‘Lowell realised clearly enough that if doubts of the suicide were raised he might be in a very serious position. He thought of the bad feeling between himself and Carey and remembered his threats. Moreover, he couldn’t prove that he had gone to the cave; he had seen no one on the way. Even if he produced the letter it would do no good; the police could argue that he had typed it himself to back up his story.’
Horler paused, threw the stump of his cigarette into the fire, and took another. Then, as neither of the others spoke, he continued:
‘So far all this story is reasonable enough, but it is just here that Lowell lost his head. What he should have done, of course, was to have gone to the police and told them about the letter. He says he didn’t do so for two reasons. Firstly, he had no guarantee that he would be believed, and secondly, he thought the affair had been definitely taken as suicide and that no question of murder would ever arise. You can sympathise with that in a way, but you can’t sympathise with Lowell’s next step.
‘He thought that if he were asked where he was at the time of the murder—if it proved to be murder—he must be able to give a convincing answer. Therefore, as he had no alibi, he proceeded to concoct one. It was clever, enough in its way, but I confess I can’t get over his imagining he could hoodwink a body like the British police. The fact that the concreting of the bridge was started on the day Carey’s body was found gave him his idea and he worked out the details to suit, slipping out of “Serque” in the middle of the night to plant the rule. He thought there would be no one along the route, either between six and seven on the Tuesday night or early on Thursday morning, so that no one would know whether he passed or not. But that’s the sort of contingency on which these clever little arrangements are apt to trip one up. He knew there’d be no railwaymen on the line on that Tuesday evening, but he didn’t know about the post office men. Nor did he know that Mrs Dunn would be up all Thursday night with her sick child and might look out of the window at an awkward time.
‘So there you have the whole story. Personally I believe that if Lowell hadn’t been such an ungodly ass as to give way to panic and fake that alibi, he would never have been arrested.’
Horler paused and the three sat smoking in silence for some moments. Then Parry moved uneasily.
‘What do you think we should do?’ he asked.
‘Ah,’ returned Horler, ‘now you’re talking. That’s what we’ve got to consider. The first thing obviously is to try to prove Lowell was out at the Whirlpool Cave during the critical hour. That, of course, would clear him instantly.’
‘He wasn’t able to suggest how that might be done?’
‘He wasn’t. He was discouraging, in fact. He said he’d seen no one on his way either out or in. However, he may have been seen without his knowledge and we’ve got to make sure. Then failing that we must try to find out who wrote the letter. This might do as well. Indeed, it might do better; it might give us a line on the real murderer.’
‘Not very easy,’ Parry commented.
‘Not very easy, I agree. But not impossible to a skilful man. But whether we can do anything ourselves is another matter.’
‘How do you mean, Mr Horler?’ Brenda asked.
Horler shrugged. ‘Well, look at it this way. To find out these things is detective work, that is, it is work which can best be done by a specialist. I might say, indeed, can only be done by a specialist. Now, I’m a lawyer, Parry’s an engineer, and you, Miss Vane, have your own duties. Is it likely that anyone of us should succeed at this specialised work?’
‘Then what do you suggest?’ Brenda persisted.
‘I think we shall have to employ a specialist to do it for us.’
‘A private detective?’ said Parry. ‘That would be rather an expensive item, wouldn’t it?’
‘I didn’t necessarily mean a private detective. I fancy we might do better than that.’
Both the others looked their question.
‘Tell me,’ went on Horler. ‘Both of you have seen this Inspector French who is in charge of the case. What sort of man is he?’
Parry and Brenda exchanged glances.
‘All right, I think,’ said Parry at last. ‘Very civil and pleasant spoken and all that, but I dare say he could be as stiff as any of them.’
‘Yes, I agree with that,’ Brenda added, ‘but I must admit that he struck me as both straight and kindly.’
‘I know Sergeant Emery well,’ Horler returned; ‘have known him for years, and I’d say just the same about him. I believe him to be both straight and kindly. Now, my idea is this, though I should say it is a purely tentative idea and would require a lot of thinking over before being adopted; Why shouldn’t we take these men into our confidence and ask them to make the necessary inquiries? With their organisation they could do it much better than anyone else. The only question is whether they would. Personally, I believe they would, but that’s the point we shall have to consider.’
To this Brenda and Parry reacted differently. Brenda thought it an excellent idea, while Parry was dubious. He suggested that it was rather too much to expect the police to work energetically to break down the case to which they had committed themselves, and thought that they would probably make a superficial investigation and then report that they could obtain no results. ‘Then,’ Parry went on, ‘our pitch would be queered. If we started an investigation we would be told: “Oh, the police have already gone into that. Go to the police about it.”’
Horler concurred. ‘I realise all that,’ he answered, ‘and, therefore, I say that we must carefully consider the thing before taking any step. However, in spite of the objection, I’m not at all sure that confiding in the police may not still prove our best policy. We won’t decide for a day or two.’
‘Could we try first ourselves,’ Brenda suggested, ‘and if we fail, then go to the police?’
‘That’s a good idea, Brenda,’ Parry exclaimed. ‘What do you think, Mr Horler?’
Horler was not enthusiastic. ‘We have,’ he explained, ‘to remember another point. I must show this letter to the police. It would be most improper to hold it back now and then bring it forward at the trial. It wouldn’t even pay us. The prosecution would say that it was a fraud, invented at the last moment to bolster up the defence. At least, if they didn’t say so in so many words they’d manage to throw enough doubt on it to discredit it with the jury. The question then arises: Should the whole story not be told to the police at the same time? It mightn’t be so easy to do it so convincingly afterwards. I’m not putting these questions to you in the expectation of an answer.’ Horler gave a dry smile. ‘I’m merely thinking aloud so that you may see just where we stand.’
For some time Horler continued to think aloud, while the others questioned and commented. Finally it was decided that for a day or two Horler would keep his own counsel, while he explored the possibilities of investigation apart from the police. Unless, however, he became speedily convinced that a private inquiry had a good chance of success, he would ask French to call and put the whole facts before him.
‘There’s one other thing, Mr Horler,’ Brenda said when this decision had been reached. ‘Can I see Harry?’
Horler shook his finger warningly.
‘Now, Miss Vane,’ he said, ‘I want you to think of what is wise and politic as well as what is kind. The police case is that Lowell was profoundly in love with you. Don’t strengthen that case unnecessarily. I’ll see Lowell about it and I’ll give him any message you like, but personally you keep out of the thing as far as you can. It’s even a pity you approached the sergeant about getting a solicitor. That can’t be helped, but don’t do anything more of the kind.’
For some time longer they continued discussing the affair and then Brenda said it was getting late and that she must go home.
18
Brenda Learns the Truth
It was in a frame of mind, partly apprehensive, partly cheerful, that Brenda and Parry left Horler’s. Both felt assur
ed of Lowell’s innocence, but with both a dreadful doubt lurked as to the outcome of the affair. Would the jury believe, as they believed, that Lowell really did receive the letter and go to the Whirlpool Cave? It seemed so reasonable, indeed, to them, so obviously true. Yet both had to admit that this tale of the letter was exactly the kind of story that would be put up if an explanation had to be found for Lowell’s falsification of his alibi.
Just before lunch two days later Parry was called to the telephone. It was Brenda and he could tell from her voice that she was overwhelmed with excitement.
‘Oh, Cliff,’ she said eagerly, ‘I’ve made such a discovery. I must tell you. Come down here to lunch, will you? I’m quite alone. Mother’s in bed and Mollie’s out. You’ll come, won’t you?’
‘I’ve to go and pay a call,’ Parry said to Ashe. ‘I’ll probably get lunch somewhere in town. Don’t wait for me.’
He found Brenda quite as excited as her voice suggested.
‘Do you know, Cliff,’ she exclaimed, ‘if anything comes of this it’ll be largely due to my reading a detective story. I’ve forgotten its name, but it was about a typewritten letter and it said that typewriting was almost as distinctive as handwriting, and that a skilful observer could identify the machine upon which any given piece of work was done.’
Parry shook his head.
‘You mean the make surely,’ he objected. ‘The types of the various makes are slightly different and an expert could pick them out. But surely no one could distinguish between two machines of the same make?’
‘Oh, yes, they could; I mean both between the makes and the individual machines of any given make. But don’t mind about that. Hear what I have to tell you.’
‘Tell me, Brenda.’
‘When I got home that night from Mr Horler’s I was dreadfully bothered, wondering what you and I could do. I worried over it all that night and then I thought of something. I didn’t really imagine it would lead to any result, but it would be something to do, and I felt if I hadn’t something to do I should go mad. You do understand, don’t you?’
‘Of course, I understand. Very natural. What did you do?’
‘I rang up Mr Horler and asked him for an enlarged photograph of the letter. I thought I would examine the type and see if there was anything about it which might be identifiable. Then I thought I would ask you to get samples from the different machines in the offices, so as to see if the letter had been done on any of them.’
For a moment Parry seemed dubious, but soon his face cleared. Neither of them knew that French had already made this investigation.
‘My word, Brenda,’ Parry said warmly, ‘but you’re the goods. A clinking notion, I call it. It might give the very proof we want.’ His face changed again. ‘But also it mightn’t. Have you thought of that side of it? Suppose it turned out that it was done on the machine in Lowell’s office? Wouldn’t that—’
Brenda made a gesture of impatience.
‘Don’t be in such a hurry, Cliff. Wait and hear what I have to tell you. That’s only what I thought we might do.’
‘Sorry. Go ahead.’
‘I rang up Mr Horler and he agreed my suggestion could do no harm, provided I didn’t let anyone know what I was after. He got the photograph taken and I have just received it: just before I rang you up. Here it is. Do you see anything remarkable about it?’
The print was full plate size and showed the typescript nearly three times as big as the original. Parry read it over carefully.
‘You wouldn’t notice it,’ Brenda went on, ‘because you don’t know what I know. And don’t forget I am a trained typist.’
‘I can type too,’ said Parry.
‘I know you can, but it’s more than that. See here.’ She took the card and pointed. ‘Do you see that “r”? Do you see that it’s considerably below alignment and also slightly bent to the side? It occurs twelve times in the letter and it has these defects every time. You see, it’s quite unmistakable.’
Parry grew more interested. It was with something like eagerness that he waited for Brenda to go on.
‘There are other defects which would confirm any conclusions we come to. This “t,” for instance, has a little defect in its stem. It occurs thirteen times and the same defect shows always. The “n” also is slightly twisted. But all this is not the point. I only mention it to show that the machine on which it was done could be identified if we could find it.’
Parry moved impatiently. ‘Then what is the point, Brenda?’
‘This,’ she said triumphantly. ‘Do you remember that other letter, that one Mr Carey showed me in which I was supposed to have asked him to meet me at the Whirlpool Cave? It had the same crooked “r”!’
Parry whistled. ‘What!’ he cried. ‘Written by the same person? By Jove, Brenda, that’s a discovery and no mistake. Are you sure?’
‘I’m as sure as that I’m alive. I noticed the “r” in the first letter. I didn’t notice the “t” and the “n” because I wasn’t looking for defects. Besides I had no enlargement.’
‘We could ask Horler to get a photo of the first letter. The police are sure to have kept it. That would check the thing up.’
‘We don’t want to check it,’ Brenda returned with some heat. ‘I’m sure.’
‘Of course,’ Parry agreed hastily, ‘but Horler will want to check it. Have you told him about it yet?’
‘No. I wanted to see what you thought.’
‘Well,’ said Parry, ‘I’ll tell you. It’s all important, I think, that we should find that machine and I suggest I should do what you thought of; get samples from all the machines about the railway and contractors’ offices. But until that’s done, Brenda, I shouldn’t advise you to say anything to Horler.’
‘Why not, Cliff? Surely he should know as soon as possible?’
Parry did not answer for some moments. ‘You know, Brenda,’ he said at last, ‘I don’t want to throw cold water on your discovery; it may save Lowell. At the same time you mustn’t forget that it may cut both ways. Suppose it is proved that both letters were done on a machine to which Lowell had easy access. That might injure his case instead of helping it. You see, don’t you, what I mean? Better say nothing till we know more.’
He could almost feel her disappointment. Obviously she had believed she held the keys of Lowell’s prison in her hands, and it was a terrible blow to find that she might be only holding an additional bolt. But she admitted at once that Parry was right and the meeting was turned into a committee of ways and means as to how the necessary samples were to be obtained.
‘By a stroke of luck I can do something this afternoon,’ Parry declared. ‘I have to attend a conference at Lydmouth at four o’clock. I’ll take the opportunity to get samples from the machines there. I don’t think I should have time to get them from our own offices before I start. I’m going on the 3.10.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Indeed I must run now.’
‘Then when shall I see you?’
‘What about tomorrow night? I should have all the samples by then.’
‘Splendid, Cliff. I’ll expect you tomorrow night.’
Parry hurried back to the hut. Nothing of importance had come in and he went on to the station to get his train.
In due course he attended the conference, after which by various wiles he induced the typists to let him have samples from their machines. So far as he knew, he got something from every machine in the office, more than he had hoped to do. He was afraid Brenda would be a good deal disappointed with the result, for even he could see that none of these machines was that required. On the other hand he had thought out one or two suggestions for extending the range of the inquiry, which he believed would please her.
As he entered his lodgings his landlady shouted up from the kitchen. There had just been a caller to see him, a young lady, a Miss Brenda Vane. She had come only a few minutes before and had asked if he was in. Mrs Peake had told her she was expecting him every minute and the young lady had said,
first, that she would leave a message and then, as he was not likely to be long, that she would come in and wait. She had done so. Mrs Peake had shown her up to Parry’s room and she had remained there for some little time. Then she had come downstairs and said that she was sorry that she had an appointment, she could not wait any longer. She had hurried off, but without leaving any message.
‘It’s all right, Mrs Peake,’ Parry said pleasantly. ‘It was to remind me about some letters. I’m going down to see Miss Vane tomorrow and I’ll take them with me.’
It just showed, Parry thought, Brenda’s extreme eagerness. It was evident that she could not contain herself till he went to ‘Serque’. She had wanted to get the samples and take them down with her. Well, she wouldn’t have to wait much longer.
Parry was tired, really terribly tired. As he sat down to wait for dinner to be brought up, his bones ached. He thought he would turn in after dinner. He could read in bed for a couple of hours and he would be all right in the morning. This Lowell affair had got on his nerves. His mind remained full of it in spite of himself and it didn’t help him with his work on the railway. The Widening was enough for all his energies, and he thought ruefully of no less than two matters which he had overlooked during the day, both of which would mean trouble among the men and unpleasant explanations to the office. He had meant to attend to them before lunch, but had been interrupted by Brenda’s telephone, and after lunch he had forgotten. Curse it all, he’d better go back to the office after dinner and see if he couldn’t get messages through before the men started work next morning.
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