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“I’ve just told the sergeant,” Major Turnbull said to Nolan as he drew up at the London and Paris Hotel, “that I’ve decided to hand this affair over to Scotland Yard. That’s why I’m going up to Town; it’s really to the Yard. Now, Mr. Nolan, they’re sure to want to see you to get details at first hand. It’s rather a lot to ask you after all you’ve been through to-day, but it really would be very helpful if you’d come there with me.”

Nolan agreed readily. “I’m at your service, major,” he declared. “Anyway I expect I’ve no option in the matter.”

“Oh, yes, you have,” Turnbull answered. “I’ve no power to compel you to do anything you don’t want to. Now, while I’m telephoning to them, perhaps you’d order supper?”

If Nolan had overheard the ensuing conversation he might not have taken his association with the police so complaisantly. Turnbull began by asking to be put through to the Assistant Commissioner, of whom he was a personal friend. Sir Mortimer Ellison was at dinner at his home, but he came at once to the instrument. He refused to listen to the chief constable’s apologies for introducing business at such a time, and heard his story of the tragedy with evident interest. “You know, Ellison,” Turnbull went on, “this afternoon I heard some dashed nasty rumours about that very firm. A man on the links told me. Some friend on the Stock Exchange had telephoned advising him if he had any money in it for heavens sake to get it out while it was there to get. The friend thought a crash was coming. And then on the top of that, this business here! It looks badly, Ellison. Had you heard anything about a crash?”

Sir Mortimer was not communicative, but he admitted that he had heard the rumours. He would himself return to the Yard, so as to be there on the major’s arrival, when they would have an immediate conference.

“Thanks, Ellison. Very good of you, I’m sure. There’s just one other point. I think your people should keep in touch with this man Nolan. In the light of this rumour the whole thing looks fishy. I’ll explain what I mean when I see you. He has promised to call with me at the Yard on the understanding that he won’t be kept more than a few minutes, but I suggest that he should be shadowed from there. In fact, I asked him to come with me with that in view.”

At supper Turnbull proved himself a pleasant and entertaining host. His great enthusiasm, it appeared, was golf, and as Nolan was a player, they were soon deep in a conversation intelligible only to the expert. A common hobby being one of the most direct routes to intimacy, the meal was not over before Turnbull found himself considering Nolan no longer as a possible defaulting partner in a shaky firm, but as a fellow sportsman, an amateur of the royal and ancient and utterly honourable game.

Supper over, they got quickly under way. Major Turnbull was a fast driver and the needle of his speedometer crept continuously up and down between the thirty and the fifty marks. It was still daylight as they skirted the valley of the Ouse and ran through the old town of Lewes with its steep and narrow exit, but dusk fell quickly and by the time they reached Ashdown Forest it was dark. A slack came as they passed through East Grinstead, then they had a good run to Purley, after which slow speeds again ruled. At five minutes before midnight they reached the Yard. A constable met them, and saluting, led them to the Assistant Commissioner’s room.

It was a comparatively small office, furnished plainly, but in good taste. In the middle stood a flat-topped desk bearing a blotting-pad with extra wide memo slips at the sides, a stand with various kinds of notepaper, a date calendar, a telephone, a writing lamp, a small carved ebony block with seven white labelled bell pushes, and three empty letter trays. Behind the desk, dreamily smoking a cigarette, sat Sir Mortimer Ellison, a slim, rather elegant looking man with tired eyes. A couple of easy chairs, not too easy, stood in front of the desk. There was a steel vertical filing cabinet in one corner and between the two high windows a safe, while the whole of the opposite wall was covered with glass-fronted bookcases. Standing with his back to the empty fireplace, was a stoutish man of rather below middle height, with keen dark blue eyes and a leisurely, comfortable air.

Sir Mortimer rose to his feet as his visitors appeared.

“Ah, Turnbull. Glad to see you,” he said cordially, advancing with outstretched hand. “A long time since we met, I’m afraid. D’you remember that round we had at Portrush, just, what is it, nine years ago? Jolly fine, wasn’t it? And this is Mr. Nolan? How are you, Mr. Nolan? Sorry we meet under such distressing circumstances.” He swung round. “This is Inspector French, gentlemen, who will be taking charge of the case. Sit down, won’t you?” He took out a box of cigarettes and passed it round.

They settled themselves, Turnbull and Nolan in the arm-chairs and French with a note-book at the end of his superior’s desk.

“I’m afraid this is a very sad affair for you, Mr. Nolan,” Sir Mortimer went on. “Major Turnbull mentioned in his telephone call that you were able to identify the deceased gentlemen; that they were two of your co-partners in Moxon’s General Securities?”

“They were, Sir Mortimer,” Nolan nodded.

“Well I expect you want to get away as soon as possible, so I shall not waste any time in preliminaries.” He turned to the major. “Perhaps, Turnbull, you’d let us have the facts you’ve learned so far?”

The major took some papers from his pocket and handed them over.

“There,” he said, “are the statements of Captain Hewitt of the Chichester; of Dr. Oates, a passenger who went with Third Officer Mackintosh to the Nymph; of Mackintosh himself, and of Mr. Nolan here. I think you should read these first. They will really give you all the information that we’ve got up to the present.”

The Assistant Commissioner glanced at the documents, then passed them back.

“Read them out to us like a good fellow,” he begged. “Then Inspector French will hear them also.”

Major Turnbull read them aloud, continuing:

“To these statements I may add that the two bodies have been photographed, and after a short examination by our local police doctor, have been removed to the mortuary at Newhaven. The doctor provisionally reports that both men were shot dead by what looked like, though he was not sure of it, a service revolver. Neither was grasping a weapon, nor did a search, admittedly somewhat casual, reveal a weapon anywhere on board. I don’t think there can be the slightest doubt that it’s murder.”

“No. That part of it seems clear enough.”

“It then seemed to me,” went on Turnbull, “that the case was really one for you. I don’t know if your jurisdiction extends out on to the high seas, but I’m quite certain that ours doesn’t. As I said to Mr. Nolan, there’s nothing connecting Newhaven with the tragedy except the mere accidental fact that Mackintosh brought the yacht in there. So I suggest that it’s you for it.”

“I think you’re probably right,” Sir Mortimer agreed, “but you must, of course, make the usual official application for help.”

Turnbull shook his head decisively.

“No, Ellison, that’s not it at all,” he declared. “We don’t want your help. We want to hand the thing over to you and be quit of it altogether. That’s one reason I came up to Town.”

Sir Mortimer smiled.

“I see your point,” he admitted. “However, we needn’t expose these skeleton-in-the-cupboard wrangles to outsiders. Let us finish with Mr. Nolan, so that he may get away. I should like, Mr. Nolan, to ask you a question or two before you go.”

For a time the Assistant Commissioner skirted round the subject, asking about matters of detail which, it must be admitted, none of his hearers thought particularly important. While doing so he had been shooting little appraising glances at Nolan, much as had Turnbull earlier in the evening. The same thought was evidently in his mind as had been in the chief constable’s, and at last he turned to that phase of the subject.

“My next question, Mr. Nolan, is unfortunately rather an unhappy one, and I want to make it clear to you that you needn’t answer it unless you like. You are, of course, aware of the unfortunate rumours about your firm which are in circulation. Now, my question is: Are these rumours well-founded, and if so, can you trace any connection between them and the death of your friends?”

Nolan’s face, which at the opening of these remarks had registered a mild dismay, now showed absolute bewilderment.

“Rumours?” he repeated. “I’ve heard no rumours. Please explain, Sir Mortimer.”

The Assistant Commissioner observed him closely.

“Do you really mean to tell me, Mr. Nolan, that you, a partner, have not heard what’s being said about Moxon’s General Securities?”

“Never a word!” Nolan declared emphatically. “I haven’t the least idea what you’re talking about.”

Sir Mortimer nodded.

“I can well understand that you might be the last person to hear them,” he said easily. “In that case I’m afraid it becomes my unpleasant duty to inform you of them.” He hesitated, as if doubtful of the best words in which to do so, then went on: “All to-day there have been persistent rumours that all was not well with your firm; in fact, not to put too fine a point on it, it is said that an immediate crash is inevitable.”

Nolan stared as if stupefied, then he shook his head emphatically.

“In all my life,” he declared with energy, “I never heard anything to equal that! Holy saints! An immediate crash!” He swore with comfortable assurance. “I’d like to get hold of the man that started that tale!”

“Then it’s not true?”

“True? I should think it’s not true. It’s an absolute lie from beginning to end. That’s what it is; an absolute lie! There’s no sounder corporation in the entire country than Moxon’s General Securities.”

“You’re quite certain, Mr. Nolan? I’ve heard the rumours on very good authority.”

“Of course I’m quite certain.” The man spoke almost angrily. Then he paused as if a sudden idea had struck him, and though he repeated, “Absolutely certain,” it was with less conviction.

Sir Mortimer sat watching him in silence. It was evident that something had occurred to the man which was gradually robbing him of his assurance. Presently uneasiness appeared on his face. It grew slowly more acute until it became actual dismay. He moved restlessly in his chair.

“What exactly have you heard?” he said at last in changed tones.

“Simply what I’ve told you,” Sir Mortimer replied. “No details. Three separate people—friends of mine in the City—rang me up to-day to know if I had any money in Moxon’s General Securities, as if so they advised me to get it out without a moment’s delay. They said it was believed the concern was unsound and would crash within a day or two. I heard the same rumour from different people in my club at lunch time. Why, the major tells me he heard it at Newhaven.”

“A stockbroker gave a friend of mine the same warning,” Turnbull declared. “I couldn’t make up my mind whether to speak to you about it or not, Mr. Nolan. I didn’t want to put what might be an embarrassing question.”

Nolan seemed scarcely to hear him. The shadow of a great fear appeared to have taken hold of him. He sat gazing vacantly into the distance, while the colour slowly ebbed from his cheeks.

“My God!” he said at last in a tremulous voice, and then again, “My God!”

The Assistant Commissioner sat for some moments unobtrusively watching the changes of expression on the man’s face. In the silence the atmosphere of the room grew gradually more tense. At last Sir Mortimer spoke.

“Something has occurred to you to make you fear the truth of this story. Do you care to tell us what it is?”

“I don’t know anything to prove it,” Nolan returned, but he looked acutely unhappy.

“You don’t know anything, no doubt, but you fear something. I better tell you what’s in my mind, Mr. Nolan, because I want some help. Here is this rumoured failure on the one hand: no business directly of ours. On the other hand there is the unexpected—eh—journey of the two principal partners, followed by their tragic death. Now I think it’s not too much to suggest that there may be a connection between these unhappy events, and if so, the possible failure at once becomes our business. You follow me, Mr. Nolan?”

The man seemed dazed, but he nodded.

“Very well,” Sir Mortimer resumed, “if you can see your way to tell me what’s in your mind, it might be a help, remembering, of course, that you are not bound to do so unless you like.”

It was not, however, till after a good deal of persuasion that Nolan consented to lay bare his mind.

“I’m upset about this, Sir Mortimer,” he began. “It’s not because I’ve any real ground for believing the rumour. It’s because, if there should be anything in it, I feel personally guilty as to the way I carried out my own duties. I’ll explain what I mean.

“As I was telling you, Moxon was chairman and Deeping vice-chairman of the concern. These two dealt with policy. Of course decisions were theoretically taken by the whole of the partners, but none of the rest of us knew anything like as much about the business as those two, and what they said went. I’m not saying this to try to shirk responsibility. I know well enough that if trouble is coming, I’m going to be in it, and I hope I’ll take my medicine without grousing. I’m simply telling you the fact that these two controlled our operations and that I wasn’t up in what they were doing, as I admit I should have been.”

“Very fairly put, Mr. Nolan,” Sir Mortimer commented. “I think we all understand.” He looked at the others, who nodded.

“The staff was supervised by another partner, Raymond, and myself. We acted as executives. Our job was really to see that the decisions of Moxon and Deeping were carried out. That’s why I’m beginning to be afraid that if there’s anything wrong, I mightn’t have known about it.”

“Yes, I understand your position,” Sir Mortimer repeated. “But was there anything to make you doubt that all was well?”

Again Nolan hesitated, and again it was with obvious unwillingness that he spoke.

The most significant point seemed to be that on the following day—or rather that day, for it was now past midnight—a large amount, nearly a million and a half, was due for settlement by the firm. Nolan was now senior partner, and as such would be responsible for this settlement. The realisation of cash to provide for it had been entirely in the hands of the deceased, and Nolan didn’t know what had been done about it. Owing to his ignorance of these details, he was extremely uneasy as to how he would fulfil his new duties.

All this was not exactly an answer to Sir Mortimer’s question, but the answer could be read between the lines. It was evident that Nolan feared that funds to meet the approaching settlement might not prove available. The responsibility of dealing with the situation would then devolve upon him, and he was unprepared to meet it.

This uneasiness and doubt was considerably increased by the fact that the only two really confidential officials were both absent. Esdale, the chief accountant, had gone to Paris on the firm’s business, while Knowles, the chief clerk, was on sick leave. There was no one left, in fact, thoroughly conversant with the firm’s position. To this, of course, was added the fact of Raymond’s failure to turn up at Dover. Though obviously there might be nothing sinister in this, it could not fail to add to Nolan’s perturbation. The other partners were mere figureheads.

Questioned further, Nolan admitted that for some time both Moxon and Deeping had been looking extremely worried. Also that on different occasions when he had suddenly entered the room of either of them, he had found them in conversations which they had immediately broken off. Though it had not occurred to him at the time, he now thought that there might have been something afoot between them which they were keeping to themselves. It had, of course, never occurred to him to couple such an attitude with a doubt as to the firm’s position, but in the light of the Assistant Commissioner’s statement, it added to his worry.

Though there was little that was actually tangible in these suspicions, there was enough to make a very strong impression on his hearers. When Nolan had finished there was not one of the four men present but believed that Moxon’s General Securities was in danger, and that the death of its two most prominent representatives was in some way connected with its position.

It was now getting on towards one o’clock and Sir Mortimer became apologetic about having kept his visitor so late. “There’s no reason, is there, why we should trespass any longer on Mr. Nolan’s time?” he said. “What do you say, French?”

“If Mr. Nolan will tell me where I can find him when I want him, that’s all I require at present, sir.”

Nolan made a gesture of despair.

“Goodness only knows, Inspector,” he returned. “It’s maybe thrown to the lions I’ll be before this time to-morrow. You have my home address in my statement and I’m sure you know the Securities building in Threadneedle Street. I expect to be in one or other continuously. If I want to go away any place I’ll ring you up and let you know. That do?”

“That’ll do, sir, thank you. What about your despatch case?”

Nolan smiled wearily.

“Well, what about it? Do you want to look through it?”

“If you have no objection, sir.”

“You can keep it and go through it at your leisure.”

“Thank you, sir. Then, that’s all we want now. Shall I show Mr. Nolan out?”

“Do, French, and then come back here. Goodnight, Mr. Nolan, and I needn’t say that I earnestly hope your fears will prove without foundation.”

“We’re having him shadowed as you suggested,” Sir Mortimer went on after the door had closed. “What is it exactly that you feared?”

Turnbull felt in his pocket.

“Give me another of those cigarettes, will you? I’ve left mine behind. What I thought—Thanks, I have a lighter. What I thought was that our friend was in the same mind as the other two; that the three of them saw trouble coming and were journeying to a happier shore while the fates smiled on travelling.”

“Independently?”

“I don’t know, but I imagined not. I thought Nolan might perhaps be following the others up in that launch of his and that the three would join forces and vanish in the wilds of France.”

“You didn’t suspect Nolan of the murder?”

This seemed a new idea to Turnbull.

“Of the murder? No. I don’t see how he could be guilty of that. But I thought if he was mixed up in the other he might try another get-away to-night.”

“I agree, Turnbull. There certainly is the possibility. Come in! Look here, French,” he went on as the inspector entered, “Major Turnbull has been putting up an interesting possibility. He suggests that these three partners smelled bankruptcy in the air and were going while the going was good; that Nolan was following the other two, intending to join forces. What they’d have done then doesn’t appear, possibly sunk the Nymph and gone ashore in the launch at night at some deserted point on the French coast. But, of course, when Nolan came up with the yacht and found Mackintosh and those sailors on board, he couldn’t carry on. In fact, he could only do what he actually did. That’s why the major wanted him shadowed; lest he’d try another break-away to-night.”

“He’ll not make it if he does,” French answered grimly.

“But how does that theory strike you?” the Assistant Commissioner persisted.

French hesitated. “I’d rather think it over a bit first, sir,” he said. “The major didn’t suspect him of murder?”

Sir Mortimer smiled in mock triumph.

“My very words, Inspector! Great minds! But we’re both wrong. You didn’t, major?”

“When Sir Mortimer put that up I told him I didn’t see how the man could be guilty of murder. However, it’s for you to say, both of you.”

“It shouldn’t be a big job to find out,” French considered. “The evidence is that the two men had been dead for about an hour when they were found; say the crime took place about half-past twelve. Very well: what time did Nolan leave Dover? It should be easy to check that up. Would it then have been possible for him to reach the yacht in time? If so, the question lies open, but if not, he’s cleared.”

“True, Inspector, very true,” Turnbull agreed. “That should be conclusive. And there’s another thing that I think shouldn’t be overlooked. When I saw that line of bloodmarks from the gangway entrance to the companion I thought that Deeping had been wounded near the gangway and had staggered forward, to collapse at the companion and there bleed to death. So far as I know, every one else made the same assumption. Now our doctor down at Newhaven pointed out a difficulty in that theory. The wound in Deeping’s head must have killed him instantaneously. Therefore, not only could he not have crawled across the deck, but he would not have bled to any extent when he fell.”

Both his hearers were listening intently. French made no secret of his interest and the Assistant Commissioner leant back in his chair with half-closed eyes, a trick that to the initiated showed close attention.

“To meet the difficulty the doctor suggested that the man must have been wounded twice, first a non-fatal injury which bled, and secondly, the head injury which killed him. But the doctor could only find one wound. Admittedly he was unable to make a thorough examination, but it seems impossible that a wound which would produce all that bleeding could be overlooked.”

“Quite, I should say.”

“Very well. If so, it follows that those bloodmarks must have been made by a third person.”

“Bravo, Sherlock!” murmured Sir Mortimer.

Turnbull grinned. “I thought you’d scarcely see it for yourself, Watson,” he retorted, “so I’m telling you. What I was going to say when you interrupted me was, Who could that third person have been? Now, it’s inconceivable to me that there could have been any one there except the murderer and the murdered. Therefore this third person must have been the murderer. That is to say, the murderer must have been wounded. You see what I’m coming to? Is there a wound on Nolan?”

“Bravo, Sherlock!” Sir Mortimer repeated. “Quite good, all that, I think, French? Make a note to think up some reason for having Nolan examined by a doctor.”

French added the item to his already growing list. This conversation was going to help him. Usually he had to do all the preliminary thinking himself. There was never much to show for it, but this first detailed consideration invariably meant a good deal of concentrated work. He had to get the various incidents clearly fixed in his mind, to note their relations one to another, to separate between what was essential and what was accidental, to make a list of possible clues and decide how he should work them. This point, for instance, about a possible wound on the murderer, might be very valuable. No doubt he would have thought of it for himself in time, but to have it presented to him in this way meant that he was just that much further on.

“There’s another thing,” Sir Mortimer went on slowly, looking up with a slight narrowing of the eyes. “I am wondering whether in all this excitement any money has disappeared?”

French nodded approvingly.

“That’s what I’ve been wondering too, sir. All these missing partners and officials see this trouble coming and know they’re going to get roasted for it. So they do a bunk. Well, a man can’t do that sort of a bunk without money.”

“Exactly my idea, French. I shouldn’t be surprised to hear that there had lately been a good deal of realising in Moxon’s General Securities. Nor should I be astonished to learn that the cash in hand there at the moment is surprisingly low.”

“It’s not only the cost of the actual flight,” French went on, warming to his subject. “If they had got away, these three would have had to start life again. A bad thing at such an age! Much better to have an assured income.”

“Another note, French. Find out first thing whether our friends have gone with full or empty hands. And if with full—?”

“And if with full,” French repeated with a wry smile, “find the cash, I suppose?”

“In one,” Sir Mortimer returned approvingly. “I can see you’re going to have something to keep you busy for a day or two.”

French shrugged. “All in the day’s work.” Then after a pause; “Is there anything else you would suggest, sir, that I should see to? Or you, sir?” He turned to the major.

“Why, French, I think we’ll leave that to you. In excellent hands, you know, as I’m sure you’ll agree. Besides, no use in keeping a dog, etcetera, is there, Turnbull? No, French, seriously I think there’s nothing more. You go ahead on the lines we’ve been discussing. I’m sure Major Turnbull’s men will give you all the help they can. You start right in.”

“Very good, sir. I’ll go down to Newhaven in the morning and have a look round. I think I’d better take a representative of both Moxon’s and Deeping’s families. We must have independent identifications.” He looked at the clock. “I’ll ring them up now.”

“I don’t know, French, that you shouldn’t go round and see them. You have their addresses in Nolan’s statement.”

French rose. “Right, sir, I’ll go at once.” He was moving to the door, but Turnbull stopped him.

“A moment, Inspector. If it would be any help to you I can take you down in the early morning. My car’s here and it will hold five comfortably. I’ll simply go to some hotel nearby for a few hours. Any good to you?”

French was grateful. It would certainly be a convenience. After discussion it was decided that if French could get representatives of the two families, the party would meet at the Yard at six-thirty.

French began by sending instructions to Sergeant Carter to be on duty at six-thirty in the morning. Then he rang up the late partners’ houses. In each case he had a deal of difficulty in getting through. To each he merely said that he had some very serious news to impart and that he was going round immediately. Then phoning for a police car, he set off.

First he called at Moxon’s house in Hampstead. Mrs. Moxon had gone to bed, but in a surprisingly short time she appeared, terribly shocked and anxious.

“Bad news about my husband?” she said without further greeting. “Tell me, please, at once.”

It was a job French hated. An intimate acquaintance with human misery had not blunted his feelings, and he found it a real effort to tell this poor woman that her husband was dead. Of other possible sorrows he said nothing. These would come soon enough.

Mrs. Moxon seemed quite stunned. French rang, and having learned from the butler that no other member of the family was at home, he sent for her maid. Then he told her about the journey to Newhaven. She declared at once that she would accompany him.

“If I may make a suggestion, madam,” he said, with respectful kindness, “I would strongly urge you not to do so. Let me take your butler in the morning. He will do all that is necessary. I can promise you everything will be done with the greatest reverence.”

She seemed grateful to French for his attitude and agreed about sending the butler in her place.

French promised to keep her advised of all that was done, and took his leave.

His visit to Deeping’s house was not quite so painful. Here he saw the eldest son, a young fellow of about twenty. The youth was terribly upset by the news, and a frightened look in his eyes suggested that he feared greater trouble than mere bereavement. But he showed considerable self-control, undertaking to break the news to his mother and to be ready to accompany French in the morning.

It was nearly three when French reached home. He set his alarm clock for five-thirty, then creeping very quietly into bed, slept the sleep of the weary.