Crystal Beads Murder

by Annie Haynes

  Michael Burford smiled. “I do. Of you both. And I am going to prove it to the world by marrying you, Anne. We will never rest till the truth about Saunderson’s death is known. And then – and then I won’t even say I told you so.”

  “You – you can’t!” Anne said brokenly. “Nobody can help!”

  “We will get help,” Burford returned positively. “Truth will out. And now – when will you marry me, Anne?”

  “I haven’t said I will marry you at all.”

  “Oh, yes, you have. And you are going to.” Burford gave the hands he held a little shake. “As soon as I can get the licence, Anne. Say yes!”

  “It – it doesn’t seem any use saying no,’’ the girl said quaveringly.

  “It isn’t,’’ Burford agreed as he drew her to him. “Not one bit of good, my dear.’’

  CHAPTER 9

  “Well, I have ascertained one thing for certain,” Stoddart exclaimed as the train steamed out of St. Pancras. He had just arrived on the platform at the last minute and managed to spring into the compartment where Harbord was impatiently awaiting him. “How did you manage to get the carriage to yourself, Alfred?”

  “Tipped the guard pretty extensively,” Harbord answered laconically. “I knew it would be money well laid out.”

  Stoddart nodded.

  “May save time when we get to Derby. I have interviewed Messrs. Usher & Snell. I had some difficulty in getting what I wanted from them. Began to sympathize with the dentists before I had finished. But at last they caved in and I became fulsomely anxious to give me all the information I wanted. Saunderson was a partner in the firm, though his name did not appear. In fact, he seems to have been more than a partner. I fancy he was the leading spirit in the whole affair. Practically he was Usher & Snell. But of his blackmailing Messrs. Usher & Snell professed entire ignorance. The sums of money which his pass-book shows makes it evident he was constantly paying in to their account were used mainly in the transactions of the firm, which of course required a large amount of capital. Saunderson also held quantities of shares in many foreign undertakings in the name of Usher & Snell. So, you see, the motive for the murder may have been supplied in as many different quarters as that interesting firm had clients, to say nothing of his blackmailing transactions. Of course the knowledge he acquired as the head of Usher & Snell as well as anything he picked up as a man about town was used to put the screw on the unfortunate beggars. Oh, there is no doubt that Saunderson was one of the biggest scoundrels unhung, and whoever potted him did the world a damned good turn. It goes to my heart to try to track the poor beggar down.”

  “Still, it wouldn’t do to allow people to take the law into their own hands,” Harbord argued. “Even a money-lender has his rights.”

  “And a blackmailer!” the inspector assented. “Well said, Harbord. Always remember you stand for British justice.”

  Harbord did not reply. For a minute or two he watched the flying landscape with unseeing eyes. At last he said:

  “If it was one of Usher & Snell’s clients that did Saunderson in, I shall never understand why they should have followed him down to Holford.”

  Stoddart looked at him.

  “As I have said before, I don’t agree with you. Unless one is tempted off the beaten track, London is the safest place in the world. Besides, there are wheels within wheels. Saunderson had a decent colt or two in training at Oxley. They are expected to do well as three-year-olds. One of them, Mayfair, runs for next year’s Derby. It may have been to some one’s interest to get rid of Saunderson and render Mayfair’s nomination void. Certainly it doesn’t seem much of a motive, but then half the murders that are committed are for such very slight motives that one marvels how any sane man or woman could risk his or her neck for such trivialities.”

  “I suppose they always think they will not be found out,” Harbord observed meditatively. “But if the criminal is a man in this case where do the crystal beads come in? The chain must have broken and the links must have fallen into Saunderson’s pocket when those letters were thrown out, and when, it seems to me, that some paper was searched for and presumably found and taken away. Now who could have gone through the pockets but the murderer?”

  “Several people,” the inspector said sharply.

  “The men who found the body, for instance, or quite possibly an earlier visitor. Though that wouldn’t explain them, if one accepts Superintendent Mayer’s statement that the beads were not in the pocket when he first arrived on the scene.”

  “I don’t accept it,” Harbord said bluntly.

  “How should the beads get there afterwards?”

  “There was the interval when the superintendent went to the barn,” the inspector went on, “but only of a few minutes. If it was done then there must have been somebody on the watch – which doesn’t seem likely. Also, whoever might have been watching would have known Mayer had searched the pockets and removed any papers.”

  Harbord shook his head doubtfully.

  “And here is another question for you,” the inspector went on. “If your theory is correct, and the three beads dropped into Saunderson’s pocket when his assailant was getting out the letter or the paper the possession of which was the motive for the murder, what did the woman do with the rest of the chain?”

  “It must have been broken when the beads caught in the lining of the pocket, and I suppose the other piece fell off.”

  “Well, it didn’t fall where it was found, in the middle of the rhododendrons at the side of the Dutch garden,” the inspector returned. “The murderess assuredly did not attempt to push her way through that hedge. No, the chain was thrown there. That is a certainty.”

  “But who could have thrown it?” Harbord speculated. “The woman who wore it, whoever she was, would not have thrown her chain away; even the silliest of ’em would have realized that it would certainly be found, and might be a clue that would lead to her discovery.”

  “Spoken like a book,” the inspector commented. “No, certainly the woman who wore that chain did not throw it away in the bushes. And I do not agree with you that Saunderson was shot by a woman. I fancy we shall find that the motive was either jealousy or the getting out of Saunderson’s blackmailing clutches. And I am strongly of opinion that Superintendent Mayer was right and that there were no beads in the pocket when it was searched. But how they got there any more than the rest of the chain got among the rhododendrons I am not prepared to say. It’s a nasty case, simple as it looks, and there’ll be wigs on the green before we have cleared it up. But I have got something – in fact, two things – here that may interest you, though at the same time they do not appear to have any particular bearing on the case.”

  He took up a paper that he had thrown upon the seat beside him and turned it over. Harbord watched him curiously.

  “Here it is,” Stoddart said at last. “In the society news. It is headed ‘Romance of the Racing World.’ ‘Mr. Michael Burford, second son of the late Sir William Burford, of Burleet, and Miss Anne Frances Courtenay, only daughter of the late Captain Harold William Courtenay, V.C., and granddaughter of the late General Courtenay, were married, very quietly on account of the bride’s mourning, at St. John’s, Downmouth, last Saturday. Mr. Michael Burford has made himself a name as a trainer, and Miss Courtenay belongs to a well-known racing family. The bride was given away by her brother, Mr. Harold Courtenay, and directly after the ceremony the newly-married couple left for North Cornwall where the honeymoon will be spent.’”

  “Miss Courtenay!” Harbord said doubtfully. “I thought she was rather pat with her crystal chain. She knows or suspects something, I am certain.”

  “Well, maybe,” the inspector assented. “Possibly she saw Lady Medchester go out and come in that night. You remember they both had headaches and were prowling about apparently. But” – he paused and looked out of the window silently for a minute – “one point in favour of the people at Holford is this. Not one of the people I have questioned has a
satisfactory alibi. An alibi is the easiest thing in the world to fake, and the least satisfactory of defences. When I find a suspect with a nice watertight alibi I generally devote a little special attention in that direction. But you have not seen my second paragraph.” He turned to another page of his paper. “Here it is. ‘Fatal Accident to the Hon. James Courtenay. Sudden Death of Lord Gorth. The Hon. James Courtenay, only son of the fifth Lord Gorth, met with a fatal accident while riding in the Home Park at Gorth yesterday; his horse put its foot in a rabbit-hole and pitched forward. Mr. Courtenay was thrown on his head, and his neck was broken. Death must have been instantaneous. He was unmarried. When the sad news was conveyed to Lord Gorth, who had been in a delicate state of health since the death of his wife last year, he collapsed and passed away of heart failure in a couple of hours. The new peer is Mr. Harold Courtenay, grandson of General Courtenay, of Afghan fame, who died on the 14th of last month, and who was the first cousin of the fifth lord. The father of the new Lord Gorth was the late Captain Harold William Courtenay, V.C., who was killed at Ypres. The new Lord Gorth is twenty-three years of age and, like his cousin, is unmarried. His only sister is the Miss Anne Frances Courtenay whose marriage to Mr. Michael Burford, the well-known trainer, is reported in another column.’ There!” said the detective, slapping down the paper. “That’s that.”

  “It’s very interesting,” Harbord said dryly. “But it doesn’t affect our case much, does it, sir?”

  “I don’t know,” the inspector said slowly. “I really don’t know, but I fancy it will all work in. At any rate, neither the new Lord Gorth nor his sister likes being questioned with regard to the tragedy. I am afraid, too, that I shall have to intrude upon the honeymoon to interview Mr. Michael Burford.”

  When the train drew up at Medchester and the detectives stepped out, the first person they saw on the platform was Superintendent Mayer. His broad, red face was shining with excitement as he made his way to them.

  “I’m glad you’m coom back, inspector,” he said, his Loamshire accent growing broader as he spoke. “I ha’ got something for you this time.”

  “What is it?” questioned the inspector. “Or who is it?” with a quick glance at the superintendent’s perspiring face.

  “Well” – the superintendent cast a quick glance round – “it is one of those poaching fellows, an’ he – But maybe it will be best for you to hear what he has to say for yourself. He came to me at the police station an hour ago.”

  “You are holding him?”

  The superintendent nodded. “I am that, till you’ve heard what he has to say.”

  “We’ll get off at once,” the inspector said, beckoning to Harbord.

  It was but a step to the police station. Stoddart was a quick walker and the stout superintendent had much ado to keep up with him.

  A constable stood at the door. The superintendent led the way to his office.

  “I heard this chap, Garwood by name, had been talking in the village,” he said as he opened the door, “so I sent for him. But you shall question him for yourself.”

  Garwood sat on the edge of a chair set as close to the door as possible. He lurched heavily to his feet as the detectives entered. At first sight there was nothing prepossessing about the gentleman. He was a short, thin man with a narrow face, none too clean, and adorned with several days’ growth of stubbly beard; his small, dark eyes were set under heavy, overhanging brows, and the eyes themselves were cunning-looking and had a trick of glancing obliquely at anybody or anything in their line of vision. They were so glancing at the inspector now as Mr. Garwood twisted a greasy fur cap about in his hands uneasily.

  “Now, Bill Garwood,” the superintendent said briskly, “I want you to tell these gentlemen what you told me.”

  Garwood cleared his throat noisily and drew the back of his hand across his mouth.

  “Taint much as I can tell,” he said hoarsely. “An’ – an if it gets me into trouble I looks to you gents to see me out.”

  “We will look after you,” the inspector said reassuringly. “Come, my man, tell us your tale, and then, superintendent, I dare say that man of yours would step across to the ‘Arms’ and get us a tankard of ale.”

  Garwood’s eyes began to shine as he glanced from one to the other.

  “There won’t be any need for that,” the superintendent broke in, whereat Garwood’s face fell. “I ha’ a good tap in the house; since these ’ere confounded temperance folks got the upper hand, ’tis the only thing to be done, to keep a barrel on the premises.”

  “Ay, it is that,” Garwood growled. “Wring all their blasted teetotallers’ necks, I would.”

  Stoddart laughed. “I’m afraid there are a good many others of your way of thinking, Mr. Garwood. But now will you tell us what you know of that night when Mr. Saunderson was shot?”

  “There ain’t much as I do know,” the man said sulkily, shuffling his feet about. “And afore I begin, I must tell you gents as I’m a pore man, a pore man I ha’ always been with a sickly wife an’ a heap of chillen allus with open mouths cryin’ out for somethin’ to fill ’em. It’s hard lines on a father when he sees the things running about wild as would save his chillen’s lives, an’ him not allowed to touch ’em.”

  “It must be,” the inspector agreed sympathetically. “I think I see now, Mr. Garwood. You were trying to pick up one or two of those same wild things?”

  “I were,” Mr. Garwood assented, his shifty eyes turning about from the inspector’s eyes to the superintendent’s. “Just a rabbit or two, you understand. The missis, she weren’t not to say well, nor one o’ the kids, and there were no work going.”

  “I – I quite see,” the inspector murmured.

  Moistening his lips, Garwood proceeded:

  “I were in the paddock just looking round. I ha’ often picked up a fat rabbit there, an’ I see a man come along in a car. He stops it – parks it, as they calls it – on that there bit o’ waste ground by the west lodge, like. Well, then he come out and goes in the blue doors and across the bit o’ the park to the rosery. I began to think as there might be money in it, for there’s been a deal of talk goin’ about her ladyship in the village, so I went after him, keeping my distance, you see. An’ he jumped the railings an’ went on, not into the rosery, but into the bit o’ waste ground beyond. I went after him an’ then found I was not the only one. It had been raining, but now the moon were shining out like, an’ I could see the gentleman I come after quite plain; right across the grounds he went, as if he knowed his way, but there were some one else as I couldn’t get proper, right among the bushes. I could hear a kind of rustling, as if somebody was trying to walk quietly in among the rhododendrons, side o’ the flower garden. I waited where I was, an’ –”

  “If anyone wanted to follow Mr. Saunderson they would have done much better to keep out of the bushes and walk along the grass,” the inspector interrupted.

  “Well, I don’t know,” Garwood said slowly. “The moon were fairly bright just then an’ him as they was after would ha’ bin safe to see anyone as walked on the grass. I didn’t dare go any nearer myself. An’ I went on, keepin’ on the walk at the bottom of the clearin’ that brings you out through another of them little gates on to the pine grove, and then if you turn to the right you come to the old quarry where the pheasants are. I didn’t mean to do nothin’ to them – ’tain’t likely. But I thought as I might come across a rabbit – one o’ those white ones his lordship sets such store by maybe – an’ it ’ud make a bit o’ stew for the chillen. But I found ’tweren’t such an easy job as I thought. There was a party on at the hall, an’ there was footmen and such-like strollin’ about in the pinetum, so I turned back; as I passes the clearing again I looks up, but there weren’t no one about and nothin’ to be seen. But it were drizzlin’ o’ rain an’ the moon had gone in, an’ I stopped a minute agin the rosery gate. While I was standin’ there in the shadow some one come runnin’ out o’ the clearin’ fast as she could go lik
e as some bogle was after her.”

  Garwood stopped.

  “Go on.” The inspector drew a deep breath. “Who was it? Man or woman?”

  “I could do with a drop o’ that there beer now, guv’nor. ’Tis dry work goin’ on like this on your lone. I dunno how t’ parsons does it, but maybe they keeps a drop i’ th’ vestry.”

  The superintendent opened the door and beckoned to a subordinate, who presently appeared with a foaming jug of beer and a couple of glasses. The superintendent pushed them towards Garwood.

  “Help yourself.”

  The man’s eyes shone. “That’s the stuff,” he said greedily.

  “Well, get a move on,” the inspector said impatiently. “Who was this other person, man or woman?”

  Garwood took a mighty draught. “I feel a bit better now, mister. About this ’ere person. I understands there might be money in it.”

  “There might be jail in it if you don’t speak out quick, Bill Garwood,” the superintendent said sharply.

  “You needn’t be so down on a chap,” Garwood grumbled. “I see who it was plain enough, for the moon were trying to shine again. ’Twere her ladyship plain enough, cuttin’ along she were, too, an’ cryin’. I see her plain when she pulled the gate open.”

  “Did you see any more of the man who went in before you?”

  “No-a. I did not; he’d disappeared like.” He took another drink of beer. “I wor a-wonderin’ how I should do the best for myself out o’ what I’d seen.”

  “Did you see anyone else?” the inspector asked.

  Mr. Garwood scratched his head.

  “No-a, I dunner think as ’ow I did. Only ’er ladyship – I’d swear to ’er all right, but I couldn’t tell you any more not if you kep’ me ’ere all day, gents.’

  “I am sure you have told us a great deal, Mr. Garwood,” the inspector said politely. “And, now, I am sure you will understand that there must be no talking or gossiping about what you saw that night. You will be wanted later.”