The Shrieking Pit

by Arthur J. Rees

  CHAPTER III

  Lunch was over the following day, and the majority of the hotel guestswere assembled in the lounge, some sitting round a log fire which roaredand crackled in the old-fashioned fireplace, others wandering backwardsand forwards to the hotel entrance to cast a weather eye on the blackand threatening sky.

  During the night there had been one of those violent changes in theweather with which the denizens of the British Isles are not altogetherunfamiliar; a heavy storm had come shrieking down the North Sea, andthough the rain had ceased about eleven o'clock the wind had blown hardall through the night, bringing with it from the Arctic a driving sleetand the first touch of bitter, icy, winter cold.

  The ladies of the hotel, who the previous day had paraded the front inlight summer frocks, sat shivering round the fire in furs; and the menwalked up and down in little groups discussing the weather and the war.The golfers stood apart debating, after their wont, the possibility oftrying a round in spite of the weather. The elderly clergyman wasprepared to risk it if he could find a partner, and, with the aid of anumbrella held upside down, was demonstrating to an attentive circle thepossibility of going round the most open course in England in the teethof the fiercest gale that ever blew, provided that a brassy was usedinstead of a driver.

  "I don't see how you could drive a ball with either to-day," said oneof the doubtful ones. "You'd be driving right against the wind for thefirst four holes, and when you have the wind behind you at the bend inthe cliff by the fifth, the force of the gale would probably carry yourball half a mile out to sea. These links here are supposed to be themost exposed in England."

  "My dear sir, you surely do not call this a gale," retorted theclergyman. "I have played some of my best games in a stronger wind thanthis. And as for this being the most exposed course in England--well,let me ask you one question: have you ever played over the Worthingcourse with a strong northeast gale--a gale, mind you, not awind--sweeping over the Downs?"

  "Can't say I have," grunted the previous speaker, a tall cadaverous man,wrapped from head to foot in a great grey ulster, and wearing woollengloves. "In fact, I've never been on the Worthing course."

  "I thought not." The clergyman's face showed a golfer's satisfaction athaving tripped a fellow player. "The Worthing course is the mostdifficult course in England, all up hill and down dale, and full ofpitfalls for those who don't know its peculiarities. I had a veryremarkable experience there, last year, with the crack local player--hishandicap was plus two. We played a round in a gale with the windwhistling over the high downs at the rate of seventy or eighty miles anhour. My partner didn't want to play at first because of the weather,but I persuaded him to go round, and I beat him by two up and four toplay solely by relying on the brassy and midiron. He stuck to thedriver, and lost in consequence. I'll just show you how the game went.Suppose the first hole to be just beyond the hall door there, and youdrive off from here. Now, imagine that umbrella stand--would you mindmoving away a little from it, sir? Thank you--to be a group of fir treesfully a hundred yards to the right of the fairway. Well, I got a shot160 yards up the fairway with a low straight ball which never liftedmore than a yard from the green, but my opponent, instead of sticking tothe brassy, as I did, preferred to use his big driver, and what do youthink happened to him? The wind took his ball clean over the fir trees."

  The story was interrupted by the sudden entrance from outside of a youngofficer who had been taking a turn on the front. He strode hurriedlyinto the lounge, with a look of excitement on his good-humoured boyishface, and accosted the golfers, who happened to be nearest the door.

  "I say, you fellows, what do you think has happened? You remember thatchap who fainted yesterday morning? Well, he's wanted for committing amurder!"

  The piece of news created the sensation that its imparter had countedupon. "A murder!" was echoed from different parts of the lounge invarying degrees of horror, amazement and dread, and the majority of theguests came eagerly crowding round to hear the details.

  "Yes, a murder!" repeated the young officer, with relish. "And, what'smore, he committed it after he left here yesterday. He walked across tosome inn a few miles from here along the coast, put up there for thenight, and in the middle of the night stabbed some old chap who wasstaying there."

  There was a lengthy pause while the hotel guests digested this startlinginformation, and endeavoured to register anew their previous faintimpressions of the young man of the alcove table in the new light of hispersonality as an alleged murderer. The pause was followed by an excitedhum of conversation and eager questions, the ladies all talking at once.

  "What a providential escape we have all had!" exclaimed the clergyman'swife, her fresh comely face turning pale.

  "That's just what I said myself, madam, when I heard the news," repliedthe young officer.

  "I presume this murderous young ruffian has been secured?" asked theclergyman, who had turned even paler than his wife. "The police, I hope,have him under arrest."

  The young officer shook his head.

  "He's shown them a clean pair of heels. He may be heading back this way,for all I know. There will be a hue and cry over the whole of Norfolkfor him by to-night, but murderers are usually very crafty, anddifficult to catch. I bet they won't catch him before he murderssomebody else."

  The men looked at one another gravely, and some of the ladies gave ventto cries of alarm, and clung to their husband's arms. The clergymanturned angrily on the man who had brought the news.

  "What do you mean, sir, by blurting out a piece of news like this beforea number of ladies?" he said sternly. "It was imprudent and foolish inthe last degree. You have alarmed them exceedingly."

  "Oh, that's all tosh!" replied the other rudely. "They were bound tohear of it sooner or later; why, everybody on the front is talking aboutit. I thought you'd be awfully bucked to hear the news, seeing that youwere sitting at the next table to him yesterday morning."

  "Who gave you this information?" asked Colwyn, who had just come downstairs wearing a motor coat and cap, and paused on his way to the dooron hearing the loud voices of the excited group round the young officer.

  "One of the fishermen on the front. The police constable at the placewhere the murder was committed--a little village with some outlandishname--came over here to report the news. This is the nearest policestation to the spot, it seems."

  "But is he quite certain that the man who is supposed to have committedthe murder is the young man who fainted yesterday morning?" asked SirHenry Durwood, who had joined the group. "Has he been positivelyidentified?"

  "The fisherman tells me that there's no doubt it's him--thedescription's identical. He cleared out before the murder wasdiscovered. There's a rare hue and cry all along the coast. They areorganizing search parties. There's one going out from here thisafternoon. I'm going with it."

  Colwyn left the group of hotel guests, and went to the front door. SirHenry Durwood, after a moment's hesitation, followed him. The detectivewas standing in the hotel porch, thoughtfully smoking a cigar, andlooking out over the raging sea. He nodded cordially to the specialist.

  "What do you think of this story?" asked Sir Henry.

  "I was just about to walk down to the police station to make someinquiries," responded Colwyn. "It is impossible to tell from that man'sstory how much is truth and how much mere gossip."

  "I'm afraid it's true enough," replied Sir Henry Durwood. "You'llremember I warned him yesterday to send for his friends. A man in hiscondition of health should not have been permitted to wander about thecountry unattended. He has probably had another attack of _furorepilepticus_, and killed somebody while under its influence. Dear, dear,what a dreadful thing! It may be said that I should have taken a firmerhand with him yesterday, but what more could I have done? It's a veryawkward situation--very. I hope you'll remember, Mr. Colwyn, that I didall that was humanly possibly for a professional man to do--in fact, Iwent beyond the bounds of professional decorum, in tendering advice to aperfect
stranger. And you will also remember that what I told you abouthis condition was in the strictest confidence. I should like very muchto accompany you to the police station, if you have no objection--I feelstrongly interested in the case."

  "I shall be glad if you will come," replied the detective.

  Colwyn turned down the short street to the front, where a footpathprotected by a hand rail had been made along the edge of the cliff forthe benefit of jaded London visitors who wanted to get the best valuefor their money in the bracing Norfolk air. At the present moment thatair, shrieking across the North Sea with almost hurricane force, was toobracing for weak nerves on the exposed path, and it was real hard workto force a way, even with the help of the handrail, against the wind, tosay nothing of the spray which was flung up in clouds from thethundering masses of yellow waves dashing at the foot of the cliffsbelow. Sir Henry Durwood, at any rate, was very glad when his companionturned away from the cliffs into one of the narrow tortuous streetsrunning off the front into High Street.

  Colwyn paused in front of a stone building, half way up the street,which displayed the words, "County Police," on a board outside. Knots ofpeople were standing about in the road--fishermen in jerseys andsea boots, some women, and a sprinkling of children--brought together bythe news of murder, but kept from encroaching on the sacred domain oflaw and order by a massive red-faced country policeman, who stood atthe gate in an awkward pose of official dignity, staring straight infront of him, ignoring the eager questions which were showered on him bythe crowd. The group of people nearest the gate fell back a little asthey approached, and the policeman on duty looked at them inquiringly.

  Colwyn asked him the name of the officer in charge of the district, andreceived the reply that it was Superintendent Galloway. The policemanlooked somewhat doubtful when Colwyn asked him to take in his card withthe request for an interview. He compromised between his determinationto do the right thing and his desire not to offend two well-dressedgentlemen by taking Colwyn into his confidence.

  "Well, you see, sir, it's like this," he said, sinking his voice so thathis remarks should not be heard by the surrounding rabble. "I don't liketo interrupt Superintendent Galloway unless it's very important. Thechief constable is with him."

  "Do you mean Mr. Cromering, from Norwich?" asked Colwyn.

  The policeman nodded.

  "He came over here by the morning train," he explained.

  "Very good. I know Mr. Cromering well. Will you please take this card tothe chief constable and say that I should be glad of the favour of ashort interview? This is a piece of luck," he added to Sir Henry, as theconstable took the card and disappeared into the building. "We shall nowbe able to find out all we want to know."

  The police constable came hastening back, and with a very respectful airinformed them that Mr. Cromering would be only too happy to see Mr.Colwyn. He led them forthwith into the building, down a passage, knockedat a door, and without waiting for a response, ushered them into alarge room and quietly withdrew.

  There were two officials in the room. One, in uniform, a heavily builtstout man with sandy hair and a red freckled face, sat at a largeroll-top desk writing at the dictation of the other, who wore civilianclothes. The second official was small and elderly, of dry and meagreappearance, with a thin pale face, and sunken blue eyes beneathgold-rimmed spectacles. This gentleman left off dictating as Colwyn andSir Henry Durwood entered, and advanced to greet the detective with alook which might have been mistaken for gratitude in a less importantpersonage.

  Mr. Cromering's gratitude to Colwyn was not due to any assistance he hadreceived from the detective in the elucidation of baffling crimemysteries. It arose from an entirely different cause. Wolfe is supposedto have said that he would sooner have been remembered as the author ofGray's "Elegy in a Country Churchyard" than as the conqueror of Quebec.Mr. Cromering would sooner have been the editor of the _English Review_than the chief constable of Norfolk. His tastes were bookish; Nature hadintended him for the librarian of a circulating library: the safe pilotof middle class ladies through the ocean of new fiction which overwhelmsthe British Isles twice a year. His particular hobby was paleontology.He was the author of _The Jurassic Deposits of Norfolk, with SomeRemarks on the Kimeridge Clay_--an exhaustive study of the geologicalformation of the county and the remains of prehistoric reptiles, fishes,mollusca and crustacea which had been discovered therein. This work,which had taken six years to prepare, had almost been lost to the worldthrough the carelessness of the Postal Department, which had allowedthe manuscript to go astray while in transit from Norfolk to the Londonpublishers.

  The distracted author had stirred up the postal authorities at Londonand Norwich, and had ultimately received a courteous communication fromthe Postmaster General to the effect that all efforts to trace themissing packet had failed. A friend of Mr. Cromering's suggested that heshould invoke the aid of the famous detective Colwyn, who had a name forsolving mysteries which baffled the police. Mr. Cromering took theadvice and wrote to Colwyn, offering to mention his name in a preface to_The Jurassic Deposits_ if he succeeded in recovering the missingmanuscript. Colwyn, by dint of bringing to bear a little moreintelligence and energy than the postal officials had displayed, ran themanuscript to earth in three days, and forwarded it to the owner with acourteous note declining the honour of the offered preface as too greata reward for such a small service.

  "Very happy to meet you, Mr. Colwyn," said the chief constable, as hecame forward with extended hand. "I've long wanted to thank youpersonally for your kindness--your great kindness to me last year.Although I feel I can never repay it, I'm glad to have the opportunityof expressing it."

  "I'm afraid you are over-estimating a very small service," said Colwyn,with a smile.

  "Very small?" The chief constable's emphasis of the words suggested thathis pride as an author had been hurt. "If you had not recovered themanuscript, a work of considerable interest to students of Britishpaleontology would have been lost. I must show you a letter I have justreceived from Sir Thomas Potter, of the British Museum, agreeing with myconclusions about the fossil remains of Ichthyosaurus, Plesiosaurus, andMosasaurs, discovered last year at Roslyn Hole. It is very gratifyingto me; very gratifying. But what can I do for you, Mr. Colwyn?"

  "First let me introduce to you Sir Henry Durwood," said Colwyn.

  "Durwood? Did you say Durwood?" said the little man, eagerly advancingupon the specialist with outstretched hand. "I'm delighted to meet oneof our topmost men of science. Your illuminating work on ElephasMeridionalis is a classic."

  "I'm afraid you're confusing Sir Henry with a different Durwood," saidthe detective, coming to the rescue. "Sir Henry Durwood is thedistinguished specialist of Harley Street, and not the paleontologist ofthat name. We have called to make some inquiries about the murder whichwas committed somewhere near here last night."

  "The ruling passion, Mr. Colwyn, the ruling passion! Personally I shouldbe only too glad of your assistance in the case in question, but I'mafraid there's no deep mystery to unravel--it's not worth your while. Itwould be like cracking a nut with a steam hammer for you to devote yourbrains to this case. All the indications point strongly to one man."

  "A young man who was staying at the _Grand_ till yesterday?" inquiredthe detective.

  The chief constable nodded.

  "We're looking for a young man who's been staying at the _Grand_ forsome weeks past under the name of Ronald. He's a stranger to thedistrict, and nobody seems to know anything about him. Perhaps yougentlemen can tell me something about him."

  "Very little, I'm afraid," replied Colwyn. "I've seen him at mealtimes, and nodded to him, but never spoken to him till yesterday, whenhe had a fainting fit at breakfast. Sir Henry Durwood and I helped himto his bedroom, and exchanged a few remarks with him on his recovery."

  "Yes, I've been told of that illness," said Mr. Cromering, meditating."Did he do or say anything while you were with him that would throw anylight on the subsequent tragic events of th
e night, for which he is nowunder suspicion?"

  Colwyn related what had happened at breakfast and afterwards. Mr.Cromering listened attentively, and turning to Sir Henry Durwood askedhim if he had seen Ronald before the previous day.

  "I saw him yesterday for the first time at the breakfast table," repliedSir Henry Durwood. "I arrived only the previous night. He was taken illat breakfast. Mr. Colwyn and I assisted him to his room and left himthere. I know nothing whatever about him."

  "What was the nature of his illness?" inquired the chief constable.

  "It had some of the symptoms of a seizure," replied Sir Henry guardedly."I begged him, when he recovered, not to leave his room. I even offeredto communicate with his friends, by telephone, if he would give me theiraddress, but he refused."

  "It is a pity he did not take your advice," responded the chiefconstable. "He appears to have left the hotel shortly after his illness,and walked along the coast to a little hamlet called Flegne, about tenmiles from here. He reached there in the evening, and put up at thevillage inn, the _Golden Anchor_, for the night. He left early in themorning, before anybody was up. Shortly afterwards the body of Mr. RogerGlenthorpe, an elderly archaeologist, who had been staying at the innfor some time past making researches into the fossil remains common tothat part of Norfolk, was found in a pit near the house. The tracks ofboot-prints from near the inn to the mouth of the pit, and back again,indicate that Mr. Glenthorpe was murdered in his bedroom at the inn, andhis body afterwards carried by the murderer to the pit in which it wasfound."

  "In order to conceal the crime?" said Colwyn.

  "Precisely. Two men employed by Mr. Glenthorpe saw the footprintsearlier in the morning, and when it was discovered that Mr. Glenthorpewas missing, one of them was lowered into the pit by a rope and foundthe body at the bottom. The pit forms a portion of a number of so-calledhut circles, or prehistoric shelters of the early Briton, which are notuncommon in this part of Norfolk."

  "And you have strong grounds for believing that this young man Ronald,who was staying at the _Grand_ till yesterday, is the murderer?"

  "The very strongest. He slept in the room next to the murdered man's,and disappeared hurriedly in the early morning from the inn some timebefore the body was discovered. It is his boot-tracks which led to andfrom the pit where the body was found. A considerable sum of money hasbeen stolen from the deceased, and we have ascertained that Ronald wasin desperate straits for money. Another point against Ronald is that Mr.Glenthorpe was stabbed, and a knife which was used by Ronald at thedinner table that night is missing. It is believed that the murder wascommitted with this knife. But if you feel interested in the case, Mr.Colwyn, you had better hear the report of Police Constable Queensmead."

  The chief constable touched a bell, and directed the policeman whoanswered it to bring in Constable Queensmead.

  The policeman who appeared in answer to this summons was a thicksetsturdy Norfolk man, with an intelligent face and shrewd dark eyes. Onthe chief constable informing him that he was to give the gentlemen thedetails of the _Golden Anchor_ murder, he produced a notebook from histunic, and commenced the story with official precision.

  Ronald had arrived at the inn before dark on the previous evening, andhad asked for a bed for the night. A little later Mr. Glenthorpe, themurdered man, who had been staying at the inn for some time past, hadcome in for his dinner, and was so pleased to meet a gentleman in thatrough and lonely place that he had asked Ronald to dine with him. Thedinner was served in an upstairs sitting-room, and during the course ofthe meal Mr. Glenthorpe talked freely of his scientific researches inthe district, and informed his guest that he had that day been toHeathfield to draw L300 to purchase a piece of land containing somevaluable fossil remains which he intended to excavate. The two gentlemensat talking after dinner till between ten and eleven, and then retiredto rest in adjoining rooms, in a wing of the inn occupied by nobodyelse. In the morning Ronald departed before anybody, except the servant,was up, refusing to wait for his boots to be cleaned. The servant, whohad had the boots in her hands, had noticed that one of the boots had acircular rubber heel on it, but not the other. Ronald gave her a poundto pay for his bed, and the note was one of the first Treasury issue,as were the notes which Mr. Glenthorpe had drawn from the bank atHeathfield the day before. The men who had seen the footprints to thepit earlier in the morning, informed Queensmead of their discovery onlearning that Mr. Glenthorpe had disappeared. Queensmead examined thefootprints, and, with the assistance of the men, recovered the body.Queensmead telephoned a description of Ronald to the police stationsalong the coast, then mounted his bicycle and caught the train atLeyland in order to report the matter to the district headquarters atDurrington.

  "I suppose there is no doubt that the young man who stayed at the inn isidentical with Ronald," said the detective, when the constable hadfinished his story. "Do the descriptions tally in every respect?"

  "Read the particulars you have prepared for the hand-bills,Queensmead," said the chief constable.

  The constable produced a paper from his pocket and read: "Description ofwanted man: About 28 years of age, five feet nine or ten inches high,fair complexion rather sunburnt, blue eyes, straight nose, fair hair,tooth-brush moustache, clean-cut features, well-shaped hands and feet,white, even teeth. Was attired in grey Norfolk or sporting loungejacket, knickerbockers and stockings to match, with soft grey hat ofsame material. Wore a gold signet-ring on little finger of left hand.Distinguishing marks, a small star-shaped scar on left cheek, slightlydrags left foot in walking. Manner superior, evidently a gentleman."

  "That is conclusive enough," said Colwyn. "It tallies in every respect.The scar is an unmistakable mark. I noticed it the first time I sawRonald."

  "I noticed it also," said Sir Henry Durwood.

  "It seems a clear case to me," said the chief constable. "I have signeda warrant for Ronald's arrest, and Superintendent Galloway has notifiedall the local stations along the coast to have the district searched. Wethink it very possible that Ronald is in hiding somewhere in themarshes. We have also notified the district railway stations to be onthe lookout for anybody answering his description, in case he tries toescape by rail."

  "It seems a strange case," remarked the detective thoughtfully. "Whyshould a young man of Ronald's type leave his hotel and go across tothis remote inn, and commit this brutal murder?"

  "He was very short of money. We have ascertained that he had beenrequested to leave the hotel here because he could not pay his bill. Hehas paid nothing since he has been here, and owed more than L30. Theproprietor told him yesterday morning, as he was going in to breakfast,that he must leave the hotel at once if he could not pay his bill. Hewent away shortly after the scene in the breakfast room which waswitnessed by you gentlemen, and left his luggage behind him. I suspectthe proprietor would not allow him to take his luggage until he haddischarged his bill."

  "It strikes me as a remarkable case, nevertheless," said Colwyn. "Ishould like to look into it a little further, with your permission."

  "Certainly," replied the chief constable courteously. "SuperintendentGalloway will be in charge of the case. I suggested that he should askfor a man to be sent down from Scotland Yard, but he does not think itnecessary. I feel sure that he will be delighted to have the assistanceof such a celebrated detective as yourself. When are you starting forFlegne, Galloway?"

  "In half an hour," replied the superintendent. "I shall have to walkfrom Leyland--five miles or more. The train does not go beyond there."

  "Then I will drive you over in my car," said the detective.

  "In that case perhaps you'll permit me to accompany you," said the chiefconstable. "I should very much like to observe your methods."

  "And I too," said Sir Henry Durwood.