I could not help smiling, tense though the situation was. Mrs de Ravel was now playing the modern bright young person, with all her silly tricks of expression, amused for a time by being suspected of murder but soon bored again. Perhaps it was the best part she could have selected. At any rate I was thankful she had not chosen to be a tragedy queen.
‘Oh, very well,’ growled De Ravel, to whom of course this lightly expressed request was a command. ‘If you must know, I did go to the bathing pool first of all, and then I moved a little along the stream. I was impatient, I suppose, and got on the move earlier than necessary. I had to hang about on the way. I wanted to catch Scott-Davies before he went up.’
‘Tell them why, Paul,’ ordered his wife lazily.
‘No, I will not,’ retorted de Ravel, rebelling for once.
‘Then I will.’ Mrs de Ravel brought her gaze down from the ceiling and swept it slowly round the circle, opening her eyes very wide. ‘He wanted to challenge him to a duel. Did you ever hear such a thing? Too thrilling. But too silly too, as I told him, because Eric would certainly have chosen Indian clubs, or pickaxes, or something quite impossible, and where would poor Paul have been then? Anyhow, he didn’t catch him at all, because he arrived just at the moment when poor Mr Pinkerton was running away from Eric’s dead body, and Paul heard him telling John all about it. So he rushed back to tell me (this is only what he says, mind; I don’t suppose he can prove it for a minute), and I wasn’t where I was supposed to be. And of course I wasn’t, because one of the shots had woken me up and I’d gone down to the pool to look for Paul, and he wasn’t there. But he never thought of going back there to see if I had, poor dear, so we didn’t see each other till just outside the house, where Paul told me most excitingly to swear I’d been with him all the time at the bathing pool, and I said I wouldn’t say anything so absurd, and Paul said if I didn’t I’d get hanged, so I said I would; but I really quite thought afterwards that it was all bluff and he’d only wanted me to say it to provide a good alibi for himself. Too terribly silly, all of it, don’t you think?’ She dropped back in her chair as if exhausted.
‘I see,’ said Sheringham. ‘Thank you very much, Mrs de Ravel. Too illuminating. So what do you think of all that, Colonel?’
‘Oh, I must reserve judgment, Sheringham. I must reserve judgment, you know,’ replied the colonel, but I could have sworn there was a twinkle in his eye.
‘Well, that’s four people who shot Scott-Davies,’ meditated Sheringham. ‘Let’s see if we can find some more. What about Hillyard here, for instance? He was prowling about the woods all alone, and with a gun. He admits firing one shot. He’s got no shadow of an alibi. Who’s to say he didn’t fire the other shot too? Certainly not I.’
‘Oh, Mr Sheringham!’ said Ethel faintly.
‘Not that I believe for a moment he did, Mrs Hillyard. But he can’t prove he didn’t, and that’s what the law seems to require nowadays.’
‘Well, I’m not going to oblige with a confession for your collection, Sheringham,’ John smiled. ‘But you’re quite right. Who is to say I didn’t? No one. But then, who’s to say I did?’
‘Not I,’ Sheringham laughed. ‘And not, I hope, the superintendent either. So shall I tell you who really did, Superintendent?’
‘I’d be interested to hear, sir.’
‘Very well, then. What about the farmhand – Morton? What do you say to him?’
‘Morton?’
‘Certainly. You know he was working in the end field. What was to prevent him slipping along, meeting Scott-Davies, and slipping back again? He had just as good an opportunity as anyone else. And I happen to know he’s really a first-class shot with a rifle.’
‘But – motive, sir. Morton had no motive.’
‘Hadn’t he?’ said Sheringham, quite grimly. ‘I can promise you he had. I don’t know whether you know about a daughter of his, who was a housemaid here once and had an illegitimate child. She was a pretty girl, and Scott-Davies took an interest in her when he was staying here once. They were seen by one of the other maids kissing in the passage. Her child was born nine months later. Is the inference justified? I think so. And for a short time afterwards, I’m told, she went to the bad; though fortunately she pulled up, and her father’s now taken her back. Is it too much to assume that Morton knew the name of the child’s father? Hardly, I should imagine. There’s the motive, and a very strong one too.’
‘Well, I’m blessed,’ said the superintendent helplessly, and looked at his chief constable.
‘That’s true, is it, Sheringham?’ John asked quietly.
‘About Scott-Davies? Perfectly.’
‘Oh,’ said Ethel, with a little moan, ‘what Elsa has escaped!’
I saw Sheringham glance at her in rather a curious way, but could not interpret his expression.
‘But look here, Sheringham,’ demurred the colonel, ‘it may be as you say – probably it is – but the paternity of the child can’t be inferred from that. There is such a thing as coincidence, you know.’
‘Then do as I did. Ask the girl. She may not admit it to you, but she did to me.’
‘She did, eh?’
‘Yes, she did.’
‘Old Morton,’ muttered the superintendent. ‘It’s a possibility. But it’s only theory, sir, isn’t it? There’s no proof at all.’
‘None whatever,’ Sheringham replied cheerfully. ‘And I don’t imagine for a moment that he did it. The setting of the scene for accident, wiping his fingerprints off the gun, and all the rest of it – that doesn’t square with old Morton at all. But I’ll give you a much more interesting possibility, if you like.’
‘Do, sir. I’ve been wondering when you’re going to tell us who really did it.’
‘Oh, I never promised to go as far as that,’ Sheringham said lightly. ‘But while we’re dealing in possibilities, what about Mrs Fitzwilliam? I understand, from hints which Mrs de Ravel let drop and which she may care to elaborate to you, that there had been bad blood at one time between her and Scott-Davies. What would have been easier than for her to nip down that path after Pinkerton, conceal herself in the thicket while he was busy saying “Hi!” in the glade, shoot Scott-Davies as he passed her, and wait for an opportunity to nip up the path again unseen? Nothing. I present you with Mrs Fitzwilliam.’
‘But you don’t really think she did it sir?’
‘I do not. Not for a minute. But she might have done; and so might Mr Hillyard; and so might Morton; and so might any of the four people who you’ve heard actually confess to doing it; and so, I dare say, might anyone in the wide world. But never for a minute can you, or anyone else, actually prove that any of them did. So there you are, Superintendent.’
I understood the superintendent to mutter something about it beginning to look as if that was where he was, for a fact.
chapter sixteen
‘Sheringham,’ said the colonel, ‘what’s the idea? You’ve not called us together to tell us who didn’t do it, I’m sure.’
‘Are you, Colonel? Then you’re more sure than I am, because I believe that’s exactly the reason why I did suggest this chat.’
‘I mean, what’s your own opinion? You’ve formed one, I can see.’
‘Yes, I have. Quite definitely. If you’d really care to hear it.’
‘I would, very much.’
‘Well, it’s this. The case is far too open. We’ve got, as I say, seven people, all of whom might have done it, and about an equally strong case can be argued against any one of them. Well, I mean, that’s absurd, isn’t it? In a case of murder such things simply don’t happen. The coincidence that one of those seven people did murder Scott-Davies, and each of the other six might just as well have done so, is really a bit too thick. The more I think of it, the more convinced I am that we’re not dealing with a case of murder at all. And this evening’s business, which was planned for my own benefit just as much as yours, has simply put that conviction beyond any reasonable doubt. Scott-Davies
met his death through mere ordinary, prosaic accident.’
‘Humph! You really think so?’
‘I do. And what’s more, I’m sure that counsel could argue a much better case in favour of accident than against any of the seven people I’ve named. Just consider. We know now that Scott-Davies took that rifle down himself, don’t we? It was really lack of just that knowledge which suggested murder first of all, I think; if you’d known that from the beginning I doubt if you’d have considered murder very seriously at all. Of course one can argue that any one of those seven might have found the rifle and concealed it for his or her own purposes, as I did just now when I was trying to show murder in its most favourable aspect; but is it so likely as that Scott-Davies left it there himself with the idea of picking it up after the little play for a stroll in the woods before tea? He knew he wouldn’t want it in the garage, you see, and he knew he might want it later: why carry it up to the house and down again?
‘Besides, there are the fingerprints on it. Any amount of them. And convincing ones. Not the kind that would have been made if the gun had been wiped to remove the prints of a second person and then imprinted from the dead man’s fingers. That’s a very big point, isn’t it? Almost conclusive, I should have said.
‘Anyhow, let’s examine the difficulties in the way of the accident theory. There are four, I think, two major and two minor. We’ll take the two major ones first, the horizontal line of the bullet, and the absence of powder marks. Now I don’t think the first is really important. There’s an obvious explanation for that, which exactly fits with what must have happened if the thing was an accident. To have been an accident, Scott-Davies must have been dragging the gun behind him by the muzzle when the trigger caught in some obstruction. Well, what would happen if the stock did catch in some obstruction suddenly? He would be checked in his advance and, if the obstruction were solid enough, his trunk would be pulled back at an angle. That gives your horizontal line for the bullet’s path, doesn’t it? That it happened to go straight through his heart, and the red patch on his coat, was pure chance. Do you agree so far?’
‘Perfectly,’ said the colonel.
‘I think that’s straightforward enough,’ said the superintendent.
‘Good! Well, then, as to the absence of powder marks, I – no! I think I’ll leave that for the moment. I’ll deal with the two minor difficulties first. Scott-Davies told Miss Scott-Davies that he had an appointment, we understand. Your trouble is that no one has come forward to acknowledge any such appointment. That, you argue, is suspicious, and the probability is that the appointment was with his subsequent murderer. Well, now, if my theory is right, Miss Scott-Davies unintentionally misled you. I haven’t put the point to her, because I wanted to do so in front of you. I will now. Mrs Pinkerton, the impression you gave is that your cousin’s words indicated a definite, prearranged appointment, in a particular place. Is that actually what you understood?’
‘How do you mean?’ Armorel asked cautiously.
‘Well, you said that you couldn’t remember his exact words, but that was the gist of them. I take it you still don’t remember his exact words; but what I want to know is, did you understand from them that he had a definitely prearranged appointment, or might he have meant simply that he hoped to see a certain person, and merely on that chance would not walk up with you?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Armorel said readily. ‘I’m sure he didn’t mention the actual word ‘appointment’. It isn’t the sort of word Eric would have used, you know. No, all he did was to hint very plainly that he didn’t want my company. Naturally I took it to mean that he was expecting someone else’s. That was all.’
‘Exactly. Then I was right. There was no definite appointment. He merely hoped to see someone. Well, if we remember that he had only just become engaged, that his fiancée was bound to pass close to where he was, that she was the only person of the party who was beyond him in the downstream direction and away from the house, and that he actually turned away from Miss Scott-Davies in that direction – well, I think that as an indication of murder the thing simply fizzles out. Eh, Colonel?’
‘Explained in that way, it certainly does.’
‘Precisely. And I suggest that my explanation is not just a counsel’s twist, but the real truth. As to the fourth objection, that it’s inconceivable that a man so used to handling firearms could be so careless – well, one can only reply that such things do happen. You and I, Colonel, must each know of half a dozen just as incredible cases. In this one I think that the explanation which I believe Pinkerton once suggested to you, Superintendent, must be the true one: that Scott-Davies didn’t remember that he had left the gun loaded; he thought he was handling an empty gun. And while we’re on the point it’s interesting to note that there are no less than three pieces of evidence that this is really what did happen.’
‘There are, sir?’ asked the superintendent, not a little sceptically.
‘Certainly,’ Sheringham replied quite sharply. ‘Didn’t you spot them? You should have done. First of all the fingerprints round the top of the barrel; secondly a distinct line on the grass where the blades had been turned over and pressed down (they were beginning to perk up again when I saw it, so the line must have been still more obvious at your first examination), indicating that a narrow object of medium weight had passed over it recently – the stock of a gun, no less, I suggest; and thirdly, there’s a V-shaped stub of root on the edge of the track close to where the stock of the rifle was lying, according to your man – quite enough to cause the sharp obstruction I mentioned, from which of course the recoil of discharge, slight though it would be, together with the convulsive start of the man’s hand as the bullet entered him, would combine to throw it free in the other direction. As I said, three pieces of evidence already. And that’s more than you’ve got to support any of your murder cases. What do you say to that, Colonel?’
‘You’re putting up a very plausible argument, Sheringham, I’ll admit. Eh, Superintendent?’
‘Very ingenious, sir. It’s not much evidence, though I’ll confess I overlooked the track on the grass, but any evidence at all in this case is welcome. But what about the absence of powder marks, sir? I notice you’ve not explained that yet.’
‘No, I’ve been saving that up. And tell me, Superintendent, if I can produce not merely an explanation, but a real piece of evidence to support my explanation, what will you say then? Will you agree with me that it was accident, or will you still hanker after murder?’
‘I’d rather hear the explanation and see the evidence first, if you please, sir,’ returned the superintendent stolidly.
Sheringham laughed and rose to his feet. ‘I’ll go and get the evidence,’ he said, and went out of the room.
He came back a minute later with a twig in his hand on which were several withered and very tattered leaves. With an air of triumph he gave it to the superintendent. ‘Just have a look at that.’
The superintendent examined it closely, and Colonel Grace bent over to look at it too. The rest of us held our breaths.
‘Where did you get this, sir?’
‘I found it in the undergrowth on the right of where the body was lying, just off the path. It’s a sycamore twig. And I found the broken end of the shoot it came off. And that broken end is in a direct line between the stub of root and the place in the air where I imagine the red patch on Scott-Davies’ coat would have been as he stood up. I’ll show it you tomorrow.’
The superintendent looked at the chief constable. ‘That’s smoke-marking, right enough. The bullet must have passed either between or through these leaves, and they collected the smoke. The explosion blew ‘em into these shreds, of course. I’m satisfied, sir.’
‘Yes,’ nodded the colonel. ‘That clinches it. May I congratulate you, Sheringham? You’ve saved us a lot of trouble, and possibly a miscarriage of justice. Though in any case I don’t think we could ever have made an arrest. As you said, we’d no real evidence of murder a
gainst anyone, except motive and opportunity, and rather too much of that. Counsel could have torn any case we brought into tatters, and of course we can’t afford that sort of thing.’
‘Yes, I don’t think there’s any doubt now. I’m glad you agree with me,’ Sheringham said mildly. ‘I suppose you’ll have a word with the coroner before the proceedings tomorrow morning?’
‘Oh, yes; he’s very reasonable. He’ll see that a verdict of accidental death is brought in, if we put it to him. Besides, it’s inevitable on this evidence. You’ll be wanted as a witness, by the way, to prove the finding of the twig and all that.’
Sheringham nodded. ‘Yes, of course. Well, and so that’s the end of the Mystery of Minton Deeps.’
‘And what a relief!’ Ethel sighed thankfully. ‘Mr Sheringham, I don’t know what we owe you, or how we can ever repay you.’
‘I do, Mrs Hillyard,’ Sheringham said lightly. ‘With a drink this very minute. You simply can’t think how thirsty I am after all that talking.’
‘Good gracious, yes,’ said John guiltily. ‘I should think so. A whisky-and-soda?’
‘Whisky-and-soda?’ Sheringham echoed reproachfully. ‘I’m thirsty.’
‘Sorry,’ John grinned. ‘Yes, there is a cask outside. Will you have it in, or would jugs do?’
‘It’d be a pity to disturb the cask. A jug will do nicely, thank you.’
And so the conference broke up into general conversation. An air of elation fell on everyone at the thought of the lifting of the cloud that had been pressing on us so long and the disappearance of mutual suspicion and distrust. Ethel and John were of course delighted and did not hide it, De Ravel became positively boisterous (fancy, I had never had the faintest idea that the De Ravels had suspected each other!), and even Mrs de Ravel became more like a human being that I had ever seen her before. The chief constable was told, amid much amusement, how everyone had at first suspected me of the shooting, and my reception of the different accusations was grossly burlesqued for the general entertainment. But I did not care. Such was my exhilaration that I was almost ready to burlesque myself.
The Second Shot Page 24
