Invisible Weapons

by John Rhode

  When Hanslet and Jimmy arrived at Westbourne Terrace they found that Dr Oldland had also been invited. In accordance with his usual custom, Dr Priestley would allow nothing but general conversation during dinner. But when they left the dining-room, instead of proceeding to the study for coffee as was the almost invariable rule of the house, Dr Priestley led his guests upstairs to the second floor. ‘You are about to witness an experiment,’ was the only explanation that he vouchsafed them.

  He allowed them to proceed no further than the landing, from which extended a long corridor. This corridor was in darkness except for a single electric lamp hanging from the ceiling at the further end. Under this lamp stood a table and upon the table was a whitish object of unfamiliar shape. Oldland stared at this. ‘What the devil have you got there, Priestley?’ he asked.

  ‘A calf’s head, from which my cook has removed the meat,’ Dr Priestley replied. ‘Surely you must have noticed that our entrée this evening consisted of tête de veau en tortue? That head is to form the subject of our experiment. Ah, here is Harold with the remainder of the necessary apparatus.’

  Harold appeared, holding a jug of water and a stout catapult with strings fashioned of powerful rubber. He walked down to the end of the corridor where he poured some water on to that part of the carpet surrounding the table, then he returned towards the landing, until he reached a piece of paper which had been tacked to the carpet. Upon this he took his stand, and then drew from his pocket an object, the nature of which the spectators were unable to make out. He fitted this object to the catapult, strained the instrument to its utmost and let go.

  His first shot missed the head, but the missile, whatever it was, struck the wall behind with a reassuring thud. He took a second similar missile from his pocket and tried again. This time his aim was more accurate, and the missile struck the head with a splintering crash.

  ‘A very good shot, my boy,’ said Dr Priestley approvingly. ‘We will now, with the exception of the inspector, adjourn to the study, where our coffee should be waiting for us. Harold will loosen the clamp by which the head was fixed to the table and bring it down for our examination. The inspector will remain on this landing, sitting in the chair which I have provided for the purpose, for a period of half an hour.’

  They went downstairs, followed after a short interval by Harold bearing the head in his hand. He put this down in front of Oldland.

  ‘Perhaps you will describe the injuries which the head has received?’ said Dr Priestley.

  ‘It is fractured, good and proper,’ Oldland replied. ‘If the beast to which this head belonged had been alive when Harold catapulted it, it would be dead now. A fracture like that could be relied upon to cause instantaneous death.’

  ‘Does your examination of the fracture suggest the shape of the missile which caused it?’

  ‘Yes, I think it does, to some extent’ Oldland, replied. ‘The missile wasn’t round, to begin with. It seems to have been some hard object with several blunt edges. I’d make a guess that it was a roughly cubical object with a side of about one and a quarter inches.’

  Hanslet laughed, a trifle scornfully. ‘It’s no good, professor,’ he said. ‘You’ve been trying to prove what we’ve known all along, that Mr Fransham might have been killed by some cubical object catapulted at him. But that couldn’t have happened, for no missile was ever found. Both Jimmy and I are perfectly satisfied that no object could have been removed from the cloakroom without the knowledge of the police.’

  Dr Priestley smiled tolerantly. ‘If you are convinced of that there is no more to be said,’ he replied. ‘I trust you have not forgotten, superintendent, that you gave me full permission to investigate the death of Sir Godfrey Branstock?’

  ‘No, I haven’t forgotten that, Professor,’ said Hanslet. ‘I’m not interested in deaths where there can be no suspicion of foul play, and you remember what the doctor said in this very room directly after the inquest?’

  Oldland nodded. ‘There’s no mystery about Branstock’s death,’ he said. ‘What bee have you got in your bonnet now, I wonder, Priestley?’

  ‘A bee which may perhaps produce the honey of wisdom,’ Dr Priestley replied urbanely. ‘On Saturday morning last, Harold and I paid a visit to No. 4 Cheveley Street on the pretext that I might be a potential purchaser. In the course of that visit we made several very interesting observations. Finally, we discovered that the garage belonging to No. 4 had been occupied by a motor-van as recently as the fifteenth of this month. I need not trouble you at this stage with the details of our investigations. It is sufficient to say that we have established the possibility that the van was in the garage at the time of Sir Godfrey’s death on August 4.’

  ‘But what connection can possibly exist between the motor-van and Sir Godfrey’s death?’ Hanslet demanded.

  ‘That remains to be seen,’ Dr Priestley replied. ‘After our inspection of the premises, Harold made certain notes at my dictation. Perhaps you would like him to read them to you? The half hour which we appointed for the inspector’s vigil has not yet expired.’

  Harold produced his notes and read from them the paragraphs Dr Priestley had dictated on the previous Saturday evening. Hanslet and Oldland listened with polite attention, but when Harold had finished, the former shook his head.

  ‘I can’t see any possible connection between those facts of yours, professor,’ he said. ‘Nor do they seem to me to have any particular bearing upon Sir Godfrey’s death.’

  ‘I think I see what you’re getting at, Priestley,’ said Oldland. ‘But I’m afraid it won’t do. I was on the spot pretty early, you must remember, so I can claim to have some knowledge of this particular case. Your theory is that the van was left running in the garage and the exhaust fumes led into the cellar. It’s quite true that the exhaust fumes of an internal combustion engine contain a large proportion of carbon dioxide. But they always contain a proportion of the much more poisonous carbon monoxide, and it is this gas which is responsible in cases of death from the inhalation of exhaust gases. As it happens, carbon monoxide produces definite changes in the blood and tissues, recognisable after death. In Branstock’s case, no sign of these changes was visible, and I’m ready to stake my reputation that he died as the result of carbon dioxide and not carbon monoxide poisoning. That being the case, your theory of exhaust gases must be ruled out.’

  ‘Did I say that it was my theory?’ Dr Priestley asked mildly. ‘In any case, I must of course bow to your superior medical knowledge. Ah, I see that the period of the inspector’s vigil is now at an end. Perhaps, superintendent, you would now be good enough to go upstairs and, with the help of the inspector, recover the missile which caused the injury to the call’s head.’

  As Hanslet left the room Oldland chuckled. ‘What’s the game you’re playing with these two policemen?’ he asked.

  ‘It can hardly be described as a game,’ Dr Priestley replied. ‘It is a reconstruction of what I believe to have been the circumstances of Mr Fransham’s death. Let us see whether our friends are now able to solve the mystery for themselves.’

  Ten minutes elapsed before Hanslet and Jimmy returned. ‘You and Mr Merefield have been up to some conjuring trick, professor,’ exclaimed the former accusingly. ‘We’ve searched that corridor from end to end and there’s no sign of the object which Mr Merefield shot from his catapult. I don’t believe—’

  But Dr Priestley held up his hand. ‘Disbelief is dangerous at times,’ he said quietly. ‘Will you tell us, inspector, exactly what happened during the half hour before the Superintendent joined you?’

  ‘Nothing whatever happened, sir,’ Jimmy replied. ‘I didn’t move out of my chair and nobody came near the corridor while I was sitting in it. I could see all the doors opening into the corridor and nobody could have entered it from the landing without actually pushing me aside.’

  Dr Priestley nodded and turned to Hanslet. ‘You are perfectly certain that your search was exhaustive, superintendent?’ he asked.
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  ‘Of course it was,’ Hanslet replied brusquely. ‘There’s nothing in the corridor under which the object could have been hidden. I even lifted the carpet, which is still wet in places from the water which Mr Merefield splashed on it just now. He must have picked up the object while he was undoing the clamp which fixed the head to the table.’

  ‘Do you share that view, inspector?’ Dr Priestley asked.

  Jimmy shook his head. ‘I don’t altogether, sir,’ he replied. ‘I never took my eyes off him the whole time that he was unfixing the head.’

  At a nod from Dr Priestley, Harold left the room, to return a few moments later with an object which he placed on the table beside the superintendent.

  ‘That, I think, solves the mystery,’ said Dr Priestley in a tone of satisfaction which he did not try to conceal.

  Hanslet picked up the object and stared at it for a moment in stupefaction. ‘Well, I’m damned!’ he exclaimed.

  ‘A lump of ice, taken from my own domestic refrigerator,’ said Dr Priestley. ‘I have demonstrated its power to inflict serious damage when projected with sufficient force. And your fruitless search has proved to us its power of disappearing after a short interval. Let us ask the inspector how far his experience of this evening throws light upon the death of Mr Fransham.’

  ‘It makes it as clear as daylight, sir,’ Jimmy replied promptly. ‘I shall never forgive myself for being such an ass as not to think of a block of ice. The medical evidence that the wound had been caused by some cubical object ought to have put the idea into my head.’

  ‘Can you now explain the technique of the murder?’ Dr Priestley asked.

  ‘Easily enough, sir. Somebody, the doctor, I suppose, took up his position in the field behind the wall and removed the loose brick. He watched through the hole until he saw Mr Fransham’s head bent over the basin. Then he shot his block of ice through the cloakroom window. I decided at the time that if a missile had been used, it would in all probability have fallen into the basin, and that’s just what happened. The basin was half full of warm water and the ice would have dissolved in this in a very few minutes. No wonder that Linton, Superintendent Yateley and I in turn failed to find it.’

  ‘I feel sure that you have interpreted the facts correctly,’ said Dr Priestley. ‘I was anxious this evening to reconstruct the crime as closely as possible, but I was unable to contrive that the missile should fall into a basin of warm water. That was why I imposed a limit of half an hour before permitting the search for it. And that was why I instructed Harold to spill the water in your presence. Had you found moisture on the carpet where none had appeared before you might have unfairly guessed the secret.’

  Hanslet laughed. ‘Trust you not to forget anything professor,’ he exclaimed. ‘Well, thanks to you we’ve got the doctor laid by the heels at last. I’ll see my chief first thing in the morning and I haven’t a doubt that he’ll decide upon an immediate arrest.’

  But Dr Priestley shook his head. ‘He will certainly not do so if he considers the facts in detail,’ he replied. ‘If Dr Thornborough was the criminal, whence did he procure the block of ice for his purpose?’

  ‘Why, from his own refrigerator, of course. I see now what you were after when you asked me to make inquiries about those machines. I found out that there was one installed in the doctor’s house but I didn’t tumble to the significance of the fact.’

  ‘Have you any information as to the doctor’s movements that morning?’

  ‘Yes, and pretty accurate information, too. He left his house at nine o’clock and drove to his surgery in the town where he remained until nearly eleven. Then he started on his rounds, and didn’t get back home until a few minutes after one.’

  ‘Then he had no opportunity of extracting the ice from the refrigerator for at least four hours before the murder. In the absence of a properly contrived and insulated container, a small block of ice would not retain its cubical shape for anything like that time on a hot day. From our preliminary experiments Harold and I found that even if the blocks were wrapped in some non-conducting material, they would not retain their sharp edges for more than twenty minutes at the most. I feel convinced that in Mr Fransham’s case the ice must have been removed from the refrigerator very shortly before the moment of the crime.’

  ‘But where can it have come from?’ Hanslet demanded.

  ‘I do not think that the solution of that problem need present much difficulty,’ Dr Priestley replied. ‘You will remember that you left with Harold the paper upon which you had noted the location of certain refrigerators? At my request he has obtained particulars of the various types enumerated. These particulars include the size of the ice cubes made by each machine. Perhaps Harold you will repeat to us the results of your research.’

  Harold took a piece of paper from his pocket. ‘At No. 3 Cheveley Street, a “Storefresh” type AD is installed,’ he read. ‘This make and type produces ice cubes with a side of two inches. The Icicle type 15 which used to be installed at Epidaurus produces cubes with a side of two and a quarter inches. The “Snowflake” type Z7 installed at the cottage in Gunthorpe Road owned by Mr Whiteway produces cubes of a size of one and a half inches.’

  ‘I may add that my own refrigerator, which is a “Cold Snap” produces cubes with a side of one and a quarter inches,’ Dr Priestley remarked. ‘Oldland just now correctly deduced the size and shape of the missile from his examination of the injury to the head. In the case of Mr Fransham the medical evidence suggested that the wound was caused by a cubical object of one and a half inches wide. And that, I think you will agree, points to the ice having been obtained from the refrigerator in the cottage nearby. Which at that time was occupied by Francis Willingdon.’

  ‘But long ago we came to the conclusion that Willingdon could have had no possible motive for murdering Mr Fransham,’ Hanslet objected. ‘Why, it’s most unlikely that the two men should ever have so much as heard of one another.’

  ‘We will discuss the matter of motive later,’ Dr Priestley replied. ‘Let us first see whether the theory of Willingdon’s guilt is tenable from the point of view of opportunity. We will begin with the letter received by Mr Fransham inviting him to lunch at Epidaurus. If that letter was not written by Dr Thornborough it must have been written by someone who had access to his stationery and to a sample of his signature which he could copy. We have been told that Willingdon visited the doctor in his consulting-room, where a supply of his stationery is kept in a rack. We have also been told that on this occasion the doctor gave him a prescription. The signature on this prescription would form an excellent model from which to copy the signature on the letter. Finally, there is the circumstance which to my mind, renders Willingdon’s visit to the doctor extremely suspicious. Perhaps the inspector will remind us of the pretext he employed.’

  ‘He had cut his hand chopping firewood,’ Jimmy replied.

  ‘Do people have occasion to cut firewood in June?’ Dr Priestley inquired. ‘Especially when the premises they occupy are heated throughout by gas or electricity, to the entire exclusion of all coal fires?’

  ‘By jove, I never thought of that!’ Hanslet exclaimed. ‘You mean that he cut his hand deliberately so as to have an excuse for visiting the doctor?’

  ‘So it would appear. In the course of his visit, he abstracted the copy of the British Medical Journal, the sheets of which the inspector found wrapped round the brick. He also discovered the internal arrangements of the doctor’s house and the position of the cloakroom. We must now turn to his probable relations with Alfie Prince.

  ‘I have no doubt that during Willingdon’s periodic visits to Adderminster he had thoroughly observed his surroundings. He would thus have become aware of Alfie’s appearance, and of his habits of spending his nights in the corner of the field. He perceived the use that could be made of Alfie’s peculiarities. He himself could not enter or leave the field without exciting remark should he be seen. But Alfie’s appearance in the neighbourhood would
not surprise anyone.

  ‘This I think explains Alfie’s fantastic story of his encounter with the mysterious stranger. Willingdon required his coat, which in itself formed a most efficient disguise. Nobody in Adderminster seeing this famous coat would doubt that its wearer was Alfie, since it was inconceivable that anyone else should wear such a thing. Thus equipped it would only be necessary for Willingdon to imitate Alfie’s gait in order to be mistaken for him. As, if my theory is correct, he actually was by Dr Thornborough. The coat having served his purpose, Willingdon deposited it in the corner of the field, in all probability early on Sunday morning, where it was subsequently found by the inspector. Willingdon strengthened his position by his description to the inspector of a wholly imaginary visit paid by Alfie to the cottage shortly after the crime.

  ‘The incident of the cigarettes reveals the subtlety of Willingdon’s mind. The superintendent has ascertained that these were ordered by postcard from the maker’s shop in Knightsbridge. The postcard bore the Adderminster postmark and the date which showed that it had been posted on a Saturday. Since it was known that Mr Fransham was not in Adderminster on that date, it has been supposed that the postcard was written by Dr Thornborough, but it may equally have been written by Willingdon with the object of strengthening the case against the doctor. These cigarettes were of a most uncommon brand. If any of them were found in Alfie’s possession the assumption would certainly be that they came from the box sent to Mrs Thornborough. But if Willingdon had this box sent, no doubt he purchased an additional supply of the same cigarettes from one of Black’s other shops.’

  Dr Priestley paused and Hanslet took the opportunity of putting in a question. ‘But how on earth can Willingdon have known where Mr Fransham bought his tobacco?’ he asked.

  Dr Priestley smiled. ‘Willingdon was remarkably well-informed on several unexpected subjects,’ he replied. ‘But let us consider the events which immediately preceded the murder. Willingdon had already loosened the brick, probably during the previous night, and provided himself with a powerful catapult. Willingdon knew that Mr Fransham would arrive at Epidaurus shortly before one o’clock, and he could safely assume that after his drive his first action would be to visit the cloakroom. A few minutes before one, therefore, he put on Alfie’s coat and took two or three cubes of ice from the refrigerator. He had, I expect, lined one of his pockets with cotton wool or some similar substance in order to preserve the cubes as much as possible from the heat. Thus equipped, he took up his position behind the wall and awaited his opportunity. As soon as his object was achieved, he returned to the cottage and, while crossing the road, was observed by Dr Thornborough. He then took off the coat and was ready to answer any questions which might be put to him.’