Читать книгу The Glenlitten Murder - E. Phillips Oppenheim - Страница 6

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For a man who has just lost jewels not only of great value, but family heirlooms, their owner's manner was amazing. He scarcely glanced towards the ransacked dressing table. For the first time he was really studying the gruesome sight upon the carpet.

"Of course the jewels have gone," he muttered. "I don't suppose a burglar would come in and commit murder for nothing."

"Murder!" the sergeant repeated, with protruding eyes. "The man is dead then?" he added, producing a bulky notebook from his pocket.

"Stone dead. Shot through the heart," Doctor Meadows answered. "Of course there is the question of suicide to be considered, but he is scarcely likely to have chosen this room for such a purpose; besides which, I think you will presently find traces of a third person's presence here."

The sergeant made a note in his book.

"Can you tell me his name?" he enquired.

"The Comte Raoul de Besset," Glenlitten answered, his tongue hesitating a little at the "Raoul."

"He is a well-known sportsman and a visitor here for the shooting."

The sergeant looked round the room and leaned out of the window.

"You can search the place later," Sir Richard advised. "Are there any more questions you would like to ask the doctor? He wants to get back to her ladyship."

The sergeant turned around, book in hand.

"Was the man shot from close to, or from a distance, do you think, sir?"

"I will make a further examination as to that. My own impression is that he was shot from at least half a dozen paces away. There are no signs of singeing on the shirt, or anything of that sort."

"By a bullet from an ordinary revolver?"

"A small automatic, I should think. I haven't much experience in these matters," the doctor added thoughtfully, "but I should say so. The wound is small but deadly."

"And how long should you say that he had been dead, sir?"

Meadows stooped down once more, felt the arms and legs, unbuttoned a little farther some of the clothing.

"Not long," he decided. "Two hours at the most."

The sergeant made another note. Then he turned to Glenlitten, and the doctor slipped back into the next room.

"I should like to know, my lord," he asked, "the circumstances under which the body was found and whether there was a witness to the crime."

"There was no actual witness to the crime," Glenlitten replied. "What happened was that the lights throughout the house went out, at about midnight. Presently I am going to ask you to examine the cable which my electrician says was deliberately tampered with. I came upstairs to see if my wife, who had retired early, was frightened, and found her lying in a dead faint upon the bed there, this window, which is usually open only about two inches, wide open, traces which this gentleman, Sir Richard Cotton, who is a criminal lawyer, could point out to you, of some one having left or entered by the window, and the body of this man, dead. Have you got that?"

"I have, my lord," the man assented. "Seems a clear case of burglary and murder. Was the other gentleman saying something about jewels?"

"So far as we can tell at present, Sergeant," Sir Richard announced, "a number of her ladyship's jewels, including a diamond necklace of great value, have disappeared."

"It seems to me, my lord," the sergeant decided, looking once more through the window, "that the first thing to do is to put a few questions to her ladyship, and then search the grounds."

"Her ladyship cannot be approached," Glenlitten declared. "She was in a dead faint when she was found and is now in the hands of the physician. I am sure he will agree that she must be left alone until the morning. You have plenty to occupy yourself with. What about that open window and the missing jewels?"

"I think that Lord Glenlitten is right," Sir Richard observed. "It is useless to question her ladyship at present."

Both men turned their heads at the sound of the opening of the door. Haslam made his apologetic entrance, closing it firmly behind him.

"You'll forgive me, Andrew," he said. "I had to come up and see if there was anything I could do. There's a rumour downstairs that De Besset has been shot."

His host nodded.

"I'm afraid it is the truth," he admitted. Haslam came slowly forward and looked down steadily at the crumpled-up figure upon the floor, the white face with its strange lack of expression, as colourless indeed as the thin cambric handkerchief which Meadows had left over the eyes. His gaze was a curiously intent one; his eyebrows were drawn together, his thin face seemed more saturnine than ever. Sir Richard watched him with an intentness which he scarcely troubled to conceal.

"How did he come in here?" Haslam asked at last, raising his head.

"That is a matter for later explanation," Glenlitten answered almost curtly. "It's very good of you to come up, but there's nothing any one can do for the moment. You might help us in the search we are going to make in the grounds. We shall be downstairs in a few minutes."

Glenlitten's suggestion of dismissal was apparent. With one lingering glance, Haslam turned around and left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

"No friend of the dead man's, I should say," Richard speculated.

"They disliked each other intensely," Andrew agreed. "We saw something of them both at Deauville this summer. Couldn't very well be helped. Félice knew De Besset's people—they own the château where she was brought up, and Haslam was at Eton with me. They never had a civil word to say to each other."

"Time we got along with the business on hand," Sir Richard suggested, turning back to the sergeant. "We don't want to elaborate any theories yet, of course, but this seems to me to be a possible reconstruction of what may have happened. De Besset must have been in his room for some reason or other, and either heard Lady Glenlitten call for help, or saw from his window a man climbing up the side of the house. He rushed here through her bathroom, found the burglar in the room and already collecting the jewels, and was shot through the heart. The sooner we're downstairs, Sergeant, searching for traces of a car in the avenue and examining the ground for footprints underneath, the better. There may be other theories to be exploited later, but this one is good enough to be getting on with."

The sergeant closed his book reluctantly. His bucolic instinct of obstinacy reasserted itself.

"I should have liked just a word with her ladyship," he persisted.

"To-morrow, or the next day, you can have it," Glenlitten told him sharply. "You don't suppose I am going to allow her ladyship to be worried now with questions when she's nearly prostrate with shock. Besides, what can she tell you? It is obvious that the man entered by that window; it is obvious that he escaped by it. Why don't you hurry up and be getting after him? You would rather finish this little affair off by yourself without sending for Scotland Yard, wouldn't you?"

The idea was an ecstatic one. The sergeant closed his book and the three men descended quietly by the back stairs. Glenlitten excused himself for a moment and made his way into the great hall. The remainder of the guests were sitting about in little groups, talking in whispers to one another, and it was obvious they were still suffering from the shock of the tragical news which they had just been told. The service of the house, however, was not being neglected. The usual array of nocturnal refreshments stood upon the great round table, and Haslam was officiating as host to Fraser and his young Russian friend. Glenlitten passed his arm through his sister's and spoke to all of them.

"I'm terribly sorry that our little party has been brought to such a sad end," he said. "My wife isn't hurt in any way, but she's had an awful shock. I daresay you know what has happened. There has been a burglary. De Besset, apparently, got wind of it and has been shot."

Lady Susan took his hand in hers and patted it.

"Don't you worry, my dear," she begged. "I'll take charge down here, and to-morrow we'll all clear off."

"I'm most frightfully sorry," he apologised, "but I don't really see what else there is to be done. We can't very well shoot until after the funeral, and there will be the inquest, and all that sort of bother. Make it up to you later on, I hope. It's too bad, Haslam, that you and Grindells have had such a long journey for nothing, and I only hope you'll be able to come down later on. I'll fix a date as soon as we've got over this wretched business. The birds have got to be killed somehow or other."

"Never mind about us," Haslam begged him. "I don't think we're any of us so tied that we can't get away for a day or two whenever it suits you."

"I hope not," Glenlitten rejoined, mixing himself a whisky and soda. "As for you fellows at the barracks, you have a standing invitation. I can always do with a couple of guns. If Prince Charles is down again, you must bring him along one day."

"I thank you indeed," the latter said. "It will please me very much to shoot English partridges."

"Tell me, shall I go up and see Félice?" Lady Susan asked.

"You might go up, if you will," her brother assented. "You can find out from Meadows whether she would like to have you with her. They are giving her a sleeping draught, and perhaps Meadows may prefer her left alone. I'm terribly afraid that whatever happened—she saw it."

No one asked another question. They were really a very well-bred lot of people, and presently Andrew finished his drink and hurried out to the avenue. Sir Richard and the sergeant were bending over a certain spot amongst the flower beds which bordered the front of the house, with a little group of servants in the background. The former held an electric torch in his hand.

"There's been a man up here without a doubt," he announced. "We found that ladder, which belongs to the gardeners' sheds, and which you see reaches as far as the cornice above the library window. From there, he must have hooked a silk or rope ladder to the balcony—easy enough if he were an expert. He must have known the habits of the household, for he made for the window which I understand that her ladyship always has open, so that he could get in without making a sound."

"Left any traces down below?" Glenlitten asked. Sir Richard pointed to where a little semicircle of handkerchiefs lay upon the ground.

"There are some footprints there," he confided. "We've marked them off, and I'm going to have one of the boys from the house stay around until morning. Now the thing is, which way did the man go from here? If I remember rightly, Andrew, there's a road from the woodsheds and carpenters' quarters which crosses the avenue, passes through the Home Wood, and leads down into the main road."

"That's right," Glenlitten assented. "There it is, about fifty yards on the other side of the main avenue."

"My idea is," Sir Richard continued, "that our friend would leave the car somewhere in the shadow of the trees there. He wouldn't use the main drive for fear of meeting some of your guests coming or going. I propose we go down there and see. First of all, though, has any one got a revolver?"

"I have," Glenlitten announced, touching his pocket. "I took it out of my drawer before I left my room."

They trooped off—leaving the main avenue in a few minutes by the road Sir Richard had described. They walked about fifty yards down it without discovering anything. Then Sir Richard, leading the way up a rough track which ended, in a few yards, in a clearing in the wood, gave vent to a little exclamation. He directed his torch to the ground and motioned the others not to come too near.

"A car has been standing here recently," he announced. "Look, there are a couple of matches upon the ground and a half-burnt cigarette." He picked the latter up and handed it to the sergeant.

"The match has been freshly lit," he continued. "You can tell that by the condition of the wood, and the burnt end is scarcely cold. The man whom we are after left his car here, came back to it, dropped the first cigarette, lit another, and drove off down— don't you call it the Middle Way, Andrew?"

"The Middle Way," the latter assented. "It leads to the village of Charlton, and there isn't a turning on either side."

"A good three miles," the sergeant murmured. "Lucky I've got my bicycle."

"I don't think," Sir Richard reflected, "that there's anything further we can do to help you for the moment, Sergeant. If you take my advice, you will mark off this little section of land until the morning, fetch that bicycle you were speaking of, and get down to the village as quickly as you can. Never mind waking the people up. Try everywhere you can to find out if any one has seen or heard a car go by at any time within the last two hours. From what I can see of the ground there, I don't believe it was anything more than a two-seater, or perhaps a Ford."

"Would you mind telling me your name, sir?" the police sergeant begged. "His lordship did mention it, but I should like to have it in my book."

"My name is Sir Richard Cotton. I am fairly well-known as a criminal lawyer."

"Do you think I ought to telephone Scotland Yard, sir?"

Sir Richard looked down that long "Middle Way." For half a mile or so it seemed to pass through-a tunnel of leaning trees. Afterwards there was a long stretch of open country, shimmering in the moonlight. There were many things which flashed through the lawyer's mind in those few moments whilst the sergeant waited anxiously for his decision.

"I believe in doing everything to help establish the truth, Sergeant," he said calmly. "At the same time, I've seen many cases in which the local police have done all the work, and some one from Scotland Yard has come down and got the credit."

"That's so, sir," the sergeant assented with much eagerness. "That there arson case last year now. We were on the man's tracks all right, but the' Chief Constable, he wasn't satisfied. He got one of them big men down from Scotland Yard who just went on with our work and got all the credit."

Sir Richard nodded understandingly.

"Unless Lord Glenlitten is of another opinion," he said, "I should give you a chance. Leave Scotland Yard alone for the moment, and see what you can do for yourself. You'll ring up your own Chief Constable at Winchester, of course, and he can decide if he wants the London men down. You seem to have picked the thing up very well. You'll get an impression of those footprints under the window, naturally, also of the tyres of the car for several revolutions. You will make all the usual enquiries as to whether any one suspicious has been hanging about lately. In short, go about the job your own way. If you fail utterly, there'll be time enough then to ask for help."

"That'll suit me fine, sir," the sergeant acquiesced. "Charlton be but a small place, and it'll be a queer thing if some one or other didn't hear which way the car went."

They turned back towards the house. The sergeant, with very little pressing, betook himself to the servants' hall for refreshment. Glenlitten, loitering upon the doorstep, found himself back in time to say good-bye to the two men from the barracks and their guest. The latter expressed his regret with grave but courteous emphasis.

"I cannot tell you, Lord Glenlitten," he said, "how much I sympathise with you and your wife. It is terrible to have had such a tragedy happen in one's house, and it is more terrible still that it should have taken place actually in your wife's presence. When you come to London, I hope that you will permit me to call and assure myself that she has not suffered."

"Pleased to see you at any time," Glenlitten replied politely but without marked enthusiasm. "I'll let you fellows know when we shoot," he added, turning to Fraser. "There's always room for a couple of you, especially if you don't mind a walk."

"Very kind of you."

"Very good of you indeed."

The car drove off. Glenlitten and Sir Richard turned into the library, and the former asked the question which had been troubling him for the last ten minutes.

"Tell me, old chap," he begged, looking suddenly across at his companion, with his hand upon the whisky decanter, "why did you discourage the sergeant from sending to Scotland Yard? You could see for yourself as well as I could the sort of ass the fellow is."

Sir Richard said nothing for a moment. He was standing upon the hearthrug, with his hands behind his back, his long, lean body a little bent, his thin brows furrowed with thought.

"I had an idea ,that I'd like to think the matter over a little myself first, Andrew," he confided at last.

"But why?" his host persisted. "What is there to think about? The whole thing seems to me as plain as a pikestaff."

Sir Richard helped himself to a very modest drink.

"There's no doubt whatever," he confessed, "that the possession of a mind trained in the subtleties of the law is inclined to make one a little, shall we say, finicky. The murder of that poor fellow De Besset, and the theft of your wife's jewels, certainly seems, on the face of it, a very simple and a very brutal affair, and yet before I make up my mind I should like another half an hour in your wife's room, and, if she is well enough, just one word with her."

"You're not suggesting?"

"My dear fellow," the lawyer interrupted, laying his hand affectionately upon his friend's shoulder,

"I'm suggesting nothing. It's just as I told you— my peculiar turn of mind. There are one or two little matters I should like to understand, and a few hours' delay will do no harm. Of course every one must realise that the burglary was a clumsy piece of work. The fellow who would rely upon a ladder which he found upon the premises, leave a car in a patch of mud, wear ordinary boots, and drop a cigarette out of his case, is certainly not in the first flight. We can afford to give him a few hours' start, believe me. I shouldn't wonder," Sir Richard concluded, sipping his whisky and soda, "I shouldn't be greatly surprised even if our friend the sergeant didn't bring this little affair off himself. Let's give him the chance, Andrew. Think what it will mean to him. Promotion, and something to talk about for the rest of his life."

Glenlitten's fingers shook a little as he replenished his glass, drained it, and set it down empty.

"What about turning in?" he suggested.

The lawyer glanced at the clock and nodded.

"You won't mind if I just finish that article in the Times," he begged. "I'll follow you in a quarter of an hour. You needn't bother about the lights. I have my torch."

He stretched out his hand for the Times and relapsed into an easy- chair. Glenlitten lingered for a moment.

"Nothing more to say to me, have you?" he asked abruptly.

The lawyer looked over the top of his paper, with a faint air of surprise.

"Why, no, Andrew," he replied. "What should I have to say to you? We'll have a talk to-morrow, if there's anything to talk about."

Glenlitten swung around and presently disappeared in the shadows of the great house, dimly lit here and there with lamps and candles. Sir Richard laid down the Times and listened for his host's departing footsteps.