything.’

  So, thought Box, Ainsworth hid in the darkened room, and used Crale as his bait to lure his victim within striking-distance of his murderous adze. Had he used Crale in the same way at the Mithraeum? Crale could had made an appointment to meet young Gregory Walsh there, and Ainsworth could had been waiting, concealed in the vault, until Crale had left. Was Crale, then, privy to the two murders? It didn’t necessarily follow. Crale was a mean-spirited, treacherous sneak, not the kind of man who would have the stomach for murder. What was the girl saying?

  ‘I won’t go to gaol, will I, sir? I was ever so frightened, and I’d no business to be out of my room in the attic when Master went downstairs to meet that detective man.’

  ‘You should have told Inspector Perrivale at once, Mary,’ said Box, ‘and then you should have told me. It was very wrong of you to withhold evidence, and if you do anything like that again, you’ll be in real trouble. But for this time we’ll forget all about it. You see, I know who the detective man is, and I also know who the shadow-man is. You told your story very well, Mary, which makes me suspect that you went to a good school. Am I right?’

  ‘Yes, sir. I
was educated at Epsom Church of England School for Girls. They wanted me to go on to train as a board-school teacher, but Mother couldn’t afford to let me go. So I went into service. And you won’t send me to gaol?’

  ‘I will not, Mary. You’d take up a place there that someone more “deserving” could occupy! It’s time I caught a train to Epsom. There’s more work waiting for me there.’

  Box found Mr Crale sitting on one of several basket chairs set out in the garden of a rustic brick cottage, part of Professor Ainsworth’s estate of Ardleigh Manor. He was wearing his well-fitting suit of sober grey, and on the grass beside him he had deposited a black bowler hat and a pair of dark gloves. He was smoking a cigarette, and looking across the garden hedge to the neighbouring garden, where his new house was rising. He caught sight of Box, half rose from his chair, and then apparently thought better of it.

  ‘Why, Detective Inspector Box!’ he said. ‘How nice to see you again, sir. I’m afraid Professor Ainsworth is in London today. He’s attending a meeting of the Senate at London University. Won’t you sit down?’

  ‘Thank you very much, Mr Crale,’ said Box. ‘So the professor’s in Town today, is he? Well, it can’t be helped.’

  He knew perfectly well that Ainsworth would not be at home that morning. But then, it wasn’t the professor he’d come to see.

  ‘Having half an hour to spare, Mr Box,’ said Crale, ‘I thought I’d come out here and view the progress of my new house. It was originally intended for the head groom, but the poor fellow died in a fall last May, and when I came into the professor’s employment, he very kindly offered the house to me. So very kind, you know, but then Professor Ainsworth is a very kind man.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re right,’ said Box, settling himself beside the secretary in one of the basket chairs. ‘Well, if the professor’s not here today, I’ll while away the time by telling you a story. Once upon a time, there was a man who worked for an elderly, crippled baronet, who was something of an invalid. The man proved very useful to his employer, and the old baronet made the mistake of thinking him trustworthy.

  ‘One day, the old baronet told this man to engage an analytical chemist to examine the pigments used on a depiction of an old Roman god, which had been discovered by his rival, a famous archaeologist, in what was supposed to be an ancient Mithraeum. He suspected, you see, Mr Crale, that the depiction, and the monument containing it, were both fakes.’

  ‘This man – who are you talking about, Mr Box? I fail to understand the purpose of this “story”, as you call it.’

  Box watched the secretary as he licked his dry lips before venturing these few words. He’s like that man in The Ancient Mariner, he thought. He’d like to cut and run, but he cannot choose but hear.

  ‘Bear with me, Mr Crale,’ said Box, ‘and you’ll see where all this is leading. The man – he was the old baronet’s secretary – did as he was told, and contrived to meet a young man called Gregory Walsh in The Lord Nelson public house on the corner of St John Street in Clerkenwell. Acting as though for himself, the man arranged for Walsh to secure the paint samples on Thursday, 26 July.’

  ‘Mr Box,’ said Crale, ‘there’s no need to present all this as a story. “The man”, as you call him, was myself. I make no secret of the fact. Sir Charles Wayneflete told me to make those arrangements, keeping his name out of the matter if possible, and I did so.’

  ‘Very commendable of you, Mr Crale,’ said Box, ‘no doubt they’ll engrave those well-known words, “Well done, thou good and faithful servant”, on your gravestone – if you ever have one. It’s possible, you know, that you’ll end up under a prison flags-stone, packed in quicklime. But you were not good and faithful, were you? You arranged to have yourself accused of a non-existent theft, so that you could resign with honour, and allow yourself to be lured away from Sir Charles and into the employ of his arch-enemy, Professor Roderick Ainsworth—’

  ‘This is too much!’ cried Crale, springing to his feet. ‘I have no need to stay here listening to your insulting innuendoes. I shall make a complaint to Professor Ainsworth when he returns from London. Meanwhile, I’ll leave you here to indulge your fantasies by yourself.’

  ‘Sit down, Crale;’ said Box quietly, ‘bluster won’t work here, my lad. Once in the professor’s employ, you revealed all Sir Charles Wayneflete’s secrets and suspicions to him. It was then that Ainsworth, realizing that exposure would mean the loss of his impending knighthood, and fellowship of the Society of Antiquaries, determined to silence the two men who could prove his frauds – Gregory Walsh, and a man living further up the line from here, at Carshalton, a man called Abraham Barnes. He decided to murder them, Mr Crale, and in you, his new secretary, he found a willing accomplice.’

  ‘It’s not true!’ Crale’s voice rose to a scream, and his face became drained of all colour. ‘I knew nothing about murder!’

  ‘Really? Do you think I’m naïve enough to think that Ainsworth gave you a brand new house out of the goodness of his heart? He knew that you’d do anything he asked for money, and decided to make you a down-payment of a desirable residence. Although you began to work openly for Ainsworth in August, you’d approached him earlier, and soon after you’d engaged Gregory Walsh to go to the Mithraeum on the 26 July, you saw the poor young man again in The Lord Nelson, and cancelled that appointment, knowing that your new master would be pleased that you’d forestalled Wayneflete in the exposure of his frauds. I’m right, aren’t I?’

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘You and Ainsworth put your heads together, and chose the fourteenth August, which was a Tuesday, as the day on which, together, you would kill two birds with one stone. It was a well-laid plan. First, you went down to Carshalton, and posed as a detective, in order to deceive Mr Barnes, who had incriminating evidence against Ainsworth in his possession, into thinking that his new wife was being unfaithful. You said that you would furnish him with living proof if he would present himself in the conservatory of his house at three o’clock on the morning of the fifteenth August—’

  ‘Yes, yes, it’s all true!’ cried the terrified secretary. ‘But I tell you I knew nothing about murder. Ainsworth told me nothing. He just gave me orders, and I carried them out.’

  ‘I see,’ said Box, ‘so you’ve now decided that Ainsworth is to take all the blame! I suspect that you were always a sneak and a toady, so it’s no surprise that you’re going to become a Judas as well. Did you know, that when you met poor Abraham Barnes in the conservatory of his house on that fatal night, there was a witness, watching you? That witness saw you do the deed—’

  ‘It’s a lie! Ainsworth told me to say a few words to Barnes, and then leave the house immediately and return to Epsom. It wasn’t me that felled him with the adze!’

  ‘Who was it, then, if it wasn’t you? You must have known that Ainsworth had concealed himself somewhere in that conservatory. My witness saw you quite clearly, and heard you exclaim as you realized that there was someone else there. The witness saw a shadow rise up and strike poor Abraham Barnes down. Whose was that shadow? Was it yours, or Ainsworth’s?’

  ‘It’s not true,’ moaned the terrified secretary. ‘I knew nothing about murder.’

  ‘I think otherwise, Crale, and so will any jury, when they’ve heard all the evidence. The two of you travelled by train to London immediately after Barnes’s murder, and lay in wait for Gregory Walsh in the Mithraeum at Clerkenwell. It doesn’t much matter which one of you committed that second murder, either. One of you was accessory to the other. You’ll both hang.’

  The ashen-faced man seized Box by the sleeve.

  ‘What can I say to convince you that you’re wrong?’ he whispered. ‘I admit that I carried out all Ainsworth’s orders, and that I wasn’t too particular about their consequences. I admit that I was in the conservatory of the house in Carshalton that night, because that was part of the pose of a detective that I had been told to adopt. But I swear to you that I thought the conservatory was empty. I fan
cied I heard a noise, but was convinced that I was mistaken. I came to that house alone. How was I to know that Professor Ainsworth was concealed there, bent on murder? I tell you, I knew nothing about murder! A servant does as he is told; he doesn’t ask his master for reasons.’

  ‘And what about your presence in the Mithraeum?’ asked Box.

  ‘I tell you, I was never there on that fatal morning! I can prove it. I was back here in Ashleigh Manor, and Mason, the butler, can vouch for the fact that I was here. He saw me at six o’clock, and I was here, in sight, all that morning.’

  The man suddenly began to wring his hands in anguish. He looked the picture of despair. What a wretched, cringing fellow he is! thought Box. I never believed for one moment that he’d have the courage to commit murder, but I wanted to see him squirm. When Ainsworth tries to enlist his aid again, he’ll find himself up against a brick wall.

  ‘Very well, Crale,’ said Box, standing up. ‘I’m prepared to believe you. But you must take it from me that Professor Ainsworth is a double murderer, and that when he’s brought to trial, it will be very difficult for you to claim that you weren’t his accomplice. You’ll be called as a witness, you see. I’ll do what I can, but until then, do nothing more than your duties as a secretary here. If you as much as listen to any further confidences from Professor Ainsworth, you’ll make yourself an accessory after the fact of murder.’

  16

  Depths of Deceit

  The Subterranean Pipe Office of the London County Council occupied premises in Spring Gardens, within a stone’s-throw of Whitehall Place. In a long room on the first floor, Inspector Box and Sergeant Knollys stood at a draughtsman’s table, examining a plan that the deputy engineer, a smart young man who had introduced himself as Percy Phelps, had just laid out for their inspection.