Читать книгу Cloud, the Smiter - Arthur Gask - Страница 5

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IT was the next morning, Sunday morning, a few minutes after eight. Inspector Romilly had just come on duty at the Police headquarters in Victoria Square when the telephone bell rang sharply. He picked up the receiver.

"Police headquarters, Inspector Romilly, what is it? What—where—at Clyde House, Glenelg? At Mr. McIver's—what, Mr. McIver himself? Good Lord! Who's speaking?"

For about a minute the inspector stood intently listening; then he rapped out quickly,

"All right, we'll be there in less than half an hour. Leave everything exactly as it is and see that no one goes off the premises till I come, you understand? Be very strict about it," and he hung up the receiver with a jerk.

"Murder, Sergeant," he said with a very white face to another officer in the room, "at Clyde House, Glenelg. Old Mr. McIver strangled in his sleep. I knew him well. I'm going at once. I want three men with me. Ring up Dr. O'Grady and tell him I'm calling for him on my way. Now be quick, please."

In five and twenty minutes at most a large police car pulled up sharply at the gate of Clyde House.

The gates were shut but a policeman was on watch inside and immediately opened them to admit the occupants of the car.

"How many of you are there here?" asked Inspector Romilly who was the first to get out of the car.

"Three, sir," replied the man saluting. "Sergeant Crow's in the house."

"Well, shut the gate again. We won't bring in the car," and the inspector, accompanied by Dr. O'Grady, the Senior Surgeon of the Police, approached the house.

A stout police sergeant met them at the door.

"You've been very quick, sir," he whispered, "I hardly expected you so soon. Not the slightest thing's been moved and everything is exactly as we found it. Everyone, too, who slept here is still in the house."

Quickly but quietly the three men entered the chamber of death.

There was a large bed in the middle of the room. The bedstead was of plain brass and the rails were large and wide between.

On the bed lay a dreadful huddled form. The limbs were turned and twisted and the face was swollen and of a blackish colour. The body was at the top end of the bed with the head pulled close up to the rails. One arm was bent back through the rails.

There was a thin cord round the neck, with the loose ends trailing through the rails on to the floor at the back of the bed.

The head was forced almost at right angles to the body and the chin was bent forward towards the chest.

The inspector moistened his lips.

"Unpleasant form of death," enunciated the police surgeon professionally; "see how he fought for breath. And yet—yet he couldn't have been conscious very long." The surgeon pointed with his finger—"See those knots in the cord there, one on each side of his neck. Well, the man who tied those knew something anyhow. They are pressing on the great vessels of the neck and the pressure there would bring unconsciousness very soon, much quicker than just squeezing the cord round. I don't suppose the poor chap made even a sound."

The inspector drew in a deep breath.

"I knew him well," he said hoarsely. "I spoke to him yesterday after the races. He had a lot of money on him. I warned him. I warned him."

The surgeon went on with his examination.

"No rigor mortis yet, no stiffness: see, the body's hardly cold. How old was he? About sixty-five. Well, he can't have been dead much more than six hours: probably he was killed just before dawn. I'm going to take off the cord now."

In a few seconds he held it up. "About five feet," he went on. "It looks like window cord, but I leave that to you." He looked thoughtfully at the body. "Yes, the pressure from those knots would very quickly induce coma. There's about six or seven inches between them and the distance is just right. Yes, a man with some anatomical knowledge did this, I should say."

For some minutes there was silence in the room. "Well, I've finished all I want to," said the surgeon at length. "Everything's quite plain. I'll do the post mortem this afternoon. Kindly find out for me what the deceased had for his last meal and exactly what time he took it. That will help me to determine the exact time he was killed. Now is there any way I can help you, anything you'd like to know?"

"You might please just construct the exact way he was killed, doctor," replied the inspector. "I take it the murderer must have been a fairly strong man."

"Not necessarily anything very out of the ordinary. You see, he had his victim so completely at his mercy that, once the cord was on, everything was plain sailing. He came behind the bed here and very gently adjusted the cord. You will probably find the deceased was a heavy sleeper. Well, he crossed the cord over and got it into the exact position before he exerted any pressure. Then he pulled it tight suddenly and forced the head as you see it, right up against the rails. He jerked the man up above the pillow. He must have used some considerable force there, but if he put his foot against the bottom rail here he was in an ideal position for exerting all his strength. You follow?"

"Yes, doctor, but how long would he have to hold on?"

"Three minutes at the outside."

"And how would he know his man was dead?"

"By the relaxing of all the muscles of the body. He could very easily tell when it was safe to leave go, the collapse would be so complete." The surgeon delicately fingered the dead man's neck. "Quite, quite scientifically done. Yes, I should say the stranger was certainly no ignorant man."

For quite half an hour after the police surgeon had left, the inspector remained by himself alone in the room. As far as possible, without touching anything, he examined everything minutely. Every part of the chamber he placed under review and the reason for the particular position of each article of furniture was carefully weighed up in his mind. For quite the last ten minutes of his stay he stood perfectly still. Only his eyes moved very thoughtfully round and round the room. Then he pulled a sheet over the body of the dead man, and abruptly went out.

He spoke a few hurried words to the sergeant in the hall and then asked for one of the maids to be sent to him.

"Please ask Miss McIver," he said, when the girl almost immediately appeared, "if I can speak to her for a minute. Tell her it's Inspector Romilly of the Adelaide Police. I'll wait in the dining-room."

The dining-room was a long room facing the sea and like all other rooms of the house it told of the luxury and ease that money alone can buy. The inspector was just sadly considering from how many beautiful things the murdered man had been cut off when Maude McIver came in.

She was ghastly pale and there was a look of frozen horror on her face, but for all that she had lost none of her dignity, and it was with the coldest little bow possible that she now greeted the inspector.

"You asked for me," she said quietly, "I'm Miss McIver." The inspector instantly took in everything about her. He noticed the proud, clear-cut features, the beautiful dark eyes, and the queenly head with its wealth of rich dark hair. He thought with a pang that she was very lovely.

"Yes, I had to send for you," he replied gently. "It's my duty to speak to you all. I have to see everybody who slept in the house. It's a ghastly business for you, Miss McIver, but unhappily it must be gone through. Now can you help me in any way? You have four servants here?"

"Oh, none of them could have done it," she answered quickly. "It would be impossible to think so."

"I don't think so, either, although I haven't seen them; but please tell me about them."

"They've all been with us a long time."

"How long?"

"The cook since I was a little girl, and the other two for more than four years."

"And the chauffeur?"

"Since he was a boy—he's about twenty-five now."

"Well, I'd like to see them now, please, and afterwards I'll have to bother you again. You, I expect, will be able to help me more than the others."

The cook came in first. She looked very frightened.

"You're the cook here, aren't you?" said the inspector pleasantly. "No, don't be frightened. I just want to ask you one or two things. You were the first to go into your master's room?"

"Yes, sir."

"You go in first always, I suppose?"

"Yes, sir, I take him his cup of tea at half-past seven."

"Well, what happened this morning? No, don't cry. Be a woman. Remember we want to punish the man who hurt your master. Now tell me, you went in as usual?"

"Yes, sir, I knocked and opened the door and took in his cup of tea."

"You didn't notice anything until after you had put down the cup of tea on the table?"

"No, sir, I never usually look at the master at all when I go in. I just put the cup on the table and go out."

"Well, what made you look at him this morning?"

"I don't quite know, sir, but I think it was because the curtains were pulled across the big French windows. Master never does pull them in the summer. He says they keep the air out."

"Well, what did you do when you saw your poor master this morning?"

"I ran at once and called Miss Maude."

"You didn't touch anything in the room?"

"No, sir, and I haven't been there since."

"Very well, then. Now can you think of anything to help me; anything unusual. Did you hear any noise in the night?"

"No, sir, nothing at all."

The cook was dismissed and the two other girls called in. They knew nothing, however, and the inspector passed quickly to examine the gardener-chauffeur—Jack Iredale. He was an open-faced, pleasant young fellow and at once impressed the inspector favourably.

"Now, Jack," said the inspector coming at once to the point, "tell me all you can to help me. We want to catch that damned brute who killed your master, and perhaps the most trivial thing you tell me may help me find him. You sleep over the garage, don't you?"

"Yes, sir, at the end of the garden."

"Well, what time did you go to bed last night?"

"Just before ten."

"Before your master?"

"Yes, sir."

"How do you know?"

"Well, he never goes before ten and, besides, I heard him when I was in bed talking in the garden."

"Who was he talking to?"

"Vulcan, the dog, sir; I heard him undo its gate when he let him out."

"Did he always let him out?"

"Yes, always the last thing, so that he could run about the garden during the night."

"Well, did you hear any noise during the night?"

"No, sir, I slept until just before six and then I got up at once."

"Who told you your master was dead?"

"Cook. She came running down as I was cleaning the car."

"You have charge of the dog, haven't you?"

"Yes, sir, I do everything for him, except to let him loose at night, master always did that."

"You shut him up in the morning, then?"

"Yes, I always shut him up when I come down, and give him his breakfast in the yard."

"Where was he when you came down this morning? Was he in the garden I mean?"

"No, sir, he was asleep in his yard."

"Is that usual?"

The chauffeur hesitated for a moment and then replied slowly. "No, sir, it isn't quite usual, as least not in fine weather like this. In wet weather he always goes in, but when it's sunny I generally find him out on the lawn."

"Then what do you think made him go in this morning?"

The man seemed puzzled. "I don't know," he replied lamely. "I never thought."

"He's supposed to be a good watch dog, isn't he?"

The young fellow brightened up at once. "Oh yes, and he is too. He won't let a cat even come into the garden at night. He hears almost when a leaf falls and can smell ever so long after if a stranger's gone up the path."

The inspector sniffed doubtfully. "How do you account then," he asked very sternly, "for the fact that he let some unknown man come in last night and murder your master. Remember, whoever came in crossed the garden twice, with an interval of perhaps ten minutes between, and he had to cross over not only the lawn but over the path as well. How could the dog not have heard?"

The chauffeur looked mystified and uncomfortable. "That's what I can't make out. I don't understand it at all."

"The dog's all right this morning, isn't he?" went on the inspector sharply.

"Oh yes, at least I think so. He went at once to his food when I put it down."

"Well, we'll go out and see."

The dog's enclosure was not fifty yards from the house and the inspector was soon standing before the bars.

"Let him out," he said curtly, "we'll see what he does."

But the big hound showed no inclination to come out. He did not get up even but just stared stonily at the two men.

"Why, he's not eaten any of his biscuit," exclaimed the chauffeur suddenly; "it's just as I gave it to him. He's been sick too and he looks funny."

"You great calf," snarled Inspector Romilly angrily, "can't you see the brute's been doped? Look at the droop of his eyes. Can't you see it yourself, man? Where's your intelligence? You're a fool."

"I'm very sorry, sir."

"Sorry—what's the good of being sorry? It's men like you that make it so easy for rogues to live. But come now, was he like this last night? Was he doped then?"

"No, sir. I'm positive of that. He was quite lively and jumping against the bars to be let out; besides, I heard him growling."

"You heard him growling—when was he growling?"

"A little while before I went to bed, about a quarter to ten. I thought he'd heard some cat."

Inspector Romilly eyed the young man icily up and down.

"Well, you're a bright young fellow, aren't you?" he sneered bitterly. "Here I've been talking to you all this while and now at the end you just mention casually and quite by chance what ought to have stuck out in your mind from the very first. Your master's been murdered and everybody's been considering and puzzling how the murderer got in. You remember the dog growling before he was let out and yet—you forgot to say anything about it. Now isn't it enough to make even a policeman swear?"

The chauffeur looked very crestfallen.

"I'm very upset, sir," he mumbled. "I can't think of anything properly."

"Of course you've been upset," went on the inspector testily, "but tell me, quickly now, did he growl for long?"

"No, only three or four times at the most. He couldn't have seen anyone in the garden or he'd have made no end of a fuss. If anyone had been over here getting into master's room, he'd have seen him at once, for the moon last night made everything as plain as day. Besides, if a stranger had passed anywhere here Vulcan would have nosed it at once directly master let him out. He can smell a strange track I say hours after, when anyone has passed by."

The chauffeur waxed quite eloquent in his anxiety, to make his point, and for the first time that morning the grim face of the inspector relaxed into a smile.

"Good," he said encouragingly, "now at last you're beginning to reason and think."

For some few minutes longer the two men remained in conversation and then the inspector re-entered the house and asked for Mrs. Carter. The examination here was very brief. Mrs. Carter was quite hopeless, very hysterical, and rather rude. She seemed to resent it as an insult that the inspector wanted to question her at all.

The latter soon finished with her, and asked for Miss McIver again.

"I'm very sorry to distress you," said the inspector gently when the girl appeared, "but I want you to come into the room with me. No—everything's been covered on the bed. What I want you for is this. I understand you always help the maids in doing your uncle's room. Well, I want you to come and look carefully round and tell me exactly what has been moved; to tell me, in any way, what is different now from the usual order and placing of everything. You see, the most trivial thing may any time start us on the right trail."

The girl made no reply but at once led the way to her uncle's room. She held her head up bravely and the inspector, as he walked behind her, noted with admiration that there was no trembling whatsoever about the beautiful white hand that hung listlessly by her side.

They entered the chamber and the girl stood silently looking round.

"Now don't be in a hurry," said the inspector, and he purposely made his voice as business-like as he possibly could. "Just look over everything carefully before you speak."

The girl stood for a long while quite still, and then in a low voice she said wearily to the inspector,

"There's nothing very much different. The curtains are drawn when they shouldn't be, that stool there is never so near the wall, and my uncle never put his hair-brush on that side of the dressing-table. His diamond ring is gone, too."

"Is that all?" asked the inspector quietly; "are you quite sure?"

"The door of the safe's open, of course, and my uncle never threw his clothes about like that, but," and she shook her head and sighed, "I don't see anything else."

"Do the curtains make any noise when you draw them?" asked the inspector thoughtfully. "Whoever came in would have to draw the curtains if he was going to use any light—even an electric torch, and he'd have to have a light to go through the safe."

"Oh, yes, they're so high that you have to swing them hard when you draw them. The brass rings are big and they always rattle on the rod."

"Then, if they were drawn in the usual way in the middle of the night, the sound could be heard outside this room, even with the door closed."

"Yes—easily. They make quite a noise."

The inspector walked up to the curtains and swung one of them back. The rings clanged loudly on the brass rod.

"So the man had to stand on something to draw them without making any noise," he said to the girl, "and if the stool's been moved, as you say, he probably stood on that. Now why should he bring that stool up, when the chair there was so much nearer? Let me think."

He went over and examined the stool. "Yes, the cloth here's been smoothed straight. He evidently didn't want to leave the marks of his feet and show it had been used. But why didn't he use the chair? it's about the same height. I should say he's probably a heavy man, and the chair didn't appear solid enough to bear his weight. Now I'll try the height."

He moved the stool to the side of the curtains and stood up on it. He stretched up his arm and could just reach the curtain rings.

"I'm five feet eleven," he went on, musingly, "and if he was as tall as I am he could move them too. If he wasn't then he'd have to have had something to help him. Ah! that's where the brush would come in—he'd get another eight inches then."

He turned to the girl. "You're quite positive the brush had been moved?"

"Quite—my uncle was most methodical and always put everything in the same place."

"Well, I may, of course, be wrong, but things rather point to a person shorter than myself and heavier. Now I want you to look at the safe, please. Do you know what was inside?"

The girl shook her head. "I never had anything to do with it," she said, "and don't know anything about what's inside, but he told us something at dinner last night."

She paused for a moment to get control of her voice. "He told us he had won over £2,000 at the races yesterday and was going to put the money in the safe."

"Did he put it in, do you think?"

"Yes, I heard the safe door bang soon after he had come in from going to see Vulcan."

"It was those notes the murderer came after, Miss McIver," said the inspector sternly. "They're gone now. I spoke to your uncle on the course yesterday and he told me what he'd won. Unhappily I wasn't the only one that knew; he made no secret about it."

There was a silence for a moment and the girl choked back a sob.

"Thank you, Miss McIver," said the inspector at once. "Please go now. You've been very brave. There'll be the inquest to-morrow and you'll have to come. I shall have to see you again myself, too. It's an awful time for you, I know, but I'll take care you're bothered as little as possible. Thank you again."

The girl inclined her head ever so little and their eyes met. How beautiful and liquid were hers, thought the inspector, and then he frowned crossly to himself.

He found Sergeant Crow outside and together they proceeded to examine the garden.

"Now where did he get over?" queried the inspector. "Most likely at the back. He doped the dog somehow and knew the coast was clear there. In the front some of the girls might have been awake and seen him. We must go over every inch of the wall."

But very quickly they found out all they wanted. At the corner of the garden farthest away from the garage there were unmistakable marks of footprints on the celery bed, and a few yards distant a turned-up seed box propped against the wall showed clearly how the intruder had made his exit.

On the other side of the wall, corresponding with the disturbance in the celery bed, a stout gimlet had been screwed into the mortar between the bricks—giving a sure foothold for anyone who had wanted to climb up. Some attempt had evidently been made to withdraw the gimlet but the wooden handle had apparently come off, and the steel blade had been abandoned where it was.

"Looks as if he knew the place well," remarked the inspector thoughtfully, "and had nothing to leave to chance. I don't think we need worry any further about how he got over, eh? It's quite clear to my mind. Now we'll get a vet. down and find out what we can about that dog."

The veterinary surgeon nodded his head grimly immediately he was brought up to the great boar hound.

"Opium, opium," he said decisively, "not the slightest doubt. Look at the pupils of his eyes—just pin points. Poor brute, he's feeling very sorry for himself, I'm sure."

"How do you think it was given him?" asked the inspector.

"In a bit of meat probably. Dogs are the easiest things in the world to poison if you tuck the stuff away in something tasty. He's been pretty bad, too, this chap here. He'll get over it now but he won't be right for a couple of days. When do you reckon he got the dose?"

"Well, it's mostly guessing, doctor, but we think he picked it up directly he was let loose last night, just after ten o'clock. I suppose he'd have found it pretty easily if it were thrown, say, on the lawn there?"

"Oh yes, at once. It might have been rubbed, too, with a drop of aniseed to attract him and then he'd have smelt it a mile away."

"Now, suppose he picked it up about ten," went on the inspector; "when would it begin to act?"

"Well that, of course, would depend entirely on the form in which it was given. If it was given him in powder, which was probably the case, he would begin to feel the effect in about an hour, and in three to four hours at most he would be quite unconscious and in a state of absolute coma."

"Then why didn't the dog die?"

"They gave him too much probably, and it made him sick. It was being sick that saved him. You see, his poisoner made the common mistake of thinking a big dog necessarily required a big dose. It isn't so. These big dogs are peculiarly susceptible to some drugs, particularly to narcotics, and a very little brings them quickly under its influence. Give them a big dose and they're generally sick at once, and so get rid of most of the poison. Don't you make any mistake—this dog was intended to die and he's had a narrow escape, I can tell you."

Later in the day the inspector rang up Miss McIver. "Don't worry about to-night please," he told her. "You shall be well protected and, if you would like it, one of my men shall sleep in the house—not for a moment that we expect anything, but just to reassure you. Now another thing I want to tell you. If any of you hear noises about you're not to be afraid. We're going to try and get some idea of what went on outside in the garden last night and we may be about late. You might kindly tell the chauffeur and ask him to have the dog shut up."

About a quarter to ten that night Inspector Romilly and two plain-clothes detectives were standing outside the garden wall of Clyde House. It was a beautiful still summer night, and the moon shone clearly and bathed everything in silver radiance.

The inspector seemed quite cheerful. "We are lucky," he whispered to his companions, "to have everything almost exactly as it was last night. We are practically in the identical surroundings that the murderer was then, and I want to do everything exactly as he did, and according to time table. If we carefully follow all his known lines of action they may lead us to the unknown lines too."

Still keeping outside they moved up to the wall behind the dog's house.

"Now this is where he probably stood," the inspector went on, "precisely at this time last night. He knew exactly where to throw the piece of doped meat. We can take it for granted all along that he knew everything about the garden and house. Everything points to careful premeditation and preparation, and my opinion is that he did nothing unless there was a clear reason for it. Well, he couldn't throw the meat directly over into the dog's yard because of the iron roof that almost covers it—so he threw it on the bit of lawn there, just in front, where the dog would be certain to find it directly he came out. The dog heard something to disturb him and started growling. Probably he only heard the piece of meat falling on the lawn, for the chauffeur says he only growled once or twice and then stopped. I don't think for a moment the man himself could have been in the garden then. He couldn't have dared risk the dog scenting him when he got out. So, as I say, he threw the meat on to the lawn, it being the only certain place where the dog would find it at once. Well, he could only have thrown it on the lawn from somewhere about here. Now let's look round."

"He must have taken a big risk," remarked one of the detectives, "if he came and stood here in the open moonlight. He was in plain view of the front of that house there and anyone might have been about and seen him."

He pointed to a house that stood among some trees about two hundred and fifty yards away. It was quite a small house, painted white, and stood about a hundred yards on the other side of the road which ran by the end of the dead man's garden.

"Is it occupied do you know?" asked the inspector.

"Yes, there was a light in one of the side rooms as we passed."

The inspector measured the distance from the house with his eye. "Less than three hundred yards," he said at length. "Yes, as you say, anyone here could have been easily seen, but I don't suppose the man stopped here. He would have just flung the meat over as he walked along. Well, we'll go now to where we know for certain he got over the wall, where he screwed the gimlet between the bricks."

The detectives had not seen the place before and for some minutes there was a quiet but animated discussion among the three men.

"What I don't understand," remarked the inspector thoughtfully, "is why he chose to get over the wall here. He had to traverse a much further length of the garden than if he'd got over on the other side and he's still in full view of that white house, too. He seems to have been taking chances here that one wouldn't expect."

"Well," argued one of the detectives, "if he'd got over the other side he'd have had two houses in view of him. He could have been seen from either of those big ones there."

"Yes, but they're much farther away, a good hundred yards farther at least," remarked the inspector, "and as a set-off against the very small added risk there he'd have had a much shorter and safer passage in the garden. He wouldn't have had to go near the garage, where he knew for certain there was the probability of being seen if accidentally he made the slightest noise. Getting over here as he did, he had to pass right in front of the garage both going and coming, and, as I say, the slightest sound might have upset everything."

There was a long silence and the three of them stood thinking hard.

"I think we'd better have a look at that white house," said one of the detectives, suddenly. "When you come to think of it, there does seem something funny about the beggar seeming quite to ignore the idea of any danger there."

"A very good idea, Jackson," replied the inspector. "We've a good three hours to wait to the time he strangled McIver—Dr. O'Grady reckoned he wasn't killed until about two—and between now and then we'll have a good look at that house. It'll be interesting at all events to see how this place looks from over there."

"We'd better go round to it quietly from the back," said the detective. "It might frighten anybody out of their lives if they saw three men coming up, after what happened last night."

"Of course, of course," replied the inspector. "Whoever lives there mustn't see us at all. We'll go round by the sea first. But just a moment, before we leave here. One thing begins to puzzle me a lot." The inspector paused for quite a long time and then said very impressively—"If the murderer threw the doped meat over at a quarter to ten and strangled McIver about two, what did he do with himself during those intervening four hours?"

The three men looked at one another without speaking. Long accustomed to crime as they all were, they seemed awed for the moment at what their imaginations conjured up.

The murderer had prepared for his ghastly work, he had got everything ready and had made his first step towards the destined goal in the chamber of death. Then for four long hours he had had to remain inactive, waiting, watching and full of suspense. However great his courage, what must have been his thoughts as he lay crouching somewhere like some foul beast of prey? They could picture him in the black sweat and torture of his own doubts.

"Look here," said the inspector presently, "what I want to know is where he went. He couldn't have just thrown the poison over and then have gone away and come back quite casually in four hours. He would have to remain in touch with the place the whole time. There were a lot of things he would want to know. He would want to make sure that the dog had taken the meat and that the dope had acted somehow. He would want to know too that they hadn't found out anything about it. The chauffeur might have gone out late to meet a girl and come home and found the dog poisoned and roused the house. He would have to be certain of a lot of things and I don't see how he would have dared to let the place out of his sight even for a single minute. Well, where could he hide; from where could he safely watch the place? Mind you, it was for four hours, not for two minutes or a quarter of an hour. Now where did he go?"

"It isn't possible for a moment," said Jackson, one of the plain-clothes men, "that he walked round and round the place the whole time. He couldn't risk attracting attention. He couldn't hide in the sand either, for then he would be missing everything that might go on in the house. But I agree with you that he must have watched from somewhere."

The three men moved off towards the sea and for more than two hours went carefully over the surrounding country. Towards one o'clock they were stealthily making their way towards the white house that they had noticed earlier in the night. Their wanderings had taken them in a wide circle and they were now approaching the house from the back. Their approach was quite hidden by a small clump of trees.

"We can get to within a hundred yards," whispered the inspector. "It will never do for us to be seen. As you said, it might terrify the people in the house."

They crawled carefully between the trees and rounding a small hillock of sand came suddenly in view of Clyde House.

The inspector drew in his breath sharply. "My word," he muttered, "the very place to keep watch. Just what the beggar wanted."

He might well have been surprised, for from where they lay, not only the house but almost every part of the garden came easily under view. They could see the dog's enclosure, the strip of lawn in front, the door of the garage, and the long French windows of the dead man's room. The house itself was not three hundred yards away and with the moon bright as it now was, even small objects in the garden could be picked out easily with the naked eye.

The inspector fished up a pair of small opera glasses from the depths of his coat pocket and focussed them on the house.

"By Jove," he went on to himself, "what a soft thing if he was watching from here. With a pair of binoculars he would have seen right into McIver's bedroom and probably have been able to see him go to the safe too."

For several minutes the watchers lay silent on the sand and the inspector was just on the point of suggesting an equally silent retreat, when he suddenly felt someone grip his arm tightly and Jackson whispered very closely to his ear.

"Look on the verandah there, on the bed. We're not the only ones watching here it seems."

The inspector whipped his glasses round at once in the direction indicated.

They were close to the small white house, and rather to the side of it. They could, however, just see the end of the verandah running in the front, and there was a bed there. On the bed was a man. He must have been there when they first arrived, but apparently he had been lying down then, and had escaped their notice. Now, however, he was leaning up on his elbow and intently gazing through a large pair of binoculars undoubtedly turned in the direction of Clyde House.

For a full minute he remained absolutely motionless, then he abruptly lowered the glasses and his head immediately disappeared from view.

"Good Lord," whispered the inspector, "can it possibly be the man we're after? It's been too jolly easy to be true."

For a quarter of an hour they waited expectantly and then up came the man's head again. About a minute's intent stare and then down again went everything as before.

The same thing happened twice and then the inspector, signing to his two companions to follow him, wriggled cautiously back along the sand between the trees.

"Look here," he said impressively when he was quite sure he was out of earshot of the watcher on the verandah, "we must know about the people in this house. Certainly it looks peculiar. It may be only morbid curiosity, of course. It's quite natural that they should be interested now in what's going on, even perhaps to the point of missing part of a night's rest, but still it looks funny, and we'll inquire well into them to-morrow. In the meantime I must get back to the garden there; it's nearly two o'clock. I particularly want to see how the moon served that man last night when he got into McIver's room. But it isn't necessary we should all go, and you, Jackson, can wait here and see exactly what this johnny does when he sees us go over the wall. Here are my opera glasses; go back to where we were lying and keep an eye on him the whole time. You will see us come out of the garden and half an hour later we'll be waiting for you in the car just by the jetty. You understand?"

Leaving Jackson to watch by himself the inspector and the other detective by a roundabout way returned to Clyde House. They got over the wall in exactly the same place the intruder had selected on the previous night, and making their way slowly across the garden arrived at the long French windows of the murdered man's room.

They peered through them. The body had been removed that afternoon to the city, but they could see the bed in exactly the same position that it had always been. Fully half of the chamber was bathed in the moonlight, but the bed itself and all behind it were buried in the shadows.

"As I thought," muttered Inspector Romilly. "He would have required no electric torch to set about his bloody work. He wanted the torch only when he came to look inside the safe, and that's why he drew the curtains. Any light could have been seen from the chauffeur's room."

For a few minutes they stood looking thoughtfully into the room and then they returned slowly the way they had come.

"I don't think there's anything more to be learnt just now," said the inspector when they were over the wall again. "We know for certain, however, that the murder was no chance crime. Everything was deliberately planned and the man knew the premises from A to Z. Now we'll go and wait for Jackson."

Half an hour later Jackson joined them at the jetty as arranged. He had little to tell but what he did tell the inspector considered very interesting.

"Of course, I saw everything you did," the detective said, "and could even easily distinguish between you. The man on the verandah wasn't watching you the whole time. He missed you going over the wall, but he bobbed his head up when you were standing before the window and never moved his glasses from you after that. When you had gone out of sight he got off the bed and went inside the house. I saw a light come up then at the back of the house. It looked like the kitchen, I think. I waited about five minutes but he didn't come out again. He evidently knew he had come to the end of the show."

The inspector made no particular remark and almost in complete silence the three men motored back to the city.