“Then you think Holland was genuine in his identification of the Admiral that night?”
“I do, sir. Mind you, I think he knows the truth now all right; but he didn’t then.”
“That makes him an accessory after, too.”
“Yes, sir. Though it seems likely that he’s been told the same tale as Neddy Ware was—that it wasn’t murder. And Mrs. Holland, too. That would explain why she didn’t seem surprised, the first time I saw her, to hear that her uncle was dead, but she did jump when I said he’d been murdered.”
“That fits very well, Rudge,” commended Major Twyfitt.
The Superintendent said at last: “Have you found the weapon?”
“No, sir,” said Rudge.
“Ah,” said the Superintendent.
“But I found this.” Rudge produced from his breast-pocket a strip of brown paper. Unwrapping it, he brought to light a long slender Norwegian knife, rather rusty.
The Superintendent took it eagerly.
“Then you have found the weapon.”
“No, sir.”
“Where did you find it, Rudge?” interposed Major Twyfitt.
“In a clump of antirrhinums in the Vicar’s garden, sir.”
“Were you looking for it there?”
“Yes, sir. There was a nice bright moon last night.”
“Why, Rudge,” asked the Chief Constable patiently, “were you looking for this knife in a clump of antirrhinums last night in the Vicar’s garden?”
“Well, sir, you see, I’d worked it out this way. Was the crime premeditated or was it not? Somehow, what with Ware’s remarks and the rest, I didn’t think it was. Anyhow, I could soon test it. If Fitzgerald had intended to murder the Admiral that night, he would have taken this knife along with him, because he’d have known as soon as he saw it that nothing would serve him better. If he hadn’t the intention, I thought he might most probably have thrown it back into the garden as soon as he’d used it on the painter. So I had a look round Mr. Mount’s ground last night within an easy throw of his mooring-post.” Rudge by this time was so pleased with himself that he could not resist sending a highly unofficial beam at his superior officer.
Major Twyfitt smiled back. “Smart bit of work, Rudge.”
“What I want,” observed the Superintendent, unappeased, “is the weapon.”
“I found this too, sir.”
Rudge produced another piece of brown paper from his pocket, and from it another knife, an ordinary jack-knife such as sailors and navvies use. “There are no prints on it,” he said, as he laid it on the table.
“And where did you find that?”
“In a clump of valerian, sir, at the bottom of Sir Wilfrid Denny’s garden, overhanging the river.”
“Sir Wilfrid Denny’s garden!”
“Yes, sir. It’s like this.” Rudge gave an account of his finding of the sprig of valerian stuck into the Admiral’s boat, which had not been there when Sergeant Appleton overhauled it. “It’s like those treasure-hunts,” he added, “where you go from one clue to another. That valerian was a clue, so I followed it up, and that’s what I found. It’s a plant. There’s not even any blood on the knife, only rust. Of course, the real weapon’s at the bottom of the sea.”
“You think so?”
“Rivers,” said Rudge, “can be dragged.”
“And you think that Fitzgerald planted these two clues?”
“I’m certain of it, sir.”
“It’s about time,” remarked the Superintendent, “that we got our hooks on Master Fitzgerald.”
Rudge glanced at the clock. “I’m expecting him at eleven-thirty. Another fifteen minutes to go. I told him I’d have an exclusive piece of information for him if he came along then.”
“He’ll come?” said the Chief Constable doubtfully. “You don’t think you’re taking a risk?”
“Sergeant Appleton’s tailing him in any case, sir.”
“If Fitzgerald gets away, Rudge,” growled Superintendent Hawkesworth.
“He won’t, sir. Is there anything else you want me to report on before he comes?”
“Have you traced that copy of the evening paper in his pocket?”
“No, sir. He must have picked it up in Whynmouth, perhaps at the Lord Marshall. I don’t think there’s much importance to be attached to it.”
“You think now, then, that it was the Admiral who went to the Lord Marshall?” asked Major Twyfitt.
“I do, sir. I know the Superintendent thought differently, but we’ve proved he was in Whynmouth, so why shouldn’t it have been him? It’s my notion that he anticipated danger at the interview ahead of him, and wanted to take Holland along to stand by; but when the porter told him Holland was in bed he didn’t bother to have him roused and just gave the first excuse that came into his head. Of course, he never intended to catch a train at all, but he had to say something.”
“Humph!” said the Superintendent, not too pleased at having his bright idea snatched from him by a mere inspector.
“And the door-key in the Admiral’s boat?” asked the Major.
“Why shouldn’t the Admiral have dropped it there himself, sir? It seems a pity,” said Rudge, “to bother to find complicated explanations when there’s a simple one handy. I felt that,” he added with a look of great innocence, “about the Admiral’s visit to the Lord Marshall; though I know Mr. Hawkesworth didn’t agree with me.”
Mr. Hawkesworth’s large face looked for a moment so suffused with honest emotion that the Chief Constable hurriedly led the conversation into quite a different track.
“And Mrs. Mount’s death, Rudge? Have you got any further with your theory of murder there?”
“Not so far as evidence goes, sir,” Rudge said slowly, “but I could put a case of murder for you, if you’d care to hear it; though I know well enough we could never put it before a jury as it stands.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“If it was murder, sir, it was done this way. Mrs. Mount makes this appointment. She’s lost her nerve, and she’s going to give things away. The Hollands know a good deal already; she’s going to tell them more. I don’t know how much the Reverend knows, but he’s going to know a good deal more by the time she’s finished. Naturally, this doesn’t suit a certain person’s book. He gets wind of it, and goes there to stop her. He must have reached the house just before I got there myself. She lets him in, and they start arguing. Suddenly they see me coming up the drive. He snatches up the steel paper-knife from the desk, and threatens her with it if she utters a sound. She keeps quiet. They watch me hide in the laurels. Then an hour or so later along come the Hollands, and he does the same thing. They sit on the lawn, and the situation’s saved for another few minutes. But he’s getting badly rattled, and she’s probably nearing hysteria. He doesn’t trust her one inch. All the time, while the three of us are out there, he’s got to keep the knife at her breast to make sure of her silence. And what does he do? He makes her hold it there herself, both hands on the hilt, and the point right on her heart; with one hand over hers he can control her more easily like that, and use his eyes elsewhere. She’s half-dead with fright of him—sees he means murder—does whatever he tells her. Then the Hollands come up to the house again. From their conversation he learns that the front door, which he can’t have shut properly, has blown ajar. They’re coming in. He hears them go into the drawing-room, and then into the dining-room; he knows they’re bound to come into the study. It’s his life or hers now. What does he do? He’s behind Mrs. Mount now, both his hands over hers on the hilt of the dagger. With a convulsive pull he forces the thing into her heart. She screams once. He drops her and darts behind the door, wiping his hands on his handkerchief. In come the Hollands; Mrs. runs out, Holland stays a moment, then follows her out of the house. I’m on my way across the lawn. The murderer’s got a couple of seconds to get inside the lavatory just by the front door. He does it. But he can’t leave the grounds in case he’s seen. So then,” concluded Ru
dge, somewhat breathlessly, “all he’s got to do is to wait till the coast’s clear, creep out of the house, hide round the angle of it, scuffle on the gravel, and walk in again. And that, sir, is just what I suggest he did do.”
There was a silence after Rudge had finished.
Superintendent Hawkesworth broke it, by remarking quite mildly: “Can you prove he didn’t come up the drive? What about those two on the lawn?”
“They couldn’t see from where they were. The angle of the house is in the way.”
“Besides, they wouldn’t say.”
There was another silence.
“Mr. Hawkesworth,” said Rudge, a little diffidently, “who is to make the arrest, you or I?”
“You’d better. You’ve put in some very good work on this case,” said the Superintendent, who after all was a fair man, “and I think you ought to have the credit of it. The one who makes the arrest always gets the credit. That is,” he added rather perfunctorily, “if Major Twyfitt agrees.”
“Certainly, certainly,” said that gentleman. “I quite agree. Rudge has done very well. Saved us a lot of trouble, to say nothing of Scotland Yard.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Rudge modestly, and looked at the clock. The time was close on half-past eleven.
“Well, I suppose we can only wait,” said the Chief Constable. All three were beginning to feel uneasy.
They did not have to wait long. Before the hands of the clock had reached the appointed time a constable put his head round the door to announce, in a stentorian whisper, that Mr. Graham was there, to see Mr. Rudge by appointment.
“Show him in,” nodded the Major.
The cropped-headed reporter entered with no less than his usual assurance, greeting the three heartily and receiving three very curt nods in exchange. “What’s this, Inspector?” he said. “Something rather special for me? That’s very decent of you.”
“Something very special,” replied Rudge dryly. “I’m going to make an arrest.”
“An arrest!” Fitzgerald stared at him. “Oh! For Admiral Penistone’s death?”
“For Admiral Penistone’s murder,” returned Rudge grimly. “And something else.”
“I see. Er—very good of you to let me in on it.” The reporter’s assurance was not so pronounced now. Without being asked he sat down in a chair as if his legs had suddenly gone weak. The three others eyed him in silence.
Again the constable put his head round the door. “Sir Wilfrid Denny, to see Mr. Rudge by appointment.”
“Show him in, Gravestock,” said Rudge. To his superiors he said briefly, as he rose from his chair: “I asked Sir Wilfrid to be good enough to come down here himself, so that we could ask him about—certain things.”
The others nodded.
Rudge went to the door to meet Sir Wilfrid. Sir Wilfrid, however, was already in the doorway as Rudge reached it. Rudge was a large man, Sir Wilfrid a small one. It was Sir Wilfrid who sprawled on the floor. With every sign of embarrassment, and apologising heartily, Rudge helped him up and brushed him down.
“I’m sorry, sir. Most sorry. Very careless of me. Do you know Major Twyfitt? And Superintendent Hawkesworth? I’m so sorry to have brought you down here, sir, but there were just one or two questions we wanted to ask you, to clear up a doubtful point. It’s about a sprig of valerian that was found wedged between two of the boards of Admiral Penistone’s boat. Now, I’ve searched up and down the river, and the only clump of valerian growing close to the water is in your garden. We were wondering if you could account for the sprig in any way?”
Sir Wilfrid thrust his hands into his jacket pockets and stared at Rudge with perplexity. “No, I can’t.”
“Nor for this knife, found in the same clump of valerian, with traces of blood on it?”
Sir Wilfrid looked at Major Twyfitt, he looked at Superintendent Hawkesworth, he looked at Walter Fitzgerald. Then he coughed. “I never saw it before,” he said.
“Thank you, sir. That’s all I had to ask you. And now I have a very painful duty to perform.”
Rudge paused, and looked hard at Sir Wilfrid. Sir Wilfrid coughed again, more rackingly.
“Sir Wilfrid Denny,” said Rudge, “I arrest you for the murders of Hugh Lawrence Penistone and Celia Mount, and I warn you that anything you say may be used in evidence against you.”
10
“Hardly, I think,” replied Sir Wilfrid, dryly. “Well, I congratulate you, Inspector. How did you find out?” He sat, with an air of jauntiness, on the edge of the table.
“Look here, Denny,” interposed Major Twyfitt awkwardly, as he and Superintendent Hawkesworth emerged slowly from the stupor into which they seemed to have fallen. “Look here, I don’t know whether … I mean, better not say anything. Your solicitor …”
“I know perfectly well what I’m doing,” returned Sir Wilfrid. “He gave me away, I suppose?” He nodded towards Fitzgerald, who had not moved from his chair.
“Am I to understand that you wish to make a statement, Sir Wilfrid?” put in Rudge suavely, though there seemed little ground for such an understanding.
“Yes, I’ll make a statement, certainly. I killed both of them, I’ll tell you that at once. I don’t know whether it’s any good adding it, but I didn’t mean to kill the Admiral; at least, I suppose I did, but it was in self-defence. He went for me with a poker.”
At the table the Superintendent had grabbed a piece of paper and was writing furiously.
“Then why did you kill Mrs. Mount, when you thought she was going to give you away?” asked Rudge.
“Really, Rudge,” said the Chief Constable unhappily. “I don’t think we should ask … Sir Wilfrid really should see his solicitor.”
“Oh, I’ll answer any questions. Why did I kill her? Because I didn’t want to be arrested, of course. How could I have proved self-defence? When the circumstances came out, it would look as if I had every motive for murder.”
“You mean your share in the Hong Kong business?”
“I see you know all about it. Yes. But I’m sorry about Mrs. Mount. I—I suppose I lost my head. Gave way to panic. Horrible thing to do—I suppose,” he added in a low voice to Walter Fitzgerald, “it’s no good telling you that I’m ready to make amends with my own life?”
Fitzgerald got up without answering and, crossing to the mantelpiece, leaned his head on his hands.
“Better get this down quickly,” said Sir Wilfrid to the Superintendent. “We haven’t much time. The Admiral had suspected for some time my share in the Hong Kong business. Somehow or other I managed to stave him off. Then Ware ratted on me.”
“Ware?”
“Yes. He’d known all along—though how the devil he found out I never discovered. That’s why he settled here when he retired.”
“He’d been blackmailing you?”
“Well, I suppose you’d call it that; but only a matter of a present of a pound or two now and then, and he never used any threats. He just knew, and I gave him a few pounds occasionally to keep his knowledge to himself. That’s all. But the Admiral got hold of him; and whether he paid more, or appealed to ‘duty’ and ‘honour’ and the rest, I can’t say, but Ware must have ratted. Then the Admiral came down to see me, breathing, as you may imagine, flames and death. He got me in a corner, till I couldn’t persist in my denials any longer. Then he must have seen red, because he simply went for me, cold blind, with the poker. I snatched up the first thing I could (as a matter of fact it was a trench dagger one of my nephews once gave me as a War souvenir), dodged under the poker, and got in first. Then I went down to where Ware was waiting, with the Admiral’s boat, and found that Fitzgerald and Mrs. Mount had just arrived in another boat.”
“One minute, Sir Wilfrid,” interrupted the Superintendent. “What time was that?”
“Oh, I suppose about twenty minutes to twelve. I told them what I’d done and that we must get rid of the body. I’m afraid I’d lost my head a bit, because I wouldn’t listen to them when Ware and Fitzgeral
d both urged me to come out in the open and ring up the police. It was justifiable homicide, they said, and nothing could happen to me. But I knew that if I did, all that Hong Kong business would come out, and I should lose my pension in any case; and I thought it almost inevitable that I should have to face a charge of murder. In the end Fitzgerald agreed to stand by me, but we had a lot more trouble before we could persuade Ware. Finally he agreed that if he wasn’t to be expected to tell any direct lies except to conceal the fact of his having been out with the Admiral that night at all, he wouldn’t give me away; he would just know nothing. I was too upset to make any arrangements at all; as no doubt he’s told you, Fitzgerald saw to our plans. Ware insisted that the body should not be concealed, everything was to be as plain and above board as it could be; so we went up to the house, had a stiff drink apiece, and put the body in the Vicar’s boat, covered with a bit of tarpaulin. Ware undertook to tow it up-stream and set it adrift before returning the Admiral’s boat to its boat-house. In the meantime Fitzgerald promised to go at once to Rundel Croft and look through the Admiral’s papers, to destroy anything he might have in writing against me, which I understand he did. The next day, feeling unable to stay and face it, I frankly took to my heels and escaped to Paris. Fitzgerald sent me word there that no suspicion seemed to be directed against me, so I came back.”
“And Mrs. Mount?”
The Floating Admiral (Detection Club) Page 24
