by Miles Burton
He entered the office, where he had a long and technical discussion with the manager of the yard. By the time he came out he had chartered Alisette, a seven-ton yawl fitted with an auxiliary motor, for the summer months, the vessel to be at his disposal in a week’s time.
This done, there was nothing more to detain him in Gippingford. He went back to the hotel, took out the car, and set off on the way to London, where he had promised to meet Inspector Young.
He called on him, late the same evening, at his office in Scotland Yard, and told him of his adventures since they had last met. “I haven’t got much further, as you see,” he concluded. “But then, as I told you, I didn’t expect to. What I am concerned with at present is to make preparations for the night of April 30th, May Eve. That used to be a famous witches festival, and if ancient tradition is followed, as it has been throughout, there is certain to be a meeting of the High Eldersham coven that evening. If I can’t find some way of being present, now that I know where it is likely to be held, my luck will be dead out. You’ve nothing particular to report, I suppose?”
“Not very much. I left the Rose and Crown this afternoon, and came straight up here. There’s been a change there, by the way. Dunsford has gone back to the Tower of London and his place has been taken by a man called Humby and his wife. I hadn’t much difficulty in finding out all about them. He seems to have been head gardener at the Hall, Sir William Owerton’s place, and managed to save a little money. After Whitehead’s death he approached Sir William, and asked him to use his influence with the brewers to give him the tenancy of the Rose and Crown. It seems that Sir William knows the senior partner in the brewery and there was no difficulty. The matter went through, and Humby took up his job this morning.”
“I see. So Dunsford has gone back to Gippingford, has he? Humby is a High Eldersham man, I suppose?”
“Oh, yes, born and bred. He told me with some pride that his ancestors up to the fourth generation were buried in the churchyard. I can’t say that I verified his statement.”
“It’s probably true,” observed Merrion thoughtfully. “So that the possibility of a stranger taking the Rose and Crown is eliminated. Curious, isn’t it, how these things happen?”
“I confess that it didn’t strike me in that light,” replied Young. “However, it’s all straight and above board this time. You can’t suspect the brewers of being a party to this conspiracy against strangers, and it is only natural that Sir William should use his influence on behalf of one of his own employees.”
“Quite. But still, the fact remains. Any other news from High Eldersham?”
“No, except that I had a visit last night from Doctor Padfield. He came up to have a chat, and also to tell me that he had sent Viney to bed, and told him to remain off duty for a day or two. He had already telephoned the information through to police headquarters at Gippingford, and he told me that although he knew it was not my business, he thought I should like to know. As I say, I think it was only an excuse to have a chat. The man strikes me as being lonely.”
“What’s the matter with Viney?” inquired Merrion sharply.
“I don’t know. Nothing very serious, I fancy. He went to see Padfield on Sunday morning, complaining of pains in the head which made him feel dizzy. Padfield gave him something soothing, told him to go and lie down, and said that he would look in later in the day. He did so, and found the pains better, but the dizziness still continuing. So, as I said, he told him to stay where he was for a day or two. He’ll be all right then, the doctor says. I went to see him this morning before I left and he didn’t look very fit. There’s no question of malingering, or anything like that.”
“Has he got a wife and family? Who’s looking after him?”
“Oh, he’s all right, you needn’t worry. He isn’t married, he lives in the police cottage by himself, and an old woman from the village comes in every day and looks after him. She seems very fond of him, treats him more like a son than anything else.”
“Who performs his duties while he is ill?”
“Oh, I don’t know. It depends how the local force is off for men. I should imagine, since it is only likely to be a matter of a few days, that the man from the next parish would cover his beat. Of course, if he were to be laid up for long, headquarters would send a substitute.”
Merrion sat silently for several seconds, staring straight in front of him. “Look here, old chap,” he said at last. “You’ll think that I’m beginning to imagine things, I know. But I can’t help seeing something ominous in this illness of Viney’s. He is out of action, I gather. Meanwhile High Eldersham, so far as the police are concerned, is left to the mercies of the constable from the next parish, who may possibly find time to visit the place once a day, or alternatively, to a complete newcomer, who would take some time even to find his way about the place. What an opportunity for high jinks, if any one felt disposed that way!”
“Oh, dash it all, man, that’s a bit far-fetched!” exclaimed Young. “This indisposition of Viney’s is only a coincidence, after all. And I tell you, Doctor Padfield doesn’t think that it’s anything serious. He’ll be about again in a day or two.”
“I wonder. It all seems ridiculous in this office of yours, surrounded on all sides by the most up-to-date civilisation in the world. But, even in this severely practical atmosphere, I can’t forget that scene the night before last, and the doll that I saw being carried away from the Witch’s Sabbath.”
“The doll!” repeated Young in a tone of bewilderment. “Why, what on earth are you talking about? What’s that got to do with it?”
“It wouldn’t surprise me if it had been baptised with the name of Viney,” replied Merrion quietly.
Chapter XV
The laugh with which the Inspector greeted this remark sounded a trifle forced and unreal. “Really, I can’t help thinking that you attach too much importance to this witchcraft business,” he replied. “I admit that, if we can get to the bottom of it, we may find the clue to the murder of Whitehead, and that is the principal thing, after all. But I think it is forcing things a bit to try to make it responsible for everything that happens in High Eldersham.”
“Very likely,” remarked Merrion indifferently. “We needn’t labour the point at the moment. Now, I can do nothing further on the spot for a week. To-day is the tenth. That means to say that I shall go down to Gippingford again on April 17th. Meanwhile, I shall stay in London. Is there anything I can do for you while I am here?”
“Not unless you can help me to find out more about this Mrs. Fowler I spoke of the other day. I’ve learnt that she keeps her car in a lock-up at Huntingdon Mews, and I’m going to arrange for one of our men to make the acquaintance of her chauffeur.”
“Huntingdon Mews, does she!” exclaimed Merrion. “More co-incidences; this time, I think, not due to witchcraft. I keep my car in a lock-up there, too. I ran it in there not a couple of hours ago. I tell you what, old chap, leave this chauffeur to me for a bit. I’ll get my man, Newport, to sound him. It’ll be far better than putting a detective on his track. You can trust Newport as you would yourself. He was with me all through the war, and I’ve had him ever since. He’s an old sailor, and there are very few things he doesn’t know, and none that he can’t do after a fashion of his own. He’ll squeeze Mrs. Fowler’s chauffeur dry without the man knowing that he’s said a word.”
Young smiled at his friend’s enthusiasm. “All right,” he said. “I’ll give this paragon of yours three days in which to get busy. I’ve seen him at your place, of course, and I confess I like the look of him.”
“Right! Within three days you shall have the story. It was last Monday this mysterious princess of yours descended upon the outraged Dunsford, wasn’t it? Now, if that’s all you’ve got to tell me, I’m going home to bed.”
Next morning, when Merrion sat down to breakfast, he put aside the morning paper which usually accompan
ied that meal, and called to Newport, who was busying himself at the sideboard.
“Come here, Newport, my lad, I want to talk to you,” he said. “Sit down, and stop playing with those dishes; it fidgets me.”
“Very good, sir,” replied Newport resignedly, seating himself on the edge of a chair in the far corner of the room.
“That’s right,” said his master. “Now listen. We’re going down to the sea in ships once more. What do you say to that, eh?”
“Going abroad, sir?” inquired Newport eagerly.
“No. We’re going to explore the east coast in a seven-tonner of the name of Alisette. It’s a silly name, and I rather suspect that her bottom is rotten. Still, since you and I shall be alone on board, it won’t be any great loss if she sinks with us. We start from Gippingford next Monday. You haven’t got too lazy to handle a boat, have you?”
Newport grinned. His extremely easy life in London had never really satisfied him, and the prospect of a yachting cruise filled him with delight. “I expect I can manage, sir,” he replied. “I’d better see about getting in some stores.”
“You can go down to Gippingford on Friday, and get the boat provisioned. You can see at the same time that the men at the yard fit her out properly, and don’t put the bowsprit where the bumpkin should be. It’s the fashion where we’re going for yachtsmen to take their butlers with them as crew, so they won’t be surprised to see you.”
“Very good, sir, I will go down on Friday. You will join the ship on Monday, I suppose, sir?”
“I shall. But I’ve another job of work for you before you go. I want you to spend this morning at Huntingdon Mews, cleaning the car. You know most of the chauffeurs who live in the mews, I suppose?”
“Yes, sir, I fancy I’ve met most of them either there or at the Three Coachmen, just round the corner.”
“Oh, so that’s where you squander your substance in riotous living, is it? Well, do you know the man who drives a Rolls-Royce limousine belonging to Mrs. Fowler of Park Street?”
“I know the car, sir, and I’ve spoken to the chap as drives it, though I never heard his name.”
“Good enough. Well, I want to know who it was that he drove to Gippingford, and then on to the Rose and Crown at High Eldersham, last Monday. You’re not to ask him outright, mind. It was a lady, but you needn’t think that I’m looking for romantic adventures, at least in that direction.”
Breakfast over, Merrion set out for the Minories, where he bought a complete set of charts of the east coast, from the Wash to the mouth of London River. He took these home with him, spread them out upon the table, and set to work to study them with the idea of getting to know his waters before the cruise began. It was not long before he discovered something that appeared to interest him. He picked up a pencil and began to lightly trace a course on the chart before him. “Ah, now I see what that ugly looking craft was doing so close in-shore yesterday,” he muttered.
The chart showed that a series of banks, lying roughly parallel to the coast, extended from a point a few miles north of the mouth of the Elder to Gippingford. The normal course for a deep-draught vessel proceeding to Gippingford would lie outside these banks. But, for a shallow-draught vessel, such as La Lys, there was enough water inside the banks. Further one of the banks, known as Vane Sand, lying opposite the mouth of the Elder, had twelve feet or more over it at high water, although it dried at low water.
Now, it had been high water, the very top of the flood, in fact, when Merrion had first seen La Lys. The course she had followed was now plain to him. Taking advantage of the calm sea and the state of the tide, she had crossed Vane Sand, and so reached the in-shore channel, when she had turned southward for Gippingford. And, judging by the chart, she must actually have been crossing the sands when the gun was fired.
“Well, that suggests a possible explanation of Hollesley’s behaviour,” said Merrion to himself. “It looks as though the skipper of La Lys and Hollesley were doing a bit of nautical survey on their own account. I think I’ve got it. La Lys took a sounding as she crossed Vane Sand, and fired a gun as she did so. Hollesley plotted her exact position at that moment, and so knew—or will know, when he hears what the sounding was—the depth of water at that spot. Perhaps he has a scheme for reviving the fortunes of High Eldersham as a port, and is investigating the depth of water there is round the entrance to the river.”
It seemed a reasonable enough explanation. In any case, Merrion was not interested in Hollesley’s observations, as long as he confined them to the days when La Lys was expected. He knew these dates now, and could keep out of the way.
That evening, he called once more on Inspector Young. “Newport has got the story all right,” he announced triumphantly. “I knew he would. If you had him here in the Yard there wouldn’t be so many of those distressing headlines. ‘Police Baffled,’ and all that. I’ve a very good mind to set him on the track of the man who murdered Whitehead.”
“Do, if you think he’ll succeed,” replied Young. “I’m fed up with the case, I don’t mind telling you. But let’s stick to one thing at a time. Who was the lady?”
“A prominent member of society,” replied Merrion. “But let me give you an illustration of Newport’s methods. It seems that about eleven o’clock all the chauffeurs belonging to the cars kept in Huntingdon Mews repair to a pub close by, where they have a drink to keep their strength up. Newport, who knew Mrs. Fowler’s chauffeur by sight, went with them this morning, took a newspaper out of his pocket, and began to talk about the Whitehead murder. He drew his man all right; you know what a sense of importance the remotest connection with any sensational event gives these fellows. Mrs. Fowler’s chauffeur announced with great dignity that he knew the very place where the murder was committed.
“After that, as you might suppose, it didn’t take Newport long to get at the facts. It seems that Mrs. Fowler is very generous with her car, and is always ready to lend it to any of her friends. On Monday morning she sent a message to her chauffeur, telling him to pick up a lady at 110 South Street, and put himself at her disposal for the day. Mrs. Fowler explained that the lady’s own car had had an accident a few days previously and was still in dock. The chauffeur carried out his orders and drove the lady first to Gippingford, where she told him to park the car. Very shortly she reappeared, and told him to drive on to High Eldersham and to ask for the Rose and Crown.”
“But that’s an amazing yarn. 110 South Street is the address of Lord Applegarth!” exclaimed Young.
“Lord Applegarth was out of town that day, as I have ascertained,” replied Merrion calmly. “But there’s no doubt that the visitor to the Rose and Crown was Lady Applegarth. I warned you that she was a prominent member of society.”
“But what possible business could a woman like Lady Applegarth have with Dunsford?” objected the Inspector. “The thing’s absurd. You can’t imagine people in her circumstances going round from pub to pub like that.”
“Those were exactly the sentiments of Mrs. Fowler’s chauffeur, so Newport tells me,” replied Merrion. “He was profoundly shocked at her behaviour, which he attributes to a morbid taste for sensation. He is convinced that her reason for visiting the Rose and Crown was to see the spot where a murder was committed.”
“I don’t believe it!” declared the Inspector. “She had come to ask Dunsford to give her something. I heard enough to be sure of that. But I’m blest if I can guess what possible connection there can be between the two.”
“Well, that’s your little problem, thank heaven, not mine,” replied Merrion unsympathetically. “If you should happen to want the assistance of Newport in unravelling it, you’ll find him at my place till Friday.” And with that last shaft he departed.
As it happened, he did not see the Inspector again before his departure for Gippingford on April 17th. Having arrived there, he found that, largely as the result of Newport’s efforts, Al
isette was lying anchored in the harbour, provisioned and ready for sea. On the following day he got under way and, after a pleasant sail in calm water with very little wind, reached the mouth of the Elder in the late afternoon. He entered the river, and cast anchor in the lagoon, out of the fairway.
Here Alisette remained throughout the nineteenth. Merrion gave as his excuse for this inactivity that there were several jobs to be done on board before the vessel could be described as absolutely ship-shape. Actually he hoped to catch sight of Mavis once more. But the day passed without her appearance, and in the evening Merrion gave orders for an early start next day.
“Everything seems in fairly good trim now, Newport,” he said. “We’ll clear out of this at dawn. It’s high-water at 9.23 to-morrow morning, so that we shall carry the flood for three or four hours up the coast. And I warn you, here and now, that you’re going to see some queer things on this cruise, and that you’d better make up your mind once for all not to ask questions.”
“Very good, sir,” replied Newport imperturbably, as he returned to his task of preparing dinner. Merrion unrolled his charts and studied them once more. His reason for leaving his anchorage was that the next day was the twentieth, on which day La Lys was again due. He had no desire for Hollesley to see a strange yacht in the lagoon. Concealment would be impossible, for from the dune Hollesley could see every part of her through his field glasses. And yet Merrion had no intention of going very far. He was determined to see whether, as La Lys approached the coast, the same performance would be repeated. Hence the early start, for La Lys could only cross Vane Sand at high water.
The sun was just rising on the following morning when Alisette left the mouth of the Elder. Once outside, Merrion put her head to the northward, keeping as close in-shore as he dared. Three or four miles up the coast he found a secluded little bay, well out of sight of Hollesley’s observation post, and here he cast anchor.
