French pressed her as to whether she could swear that man was Lowell. She would not actually swear—there had not been light enough to be quite sure—but she had thought it was Lowell at the time.
French, jubilant, believed that this would do the trick. He rang up Superintendent Rhode and arranged an interview.
Rhode heard the story without comment and with a look of settled pessimism on his heavy face. French smiled inwardly as he watched him.
‘So there, sir,’ French ended up, ‘that’s what I’ve got to date, and the question is whether we should let it go at that and arrest Lowell, or whether there are any further lines that should be investigated before we show our hand.’
Rhode moved slowly.
‘We’ve ample justification for bringing him in,’ he answered, ‘and, bar accidents, we’ve enough evidence for a conviction. We can prove motive; we can prove the accused threatened the life of the deceased; we can prove the accused had opportunity; we can prove he faked an alibi to account for his absence during the critical time. Why should he fake that alibi if he were innocent? I think, French, we’re all right. What’s your own idea?’
‘I’d like to have found out who was getting those half bonus payments,’ French said slowly.
Rhode shrugged. ‘You can’t get everything. Besides, what does it matter? If those payments were connected with the case at all, it was with the murder of Ackerley, not of Carey. Do you know what I think?’ The super leant forward and demonstrated with his hands. ‘I believe Ackerley and Carey were in the thing together. Ackerley saw that the fraud was going to come out, and he thought he would anticipate things and pretend to discover it so as to clear himself from suspicion. You say that Ackerley got no money out of it. That’s no argument. You haven’t found that anyone got that money. But someone must have. It might as well have been Ackerley as anyone else. I tell you, French, that would clear up the whole case.’
French was not entirely convinced. He had himself thought of this solution, and rejected it because it did not seem to fit in with Ackerley’s personality. He was aware, however, that hearsay personality could be extremely misleading, and he saw that the superintendent might well be right.
‘I’ll have a word with the chief constable,’ said Rhode, picking up the telephone.
He had a good many words, then turned to French. ‘He’s coming in. He’d like to have a chat over the thing. He’ll be here in ten minutes.’
In fifteen Major Duke arrived. He heard French’s statement and congratulated him on his work. Then he turned to the superintendent.
‘It seems to me that this Lowell is our man. What do you think, Rhode?’
Rhode thought so too.
‘And you, French?’
‘He’s the only person against whom we’ve any real evidence,’ French agreed.
The chief constable stood up.
‘Very well,’ he said. ‘We’ll let it go at that. By all means get a warrant and make the arrest.’
Late that evening Henry Peterson Lowell was taken into custody on a charge of wilful murder.
17
Brenda Takes a Hand
While all this long drawn out police investigation was in progress, Parry carried on steadily at his job. For some time he had not been feeling well, and now the inquiry had got on his nerves. At intervals he heard of French’s activities. These seemed to continue endlessly till at last French and French’s doings ran like a leit motif through the whole texture of life on the Widening. He had been observed entering the police station at Whitness; he had called at the head office and had an interview with Marlowe; he had been out at Cannan’s Cutting; he had spent an hour talking to various men in the contractors’ yard; he had been seen at unexpected places along roads, discussing unknown subjects with strangers: mysteriously he moved about, apparently busy, though what exactly he was doing no one knew. Rumours naturally thrived in such an atmosphere and each fresh comer had a new tale to add to the general stock.
It would be safe, however, to say that no one anticipated the dénouement which was actually reached. The arrest of Lowell came like a bomb to everyone concerned. Lowell was popular enough, and no one for a moment suspected him of murder. It was true the wiseacres at once began to shake their heads and to say that they had always felt that there was something, well, not just quite, you know, about him. But such tales were taken for what they were worth.
To Parry the worst feature of the arrest was its effect on Brenda. Poor Brenda! After a pretty hard life of it, she had scarcely begun to look forward to happiness when this terrible blow had fallen. When he heard of it, Parry at once put aside his work at the office and went down to see her.
He found her dressed and about to go out.
‘Oh, Cliff,’ she cried, ‘I’m glad to see you. Come with me, will you? I hate going alone.’
‘Of course, Brenda. Where to?’
‘To the police station. He has no one to do anything for him. His people live in Italy; his mother’s health is poor and she can’t stand this climate. There’s no one to act for him except me.’
‘But, Brenda, what for? Tell me before we go. Perhaps I could do it for you.’
‘Well, you see, he is to be brought before the magistrates at eleven and he must have a solicitor. I was going to find out if he wanted any special person and then go and ask him to act.’
‘You’ll do nothing of the kind,’ said Parry. ‘I’ll do all that. Is he at the police station here?’
‘Yes, I’ve just been speaking on the ’phone to the sergeant. He said something should be arranged about a solicitor.’
‘Of course it should,’ Parry declared firmly, though he had not thought of it till Brenda spoke. ‘I’ll see to it at once. I suppose you’ve no idea which solicitor he would like?’
‘I don’t expect he knows. But it seems to me it must be someone in Whitness: there’s no time to get anyone else. And if so, I’m sure it must be Mr Horler. He has a good reputation. I know him pretty well and I’m sure he would do everything possible.’
‘Right,’ said Parry, ‘I’ll find out who Lowell wants, and unless he’s got his mind fixed on someone else, I’ll arrange with Horler. Don’t come, Brenda. I’ll fix it and I’ll ring up at once if there’s any hitch.’
The police station was not far away and in a few minutes Parry had explained his business to Sergeant Emery.
‘I’ll give Mr Lowell your message, sir,’ the officer answered. ‘Then whoever he agrees on can come and see him.’
‘If I can’t see him now,’ Parry went on, ‘tell him that all this has been arranged by Miss Brenda Vane, who is doing everything she can for him.’
‘I’ll tell him, sir.’
In a few moments the sergeant came back. Lowell sent messages of appreciation to Miss Vane, and he would like Mr Horler to defend him, if this could be arranged.
Parry reached Messrs Reid & Horler’s office at the same moment as Mr Horler himself. He quickly introduced himself and stated his business.
Horler had not heard of the arrest, but said at once that he knew Lowell slightly and would be pleased to act for him. Upon this Parry insisted on ringing up Brenda to tell her the news. Horler knew little more of the case than had appeared in the papers, and he spent a few minutes in questioning Parry.
‘There’s really no hurry about it,’ he said presently. ‘The police would never have made an arrest unless they had ample evidence to justify a remand. I’m afraid you must make up your mind that Lowell will be remanded without bail.’
‘I expected so,’ Parry admitted.
‘It’s just ten: that gives me an hour. I’ll go and see Lowell now and I’ll appear for him when he is brought before the magistrates.’
Parry also attended the court. The proceedings lasted only a minute or two. Emery gave evidence of arrest and Lowell was remanded for a week. Then Parry went once more to ‘Serque’ to report to Brenda.
‘We can’t do anything for the present,’ he concluded.
‘Horler will see to things. Well, Brenda, I’ll have to go, but I’ll look in tomorrow night and if there’s anything I can do in the meantime, ring me up.’
On the following afternoon Brenda did ring up, asking Parry to go to ‘Serque’ for dinner, as she wanted to see him as early as possible. When he arrived she told him she had had a telephone call from Horler, who had asked her to call up and have a chat about the case. She had asked if the evening would do as well, to which he had replied, ‘Better.’ Brenda had not wanted to go alone. Would Parry take her?
Parry felt complimented and said so.
‘We’re to go to Mr Horler’s private house,’ she said as they started off. ‘It’s out on the Drychester Road; about a mile. Do you mind the walk?’
‘I’d love it,’ said Parry.
Horler seemed pleased to see Parry. He greeted them both pleasantly and chatted about everything except the case while coffee was brought in. Then when cigarettes had been lit up he came to business.
‘I knew your interest in this affair, Miss Vane, and I thought you’d like to hear just how it appears to me. I’m glad you’ve brought Parry with you, for three heads are better than two. I’ve seen the police and I’ve seen Lowell, and I’ve got a rough idea of what we’re up against. Not in complete detail as yet; there hasn’t been time; still a fairly good idea. Now, I want to tell you the truth, and I’m afraid I must begin by saying that we’ve got our work cut out for us.’
‘They can’t have anything serious against him,’ Brenda objected.
‘They’ve got something against him all right,’ Horler returned, ‘how serious I’m not going to say. But I will say that the young ass has gone and made a damned fool of himself. He’s been too clever and he’s made things a lot worse for himself than they need have been.’
Brenda had paled. ‘Oh, Mr Horler, don’t say that,’ she implored. ‘I know he’s innocent and there can’t be anything serious against him.’
‘I believe he’s innocent myself,’ Horler declared with comforting assurance, ‘and what’s more I don’t doubt that we’ll be able to prove it. But I’m not going to pretend it can be done without an effort. Now, here’s roughly the case the police have built up. I’m sorry, Miss Vane, extremely sorry that your name comes into it, but unfortunately it does.’
Brenda made a gesture of impatience. ‘Oh, what does that matter?’ she cried. ‘Never mind me. We must think of him.’
‘I thought you’d say that. But you’re wrong. You matter very much. However, that in a sense is an aside. Let us get on to the case itself.’
He leant forward, gesticulating slightly as he talked, and marking his points by prods of his right forefinger.
‘The police say that both Lowell and Carey were very much in love with you, Miss Vane. They say that because of it feeling between the two men ran high. Apparently they can bring evidence to prove that on two separate occasions Lowell threatened to murder Carey. You see, I’m being perfectly straight and keeping nothing back.’
Brenda had gone whiter still and a terrible look of pain had appeared in her eyes. She nodded without speaking. Parry, who had heard something about the scenes, was surprised only by the rapidity with which the police had learnt of them.
‘That,’ resumed Horler, ‘is what they are going to put up for motive. Now, as to opportunity. First of all, it is obvious that Lowell was so circumstanced that he could have committed the crime. By that I mean he had the necessary knowledge of the office and of Carey’s movements. He had as good a chance as anyone of drugging Carey. He had a key for the office: all that sort of thing.
‘Now, it is known that Lowell left the contractors’ office about quarter to six on the evening of the murder and did not reach ‘Serque’ till just seven. The police suspect—though I don’t think they can prove it—that the murder took place during that hour; at all events it might have done so. The question of how Lowell occupied his time during the hour was, therefore, raised. He was asked to account for his movements. And this is where the young ass made such an idiot of himself.
‘He told the police that at quarter to six that night he remembered that he had not inspected the steelwork of a bridge at which concreting was to begin on the following morning, and that feeling unhappy about it, he decided to go off then and there to see it. This was quite a reasonable decision, because the steelwork would have been covered by the concrete, so that if he didn’t go to see it then, he wouldn’t have seen it at all. He said nothing, however, to the other men in the office, simply because he didn’t wish to admit his forgetfulness.
‘The police then asked Lowell could he prove this story and he told them a long rigmarole about a rule which he had lost. He had had the rule on that Tuesday afternoon—Pole had seen him with it. He had had it at the bridge, because he was measuring with it. The next day, the day Carey’s body was found, he discovered he had lost the rule. The day after that, Thursday, the rule was found at the bridge, and as Lowell had not been there a second time, he put forward that the finding of the rule proved his visit.
‘Well, that seemed all right. The police went into the story. They found that it was true that Lowell had had the rule on the afternoon of the crime and that it was found at the bridge, and that all the remainder of Lowell’s time was accounted for, and that he could not have gone out again. The alibi seemed to be perfectly established; then suddenly it went to bits.’
‘Went to bits?’ Parry repeated in amazement, while Brenda stared incredulously.
‘Yes, the young fool had told them a string of lies. The police discovered that had the rule been dropped at the time Lowell stated—on the Tuesday evening—it almost certainly would have been found on Wednesday. The man who found it on Thursday had looked in that very place on Wednesday and it wasn’t there. This made the police suspicious and they next found a gang of men—post office men, not railway men—who had been working on the railway during the hour in question. If Lowell had gone to the bridge he must have passed them, and they swore he hadn’t. Then the police inquired further and found a young woman—that Mrs Dunn, who lives beside you, Miss Vane—who told them that about three o’clock on the Thursday morning she had been up with her sick child and had seen Lowell hurry up from the direction of the tunnel and creep stealthily into “Serque”.
‘From all this they naturally concluded that Lowell had not been at the bridge on Tuesday evening, but that he had gone out and planted the rule there in the small hours of Thursday morning, so as to bolster up a false alibi. They reasoned that he wouldn’t have done that unless he was guilty, and they decided to arrest him.’
Brenda was terribly taken aback and even Parry had seldom felt so surprised. ‘Oh,’ Brenda moaned, ‘there is some mistake; there must be. He didn’t lie. He couldn’t have.’
‘Oh, but he did,’ Horler returned. ‘I put it to him in so many words and he admitted it. Admitting it was the one sensible thing he has done all through. The ass! Then he told me what I believe to be the truth. In a sort of way it explains his action, though it certainly doesn’t excuse it.’
Brenda with a terrible eagerness was hanging on Horler’s words.
‘He got a letter that Tuesday; so he says and I believe it’s true. A nasty letter which I’m afraid will hurt you. However, you’d better see it. Recognising that it might become important, he had hidden it in his office, and I got it before the police.’ Horler passed over a sheet of paper and Parry, moving behind Brenda, read it over her shoulder.
It was typed on a sheet torn off one of those writing-blocks which are sold by the hundred thousand, and read:
‘Tuesday
‘SIR,
‘Take warning. Brenda Vane is playing crooked with you. She is meeting Carey every other night. If you go to the Whirlpool Cave at 6.15 tonight you’ll see for yourself. I only write because I don’t like to see a decent young man fooled.
‘WELL WISHER.’
Instead of still further depressing Brenda, this epistle had a highly salu
tary effect. She became so furious that she could hardly speak. Her eyes flashed and bright red spots appeared in her cheeks. Parry thought he could read what was passing in her mind. It was not, he felt sure, the slight on herself which had so moved her. It was its effect on Lowell. It was the ugly means which had been used to get him into this trouble; for in some way this letter had evidently done so.
‘Lowell tells me,’ went on Horler when Brenda had somewhat cooled down, ‘that this note upset him terribly. He swears he never for one moment believed it and his first reaction was to throw it into the fire. But as the day passed, he became more and more certain that he would have to go out to the Cave and see for himself. Not, he repeated again and again, and I think we can understand him, not that he doubted you, Miss Vane, but he felt that if he didn’t see for himself that the thing was a lie, a little gnawing feeling would always rankle. He vacillated during the whole afternoon; then in the end he went.
‘Needless to say, he saw neither you nor Carey, for this sort of letter represents a trick so old as to be threadbare. But he hadn’t eased his mind. He now felt so ashamed of himself for having gone, that he could scarcely bring himself to speak to you. He was miserable all that evening.
‘Next day came the discovery of Carey’s death. Now Lowell, of course, knew of the doubt that Ackerley had really met with an accident. He himself had been unable to understand a man of Ackerley’s experience being run over as he was supposed to have been. When Carey was found dead, Lowell, semi-instinctively, I suppose, connected it with Ackerley’s death, and wondered if it was really just suicide. He explains that this was a mere idea and that he did not consider it seriously. But he happened to overhear some remarks made by the police, from which he gathered that it was supposed that Carey might have died between six and seven. Then suddenly he got a hideous idea. He believed he saw the purpose of the letter. Carey had been murdered and he was to be made the scapegoat. By sending him that letter the murderer had contrived to leave him without an alibi.
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