The Loss of the Jane Vosper

by Freeman Wills Crofts

  This meant work – detailed, tedious, meticulous work. It meant the making of scores, perhaps hundreds of enquiries, with profound satisfaction if not more than ninety-nine per cent of them proved useless. One per cent result on his efforts would mean success. He would be thankful for half of it.

  French began by a report to Sir Mortimer Ellison. The AC did not attempt to hide his surprise at the news. To him also it seemed unthinkable that this quiet and apparently worthy citizen should be connected with crimes such as were being investigated. But he saw that the proof that such was the case was overwhelming, and he raised no objection to French’s request for a search warrant to go through the Pinner house.

  The document having been obtained, French returned to Holywell Crescent, taking with him Carter, as well as Boyle, the fingerprint man, and Cooper, the photographer. The housekeeper was obviously puzzled and uneasy when she saw the quartet, but French was fatherly with her and very polite. He produced his warrant, explained it to her, and pointed out that he thought Mr Cruttenden must, after all, have the information he required, and that, as they must get it, and as Mr Cruttenden was not at home, there was nothing for it but to look among his papers in the hope of finding it. He assured Mrs Sandford that she would not be inconvenienced in any way and that everything would be left as it was found.

  Then ensued the usual meticulous search. The desk was taken first. It was locked, but a few minutes’ manipulation with a bunch of skeleton keys sufficed to shoot back the bolt. It was then gone over for fingerprints, and these were photographed. Then, while the fingerprint man and the photographer were engaged elsewhere, French went through the papers.

  It was evident that Cruttenden was a man of tidy habits. The papers were neatly arranged and docketed, and were, as French had imagined they would be, entirely innocent. They were just the papers that a suburban dweller like Cruttenden would naturally have in his desk. There were bills for gas, water, provisions, and so on, mostly receipted, as well as a number of letters of a private and quite innocuous type. Clamped together was a neat little bundle of motor manufacturers’ advertisements, suggesting that Cruttenden might have been contemplating buying a new car. In fact, with two exceptions, there was nothing which interested French in the slightest degree.

  Of these exceptions the first was negative. On no single scrap of paper was there a hint of the nature of Cruttenden’s business. There was nothing to account for the income the man must have had to live as he did. This did seem to French a little remarkable. He could understand that business papers would be kept in the office – Cruttenden must have had some business, as he had gone up most days to Town – but he could not understand how every reference to business had been avoided in the private papers. It was certainly suggestive.

  The second exception was more definite. In a pocket in the desk was Cruttenden’s bank book. To French’s surprise it showed four unexpected facts. Firstly, Cruttenden was evidently extremely hard up. He was overdrawn to quite a considerable extent. Secondly, some fairly large sums had been drawn out recently, leaving this debit balance. And what interested French about these withdrawals was that they corresponded exceedingly closely to certain estimated costs of hiring and furnishing the shed, which he, French, had worked out. There were items for which he could not account, but those that he knew, such as the rent of the shed and the price of the timber, he believed he could trace.

  The third fact was also suggestive. None of the names of the recipients was given. All the withdrawals had been in the form of cash to self.

  But to French the fourth fact was by far the most interesting of the lot. Practically all Cruttenden’s income, lodged in sums, many of which were comparatively large, had the same peculiarity. None of the payees was named; all the sums had been paid in cash.

  For some moments French sat motionless at the desk considering these points. Where do systematic cash payments – he was going to use the word ‘usually’, but he substituted ‘often’ for it in his mind – where do systematic cash payments often come from, particularly to a man who is hard up? The nasty word blackmail suggested itself. If Cruttenden were a blackmailer it would explain a good many things.

  It would explain the cash deposits, the absence of information as to the man’s business, the character which would turn to shipwrecking and to murder, the willingness to do anything to carry through an illegal deal, provided it were profitable, as well as the safe to conceal dangerous papers. And, conversely, if Cruttenden were the out-and-out bad hat that now seemed likely, what more probable than that he would turn to blackmail to replenish his emptying coffers?

  It was obvious to French that he must open the safe, though equally obvious that he couldn’t do it on that visit.

  The search dragged on wearily, but without revealing anything else of interest. Then French had another interview with the housekeeper, Mrs Sandford. By this time even she had grasped the fact that the story of the ‘accident’ was not to be taken too literally, and an intense perturbation showed in her manner. French tacitly dropped any attempt to explain his questions, simply asking them as if such an interrogation were an everyday affair to which no exception could be taken.

  From Mrs Sandford he learned a good deal about Cruttenden’s home life, though only one point raised his interest to fever heat. Cruttenden, it seemed, lived very quietly. He went out but little in the neighbourhood, though his business frequently kept him late in Town, often indeed until after the last train, when he returned by car. He entertained very little – practically not at all – though two or three men did come in occasionally to sit with him, usually on a Sunday evening. French naturally asked for a description of these men, and it was the housekeeper’s word portrait of one of them which so keenly aroused his interest.

  For, as far as description could go, this man was the partner of the shed! He was exactly like, at all events, the man who took turns with Rice to transport the timber from Messrs Morgan & Trusett!

  But what his name or his business was or where he lived Mrs Sandford had no idea. Nor could she give any more information about any of the other callers. All she could say of them was that they were also quiet. They smoked and had a few drinks and talked in low tones and left early in the evening: model callers, from her point of view. And, what she seemed to appreciate even more, all the callers were men.

  About the end of July, Mrs Sandford went on in answer to further questions, Cruttenden had told her that he was taking over a temporary business in Paris and would have to stay over there a good deal for some three months. He would come back at intervals, but would always let her know beforehand. And so he had. Sometimes she had a card from Paris, but usually Cruttenden had telephoned on arrival in London. She had had no information recently, and didn’t know when he would be back.

  This seemed all that French was likely to obtain, and, as Boyle and Cooper had also finished, the four men left. French, sending the others back to the Yard, went to the local police station. There he arranged for the house to be watched, so that he might learn without delay if Cruttenden appeared. If the man were seen, he was not to be allowed to escape, though, as French would prefer to make the arrest, he was not to be detained by the local force unless this became necessary.

  From the police station French went on to Cruttenden’s bank. There he saw the manager, and, explaining his business, asked for any confidential information about the man’s finances which the manager could give him.

  But Mr Clotworthy evidently considered his first duty was to his client. His thin-lipped mouth closed like a trap and he politely intimated that if French required such information he must first obtain the necessary authority to demand it, when it would be handed over. Until then, nothing was doing.

  On returning to the Yard French found that the last possible shred of doubt that Cruttenden and Rice were one and the same person had been removed. The fingerprints on the inside of Cruttenden’s desk were the same as those in the office in the Redliff Lane shed. Definitely
, then, he was not pursuing a will-o’-the-wisp, but was on the right track.

  But though this knowledge was so satisfactory in one way, a dreadful feeling of doubt on another point was growing up in his mind. Conclusive as the evidence connecting Cruttenden with the Jane Vosper affair seemed to be, must there not be in it some hideous mistake? Because what could the man have possibly gained by such a crime? He had not insured either ship or cargo. It seemed to French that he couldn’t possibly have gained in any way whatever. And if he didn’t gain, why should he have done such a thing?

  The more French considered this point, the more overwhelming it seemed to grow. Nothing criminal is done without motive. What could have been the motive here? So far as French could see, there could have been none.

  But if there were none, did it not mean that Cruttenden could not have sunk the Jane Vosper? But if so, what about the explosives and the alarm clocks? Perhaps not the alarm clocks – he had not been able to see how they could have been used. But the wool from the coat practically proved that Cruttenden had stolen the explosives. If not to blow up the Jane Vosper, what was this for?

  French swore. It was confoundedly puzzling. It looked as if the man must have been acting as an agent for somebody else. If so, there must surely be a whole side of the affair to which he, French, had not as yet tumbled. For the life of him, he could not see what this might be.

  But, disquieting as these considerations were, they did not in any way affect his next step. Obviously he must find Cruttenden. How was he to set about it?

  The man had told his housekeeper that he was going to Paris. French wondered had he gone?

  He went round to the passport office and put some questions. There a short search revealed the fact that Cruttenden possessed a passport, which included France among the countries covered. French noted its number, intending to advise the coastal passport officers to indicate the holder to the police.

  ‘By the way,’ the young man who was attending to French said suddenly, ‘this name Cruttenden is familiar to me. I dealt with it quite recently. Let’s see. So many of these applications pass through our hands that it’s not easy to remember all of them. But I remember specially noting this name. Yes, Mark Cruttenden of Pinner. I got one of those silly ideas one does get – about pinning something to the mark. Imbecile, but if anything like that occurs to you, you remember the names.’

  ‘That’s interesting,’ French approved. ‘If you dealt with the man recently you’ll have a record, I suppose?’

  ‘Oh, yes, I’ll be able to turn it up. I should remember, though.’ He paused for a moment, then made a sudden gesture. ‘I’ve got it! We had an application from him asking that the passport be made to include Russia. That’s it. Perhaps, if you’re interested, I’d better turn the papers up and make sure?’

  ‘I wish you would,’ said French.

  A reference to the files showed that the young man’s recollection was accurate. Some couple of months earlier Cruttenden had sent in his passport, saying he wished to travel to Russia. The passport had been amended accordingly.

  When French once again reached his room at the Yard his first act was to put through a call to the Sûreté in Paris, asking if the presence of Cruttenden in Paris was known. This, of course, was a long shot, but owing to the French system of hotel registration such knowledge was not impossible. Then, having warned the police and passport men at all sea and airports, he turned his attention to the question of Russia.

  Rice was in London on 17th October, because on that day he called at the agents and gave up the keys of the shed. If he had gone to Russia, therefore, it must have been since that date. Could his movements be traced?

  The easiest way to go would, of course, be by air or sea. The journey across Europe was long and tiring. But if the visit were to be kept from the English police, overland would be the way chosen, because of its comparative secrecy. French thought that his enquiries should be first about direct sea. Air could be taken next, and rail if both these failed.

  He rang up Lloyd’s, asking for a list of all steamers which had left for Russian ports during the period in question. There were twenty-seven, of which four had sailed from London. Of the latter, two were Russian and two British. French decided to try the Russian first.

  But by sea he drew a blank. The most careful enquiries failed to reveal any trace of Cruttenden’s journey. Next he tried air. He put several men on the job, but without success. If the man had gone, he had done so by the ordinary rail and cross-Channel steamer route.

  For a time he considered applying to the Soviet police, then he thought he would postpone this enquiry until he had something further to go on. A more immediate matter, he considered, was the safe in the Pinner house. He would have that opened and go through the contents before deciding on his next step.

  Accordingly next morning, with Carter and a couple of experts armed with drills, an oxy-acetylene plant and other strange tools, he went out once again to Holywell Crescent. There a period of intensive activity ensued, resulting in the door of the safe swinging open. French pounced on the contents like a terrier on a rat.

  A glance assured him that the neatly-stacked papers were indeed treasure trove. Quite apart from the sinking of the Jane Vosper and the murder of John Sutton, to have obtained these papers alone would have been well worth all the labour he had put into the case.

  His suspicions had been correct. Cruttenden was a systematic blackmailer. There was enough information here to get him a life sentence. French almost gasped as he saw some of the names on the man’s sinister list.

  This was extraordinarily satisfactory. Even if the ship and the murder part of the affair should not work out so well as he hoped, this discovery was still a personal triumph for himself. Blackmailers were a pest whom the authorities were naturally anxious to exterminate, and this case would undoubtedly prove to be one of the most important dealt with for many years.

  But the discovery would help on the Jane Vosper and Sutton affairs also. Cruttenden was now an outlaw, a criminal to be hunted down and arrested at sight. The blackmailing charge would give all the opportunity which was required to investigate the man’s life. Now the bank manager could be made to disclose his books. And the same would apply to everyone with whom Cruttenden had had dealings.

  Also enquiries might now be put through to Moscow. In fact, in every way the investigation had taken a most happy turn.

  After reporting his discovery to Sir Mortimer, French drafted his Russian message.

  But though French was delighted with his progress, he remained profoundly troubled by his inability to find a motive for Cruttenden in the Jane Vosper case. What the man hoped to make out of it he could not imagine. His bank account showed that so far he had not done so, or, if he had, he was holding the money elsewhere. Obviously he was acting for someone else. But for whom? French could think only of the Southern Ocean Steam Navigation Company, but he simply could not see a company of the standing of this one putting themselves in the power of a man like Cruttenden. But then, again, if they had not done so, why had Cruttenden acted?

  French was walking along the corridors at New Scotland Yard on his way to his room while these thoughts were passing through his mind. Suddenly, to the astonishment of a sergeant who was following him, he stopped dead in his tracks, an expression of incredulous amazement printed on his features.

  The timber! Was it possible that in the timber lay the explanation of the whole confounded puzzle?

  Staggered for a moment by the immensity of the vista this idea opened up, his body presently began to function once more and he resumed his walk to his room. There, throwing himself into his chair, he began to consider the matter with some degree of coherence.

  The timber! What was the timber for? He had at first supposed it was for making forms for reinforced concrete work, then he had believed it was for shoring a tunnel, then once again he had thought of concrete forms. But was it for any of these things? No, it was for something quit
e different! And the concrete! Yes, he saw what that was for now!

  What a fool he had been! How blind, how utterly blind! There for all these days, these weeks, almost, the clue to the affair had been in his hands, and he had failed to see it! Ah, yes, the timber was the crucial feature. For the first time he obtained a coherent view of what had unquestionably been done.

  Like a man in a dream he picked up his notebook and turned over the leaves till he came to certain measurements. Then he looked in another place and found his note of the quantity of the timber which had been purchased. Lastly he began to calculate.

  Mathematics was not French’s long suit, and he had to make three shots before he solved his problem. But when he did obtain the answer it was worth all his trouble.

  Yes, the amount of timber ordered was just what would have been required for the job. It worked in so well that all doubt as to the correctness of his new theory vanished. At last he was down on bedrock fact! He knew!

  At once the theory began to offer fresh lines of investigation. If Cruttenden and his friend who had helped with the carting were both skilful carpenters and had worked from morning to night all the time they had had the shed, they could never have done all the work which was required. They must have had help.

  Then French remembered that workmen had been spoken of by various witnesses. These workmen! French saw that he had overlooked them in a disgraceful way. Any one of them could at any time have handed him the solution of his puzzle.

  For the moment the problem of finding Cruttenden receded into the background and that of finding the tradesmen took its place. This at least should offer no serious difficulty. Enquiries at the neighbouring labour exchanges as to carpenters or joiners engaged by Rice Bros of Redliff Lane should obtain the required information.

  To ring up the labour exchanges of the Redliff Lane district was a matter of a few minutes only. The first six calls produced no result, but at the seventh he received the information he wanted.