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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Shrieking Pit, by Arthur J. Rees
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Shrieking Pit
+
+Author: Arthur J. Rees
+
+Release Date: February 2, 2007 [EBook #20494]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SHRIEKING PIT ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Marcia, Suzanne Shell and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE
+SHRIEKING PIT
+
+BY
+
+ARTHUR J. REES
+
+CO-AUTHOR OF
+THE MYSTERY OF THE DOWNS,
+THE HAMPSTEAD MYSTERY.
+
+NEW YORK
+GROSSET & DUNLAP
+PUBLISHERS
+
+Made in the United States of America
+
+
+COPYRIGHT, 1918,
+BY STREET & SMITH CORPORATION
+
+COPYRIGHT, 1919,
+BY JOHN LANE COMPANY
+
+
++--------------------------------------------------------------------+
+|Transcriber's Notes: Obvious printer errors have been corrected, all|
+|other inconsistencies are as in the original.                       |
++--------------------------------------------------------------------+
+
+
+
+
+TO
+
+MY SISTERS IN AUSTRALIA
+
+ANNIE AND FRANCES
+
+
+  _The sea beats in at Blakeney--
+  Beats wild and waste at Blakeney;
+    O'er ruined quay and cobbled street,
+    O'er broken masts of fisher fleet,
+  Which go no more to sea._
+
+  _The bitter pools at ebb-tide lie,
+  In barren sands at Blakeney;
+    Green, grey and green the marshes creep,
+    To where the grey north waters leap
+  By dead and silent Blakeney._
+
+  _And Time is dead at Blakeney--
+  In old, forgotten Blakeney;
+    What care they for Time's Scythe or Glass;
+    Who do not feel the hours pass,
+  Who sleep in sea-worn Blakeney?_
+
+  _By the old grey church in Blakeney,
+  By quenched turret light in Blakeney,
+    They slumber deep, they do not know,
+    If Life's told tale is Death and Woe;
+  Through all eternity._
+
+  _But Love still lives at Blakeney,
+  'Tis graven deep at Blakeney;
+    Of Love which seeks beyond the grave,
+    Of Love's sad faith which fain would save--
+  The headstones tell the story._
+
+  _Grave-grasses grow at Blakeney
+  Sea pansies, sedge, and rosemary;
+    Frail fronds thrust forth in dim dank air,
+    A message from those lying there:
+  Wan leaves of memory._
+
+  _I send you this from Blakeney--
+  From distant, dreaming Blakeney;
+    Love and Remembrance: These are sure;
+    Though Death is strong they shall endure,
+  Till all things cease to be._
+
+_A. J. R._
+
+_Blakeney,
+Norfolk._
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+
+As the scenes of this story are laid in a part of Norfolk which will be
+readily identified by many Norfolk people, it is perhaps well to state
+that all the personages are fictitious, and that the Norfolk police
+officials who appear in the book have no existence outside these pages.
+They and the other characters are drawn entirely from imagination.
+
+To East Anglian readers I offer my apologies for any faults there may be
+in reproducing the Norfolk dialect. My excuse is the fascination the
+language produced on myself, and that it is as essential to the scene of
+the story as the marshes and the sea. Though I have found it impossible
+to transliterate the pronunciation into the ordinary English alphabet, I
+hope I have been able to convey enough of the characteristic speech of
+the native to enable those familiar with it to put it for themselves
+into the accents of their own people. To those who are not familiar with
+the dialect, I can only say, "Go and study this relic of old English in
+that remote part of the country where the story is laid, where the
+ghosts of a ruined past mingle with the primitive survivors of to-day,
+who walk very near the unseen."
+
+
+A. J. R.
+LONDON
+
+
+
+
+THE SHRIEKING PIT
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+Colwyn had never seen anything quite so eccentric in a public room as
+the behaviour of the young man breakfasting alone at the alcove table in
+the bay embrasure, and he became so absorbed in watching him that he
+permitted his own meal to grow cold, impatiently waving away the waiter
+who sought with obtrusive obsequiousness to recall his wandering
+attention by thrusting the menu card before him.
+
+To outward seeming the occupant of the alcove table was a good-looking
+young man, whose clear blue eyes, tanned skin and well-knit frame
+indicated the truly national product of common sense, cold water, and
+out-of-door pursuits; of a wholesomely English if not markedly
+intellectual type, pleasant to look at, and unmistakably of good birth
+and breeding. When a young man of this description, your fellow guest at
+a fashionable seaside hotel, who had been in the habit of giving you a
+courteous nod on his morning journey across the archipelago of
+snowy-topped tables under the convoy of the head waiter to his own
+table, comes in to breakfast with shaking hands, flushed face, and
+passes your table with unseeing eyes, you would probably conclude that
+he was under the influence of liquor, and in your English way you would
+severely blame him, not so much for the moral turpitude involved in his
+excess as for the bad taste, which prompted him to show himself in public
+in such a condition. If, on reaching his place, the young man's conduct
+took the additional extravagant form of picking up a table-knife and
+sticking it into the table in front of him, you would probably enlarge
+your previous conclusion by admitting the hypotheses of drugs or
+dementia to account for such remarkable behaviour.
+
+All these things were done by the young man at the alcove table in the
+breakfast room of the Grand Hotel, Durrington, on an October morning in
+the year 1916; but Colwyn, who was only half an Englishman, and,
+moreover, had an original mind, did not attribute them to drink,
+morphia, or madness. Colwyn flattered himself that he knew the outward
+signs of these diseases too well to be deceived into thinking that the
+splendid specimen of young physical manhood at the far table was the
+victim of any of them. His own impression was that it was a case of
+shell-shock. It was true that, apart from the doubtful evidence of a
+bronzed skin and upright frame, there was nothing about him to suggest
+that he had been a soldier: no service lapel or regimental badge in his
+grey Norfolk jacket. But an Englishman of his class would be hardly
+likely to wear either once he had left the Army. It was almost certain
+that he must have seen service in the war, and by no means improbable
+that he had been bowled over by shell-shock, like many thousands more of
+equally splendid specimens of young manhood. Any other conclusion to
+account for the strange condition of a young man like him seemed
+unworthy and repellent.
+
+"It _must_ be shell-shock, and a very bad case--probably supposed to be
+cured, and sent up here to recuperate," thought Colwyn. "I'll keep an
+eye on him."
+
+As Colwyn resumed his breakfast it occurred to him that some of the
+other guests might have been alarmed by the young man's behaviour, and
+he cast his eyes round the room to see if anybody else had noticed him.
+
+There were about thirty guests in the big breakfast apartment, which had
+been built to accommodate five times the number--a charming, luxuriously
+furnished place, with massive white pillars supporting a frescoed
+ceiling, and lighted by numerous bay windows opening on to the North
+Sea, which was sparkling brightly in a brilliant October sunshine. The
+thirty people comprised the whole of the hotel visitors, for in the year
+1916 holiday seekers preferred some safer resort than a part of the
+Norfolk coast which lay in the track of enemy airships seeking a way to
+London.
+
+Two nights before a Zeppelin had dropped a couple of bombs on the
+Durrington front, and the majority of hotel visitors had departed by the
+next morning's train, disregarding the proprietor's assurance that the
+affair was a pure accident, a German oversight which was not likely to
+happen again. Off the nervous ones went, and left the big hotel, the
+long curved seafront, the miles of yellow sand, the high green
+headlands, the best golf-links in the East of England, and all the other
+attractions mentioned in the hotel advertisements, to a handful of
+people, who were too nerve-proof, lazy, fatalistic, or indifferent to
+bother about Zeppelins.
+
+These thirty guests, scattered far and wide over the spacious isolation
+of the breakfast-room, in twos and threes, and little groups, seemed,
+with one exception, too engrossed in the solemn British rite of
+beginning the day well with a good breakfast to bother their heads about
+the conduct of the young man at the alcove table. They were, for the
+most part, characteristic war-time holiday-makers: the men, obviously
+above military age, in Norfolk tweeds or golf suits; two young officers
+at a table by the window, and--as indifference to Zeppelins is not
+confined to the sterner sex--a sprinkling of ladies, plump and matronly,
+or of the masculine walking type, with two charmingly pretty girls and a
+gay young war widow to leaven the mass.
+
+The exception was a tall and portly gentleman with a slightly bald head,
+glossy brown beard, gold-rimmed eye-glasses perilously balanced on a
+prominent nose, and an important manner. He was breakfasting alone at a
+table not far from Colwyn's, and Colwyn noticed that he kept glancing at
+the alcove table where the young man sat. As Colwyn looked in his
+direction their eyes met, and the portly gentleman nodded portentously
+in the direction of the alcove table, as an indication that he also had
+been watching the curious behaviour of the occupant. A moment afterwards
+he got up and walked across to the pillar against which Colwyn's table
+was placed.
+
+"Will you permit me to take a seat at your table?" he remarked urbanely.
+"I am afraid we are going to have trouble over there directly," he
+added, sinking his voice as he nodded in the direction of the distant
+alcove table. "We may have to act promptly. Nobody else seems to have
+noticed anything. We can watch him from behind this pillar without his
+seeing us."
+
+Colwyn nodded in return with a quick comprehension of all the other's
+speech implied, and pushed a chair towards his visitor, who sat down and
+resumed his watch of the young man at the alcove table. Colwyn bestowed
+a swift glance on his companion which took in everything. The tall man
+in glasses looked too human for a lawyer, too intelligent for a
+schoolmaster, and too well-dressed for an ordinary medical man. Colwyn,
+versed in judging men swiftly from externals, noting the urbane,
+somewhat pompous face, the authoritative, professional pose, the
+well-shaped, plump white hands, and the general air of well-being and
+prosperity which exuded from the whole man, placed him as a successful
+practitioner in the more lucrative path of medicine--probably a
+fashionable Harley Street specialist.
+
+Colwyn returned to his scrutiny of the young man at the alcove table,
+and he and his companion studied him intently for some time in silence.
+But the young man, for the moment, was comparatively quiet, gazing
+moodily through the open window over the waters of the North Sea, an
+untasted sole in front of him, and an impassive waiter pouring out his
+coffee as though the spectacle of a young man sticking a knife into the
+table-cloth was a commonplace occurrence at the Grand Hotel, and all in
+the day's doings. When the waiter had finished pouring out the coffee
+and noiselessly departed, the young man tasted it with an indifferent
+air, pushed it from him, and resumed his former occupation of staring
+out of the window.
+
+"He seems quiet enough now," observed Colwyn, turning to his companion.
+"What do you think is the matter with him--shell-shock?"
+
+"I would not care to hazard a definite opinion on so cursory an
+observation," returned the other, in a dry, reticent, ultra-professional
+manner. "But I will go so far as to say that I do not think it is a case
+of shell-shock. If it is what I suspect, that first attack was the
+precursor of another, possibly a worse attack. Ha! it is commencing.
+Look at his thumb--that is the danger signal!"
+
+Colwyn looked across the room again. The young man was still sitting in
+the same posture, with his gaze bent on the open sea. His left hand was
+extended rigidly on the table in front of him, with the thumb, extended
+at right angles, oscillating rapidly in a peculiar manner.
+
+"This attack may pass away like the other, but if he looks round at
+anybody, and makes the slightest move, we must secure him immediately,"
+said Colwyn's companion, speaking in a whisper.
+
+He had barely finished speaking when the young man turned his head from
+the open window and fixed his blue eyes vacantly on the table nearest
+him, where an elderly clergyman, a golfing friend, and their wives, were
+breakfasting together. With a swift movement the young man got up, and
+started to walk towards this table.
+
+Colwyn, who was watching every movement of the young man closely, could
+not determine, then or afterwards, whether he meditated an attack on the
+occupants of the next table, or merely intended to leave the breakfast
+room. The clergyman's table was directly in front of the alcove and in a
+line with the pair of swinging glass doors which were the only exit from
+the breakfast-room. But Colwyn's companion did not wait for the matter
+to be put to the test. At the first movement of the young man he sprang
+to his feet and, without waiting to see whether Colwyn was following
+him, raced across the room and caught the young man by the arm while he
+was yet some feet away from the clergyman's table. The young man
+struggled desperately in his grasp for some moments, then suddenly
+collapsed and fell inert in the other's arms. Colwyn walked over to the
+spot in time to see his portly companion lay the young man down on the
+carpet and bend over to loosen his collar.
+
+The young man lay apparently unconscious on the floor, breathing
+stertorously, with convulsed features and closed eyes. After the lapse
+of some minutes he opened his eyes, glanced listlessly at the circle of
+frightened people who had gathered around him, and feebly endeavoured
+to sit up. Colwyn's companion, who was bending over him feeling his
+heart, helped him to a sitting posture, and then, glancing at the faces
+crowded around, exclaimed in a sharp voice:
+
+"He wants air. Please move back there a little."
+
+"Certainly, Sir Henry." It was a stout man in a check golfing suit who
+spoke. "But the ladies are very anxious to know if it is anything
+serious."
+
+"No, no. He will be quite all right directly. Just fall back, and give
+him more air. Here, you!"--this to one of the gaping waiters--"just slip
+across to the office and find out the number of this gentleman's room."
+
+The waiter hurried away and speedily returned with the proprietor of the
+hotel, a little man in check trousers and a frock coat, with a bald head
+and an anxious, yet resigned eye which was obviously prepared for the
+worst. His demeanour was that of a man who, already overloaded by
+misfortune, was bracing his sinews to bear the last straw. As he
+approached the group near the alcove table he smoothed his harassed
+features into an expression of solicitude, and, addressing himself to
+the man who was supporting the young man on the floor, said, in a voice
+intended to be sympathetic,
+
+"I thought I had better come myself, Sir Henry. I could not understand
+from Antoine what you wanted or what had happened. Antoine said
+something about somebody dying in the breakfast-room----"
+
+"Nothing of the sort!" snapped the gentleman addressed as Sir Henry,
+shifting his posture a little so as to enable the young man to lean
+against his shoulder. "Haven't you eyes in your head, Willsden? Cannot
+you see for yourself that this gentleman has merely had a fainting
+fit?"
+
+"I'm delighted to hear it, Sir Henry," replied the hotel proprietor. But
+his face expressed no visible gratification. To a man who had had his
+hotel emptied by a Zeppelin raid the difference between a single guest
+fainting instead of dying was merely infinitesimal.
+
+"Who is this gentleman, and what's the number of his room?" continued
+Sir Henry. "He will be better lying quietly on his bed."
+
+"His name is Ronald, and his room is No. 32--on the first floor, Sir
+Henry."
+
+"Very good. I'll take him up there at once."
+
+"Shall I help you, Sir Henry? Perhaps he could be carried up. One of the
+waiters could take his feet, or perhaps it would be better to have two."
+
+"There's not the slightest necessity. He'll be able to walk in a
+minute--with a little assistance. Ah, that's better!" The abrupt manner
+in which Sir Henry addressed the hotel proprietor insensibly softened
+itself into the best bedside manner when he spoke to the patient on the
+carpet, who, from a sitting posture, was now endeavouring to struggle to
+his feet. "You think you can get up, eh? Well, it won't do you any harm.
+That's the way!" Sir Henry assisted the young man to rise, and supported
+him with his arm. "Now, the next thing is to get him to his room. No,
+no, not you, Willsden--you're too small. Where's that gentleman I was
+sitting with a few minutes ago? Ah, thank you"--as Colwyn stepped
+forward and took the other arm--"now, let us take him gently upstairs."
+
+The young man allowed himself to be led away without resistance. He
+walked, or rather stumbled, along between his guides like a man in a
+dream. Colwyn noticed that his eyes were half-closed, and that his head
+sagged slightly from side to side as he was led along. A waiter held
+open the glass doors which led into the lounge, and a palpitating
+chambermaid, hastily summoned from the upper regions, tripped ahead up
+the broad carpeted stairs and along the passage to show the way to the
+young man's bedroom.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+Sir Henry dismissed the chambermaid at the door, and Colwyn and he
+lifted the young man on to the bed. He lay like a man in a stupor,
+breathing heavily, his face flushed, his eyes nearly closed. Sir Henry
+drew up the blind, and by the additional light examined him thoroughly,
+listening closely to the action of his heart, and examining the pupils
+of his eyes by rolling back the upper lid with some small instrument he
+took from his pocket.
+
+"He'll do now," he said, after loosening the patient's clothes for his
+greater comfort. "He'll come to in about five minutes, and may be all
+right again shortly afterwards. But there are certain peculiar features
+about this case which are new in my experience, and rather alarm me.
+Certainly the young man ought not to be left to himself. His friends
+should be sent for. Do you know anything about him? Is he staying at the
+hotel alone? I only arrived here last night."
+
+"I believe he is staying at the hotel alone. He has been here for a
+fortnight or more, and I have never seen him speak to anybody, though I
+have exchanged nods with him every morning. His principal recreation
+seems to lie in taking long solitary walks along the coast. He has been
+in the habit of going out every day, and not returning until dinner is
+half over. Perhaps the hotel proprietor knows who his friends are."
+
+"Would you be so kind as to step downstairs and inquire? I do not wish
+to leave him, but his friends should be telegraphed to at once and asked
+to come and take charge of him."
+
+"Certainly. And I'll send the telegram while I am down there."
+
+But Colwyn returned in a few moments to say that the hotel proprietor
+knew nothing of his guest. He had never stayed in the house before, and
+he had booked his room by a trunk call from London. On arrival he had
+filled in the registration paper in the name of James Ronald, but had
+left blank the spaces for his private and business addresses. He looked
+such a gentleman that the proprietor had not ventured to draw his
+attention to the omissions.
+
+"Another instance of how hotels neglect to comply with the requirements
+of the Defence of the Realm Act!" exclaimed Sir Henry. "Really, it is
+very awkward. I hardly know, in the circumstances, how to act. Speaking
+as a medical man, I say that he should not be left alone, but if he
+orders us out of his room when he recovers his senses what are we to do?
+Can you suggest anything?" He shot a keen glance at his companion.
+
+"I should be in a better position to answer you if I knew what you
+consider him to be really suffering from. I was under the impression it
+was a bad case of shell-shock, but your remarks suggest that it is
+something worse. May I ask, as you are a medical man, what you consider
+the nature of his illness?"
+
+Sir Henry bestowed another searching glance on the speaker. He noted,
+for the first time, the keen alertness and intellectuality of the
+other's face. It was a fine strong face, with a pair of luminous grey
+eyes, a likeable long nose, and clean-shaven, humorous mouth--a man to
+trust and depend upon.
+
+"I hardly know what to do," said Sir Henry, after a lengthy pause, which
+he had evidently devoted to considering the wisdom of acceding to his
+companion's request. "This gentleman has not consulted me
+professionally, and I hardly feel justified in confiding my hurried and
+imperfect diagnosis of his case, without his knowledge, to a perfect
+stranger. On the other hand, there are reasons why somebody should know,
+if we are to help him in his weak state. Perhaps, sir, if you told me
+your name----"
+
+"Certainly: my name is Colwyn--Grant Colwyn."
+
+"You are the famous American detective of that name?"
+
+"You are good enough to say so."
+
+"Why not? Who has not heard of you, and your skill in the unravelling of
+crime? There are many people on both sides of the Atlantic who regard
+you as a public benefactor. But I am surprised. You do not at all
+resemble my idea of Colwyn."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"You do not talk like an American, for one thing."
+
+"You forget I have been over here long enough to learn the language.
+Besides, I am half English."
+
+Sir Henry laughed good-humouredly.
+
+"That's a fair answer, Mr. Colwyn. Of course, your being Colwyn alters
+the question. I have no hesitation in confiding in you. I am Sir Henry
+Durwood--no doubt you have heard of me. Naturally, I have to be
+careful."
+
+Colwyn looked at his companion with renewed interest. Who had not heard
+of Sir Henry Durwood, the nerve specialist whose skill had made his name
+a household word amongst the most exclusive women in England, and,
+incidentally, won him a knighthood? There were professional detractors
+who hinted that Sir Henry had climbed into the heaven of Harley Street
+and fat fees by the ladder of social influence which a wealthy,
+well-born wife had provided, with no qualifications of his own except
+"the best bedside manner in England" and a thorough knowledge of the
+weaknesses of the feminine temperament. But his admirers--and they were
+legion--declared that Sir Henry Durwood was the only man in London who
+really understood how to treat the complex nervous system of the present
+generation. These thoughts ran through Colwyn's mind as he murmured that
+the opinion of such an eminent specialist as Sir Henry Durwood on the
+case before them must naturally outweigh his own.
+
+"You are very good to say so." Sir Henry spoke as though the tribute
+were no more than his due. "In my opinion, the symptoms of this young
+man point to epilepsy, and his behaviour downstairs was due to a seizure
+from which he is slowly recovering."
+
+"Epilepsy! Haut or petit mal?"
+
+"The lesser form--petit mal, in my opinion."
+
+"But are his symptoms consistent with the form of epilepsy known as
+petit mal, Sir Henry? I thought in that lesser form of the disease the
+victim merely suffered from slight seizures of transient
+unconsciousness, without convulsions, regaining control of himself after
+losing himself, to speak broadly, for a few seconds or so."
+
+"Ah, I see you know something of the disease. That simplifies matters.
+The layman's mind is usually at sea when it comes to discussing a
+complicated affection of the nervous system like epilepsy. You are more
+or less right in your definition of petit mal. But that is the simple
+form, without complications. In this case there are complications, in my
+opinion. I should say that this young man's attack was combined with the
+form of epilepsy known as _furor epilepticus_."
+
+"I am afraid you are getting beyond my depth, Sir Henry. What is _furor
+epilepticus_?"
+
+"It is a term applied to the violence sometimes displayed by the
+patient during an attack of petit mal. The manifestation is extreme
+violence--usually much greater than in violent anger, as a rule."
+
+"I believe there are cases on record of epileptics having committed the
+most violent outrages against those nearest and dearest to them. Is that
+what you mean by _furor epilepticus_?"
+
+"Yes; but that attacks are generally directed towards strangers--rarely
+towards loved ones, though there have been such cases."
+
+"I begin to understand. When we were at the breakfast table your
+professional eye diagnosed this young man's symptoms--his nervous
+tremors, his excitability, and the extravagant action with the knife--as
+premonitory symptoms of an attack of _furor epilepticus_, in which the
+sufferer would be liable to a dangerous outburst of violence?"
+
+"Exactly. The minor symptoms suggested petit mal, but the act of
+sticking the knife into the table pointed strongly to the complication
+of _furor epilepticus_. That was why I went over to your table to have
+your assistance in case of trouble."
+
+"You feared he would attack one of the guests?"
+
+"Yes, epileptics are extremely dangerous in that condition, and will
+commit murder if they are in possession of a weapon. There have been
+cases in which they have succeeded in killing the victims of their
+fury."
+
+"Without being conscious of it?"
+
+"Without being conscious of it then or afterwards. After the patient
+recovers from one of these attacks his mind is generally a complete
+blank, but occasionally he will have a troubled or confused sense of
+something having happened to him--like a man awakened from a bad dream,
+which he cannot recall. This young man may come to his senses without
+remembering anything which occurred downstairs, or he may be vaguely
+alarmed, and ask a number of questions. In either case, it will be some
+time--from half an hour to several hours--before his mind begins to work
+normally again."
+
+"Do you think it was his intention, when he got up from his table, to
+attack the group at the table nearest him--that elderly clergyman and
+his party?"
+
+"I think it highly probable that he would have attacked the first person
+within his reach--that is why I wanted to prevent him."
+
+"But he didn't carry the knife with him from his table."
+
+"My dear sir"--Sir Henry's voice conveyed the proper amount of
+professional superiority--"you speak as though you thought a victim of
+_furor epilepticus_ was a rational being. He is nothing of the kind.
+While the attack lasts he is an uncontrollable maniac, not responsible
+for his actions in the slightest degree."
+
+"But, if he is capable of conceiving the idea of attacking his fellow
+creatures, surely he is capable of picking up a knife for the purpose,
+particularly when he has just previously had one in his hand?" urged
+Colwyn. "I have no intention of setting up my opinion against yours, Sir
+Henry, but there are certain aspects of this young man's illness which
+are not altogether consistent with my own experience of epileptics. As a
+criminologist, I have given some study to the effect of epilepsy and
+other nervous diseases on the criminal temperament. For instance, this
+young man did not give the usual cry of an epileptic when he sprang up
+from the table. And if it is merely an attack of petit mal, why is he so
+long in recovering consciousness?"
+
+"The so-called epileptic cry is not invariably present, and petit mal
+is sometimes the half-way house to haut mal," responded Sir Henry. "I
+have said that this case presents several unusual features, but, in my
+opinion, there is nothing absolutely inconsistent with epilepsy,
+combined with _furor epilepticus_. And here is one symptom rarely found
+in any fit except an epileptic seizure." The specialist pointed to a
+faint fleck of foam which showed beneath the young man's brown
+moustache.
+
+Colwyn bent over him and wiped his lips with his handkerchief. As he did
+so the young man's eyes unclosed. He regarded Colwyn languidly for a
+moment or two, and then sat upright on the bed.
+
+"Who are you?" he exclaimed.
+
+"It's quite all right, Mr. Ronald," said the specialist, in his most
+soothing bedside manner. "Just take things easily. You have been ill,
+but you are almost yourself again. Let me feel your pulse--ha, very good
+indeed! We will have you on your legs in no time."
+
+The young man verified the truth of the latter prediction by springing
+off his bed and regarding his visitors keenly. There was now, at all
+events, no lack of sanity and intelligence in his gaze.
+
+"What has happened? How did I get here?"
+
+"You fainted, and we brought you up to your room," interposed Colwyn
+tactfully, before Sir Henry could speak.
+
+"Awfully kind of you. I remember now. I felt a bit seedy as I went
+downstairs, but I thought it would pass off. I don't remember much more
+about it. I hope I didn't make too much of an ass of myself before the
+others, going off like a girl in that way. You must have had no end of a
+bother in dragging me upstairs--very good of you to take the trouble."
+He smiled faintly, and produced a cigarette case.
+
+"How do you feel now?" asked Sir Henry Durwood solemnly, disregarding
+the proffered case.
+
+"A bit as though I'd been kicked on the top of the head by a horse, but
+it'll soon pass off. Fact is, I got a touch of sun when I was out
+there"--he waved his hand vaguely towards the East--"and it gives me a
+bit of trouble at times. But I'll be all right directly. I'm sorry to
+have given you so much trouble."
+
+He proffered this explanation with an easy courtesy, accompanied by a
+slight deprecating smile which admirably conveyed the regret of a
+well-bred man for having given trouble to strangers. It was difficult to
+reconcile his self-control with his previous extravagance downstairs.
+But to Colwyn it was apparent that his composure was simulated, the
+effort of a sensitive man who had betrayed a weakness to strangers, for
+the fingers which held a cigarette trembled slightly, and there were
+troubled shadows in the depths of the dark blue eyes. Colwyn admired the
+young man's pluck--he would wish to behave the same way himself in
+similar circumstances, he felt--and he realised that the best service he
+and Sir Henry Durwood could render their fellow guest was to leave him
+alone.
+
+But Sir Henry was far from regarding the matter in the same light. As a
+doctor he was more at home in other people's bedrooms than his own, for
+rumour whispered that Lady Durwood was so jealous of her husband's
+professional privileges as a fashionable ladies' physician that she was
+in the habit of administering strong doses of matrimonial truths to him
+every night at home. Sir Henry settled himself in his chair, adjusted
+his eye-glasses more firmly on his nose and regarded the young man
+standing by the mantelpiece with a bland professional smile, slightly
+dashed by the recollection that he was not receiving a fee for his
+visit.
+
+"You have made a good recovery, but you'll need care," he said.
+"Speaking as a professional man--I am Sir Henry Durwood--I think it
+would be better for you if you had somebody with you who understood your
+case. With your--er--complaint, it is very desirable that you should not
+be left to the mercy of strangers. I would advise, strongly advise you,
+to communicate with your friends. I shall be only too happy to do so on
+your behalf if you will give me their address. In the meantime--until
+they arrive--my advice to you is to rest."
+
+A look of annoyance flashed through the young man's eyes. He evidently
+resented the specialist's advice; indeed, his glance plainly revealed
+that he regarded it as a piece of gratuitous impertinence. He answered
+coldly:
+
+"Many thanks, Sir Henry, but I think I shall be able to look after
+myself."
+
+"That is not an uncommon feature of your complaint," said the
+specialist. An oracular shake of the head conveyed more than the words.
+
+"What do you imagine my complaint, as you term it, to be?" asked the
+young man curtly.
+
+Colwyn wondered whether even a fashionable physician, used to the
+freedom with which fashionable ladies discussed their ailments, would
+have the courage to tell a stranger that he regarded him as an
+epileptic. The matter was not put to the test--perhaps fortunately--for
+at that moment there was a sharp tap at the door, which opened to admit
+a chambermaid who seemed the last word in frills and smartness.
+
+"If you please, Sir Henry," said the girl, with a sidelong glance at the
+tall handsome young man by the mantelpiece, "Lady Durwood would be
+obliged if you would go to her room at once."
+
+It speaks well for Sir Henry Durwood that the physician was instantly
+merged in the husband. "Tell Lady Durwood I will come at once," he said.
+"You'll excuse me," he added, with a courtly bow to his patient.
+"Perhaps--if you wish--you might care to see me later."
+
+"Many thanks, Sir Henry, but there will be no need." He bowed gravely to
+the specialist, but smiled cordially and held out his hand to Colwyn, as
+the latter prepared to follow Sir Henry out of the room. "I hope to see
+you later," he said.
+
+But when Colwyn, after a day spent on the golf-links, went into the
+dining-room for dinner that evening, the young man's place was vacant.
+After the meal Colwyn went to the office to inquire if Mr. Ronald was
+still unwell, and learnt, to his surprise, that he had departed from the
+hotel an hour or so after his illness.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+Lunch was over the following day, and the majority of the hotel guests
+were assembled in the lounge, some sitting round a log fire which roared
+and crackled in the old-fashioned fireplace, others wandering backwards
+and forwards to the hotel entrance to cast a weather eye on the black
+and threatening sky.
+
+During the night there had been one of those violent changes in the
+weather with which the denizens of the British Isles are not altogether
+unfamiliar; a heavy storm had come shrieking down the North Sea, and
+though the rain had ceased about eleven o'clock the wind had blown hard
+all through the night, bringing with it from the Arctic a driving sleet
+and the first touch of bitter, icy, winter cold.
+
+The ladies of the hotel, who the previous day had paraded the front in
+light summer frocks, sat shivering round the fire in furs; and the men
+walked up and down in little groups discussing the weather and the war.
+The golfers stood apart debating, after their wont, the possibility of
+trying a round in spite of the weather. The elderly clergyman was
+prepared to risk it if he could find a partner, and, with the aid of an
+umbrella held upside down, was demonstrating to an attentive circle the
+possibility of going round the most open course in England in the teeth
+of the fiercest gale that ever blew, provided that a brassy was used
+instead of a driver.
+
+"I don't see how you could drive a ball with either to-day," said one
+of the doubtful ones. "You'd be driving right against the wind for the
+first four holes, and when you have the wind behind you at the bend in
+the cliff by the fifth, the force of the gale would probably carry your
+ball half a mile out to sea. These links here are supposed to be the
+most exposed in England."
+
+"My dear sir, you surely do not call this a gale," retorted the
+clergyman. "I have played some of my best games in a stronger wind than
+this. And as for this being the most exposed course in England--well,
+let me ask you one question: have you ever played over the Worthing
+course with a strong northeast gale--a gale, mind you, not a
+wind--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 woollen
+gloves. "In fact, I've never been on the Worthing course."
+
+"I thought not." The clergyman's face showed a golfer's satisfaction at
+having tripped a fellow player. "The Worthing course is the most
+difficult course in England, all up hill and down dale, and full of
+pitfalls for those who don't know its peculiarities. I had a very
+remarkable experience there, last year, with the crack local player--his
+handicap was plus two. We played a round in a gale with the wind
+whistling over the high downs at the rate of seventy or eighty miles an
+hour. 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 to
+play solely by relying on the brassy and midiron. He stuck to the
+driver, 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 you
+drive off from here. Now, imagine that umbrella stand--would you mind
+moving away a little from it, sir? Thank you--to be a group of fir trees
+fully a hundred yards to the right of the fairway. Well, I got a shot
+160 yards up the fairway with a low straight ball which never lifted
+more than a yard from the green, but my opponent, instead of sticking to
+the brassy, as I did, preferred to use his big driver, and what do you
+think 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 young
+officer who had been taking a turn on the front. He strode hurriedly
+into the lounge, with a look of excitement on his good-humoured boyish
+face, and accosted the golfers, who happened to be nearest the door.
+
+"I say, you fellows, what do you think has happened? You remember that
+chap who fainted yesterday morning? Well, he's wanted for committing a
+murder!"
+
+The piece of news created the sensation that its imparter had counted
+upon. "A murder!" was echoed from different parts of the lounge in
+varying degrees of horror, amazement and dread, and the majority of the
+guests came eagerly crowding round to hear the details.
+
+"Yes, a murder!" repeated the young officer, with relish. "And, what's
+more, he committed it after he left here yesterday. He walked across to
+some inn a few miles from here along the coast, put up there for the
+night, and in the middle of the night stabbed some old chap who was
+staying there."
+
+There was a lengthy pause while the hotel guests digested this startling
+information, and endeavoured to register anew their previous faint
+impressions of the young man of the alcove table in the new light of his
+personality as an alleged murderer. The pause was followed by an excited
+hum of conversation and eager questions, the ladies all talking at once.
+
+"What a providential escape we have all had!" exclaimed the clergyman's
+wife, her fresh comely face turning pale.
+
+"That's just what I said myself, madam, when I heard the news," replied
+the young officer.
+
+"I presume this murderous young ruffian has been secured?" asked the
+clergyman, 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 Norfolk
+for him by to-night, but murderers are usually very crafty, and
+difficult to catch. I bet they won't catch him before he murders
+somebody else."
+
+The men looked at one another gravely, and some of the ladies gave vent
+to cries of alarm, and clung to their husband's arms. The clergyman
+turned angrily on the man who had brought the news.
+
+"What do you mean, sir, by blurting out a piece of news like this before
+a number of ladies?" he said sternly. "It was imprudent and foolish in
+the last degree. You have alarmed them exceedingly."
+
+"Oh, that's all tosh!" replied the other rudely. "They were bound to
+hear of it sooner or later; why, everybody on the front is talking about
+it. I thought you'd be awfully bucked to hear the news, seeing that you
+were sitting at the next table to him yesterday morning."
+
+"Who gave you this information?" asked Colwyn, who had just come down
+stairs wearing a motor coat and cap, and paused on his way to the door
+on hearing the loud voices of the excited group round the young officer.
+
+"One of the fishermen on the front. The police constable at the place
+where the murder was committed--a little village with some outlandish
+name--came over here to report the news. This is the nearest police
+station to the spot, it seems."
+
+"But is he quite certain that the man who is supposed to have committed
+the murder is the young man who fainted yesterday morning?" asked Sir
+Henry Durwood, who had joined the group. "Has he been positively
+identified?"
+
+"The fisherman tells me that there's no doubt it's him--the
+description's identical. He cleared out before the murder was
+discovered. There's a rare hue and cry all along the coast. They are
+organizing search parties. There's one going out from here this
+afternoon. I'm going with it."
+
+Colwyn left the group of hotel guests, and went to the front door. Sir
+Henry Durwood, after a moment's hesitation, followed him. The detective
+was standing in the hotel porch, thoughtfully smoking a cigar, and
+looking 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 some
+inquiries," responded Colwyn. "It is impossible to tell from that man's
+story how much is truth and how much mere gossip."
+
+"I'm afraid it's true enough," replied Sir Henry Durwood. "You'll
+remember I warned him yesterday to send for his friends. A man in his
+condition of health should not have been permitted to wander about the
+country unattended. He has probably had another attack of _furor
+epilepticus_, and killed somebody while under its influence. Dear, dear,
+what a dreadful thing! It may be said that I should have taken a firmer
+hand with him yesterday, but what more could I have done? It's a very
+awkward situation--very. I hope you'll remember, Mr. Colwyn, that I did
+all that was humanly possibly for a professional man to do--in fact, I
+went beyond the bounds of professional decorum, in tendering advice to a
+perfect stranger. And you will also remember that what I told you about
+his condition was in the strictest confidence. I should like very much
+to accompany you to the police station, if you have no objection--I feel
+strongly 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 footpath
+protected by a hand rail had been made along the edge of the cliff for
+the benefit of jaded London visitors who wanted to get the best value
+for their money in the bracing Norfolk air. At the present moment that
+air, shrieking across the North Sea with almost hurricane force, was too
+bracing for weak nerves on the exposed path, and it was real hard work
+to force a way, even with the help of the handrail, against the wind, to
+say nothing of the spray which was flung up in clouds from the
+thundering masses of yellow waves dashing at the foot of the cliffs
+below. Sir Henry Durwood, at any rate, was very glad when his companion
+turned away from the cliffs into one of the narrow tortuous streets
+running 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 of
+people were standing about in the road--fishermen in jerseys and
+sea boots, some women, and a sprinkling of children--brought together by
+the news of murder, but kept from encroaching on the sacred domain of
+law and order by a massive red-faced country policeman, who stood at
+the gate in an awkward pose of official dignity, staring straight in
+front of him, ignoring the eager questions which were showered on him by
+the crowd. The group of people nearest the gate fell back a little as
+they approached, and the policeman on duty looked at them inquiringly.
+
+Colwyn asked him the name of the officer in charge of the district, and
+received the reply that it was Superintendent Galloway. The policeman
+looked somewhat doubtful when Colwyn asked him to take in his card with
+the request for an interview. He compromised between his determination
+to do the right thing and his desire not to offend two well-dressed
+gentlemen by taking Colwyn into his confidence.
+
+"Well, you see, sir, it's like this," he said, sinking his voice so that
+his remarks should not be heard by the surrounding rabble. "I don't like
+to interrupt Superintendent Galloway unless it's very important. The
+chief 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 to
+the chief constable and say that I should be glad of the favour of a
+short interview? This is a piece of luck," he added to Sir Henry, as the
+constable took the card and disappeared into the building. "We shall now
+be able to find out all we want to know."
+
+The police constable came hastening back, and with a very respectful air
+informed them that Mr. Cromering would be only too happy to see Mr.
+Colwyn. He led them forthwith into the building, down a passage, knocked
+at a door, and without waiting for a response, ushered them into a
+large room and quietly withdrew.
+
+There were two officials in the room. One, in uniform, a heavily built
+stout man with sandy hair and a red freckled face, sat at a large
+roll-top desk writing at the dictation of the other, who wore civilian
+clothes. The second official was small and elderly, of dry and meagre
+appearance, with a thin pale face, and sunken blue eyes beneath
+gold-rimmed spectacles. This gentleman left off dictating as Colwyn and
+Sir Henry Durwood entered, and advanced to greet the detective with a
+look which might have been mistaken for gratitude in a less important
+personage.
+
+Mr. Cromering's gratitude to Colwyn was not due to any assistance he had
+received from the detective in the elucidation of baffling crime
+mysteries. It arose from an entirely different cause. Wolfe is supposed
+to have said that he would sooner have been remembered as the author of
+Gray'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 had
+intended him for the librarian of a circulating library: the safe pilot
+of middle class ladies through the ocean of new fiction which overwhelms
+the British Isles twice a year. His particular hobby was paleontology.
+He was the author of _The Jurassic Deposits of Norfolk, with Some
+Remarks on the Kimeridge Clay_--an exhaustive study of the geological
+formation 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 world
+through the carelessness of the Postal Department, which had allowed
+the manuscript to go astray while in transit from Norfolk to the London
+publishers.
+
+The distracted author had stirred up the postal authorities at London
+and Norwich, and had ultimately received a courteous communication from
+the Postmaster General to the effect that all efforts to trace the
+missing packet had failed. A friend of Mr. Cromering's suggested that he
+should invoke the aid of the famous detective Colwyn, who had a name for
+solving mysteries which baffled the police. Mr. Cromering took the
+advice and wrote to Colwyn, offering to mention his name in a preface to
+_The Jurassic Deposits_ if he succeeded in recovering the missing
+manuscript. Colwyn, by dint of bringing to bear a little more
+intelligence and energy than the postal officials had displayed, ran the
+manuscript to earth in three days, and forwarded it to the owner with a
+courteous note declining the honour of the offered preface as too great
+a reward for such a small service.
+
+"Very happy to meet you, Mr. Colwyn," said the chief constable, as he
+came forward with extended hand. "I've long wanted to thank you
+personally for your kindness--your great kindness to me last year.
+Although I feel I can never repay it, I'm glad to have the opportunity
+of 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 that
+his pride as an author had been hurt. "If you had not recovered the
+manuscript, a work of considerable interest to students of British
+paleontology would have been lost. I must show you a letter I have just
+received from Sir Thomas Potter, of the British Museum, agreeing with my
+conclusions about the fossil remains of Ichthyosaurus, Plesiosaurus, and
+Mosasaurs, discovered last year at Roslyn Hole. It is very gratifying
+to 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 advancing
+upon the specialist with outstretched hand. "I'm delighted to meet one
+of our topmost men of science. Your illuminating work on Elephas
+Meridionalis is a classic."
+
+"I'm afraid you're confusing Sir Henry with a different Durwood," said
+the detective, coming to the rescue. "Sir Henry Durwood is the
+distinguished specialist of Harley Street, and not the paleontologist of
+that name. We have called to make some inquiries about the murder which
+was committed somewhere near here last night."
+
+"The ruling passion, Mr. Colwyn, the ruling passion! Personally I should
+be only too glad of your assistance in the case in question, but I'm
+afraid there's no deep mystery to unravel--it's not worth your while. It
+would be like cracking a nut with a steam hammer for you to devote your
+brains to this case. All the indications point strongly to one man."
+
+"A young man who was staying at the _Grand_ till yesterday?" inquired
+the detective.
+
+The chief constable nodded.
+
+"We're looking for a young man who's been staying at the _Grand_ for
+some weeks past under the name of Ronald. He's a stranger to the
+district, and nobody seems to know anything about him. Perhaps you
+gentlemen can tell me something about him."
+
+"Very little, I'm afraid," replied Colwyn. "I've seen him at meal
+times, and nodded to him, but never spoken to him till yesterday, when
+he had a fainting fit at breakfast. Sir Henry Durwood and I helped him
+to 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 any
+light on the subsequent tragic events of the night, for which he is now
+under suspicion?"
+
+Colwyn related what had happened at breakfast and afterwards. Mr.
+Cromering listened attentively, and turning to Sir Henry Durwood asked
+him if he had seen Ronald before the previous day.
+
+"I saw him yesterday for the first time at the breakfast table," replied
+Sir Henry Durwood. "I arrived only the previous night. He was taken ill
+at breakfast. Mr. Colwyn and I assisted him to his room and left him
+there. 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 offered
+to communicate with his friends, by telephone, if he would give me their
+address, but he refused."
+
+"It is a pity he did not take your advice," responded the chief
+constable. "He appears to have left the hotel shortly after his illness,
+and walked along the coast to a little hamlet called Flegne, about ten
+miles from here. He reached there in the evening, and put up at the
+village inn, the _Golden Anchor_, for the night. He left early in the
+morning, before anybody was up. Shortly afterwards the body of Mr. Roger
+Glenthorpe, an elderly archaeologist, who had been staying at the inn
+for some time past making researches into the fossil remains common to
+that part of Norfolk, was found in a pit near the house. The tracks of
+boot-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, and
+his body afterwards carried by the murderer to the pit in which it was
+found."
+
+"In order to conceal the crime?" said Colwyn.
+
+"Precisely. Two men employed by Mr. Glenthorpe saw the footprints
+earlier in the morning, and when it was discovered that Mr. Glenthorpe
+was missing, one of them was lowered into the pit by a rope and found
+the body at the bottom. The pit forms a portion of a number of so-called
+hut circles, or prehistoric shelters of the early Briton, which are not
+uncommon 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 time
+before the body was discovered. It is his boot-tracks which led to and
+from the pit where the body was found. A considerable sum of money has
+been stolen from the deceased, and we have ascertained that Ronald was
+in desperate straits for money. Another point against Ronald is that Mr.
+Glenthorpe was stabbed, and a knife which was used by Ronald at the
+dinner table that night is missing. It is believed that the murder was
+committed 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 who
+answered it to bring in Constable Queensmead.
+
+The policeman who appeared in answer to this summons was a thickset
+sturdy Norfolk man, with an intelligent face and shrewd dark eyes. On
+the chief constable informing him that he was to give the gentlemen the
+details of the _Golden Anchor_ murder, he produced a notebook from his
+tunic, and commenced the story with official precision.
+
+Ronald had arrived at the inn before dark on the previous evening, and
+had asked for a bed for the night. A little later Mr. Glenthorpe, the
+murdered man, who had been staying at the inn for some time past, had
+come in for his dinner, and was so pleased to meet a gentleman in that
+rough and lonely place that he had asked Ronald to dine with him. The
+dinner was served in an upstairs sitting-room, and during the course of
+the meal Mr. Glenthorpe talked freely of his scientific researches in
+the district, and informed his guest that he had that day been to
+Heathfield to draw L300 to purchase a piece of land containing some
+valuable fossil remains which he intended to excavate. The two gentlemen
+sat talking after dinner till between ten and eleven, and then retired
+to rest in adjoining rooms, in a wing of the inn occupied by nobody
+else. In the morning Ronald departed before anybody, except the servant,
+was up, refusing to wait for his boots to be cleaned. The servant, who
+had had the boots in her hands, had noticed that one of the boots had a
+circular rubber heel on it, but not the other. Ronald gave her a pound
+to 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 at
+Heathfield the day before. The men who had seen the footprints to the
+pit earlier in the morning, informed Queensmead of their discovery on
+learning that Mr. Glenthorpe had disappeared. Queensmead examined the
+footprints, and, with the assistance of the men, recovered the body.
+Queensmead telephoned a description of Ronald to the police stations
+along the coast, then mounted his bicycle and caught the train at
+Leyland in order to report the matter to the district headquarters at
+Durrington.
+
+"I suppose there is no doubt that the young man who stayed at the inn is
+identical with Ronald," said the detective, when the constable had
+finished 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 of
+wanted 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 lounge
+jacket, knickerbockers and stockings to match, with soft grey hat of
+same material. Wore a gold signet-ring on little finger of left hand.
+Distinguishing marks, a small star-shaped scar on left cheek, slightly
+drags 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 saw
+Ronald."
+
+"I noticed it also," said Sir Henry Durwood.
+
+"It seems a clear case to me," said the chief constable. "I have signed
+a warrant for Ronald's arrest, and Superintendent Galloway has notified
+all the local stations along the coast to have the district searched. We
+think it very possible that Ronald is in hiding somewhere in the
+marshes. We have also notified the district railway stations to be on
+the lookout for anybody answering his description, in case he tries to
+escape by rail."
+
+"It seems a strange case," remarked the detective thoughtfully. "Why
+should a young man of Ronald's type leave his hotel and go across to
+this remote inn, and commit this brutal murder?"
+
+"He was very short of money. We have ascertained that he had been
+requested to leave the hotel here because he could not pay his bill. He
+has paid nothing since he has been here, and owed more than L30. The
+proprietor 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. He
+went away shortly after the scene in the breakfast room which was
+witnessed by you gentlemen, and left his luggage behind him. I suspect
+the proprietor would not allow him to take his luggage until he had
+discharged his bill."
+
+"It strikes me as a remarkable case, nevertheless," said Colwyn. "I
+should like to look into it a little further, with your permission."
+
+"Certainly," replied the chief constable courteously. "Superintendent
+Galloway will be in charge of the case. I suggested that he should ask
+for a man to be sent down from Scotland Yard, but he does not think it
+necessary. I feel sure that he will be delighted to have the assistance
+of such a celebrated detective as yourself. When are you starting for
+Flegne, Galloway?"
+
+"In half an hour," replied the superintendent. "I shall have to walk
+from 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 chief
+constable. "I should very much like to observe your methods."
+
+"And I too," said Sir Henry Durwood.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+The road to Flegne skirted the settled and prosperous cliff uplands,
+thence ran through the sea marshes which stretched along that part of
+the Norfolk coast as far as the eye could reach until they were merged
+and lost to view in the cold northern mists.
+
+The road, after leaving the uplands, descended in a sinuous curve
+towards the sea, but the party in the motor car were stopped on their
+way down by a young mounted officer, who, on learning of their
+destination, told them they would have to make an inland detour for some
+miles, as the military authorities had closed that part of the coast to
+ordinary traffic.
+
+As they turned away from the coast, the chief constable informed Colwyn
+that the prohibited area was full of troops guarding a little bay called
+Leyland Hoop, where the water was so deep that hostile transports might
+anchor close inshore, and where, according to ancient local tradition,
+
+
+  "He who would Old England win,
+  Must at the Leyland Hoop begin."
+
+
+After traversing a mile or so of open country, and passing through one
+or two scattered villages, they turned back to the coast again on the
+other side of a high green headland which marked the end of the
+prohibited area, and, crossing the bridge of a shallow muddy river,
+found themselves in the area of the marshes.
+
+It was a region of swamps and stagnant dykes, of tussock land and wet
+flats, with scarcely a stir of life in any part of it, and nothing to
+take the eye except a stone cottage here and there.
+
+The marshes stretched from the road to the sea, nearly a mile away. Man
+had almost given up the task of attempting to wrest a living from this
+inhospitable region. The boat channels which threaded the ooze were
+choked with weed and covered with green slime from long disuse, the
+little stone quays were thick with moss, the rotting planks of a broken
+fishing boat were foul with the encrustations of long years, the stone
+cottages by the roadside seemed deserted. Here and there the marshes had
+encroached upon the far side of the road, creeping half a mile or more
+farther inland, destroying the wholesome earth like rust corroding
+steel, and stretching slimy tentacles towards the farmlands on the rise.
+
+Humanity had retreated from the inroads of the sea only after a stubborn
+fight. The ruins of an Augustinian priory, a crumbling fragment of a
+Norman tower, the mouldering remnant of a castellated hall, showed how
+prolonged had been the struggle with the elements of Nature before Man
+had acknowledged his defeat and retreated, leaving hostages behind him.
+And--significant indication of the bitterness of the fight--it was to be
+noted that, while the builders of a bygone generation had built to face
+the sea, the handful of their successors who still kept up the losing
+fight had built their beach-stone cottages with sturdy stone backs to the
+road, for the greater protection of the inmates from the fierce winter
+gales which swept across the marshes from the North Sea.
+
+The car had travelled some miles through this desolate region when the
+chief constable directed Colwyn's attention to a spire rising from the
+flats a mile or so away, and said it was the church of Flegne-next-sea.
+Colwyn increased his speed a little, and in a few minutes the car had
+reached the outskirts of the little hamlet, which consisted of a
+straggling row of beach-stone cottages, a few gaunt farm-houses on the
+rise, and a cruciform church standing back from the village on a little
+hill, with high turret or beacon lights which had warned the North Sea
+mariners of a former generation of the dangers of that treacherous
+coast.
+
+In times past Flegne-next-sea--pronounced "Fly" by the natives, "Fleen"
+by etymologists, and "Flegney" by the rare intrusive Cockney--had
+doubtless been a prosperous little port, but the encroaching sea had
+long since killed its trade, scattered its inhabitants, and reduced it
+to a spectre of human habitation compelled to keep the scene of its
+former activities after life had departed. Half the stone cottages were
+untenanted, with broken windows, flapping doors, and gardens overgrown
+with rank marsh weeds. The road through the village had fallen into
+disrepair, and oozed beneath the weight of the car, a few boards thrown
+higgledy-piggledy across in places representing the local effort to
+preserve the roadway from the invading marshes. The little canal quay--a
+wooden one--was a tangle of rotting boards and loose piles, and the
+stagnant green water of the shallow canal was abandoned to a few grey
+geese, which honked angrily at the passing car. There was no sign of
+life in the village street, and no sound except the autumn wind moaning
+across the marshes and the boom of the distant sea against the
+breakwater.
+
+"There's the inn--straight in front," said Police-Constable Queensmead,
+pointing to it.
+
+The _Golden Anchor_ inn must have been built in the days of Sir
+Cloudesley Shovel, for nothing remained of the maritime prosperity
+which had originally bestowed the name upon the building. It was of
+rough stone, coloured a dirty white, with two queer circular windows
+high up in the wall on one side, the other side resting on a little,
+round-shouldered hill. It was built facing away from the sea like the
+beach-stone cottages, from which it was separated by a patch of common.
+From the rear of the inn the marshes stretched in unbroken monotony to
+the line of leaping white sea dashing sullenly against the breakwater
+wall, and ran for miles north and south in a desolate uniformity, still
+and grey as the sky above, devoid of life except for a few migrant birds
+feeding in the salt creeks or winging their way seaward in strong,
+silent flight. The rays of the afternoon sun, momentarily piercing the
+thick clouds, fell on the white wall and round glazed windows of the
+inn, giving it a sinister resemblance to a dead face.
+
+Colwyn brought his car to a standstill on the edge of the saturated
+strip of common.
+
+"We shall have to walk across," he said.
+
+"Nobody will run off with the car," said Galloway, scrambling down from
+his seat.
+
+"The murderer brought the body from the back of the house across this
+green, and carried it up that rise in front of the inn," said
+Queensmead. "You cannot see the pit from here, but it is close to that
+little wood on the summit. The footprints do not show in the grass, but
+they are very plain in the clay a little farther on, and lead straight
+to the pit."
+
+"How deep is the pit?" asked Colwyn.
+
+"About thirty feet. It was not an easy matter to bring up the body."
+
+"We will examine the pit and the footprints later," said Mr. Cromering.
+"Let us go inside first."
+
+Picking their way across the common to the front of the inn, they
+encountered a little group of men conversing underneath the rusty old
+anchor signboard which dangled from a stout stanchion above the front
+door of the inn. Some men, wearing sea-boots and jerseys, others in
+labouring garb, splashed with clay and mud, were standing about. They
+ceased their conversation as the party from the motor-car appeared
+around the corner, and, moving a respectful distance away, watched them
+covertly.
+
+The front door of the inn was closed. Superintendent Galloway tapped at
+it sharply, and after the lapse of a moment or two the door was opened,
+and a man appeared on the threshold. Seeing the police uniforms he
+stepped outside as if to make more room for the party to enter the
+narrow passage from which he had emerged. Colwyn noticed that he was so
+tall that he had to stoop in the old-fashioned doorway as he came out.
+
+Seen at close quarters, this man was a strange specimen of humanity. He
+was well over six feet in height, and so cadaverous, thin and gaunt that
+he might well have been mistaken for the presiding genius of the marshes
+who had stricken that part of the Norfolk coast with aridity and
+barrenness. But there was no lack of strength in his frame as he
+advanced briskly towards his visitors. His face was not the least
+remarkable part of him. It was ridiculously small and narrow for so big
+a frame, with a great curved beak of a nose, and small bright eyes set
+close together. Those eyes were at the present moment glancing with
+bird-like swiftness from one to the other of his visitors.
+
+"You are the innkeeper--the landlord of this place?" asked Mr.
+Cromering.
+
+"At your service, sir. Won't you go inside?" His voice was the best
+part of him; soft and gentle, with a cultivated accent which suggested
+that the speaker had known a different environment at some time or
+other.
+
+"Show us into a private room," said Mr. Cromering.
+
+The innkeeper escorted the party along the passage, and took them into a
+room with a low ceiling and sanded floor, smelling of tobacco,
+explaining, as he placed chairs, that it was the bar parlour, but they
+would be quiet and free from interruption in it, because he had closed
+the inn that day in anticipation of the police visit.
+
+"Quite right--very proper," said the chief constable.
+
+"Will you and the other gentlemen take any refreshment, after your
+journey?" suggested the innkeeper. "I'm afraid the resources of the inn
+are small, but there is some excellent old brandy."
+
+He stretched out an arm towards the bell rope behind him. Colwyn noticed
+that his hand was long and thin and yellow--a skeleton claw covered with
+parchment.
+
+"Never mind the brandy just now," said Mr. Cromering, taking on himself
+to refuse on behalf of his companions the proffered refreshment. "We
+have much to do and it will be time enough for refreshments afterwards.
+We will view the body first, and make inquiries after. Where is the
+body, Benson?"
+
+"Upstairs, sir."
+
+"Take us to the room."
+
+The innkeeper led the way upstairs along a dark and narrow passage. When
+he reached a door near the end, he opened it and stood aside for them to
+enter.
+
+"This is the room," he said, in a low voice. It was Colwyn's keen eye
+that noted the key in the door. "What is that key doing in the door, on
+the outside?" he asked. "How long has it been there?"
+
+"The maid found it there this morning, sir, when she went up with Mr.
+Glenthorpe's hot water. That made her suspect something must be wrong,
+because Mr. Glenthorpe was in the habit of locking his door of a night
+and placing the key under his pillow. So, after knocking and getting no
+answer, she opened the door, and found the room empty."
+
+"The door was not locked, though the key was in the door?"
+
+"No, sir, and everything in the room was just as usual. Nothing had been
+disturbed."
+
+"And was that bedroom window open when you found the room empty?" asked
+Superintendent Galloway, pointing to it through the open doorway.
+
+"Yes, sir--just as you see it now. I gave orders that nothing was to be
+touched."
+
+"Ronald slept in this room," said Queensmead, indicating the door of the
+adjoining bedroom.
+
+"We will look at that later," said Galloway.
+
+The interior of the room they entered was surprisingly light and
+cheerful and spacious, having nothing in common with those low gloomy
+vaults, crammed with clumsy furniture and moth-eaten stuffed animals,
+which generally pass muster as bedrooms in English country inns. Instead
+of the small circular windows of the south side, there was a large
+modern two-paned window in a line with the door, opening on to the other
+side of the house. The bottom pane was up, and the window opened as wide
+as possible. A very modern touch, unusual in a remote country inn, was a
+rose coloured gas globe suspended from the ceiling, in the middle of the
+room. The furniture belonged to a past period, but it was handsome and
+well-kept--a Spanish mahogany wardrobe, chest of drawers and washstand
+with chairs to match. Modern articles, such as a small writing-desk near
+the window, some library books, a fountain pen, a reading-lamp by the
+bedside, and an attache case, suggested the personal possessions and
+modern tastes of the last occupant. A comfortable carpet covered the
+floor, and some faded oil-paintings adorned the walls.
+
+The bed--a large wooden one, but not a fourposter--stood on the
+left-hand side of the room from the entrance, with the head against the
+wall nearest the outside passage, and the foot partly in line with the
+open window, which was about eight feet away from it. The door when
+pushed back swung just clear of a small bedroom table beside the bed, on
+which the reading lamp stood, with a book beside it. The other side of
+the bed was close to the wall which divided the room from the next
+bedroom, so that there was a large clear space on the outside, between
+the bed and the door. The gas fitting, which was suspended from the
+ceiling in this open space, hung rather low, the bottom of the globe
+being not more than six feet from the floor. The globe was cracked, and
+the incandescent burner was broken.
+
+The murdered man had been laid in the middle of the bed, and covered
+with a sheet. Superintendent Galloway quietly drew the sheet away,
+revealing the massive white head and clear-cut death mask of a man of
+sixty or sixty-five; a fine powerful face, benign in expression, with a
+chin and mouth of marked character and individuality. But the distorted
+contour of the half-open mouth, and the almost piteous expression of the
+unclosed sightless eyes, seemed to beseech the assistance of those who
+now bent over him, revealing only too clearly that death had come
+suddenly and unexpectedly.
+
+"He was a great archaeologist--one of the greatest in England," said Mr.
+Cromering gently, with something of a tremor in his voice, as he gazed
+down at the dead man's face. "To think that such a man should have been
+struck down by an assassin's blow. What a loss!"
+
+"Let us see how he was murdered," said the more practical Galloway, who
+was standing beside his superior officer. He drew off the covering sheet
+as he spoke, and dropped it lightly on the floor.
+
+The body thus revealed was that of a slightly built man of medium
+height. It was clad in a flannel sleeping suit, spattered with mud and
+clay, and oozing with water. The arms were inclining outwards from the
+body, and the legs were doubled up. There were a few spots of blood on
+the left breast, and immediately beneath, almost on the left side, just
+visible in the stripe of the pyjama jacket, was the blow which had
+caused death--a small orifice like a knife cut, just over the heart.
+
+"It is a very small wound to have killed so strong a man," said Mr.
+Cromering. "There is hardly any blood."
+
+Sir Henry examined the wound closely. "The blow was struck with great
+force, and penetrated the heart. The weapon used--a small, thin, steel
+instrument--and internal bleeding, account for the small external flow."
+
+"What do you mean by a thin, steel instrument?" asked Superintendent
+Galloway. "Would an ordinary table-knife answer that description?"
+
+"Certainly. In fact, the nature of the wound strongly suggests that it
+was made by a round-headed, flat-bladed weapon, such as an ordinary
+table or dinner knife. The thrust was made horizontally,--that is,
+across the ribs and between them, instead of perpendicularly, which is
+the usual method of stabbing. Apparently the murderer realised that his
+knife was too broad for the purpose, and turned it the other way, so as
+to make sure of penetrating the ribs and reaching the heart."
+
+"Does not that suggest a rather unusual knowledge of human anatomy on
+the murderer's part?" asked Mr. Cromering.
+
+"I do not think so. Anybody can tell how far apart the human ribs are by
+feeling them."
+
+"It is easy to see, Sir Henry, that the wound was made by a thin-bladed
+knife, but why do you think it was also round-headed?" asked
+Superintendent Galloway. "Might it not have been a sharp-pointed one?"
+
+"Or even a dagger?" suggested Mr. Cromering.
+
+"Certainly not a dagger. The ordinary dagger would have made a wider
+perforation with a corresponding increase in the blood-flow. My theory of
+a round-headed knife is based on the circumstance of a portion of the
+deceased's pyjama jacket having been carried into the wound. A
+sharp-pointed knife would have made a clean cut through the jacket."
+
+"I see," said Superintendent Galloway, with a sharp nod.
+
+"Therefore, we may assume, in the case before us,"--Sir Henry Durwood
+waved a fat white hand in the direction of the corpse as though he were
+delivering an anatomical lecture before a class of medical
+students--"that the victim was killed with a flat, round knife with a
+round edge, held sideways. Furthermore, the position of the wound
+reveals that the blow was too much on the left side to pierce the centre
+of the heart directly, but was a slanting blow, delivered with such
+force that it has probably pierced the heart on the _right_ side,
+causing instant death."
+
+"The weapon, then, entered the body in a lateral direction, that is,
+from left to right?" asked Colwyn, who had been closely following the
+specialist's remarks.
+
+"That is what I meant to convey," responded Sir Henry, in his most
+professional manner. "The blade entered on the left side, and travelled
+towards the centre of the body."
+
+"From the nature of the wound would you say that the knife entered
+almost parallel with the ribs, though slanting slightly downwards, in
+order to pierce the heart on the right side?"
+
+"That would be the general direction, though it is impossible to
+ascertain, without a postmortem examination, the exact spot where the
+heart was pierced."
+
+"But the wound slants in such a way as to prove that the blow was struck
+from left to right?" persisted Colwyn.
+
+"Undoubtedly," responded Sir Henry.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+During the latter part of the conversation Superintendent Galloway
+walked to the open window, and looked out. He turned round swiftly, with
+a look of unusual animation on his heavy features, and exclaimed:
+
+"The murderer entered through the window."
+
+The others went over to the window. The inn on that side had been built
+into a small hill of beehive shape, which had been partly levelled to
+make way for the foundations. Seen from outside, the inn, with its back
+to the sea and a corner of its front entering the hillside, bore a
+remote resemblance to some nakedly ugly animal with its nose burrowed
+into the earth. Part of the bar was actually underground, and the
+windows of the rooms immediately above looked out on the hillside. The
+window of Mr. Glenthorpe's room, which was above the bar parlour, was
+not more than four or five feet away from the round-shouldered side of
+the hill. From that point the hill fell away rapidly, and the
+first-story windows at the back, where the house rose from the flat edge
+of the marsh, were about fifteen feet from the ground. The space between
+the inn wall and the beehive curve of the hill, which was very narrow
+under Mr. Glenthorpe's window, but widened as the hill fell away, was
+covered with a russet-coloured clay, which contrasted vividly with the
+sombre grey and drab tints of the marshes.
+
+"It was an easy matter to get in this window," said Superintendent
+Galloway. "And here's the proof that the murderer came in this way." He
+stooped and picked up something from the floor, close to the window,
+and held it out in the palm of his hand for the inspection of his
+companions. It was a small piece of red clay, like the russet-coloured
+clay outside the window.
+
+"Here is another clue," said Colwyn, pointing to a fragment of black
+material adhering to a nail near the bottom of the window.
+
+"Ronald ripped something he was wearing while getting through the
+window," said Galloway, detaching the fragment, which he and Colwyn
+examined closely.
+
+"Have you noticed that?" said Colwyn, pointing to a pool of water which
+had collected near the open window, between the edge of the carpet and
+the skirting board.
+
+"Yes," replied Galloway. "It was raining heavily last night."
+
+With eyes sharpened by his discoveries, Galloway made a careful search
+of the carpet, and found several more crumbs of red clay between the
+window and the bed. Near the bed he detected some splashes of
+candle-grease, which he detached from the carpet with his pocket-knife.
+He also picked up the stump of a burnt wooden match, and the broken
+unlighted rink head of another. After showing these things to his
+companions he placed them carefully in an empty match-box, which he put
+in his pocket.
+
+"Somebody has bumped against this gas globe pretty hard," said Colwyn.
+"The glass is broken and the incandescent burner smashed."
+
+He bent down to examine the white fragments of the burner which were
+scattered about the carpet, and as he did so he noticed another broken
+wooden match, and two more splashes of candle-grease directly beneath
+the gas-jet. He removed the candle-grease carefully, and showed it to
+Galloway.
+
+"More candle-grease!" the latter said. "Well, that's not likely to prove
+anything except that Ronald was careless with his light. I suppose the
+wind caused the candle to gutter. I would willingly exchange the
+candle-grease for some finger-prints. There's not a sign of
+finger-prints anywhere. Ronald must have worn gloves. Now, let us have a
+look at Ronald's room. I want to see if he could get out of his own
+window on to the hillside. His window is higher from the ground than
+this window. The hill falls away very sharply."
+
+The bedroom Ronald had occupied was small and narrow, and its meagre
+furniture was in striking contrast with the comfortable appointments of
+the room they had just left. It contained a single bed, a chest of
+drawers, a washstand, and a wardrobe. The latter, a cumbrous article of
+furniture, stood between the bed and the wall, against the side nearest
+to Mr. Glenthorpe's room.
+
+Galloway strode across to the window, which was open, and looked out.
+The hillside fell away so rapidly that the bottom of the window was
+quite eight feet from the ground outside.
+
+"Not much of a drop for an athletic young fellow like Ronald," said
+Galloway to Colwyn, who had joined him.
+
+"The window is very much smaller than the one in Mr. Glenthorpe's
+bedroom," said Colwyn.
+
+"But large enough for a man to get through. Look here! I can get my head
+and shoulders through, and where the head and shoulders go the rest of
+the body will follow. Ronald got through it last night and into the next
+room by the other window. There can be no doubt that that was how the
+murder was committed."
+
+Galloway left the window, and examined the bedroom carefully. He turned
+down the bed-clothes, and scrutinised the sheets and pillows.
+
+"I thought he might have left some blood-stains on the linen, after
+carrying the body downstairs," he explained. "But he hasn't."
+
+"Sir Henry says the bleeding was largely internal," remarked Mr.
+Cromering. "That would account for the absence of any tell-tale marks on
+the bed-clothes."
+
+"He was too clever to wash his hands when he came back," grumbled
+Galloway, turning to the washstand and examining the towels. "He's a
+cool customer."
+
+"I notice that the candle in the candlestick is a wax one," said Colwyn.
+
+"And burnt more than half-way down," commented Galloway, glancing at it.
+
+"You attach no significance to the fact that the candle is a wax one?"
+questioned the detective.
+
+"No, do you?" replied Galloway, with a puzzled glance.
+
+Colwyn did not reply to the question. He was looking attentively at the
+large wardrobe by the side of the bed.
+
+"That's a strange place to put a wardrobe," he said. "It would be
+difficult to get out of bed without barking one's shins against it."
+
+"It was probably put there to hide the falling wall-paper,--the place is
+going to rack and ruin," said Galloway, pointing to the top of the
+wardrobe, where the faded wall-paper, mildewed and wet with damp, was
+hanging in festoons. "Now, Queensmead, lead the way outside. I've seen
+all I want to see in this room."
+
+"Would you like to see the room where Ronald and Mr. Glenthorpe dined?"
+suggested the constable. "It's on this floor, on the other side of Mr.
+Glenthorpe's bedroom."
+
+"We can see that later. I want to examine outside before it gets dark."
+
+They left the room. The innkeeper was waiting patiently in the passage,
+standing motionless at the head of the staircase, with his head
+inclining forward, like a marsh heron fishing in a dyke. He hastened
+towards them.
+
+"I noticed a reading-lamp by Mr. Glenthorpe's bedside, Mr. Benson," said
+Colwyn. "Did he use that as well as the gas?"
+
+"He rarely used the gas, sir, though it was put into the room at his
+request. He found the reading-lamp suited his sight better."
+
+"Did he use candles? I saw no candlestick in the room."
+
+"He never used candles, sir--only the reading-lamp."
+
+"When was the gas-globe smashed? Last night?"
+
+"It must have been, sir. Ann says it was quite all right yesterday."
+
+"I've got my own idea how that was done," said Galloway, who had been an
+attentive listener to the innkeeper's replies to Colwyn's questions.
+"Show the way downstairs to the back door, Mr. Benson."
+
+The innkeeper preceded them down the stairs and along the passage to
+another one, which terminated in a latched door, which he opened.
+
+"How was this door fastened last night?" asked Galloway.
+
+"By this bolt at the top," said the innkeeper, pointing to it. "There is
+no key--only this catch."
+
+"Is this the only back outlet from the inn?" asked Colwyn.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+At Galloway's suggestion they first went to the side of the inn, in
+order to examine the ground beneath the windows. The fence enclosing the
+yard had fallen into disrepair, and had many gaps in it. There were no
+footprints visible in the red clay of the natural passage-way between
+the inn wall and the hill, either beneath the window of Ronald's room or
+Mr. Glenthorpe's window.
+
+"The absence of footprints means nothing," said Galloway. "Ronald may
+have climbed from one room to the other in his stocking feet, and then
+put on his boots to remove the body. Even if he wore his boots he might
+have left no marks, if he walked lightly."
+
+"I am not so sure of that," said Colwyn. "But what do you make of this?"
+
+He pointed to an impression in the red earth underneath Mr. Glenthorpe's
+window--a line so faint as to be barely noticeable, running outward from
+the wall for about eighteen inches, with another line about the same
+length running at right angles from it. Superintendent Galloway examined
+these two lines closely and then shook his head as though to intimate he
+could make nothing of them.
+
+"What do you think they are?" said Mr. Cromering, turning to Colwyn.
+
+"I think they may have been made by a box," was the reply.
+
+"You are not suggesting that the murderer threw a box out of the
+window?" exclaimed Superintendent Galloway, staring at the detective.
+"Look how straight the line from the wall is! A box would have fallen
+crookedly."
+
+"I do not suggest anything of the kind. If it was a box, it is more
+likely it was placed outside the window."
+
+"For what purpose?"
+
+"To help the murderer climb into the room."
+
+"He didn't need it," replied Galloway. "It's an easy matter to get
+through this window from the ground. I can do it myself." He placed his
+hands on the sill, sprang on to the window ledge, and dropped back
+again. "I attach no importance to these lines. They are so faint that
+they might have been made months ago. There is nothing to be seen here,
+so we may as well go and look at the footprints. Show us where the marks
+of the footsteps commence, Queensmead."
+
+The constable led the way to the other side of the house and across the
+green. The grass terminated a little distance from the inn in a clay
+bank bordering a wide tract of bare and sterile land, which extended
+almost to the summit of the rise. Clearly defined in the clay and the
+black soft earth were two sets of footprints, one going towards the
+rise, and the other returning. The outgoing footsteps were deeply and
+distinctly outlined from heel to toe. The right foot plainly showed the
+circular mark of a rubber heel, which was missing in the other, though a
+sharp indentation showed the mark of the spike to which the rubber had
+been fastened.
+
+"The footprints lead straight to the mouth of the pit where the body was
+thrown," said Queensmead.
+
+"What a clue!" exclaimed Superintendent Galloway, his eyes sparkling
+with excitement. "You are quite certain the inn servant can swear that
+these marks were made by Ronald's boots, Queensmead?"
+
+"There's no doubt on that point, sir," replied the constable. "She had
+the boots in her hands this morning, just before Ronald put them on, and
+she distinctly noticed that there was a rubber heel on the right boot,
+but not on the other."
+
+"It seems a strange thing for a young man of Ronald's position to have
+rubber heels affixed to his boots," remarked Mr. Cromering. "I was under
+the impression that they were an economical device of the working
+classes. But perhaps he found them useful to save his feet from
+jarring."
+
+"We shall find them useful to hang him," responded Galloway curtly. "Let
+us proceed to the pit, gentlemen. May I ask you to keep clear of the
+footprints? I do not want them obliterated before I can take plaster
+casts."
+
+They followed the footsteps up the rise. Near the summit they
+disappeared in a growth of nettles, but reappeared on the other side,
+skirting a number of bowl-shaped depressions clustered in groups along
+the brow of the rise. These were the hut circles--the pit dwellings of
+the early Britons, shallow excavations from six to eight feet deep, all
+running into one another, and choked with a rank growth of weeds.
+Between them and a little wood which covered the rest of the summit was
+an open space, with a hole gaping nakedly in the bare earth.
+
+"That's the pit where the body was thrown," said Queensmead, walking to
+the brink.
+
+The pit descended straight as a mining shaft until the sides disappeared
+in the interior gloom. It was impossible to guess at its depth because
+of the tangled creepers which lined its sides and obscured the view, but
+Mr. Cromering, speaking from his extensive knowledge of Norfolk geology,
+said it was fully thirty feet deep. He added that there was considerable
+difference of opinion among antiquaries to account for its greater
+depth. Some believed the pit was simply a larger specimen of the
+adjoining hut circles, running into a natural underground passage which
+had previously existed. But the more generally accepted theory was that
+the hut circles marked the site of a prehistoric village, and the deeper
+pit had been the quarry from which the Neolithic men had obtained the
+flints of which they made their implements. These flints were imbedded
+in the chalk a long way from the surface, and to obtain them the cave
+men burrowed deeply into the clay, and then excavated horizontal
+galleries into the chalk. Several of the red-deer antler picks which
+they used for the purpose had been discovered when the pit was first
+explored twenty-five years ago.
+
+"Mr. Glenthorpe was very much interested in the prehistoric and late
+Stone Age remains which are to be found in abundance along the Norfolk
+coast," he added. "He has enriched the national museums with a valuable
+collection of prehistoric man's implements and utensils, which he
+recovered in various parts of Norfolk. For some time past he had been
+carrying out explorations in this district in order to add to the
+collection. It is sad to think that he met his death while thus
+employed, and that his murdered body was thrown in the very pit which
+was, as it were, the centre of his explorations and the object of his
+keenest scientific curiosity."
+
+"Did you ever see clearer footprints?" exclaimed the more
+practical-minded Galloway. "Look how deep they are near the edge of the
+pit, where the murderer braced himself to throw the body off his back
+into the hole. See! there is a spot of blood on the edge."
+
+It was as he had said. The footprints were clear and distinct to the
+brink of the pit, but fainter as they turned away, showing that the man
+who had carried the body had stepped more lightly and easily after
+relieving himself of his terrible burden.
+
+"I must take plaster casts of those prints before it rains," said
+Galloway. "They are far too valuable a piece of evidence to be lost.
+They form the final link in the case against Ronald."
+
+"You regard the case as conclusive, then?" said Colwyn.
+
+"Of course I do. It is now a simple matter to reconstruct the crime from
+beginning to end. Ronald got through Mr. Glenthorpe's window last night
+in the dark. As the catch has not been forced, he either found it
+unlocked or opened it with a knife. After getting into the room he
+walked towards the foot of the bed. He listened to make sure that Mr.
+Glenthorpe was asleep, and then struck the match I picked up near the
+foot of the bed, lit the candle he was carrying, put it on the table
+beside the bed, and stabbed the sleeping man. Having secured the money,
+he unlocked the door, carried the corpse out on his shoulder, closed the
+door behind him but did not lock it, then took the body downstairs, let
+himself out of the back door, carried it up here and cast it into the
+pit. That's how the murder was committed."
+
+"I agree with you that the murderer entered through the window," said
+Colwyn. "But why did he do so? It strikes me as important to clear that
+up. If Ronald is the murderer, why did he take the trouble to enter the
+room from the outside when he slept in the next room?"
+
+"Surely you have not forgotten that the door was locked from inside?
+Benson says Mr. Glenthorpe was in the habit of locking his door and
+sleeping with the key under the pillow. Ronald no doubt first tried to
+enter the room by the door, but, finding it locked, climbed out of his
+window, and got into the room through the other window. He dared not
+break open the door for fear of disturbing the inmate or alarming the
+house."
+
+"Then how do you account for the key being found in the outside of Mr.
+Glenthorpe's door this morning?"
+
+"Quite easily. During the struggle or in the victim's death convulsions
+the bed-clothes were disarranged, and Ronald saw the key beneath the
+pillow. Or he may have searched for it, as he knew he would need it
+before he could open the door and remove the body. It was easy for him
+to climb through the window to commit the murder, but he couldn't remove
+the body that way. After finding the key he unlocked the door, and put
+the key in the outside, intending to lock the door and remove the key as
+he left the room, so as to defer the discovery that Mr. Glenthorpe was
+missing until as long after his own departure in the morning as
+possible. He may have found it a difficult matter to stoop and lock the
+door and withdraw the key while he was encumbered with the corpse, so
+left it in the door till he returned from the pit. When he returned he
+was so exhausted with carrying the body several hundred yards, mostly
+uphill, that he forgot all about the key. That is my theory to account
+for the key being in the outside of the door."
+
+"It's an ingenious one, at all events," commented Colwyn. "But would
+such a careful deliberate murderer overlook the key when he returned?"
+
+"Nothing more likely," said the confident superintendent. "It's in
+trifles like this that murderers give themselves away. The notorious
+Deeming, who murdered several wives, and disposed of their bodies by
+burying them under hearthstones and covering them with cement, would
+probably never have been caught if he had not taken away with him a
+canary which belonged to the last woman he murdered. It was a clue that
+couldn't be missed--like the silk skein in Fair Rosamond's Bower."
+
+"Here's another point: why did not Ronald, having disposed of the body,
+disappear at once, instead of waiting for the morning?"
+
+"Because if his room had been found empty in the morning, as well as
+that of Mr. Glenthorpe's, the double disappearance would have aroused
+instant suspicion and search. Ronald gauged the moment of his departure
+very cleverly, in my opinion. On the one hand, he wanted to get away
+before the discovery of Mr. Glenthorpe's empty bedroom; and, on the
+other hand, he wished to stay at the inn long enough to suggest that he
+had no reason for flight, but was merely compelled to make an early
+departure. The trouble and risk he took to conceal the body outside
+prove conclusively that he thought the pit a sufficiently safe
+hiding-place to retard discovery of the crime for a considerable time,
+and he probably thought that even when it was discovered that Mr.
+Glenthorpe was missing his absence would not, at first, arouse
+suspicions that he had met with foul play.
+
+"It was not as though Mr. Glenthorpe was living at home with relatives
+who would have immediately raised a hue and cry. He was a lonely old man
+living in an inn amongst strangers, who were not likely to be interested
+in his goings and comings. That suggests another alternative theory to
+account for the key in the door: Ronald may have left it in the door to
+convey the impression that Mr. Glenthorpe had gone out for an early
+walk. That belief would at least gain Ronald a few hours to make good
+his escape from this part of the country and get away by train before
+any suspicions were aroused. The fact that none of Mr. Glenthorpe's
+clothes were missing was not likely to be discovered in an inn until
+suspicion was aroused. Ronald laid his plans well, but how was he to
+know that in his path to the pit he walked over soil as plastic and
+impressionable as wax?"
+
+"But in spite of that you assume he knew exactly where this pit was
+situated?"
+
+"Nothing more likely. It is well-known to archaeologists. Ronald may well
+have heard of it while staying at Durrington, or he may have known of
+it personally through some previous visit to this part of the world. And
+there is also evidence that Mr. Glenthorpe told him of the hut circles
+and the pit during dinner last night."
+
+"Just one more doubt, Superintendent. How do you account for the cracked
+gas globe and the broken incandescent mantle?"
+
+"Ronald probably knocked his head against it as he approached the bed,"
+said Galloway promptly.
+
+"Hardly. Ronald's height, according to the description, is five feet ten
+inches. That happens to be also my height, and I can pass under the gas
+globe without touching it."
+
+"Then it was broken when Ronald was carrying the corpse downstairs,"
+replied Galloway, after a moment's reflection. "He carried the corpse on
+his shoulders and part of the body would be above his head."
+
+"Superintendent Galloway has an answer for everything," said Colwyn with
+a smile, to Mr. Cromering. "He is persuasive if not always convincing."
+
+"The case seems clear enough to me," said the chief constable
+thoughtfully. "Come, gentlemen, let us return to the inn. We have a
+number of things to do, and not much time to do them in."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+The inn, seen in the grey evening of a grey day, had a stark and
+sinister aspect, an atmosphere of mystery and secretiveness, an air of
+solitary aloofness in the dreary marshes, standing half shrouded in the
+night mists which were sluggishly crawling across the oozing flats from
+the sea. It was not a place where people could be happy--this battered
+abode of a past age on the edge of the North Sea, with the bitter waters
+of the marshes lapping its foundations, and the cold winds for ever
+wailing round its gaunt white walls.
+
+The portion buried in the hillside, with only the tops of the windows
+peering above, suggested the hidden holes and burrowing byways of a dead
+and gone generation of smugglers who had used the inn in the heyday of
+Norfolk's sea prosperity. It may have been a thought of the
+possibilities of the inn as a hiding place which prompted Mr. Cromering
+to exclaim, after gazing at it attentively for some seconds:
+
+"We had better go through this place from the bottom."
+
+As they approached the inn a stout short man, who was looking out from
+the low and narrow doorway, retreated into the interior, and immediately
+afterwards the long figure of the innkeeper emerged as though he had
+been awaiting the return of the party, and had posted somebody to watch
+for them.
+
+The innkeeper showed no surprise on receiving Mr. Cromering's
+instruction to show them over the inn. Walking before them he led them
+along a side passage opposite the bar, opening doors as he went, and
+drawing aside for them to enter and look at the rooms thus revealed.
+
+It was a strange rambling old place inside, full of nooks and crannies,
+and unexpected odd corners and apertures, short galleries and stone
+passages winding everywhere and leading nowhere; the downstairs rooms on
+different levels, with stone steps into them, and queer slits of windows
+pierced high up in the thick walls. On the ground floor a central
+passage divided the inn into two portions. On the one side were several
+rooms, some empty and destitute of furniture, others barely furnished
+and empty, and a big gloomy kitchen in which a stout countrywoman, who
+shook and bobbed at the sight of the visitors, was washing greens at a
+dirty deal table. Off the kitchen were two small rooms, poorly furnished
+as servants' bedrooms, and the windows of these looked out on the
+marshes at the back of the house. On the other side of the centre
+passage was the bar, which was subterranean at the far end, with the
+cellar adjoining tunnelled into the hillside. In the recesses of the
+cellar the short stout man they had seen at the doorway was, by the
+light of a tallow candle, affixing a spigot to one of the barrels which
+stood against the earthen wall. Behind the bar was a small bar parlour,
+and behind that two more rooms, the house on that side finishing in a
+low and narrow gallery running parallel with the outside wall.
+
+The staircase upstairs opened into a stone passage, running from the
+front of the inn to the back. On the left-hand side of the passage,
+going from the head of the stairs to the back of the house, were four
+rooms. The first was a small, comfortably furnished sitting room, where
+Mr. Glenthorpe and his guest had dined the previous night. The bed
+chamber of the murdered man adjoined this room. Next came the room in
+which Ronald had slept, and then an empty lumber room. There were four
+bedrooms on the other side, all unfurnished, except one at the far end
+of the passage, the lumber-room. The innkeeper explained that the
+murdered man had been the sole occupant of that wing of the house until
+the previous night, when Mr. Ronald had occupied the room next to him.
+At this end of the passage another and narrower passage ran at right
+angles from it along the back of the house, with several rooms opening
+off it on one side only. The first of these rooms was empty; the next
+room contained a small iron bedstead, a chair, and a table, and the
+innkeeper said that it was his bedroom. At the next door he paused, and
+turning to Mr. Cromering hesitatingly remarked:
+
+"This is my mother's room, sir. She is an invalid."
+
+"We will not disturb your mother, we will merely glance into the room,"
+said the kindly chief constable.
+
+"It is not that, sir. She is----" He broke off abruptly, and knocked at
+the door.
+
+After a few moments' pause there was the sound of somebody within
+turning a key in the lock, then the door was opened by a young girl,
+who, at the sight of the visitors, walked hurriedly across to a bedstead
+at the far end of the room, on which something grey was moving, and
+stood in front of it as though she would guard the occupant of the bed
+from the intruding eyes of strangers.
+
+"It's all right, Peggy," said the innkeeper. "We shall not be here long.
+My daughter is afraid you will disturb her grandmother," he said turning
+to the gentlemen. "My mother is----" A motion of his finger towards his
+forehead completed the sentence more significantly than words.
+
+The figure on the bed in the corner was in the shadow, but they could
+make it out to be that of an old and shrivelled woman in a grey flannel
+nightdress, who was sitting up in bed, swinging backward and forward,
+holding some object in her arms, clasped tightly to her breast, while
+her small dark eyes, deepset under furrowed brows, gazed at the visitors
+with the unmeaning stare of an animal.
+
+But Colwyn's eyes were drawn to the girl at the bedside. She was
+beautiful, of a type sufficiently rare to attract attention anywhere.
+Her delicate profile and dainty grace shone in the shadow of the sordid
+room like an exquisite picture. He was aware of a skin of transparent
+whiteness, a wistful sensitive mouth, a pair of wonderful eyes with the
+green-grey colour of the sea in their depths, and a crown of red-gold
+hair. She was poorly, almost shabbily, dressed, but the crude cheap
+garbing of a country dressmaker was unable to mar the graceful outlines
+of her slim young figure. But it was the impassivity of the face and
+detachment of attitude which chained Colwyn's attention and stimulated
+his intellectual curiosity. The human face is usually an index to the
+owner's character, but this girl's face was a mask which revealed
+nothing. The features might have been marble for anything they
+displayed, as she stood by the bedside regarding with grave inscrutable
+eyes the group of men in the doorway. There was something pathetic in
+the contrast between her grace and beauty and stillness and the uncouth
+gestures and meaningless stare of the old woman in the bed behind her.
+
+The old woman, moving from side to side with the unhappy restlessness
+which characterises the insane, dropped over the side of the bed the
+object she had been nursing in her arms, and looked at the girl with the
+dumb entreaty of an animal. The girl stooped down by the side of the
+bed, picked up the fallen article, and restored it to the mad woman. It
+was a doll.
+
+Mr. Cromering, who saw the action and the article, flushed like a man
+who had seen something which should be kept secret, and turned to leave
+the room. The others followed, and immediately afterwards they heard the
+door closed after them, and the key turned in the lock.
+
+Superintendent Galloway, who had more of the inquiring turn of mind of
+the police official than the chief constable, asked the innkeeper
+several questions about his mother and her condition. The innkeeper said
+her insanity was the outcome of an accident which had happened two years
+before. She was sitting dozing by the kitchen fire when a large boiler
+of water overturned, scalding her terribly, and the shock and pain had
+sent her mad. She had never left the bedroom since, and had gradually
+become reduced to a condition of imbecility, alternated by occasional
+outbursts of violence.
+
+"Is she ever allowed out of the room?" asked Superintendent Galloway
+quickly, as though a sudden thought had struck him.
+
+"Never, sir; she never tries to get out of bed except when she's
+violent. She will sit there for hours, playing with a doll, but when she
+has her paroxysms she runs round and round the room, crying out as you
+heard her just now, and throwing the things about. Did you notice, sir,
+that there was no glassware in the room? She has tried to injure herself
+with glass and crockery in her violent fits."
+
+"How often does she have paroxysms of violent madness?" asked the chief
+constable.
+
+"Not often, sir; usually about the turn of the moon, or when there is a
+gale at sea."
+
+"There was a gale at sea last night," said Colwyn. "Did your mother have
+an attack then?"
+
+"Peggy said when she came downstairs last night she thought there were
+signs of an attack coming on, but when I looked in on Mother as I was
+going to bed, shortly before eleven, she seemed quiet enough, so I
+locked her door and went to bed."
+
+"Do you mean to say that you leave this poor mad woman in her bedroom
+all night alone?" asked the chief constable.
+
+"It's the best thing to be done, sir," replied the innkeeper, with an
+apologetic air. "We tried having somebody to sleep with her, but it only
+made her worse, and the doctor who saw her last year said it wasn't
+necessary. Peggy is with her a lot in the daytime, and often until she
+goes to bed. So she's really not left alone very much, because Ann goes
+into her room as soon as she gets up in the morning--about six o'clock."
+
+"And is your mother always secured in her room--is the door always
+locked?" asked Superintendent Galloway.
+
+"Yes, sir: the door is always locked inside or outside, and when I go to
+bed at night I take the key into my room and hang it on a nail. Ann
+comes in and gets it in the morning."
+
+"You did that last night, as usual?"
+
+"Yes, sir. Mother was quiet--just as you saw her now. She is quiet most
+of the time."
+
+"God help her, poor soul!" exclaimed the chief constable. "Where does
+this passage lead to, Benson?" he asked, as if to change the
+conversation, pointing to a gloomy gallery running off the passage in
+which they were standing.
+
+"It leads to two rooms looking out over the end of the inn, sir,"
+replied the innkeeper. "They are the only two rooms you haven't seen."
+
+"Who occupies this room?" asked Superintendent Galloway, opening the
+door of the first, and disclosing a small, plainly furnished bedroom.
+
+"My daughter, sir."
+
+"The next one is empty and unfurnished, like many of the others,"
+observed the chief constable. "This place seems too big for you, Benson.
+Were all these rooms destitute of furniture when you took over the inn?"
+
+"Not all, sir, but the inn being too big for me I sold the furniture for
+what it would fetch. It was no use to me."
+
+"Why don't you take a smaller place?" asked Superintendent Galloway,
+abruptly. "You'll never do any good on this part of the coast--it's
+played out, and there's no population."
+
+"I'm well aware of that, sir, but it's difficult for a man like me to
+make a shift once he gets into a place. There's Mother for one thing."
+
+"She ought to be placed in a lunatic asylum," said the superintendent,
+looking sternly at the innkeeper.
+
+"It's a hard thing, sir, to put your own mother away. Besides, begging
+your pardon, she's hardly bad enough for a lunatic asylum."
+
+"Let us go downstairs, Galloway, if we have seen the whole of the inn,"
+said the chief constable, breaking into this colloquy. "Time is really
+getting on."
+
+They went downstairs again to the small room they had been shown into
+when they first entered the inn, Mr. Cromering after despatching the
+innkeeper for refreshments for the party glanced once more at his watch,
+and remarked to Colwyn that he was afraid he would have to ask him to
+drive him in his car back to Durrington without delay.
+
+"Galloway will stay here for the inquest to-morrow," he added. "But I
+must get back to Norwich to-night."
+
+"It is not necessary to go back to Durrington, to get to Norwich," said
+Colwyn; "there's a train passes through Heathfield on the branch line,
+at 5.40." He consulted his own watch as he spoke. "It's now just four
+o'clock. Heathfield cannot be more than six miles away across country. I
+can run you over there in twenty minutes. That would give you an hour or
+so more here. I am speaking for myself as well as you," he added, with a
+smile. "I should like to know a little more about this case."
+
+"But I shall be taking you out of your way, and delaying the return of
+you and Sir Henry to Durrington."
+
+"I should like to return here and stay until after the inquest. Perhaps
+Sir Henry would not mind returning to Durrington from Heathfield. He
+will be able to catch the Durrington train at Cottenden, and get back to
+his hotel in time for dinner. Would you mind, Sir Henry?"
+
+"Not in the least," replied Sir Henry politely.
+
+"Then I think I might stay a little longer," said the chief constable.
+"What's the road like to Heathfield, Galloway? You know something about
+this part of the country."
+
+"Very bad," replied the superintendent uncompromisingly, who had his own
+reasons for wanting to get rid of his superior officer and the
+detective.
+
+"It will be all right in daylight, and I'll risk it coming back," said
+the detective cheerfully.
+
+He spoke with the resolute air of one used to making prompt decisions,
+and Mr. Cromering yielded with the feeble smile of a man who was rather
+glad to be released of the task of making up his own mind. The entrance
+of the innkeeper with refreshments put an end to the discussion. He
+thrust upon the police officials present the responsibility of breaking
+the licensed hours in which liquor might be drunk in war time by serving
+them with sherry, old brandy, and biscuits.
+
+The chief constable made himself a party to this breach of the law by
+helping himself to a glass of sherry. The wine was excellent and dry,
+and he poured himself out another. The result of this stimulant was
+directly apparent in the firm tones with which he announced his
+intention of examining those inmates of the inn who could throw any
+light on the murder of the previous night. He directed Superintendent
+Galloway to sit beside him and take notes of the information thus
+elicited for the use of the coroner the following day.
+
+"I think it would be as well to begin with the story of the innkeeper,"
+he added. "Please pull that bell-rope, Galloway."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+The innkeeper answered the bell in person, and was ordered by the chief
+constable to take a seat and tell everything he knew about the previous
+night's events, without equivocation or reserve. He took a chair at the
+table, his bright bird's glance wandering from one to the other of the
+faces opposite him as he smoothed with one claw-like hand the thatch of
+iron-grey hair which hung down over his forehead almost to his eyes.
+
+"Where shall I begin?" he asked.
+
+"You had better start by telling us how this young man Ronald came to
+your house yesterday afternoon, and then give us an account of the
+subsequent events, so far as you know them," said the chief constable.
+
+"I was down near the breakwater yesterday evening, setting some
+eel-lines in the canal, when he arrived," commenced the innkeeper. "When
+I came in, Charles--that's the waiter--told me there was a young
+gentleman in the bar parlour waiting to see me. I went into the parlour,
+and saw the young man sitting near the door. He looked very tired and
+weary, and said he wished to stay at the inn for the night."
+
+"How was he dressed?" asked Superintendent Galloway, looking up from his
+note-book.
+
+"In a grey Norfolk suit, with knickerbockers, and a soft felt hat."
+
+"Had you ever seen him before?"
+
+"No, sir. He was a complete stranger to me. I could see he was a
+gentleman. I told him I could not take him in, as the inn was only a
+poor rough place, with no accommodation for gentlefolk at the best of
+times, let alone war-time. The young gentleman said he was very tired
+and would sleep anywhere, and was not particular about food. He told me
+he had lost his way on the marshes, and a fisherman had directed him to
+the inn."
+
+"Did he say where he had come from?" asked the chief constable.
+
+"No, sir, and I didn't think to ask him. I might have done so, but Mr.
+Glenthorpe walked into the parlour just then, carrying some partridges
+in his hand. He didn't see the young gentleman at first--he was sitting
+in the corner behind the door--but told me to have one of the partridges
+cooked for his dinner. They had just been given to him, he said, by the
+farmer whose land he was going to excavate next week. As he turned to go
+out he saw the young gentleman sitting in the corner, and he said, in
+his hearty way: 'Good evening, sir; it is not often that we have any
+society in these parts.' The young gentleman told him what he had told
+me--how he had wandered away from Durrington and got lost, and had come
+to the inn in the hopes of getting a bed for the night. 'Glad to see a
+civilised human being in these parts,' said Mr. Glenthorpe. 'I hope
+you'll give me the pleasure of your company at dinner. Benson, tell Ann
+to cook another partridge.' 'I don't know whether the innkeeper will
+allow me that pleasure,' replied the young gentleman. 'He says he cannot
+put me up for the night.' 'Of course he'll put you up,' said Mr.
+Glenthorpe. 'Not even a Norfolk innkeeper would turn you out on to the
+North Sea marshes at this time of year.' That settled the question,
+because I couldn't afford to offend Mr. Glenthorpe, and besides, his
+providing the dinner helped me out of a difficulty. So I went out to
+give orders about the dinner, leaving Mr. Glenthorpe and him sitting
+together talking."
+
+"Did you get him to fill in a registration form?" asked Superintendent
+Galloway.
+
+"I forgot to ask him, sir," replied the innkeeper.
+
+"That is gross and inexcusable carelessness on your part, Benson," said
+Galloway sternly. "I shall have to report it."
+
+"I do not understand much about these things, sir," replied the
+innkeeper apologetically. "It is so rarely that we have a visitor to the
+place."
+
+"The authorities will hold you responsible. You are supposed to know the
+law, and help to carry it out. What's the use of devising regulations
+for the security of the country if they are not carried out? You
+innkeepers and hotel-keepers are really very careless. Go on with your
+story, Benson."
+
+"He and Mr. Glenthorpe had dinner together in the little upstairs
+sitting room which Mr. Glenthorpe kept for his own private use. He did
+his writing in it, and the flints and fossils he discovered in his
+excavations were stored in the cupboards. His meals were always taken up
+there, and last night he ordered the dinner to be taken up there as
+usual, and the table to be laid for two. Charles waited at table, but I
+was up there twice--first time with some sherry, and the second time was
+about an hour afterwards, when the gentlemen had finished dinner. I took
+up a bottle of some old brandy that the inn used to be famous for--it's
+the same that you gentlemen have been drinking. When I knocked at the
+door with the brandy it was Mr. Glenthorpe who called 'Come in!' He was
+standing in front of the fire, with a fossil in his hand, and he was
+telling the young man about how he came to discover it. I put the
+brandy on the table and left the room.
+
+"That was the last time I saw him alive. Charles came down with the
+dinner things about half-past nine, and said he was not wanted upstairs
+any more. Charles went to bed shortly afterwards--he sleeps in one of
+the two rooms off the kitchen. I went to my own bedroom before ten,
+after first telling Ann, the servant, who was doing some ironing in the
+kitchen, to turn off the gas at the meter if the gentlemen retired
+before she finished, but not to bother if they were still sitting up. It
+had been decided that the young gentleman should occupy the bedroom next
+to Mr. Glenthorpe, and Ann was a bit late with her ordinary work because
+it had taken her some time to get his room ready. The room had not been
+occupied for some time, and she'd had to air the bed-clothes and make
+the bed afresh.
+
+"The next morning I was a bit late getting down--there's nothing to open
+the inn for in the mornings--and Ann told me as soon as I got down that
+the young gentleman had left nearly an hour before. She had taken him up
+an early cup of tea at seven o'clock, and he opened the door to her
+knock, and took it from her. He was fully dressed, except for his boots,
+which he had in his hand, and he asked her to clean them, as he wanted
+to leave at once. She was walking away with the boots, when he called
+her back and took them from her, saying that it didn't matter about
+cleaning them, as he was in a hurry. When she gave him the boots he put
+a note into her hand, and said that was to pay for his bill.
+
+"It was the key in the outside of Mr. Glenthorpe's room which led to us
+finding out that he was not in the room. As I told you upstairs, sir, he
+used to always lock his door when he went to bed and put the key under
+the pillow. Ann noticed the key in the outside of the door when she
+went up with his breakfast tray--he never took early morning tea but he
+always breakfasted in his room. That would be about eight o'clock. She
+thought it strange to see the key in the door, and as she could get no
+answer to her knock she tried the door, found it unlocked and the room
+empty. She came downstairs and told me. I thought at first that Mr.
+Glenthorpe might have got up early to go and look at his excavations,
+but I went up to his room and saw the signs of a struggle and
+blood-stains on the bed-clothes, and I knew that something must have
+happened to him. I went into the village and told Constable Queensmead.
+He came to the inn, and made a search inside and outside and found the
+footprints leading to the pit on the rise. One of Mr. Glenthorpe's men
+who had been down the pit for flints was lowered by a rope, and brought
+up the body."
+
+The innkeeper took a leather wallet from his pocket and produced from it
+a Treasury L1 note. "This is the note the young gentleman left behind
+with Ann to pay his bill," he explained, pushing it across the table to
+the chief constable.
+
+"I would draw your attention, sir, to the fact that this Treasury note
+is one of the first issue--printed in black on white paper," remarked
+Superintendent Galloway to his superior officer. "Constable Queensmead
+has ascertained that the L300 which Mr. Glenthorpe drew out of the bank
+yesterday was all in L1 notes of the first issue. That money is missing
+from the dead man's effects."
+
+The chief constable looked thoughtfully at the note through his glasses,
+and then passed it to Colwyn, who examined it closely, and took a note
+of the number, and held it up to the light to see the watermark.
+
+"Did you or the servant find any weapon in Mr. Glenthorpe's room?" asked
+the chief constable.
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"You have missed a knife though, have you not?" asked Superintendent
+Galloway.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"What sort of a knife?"
+
+"A table-knife."
+
+"Was it one of the knives sent up to the sitting-room last night?"
+
+"Yes, sir. At least Charles says so. He has charge of the cutlery."
+
+"Then Charles had better tell us about it," interposed the chief
+constable. "You say you went to bed before ten o'clock, Benson. Did you
+hear anything in the night?"
+
+"No, sir, I fell asleep almost immediately. My room is a good distance
+from Mr. Glenthorpe's room."
+
+"I do not think we have any more questions to ask you, Benson."
+
+"Pardon the curiosity of a medical man, Mr. Cromering," remarked Sir
+Henry, "but would it be possible to ask the innkeeper whether he noticed
+anything peculiar about Mr. Ronald's demeanour, when he arrived at the
+inn, or when he saw him at dinner subsequently?"
+
+"You hear that question, Benson?" said the chief constable. "Did you
+notice anything strange about Mr. Ronald's conduct when first he came to
+the inn or at any time?"
+
+"I cannot say I did, sir. I thought he looked very tired when he first
+came into the inn, and his eyes were heavy as though with want of
+sleep."
+
+"He seemed quite sane and rational?"
+
+"Quite, sir."
+
+"Did you notice any symptoms of mental disturbance or irritability about
+him at any time?" struck in Sir Henry Durwood.
+
+"No, sir. He was a little bit angry at first when I said I couldn't take
+him in, but he struck me as quite cool and collected."
+
+Sir Henry looked a little disappointed at this reply. He asked no more
+questions, but entered a note in a small note-book which he took from
+his waistcoat pocket. Mr. Cromering intimated to the innkeeper that he
+had finished questioning him, and would like to examine the waiter,
+Charles.
+
+"If you wouldn't mind pulling the bell-rope behind you, sir," hinted the
+innkeeper.
+
+In response to a pull at the old-fashioned bell-rope, the stout country
+servant, who had been washing greens in the kitchen, entered the room.
+
+"Where is Charles, Ann?" asked the innkeeper.
+
+"He's in the kitchen," replied the woman nervously.
+
+"Then tell him he is wanted here immediately."
+
+"You run your inn in a queer sort of way, Benson," remarked
+Superintendent Galloway, in his loud voice, as the woman went away on
+her errand. "Why couldn't Charles have answered the bell himself, if he
+is in the kitchen? What does he wait on, if not the bar parlour?"
+
+"Charles is stone deaf, sir," replied the innkeeper.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+The man who entered the room was of sufficiently remarkable appearance
+to have attracted attention anywhere. He was short, but so fat that he
+looked less than his actual height, which was barely five feet. His
+ponderous head, which was covered with short stiff black hair, like a
+brush, seemed to merge into his body without any neck, and two black
+eyes glittered like diamond points in the white expanse of his hairless
+face. As he advanced towards the table these eyes roved quickly from one
+to the other of the faces on the other side of the table. He was in
+every way a remarkable contrast to his employer, and a painter in search
+of a subject might have been tempted to take the pair as models for a
+picture of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza.
+
+"Take that chair and answer my questions," said Mr. Cromering,
+addressing the waiter in a very loud voice. "Oh, I forgot," he added, to
+the innkeeper. "How do you manage to communicate with him if he is stone
+deaf?"
+
+"Quite easily, sir. Charles understands the lip language--he reads your
+lips while you speak. It is not even necessary to raise your voice, so
+long as you pronounce each word distinctly."
+
+"Sit down, Charles--do you understand me?" said the chief constable
+doubtfully. By way of helping the waiter to comprehend he pointed to the
+chair the innkeeper had vacated.
+
+The waiter crossed the room and took the chair. Like so many fat men,
+his movements were quick, agile, and noiseless, but as he came forward
+it was noticeable that his right arm was deformed, and much shorter than
+the other.
+
+The chief constable eyed the strange figure before him in some
+perplexity, and the fat white-faced deaf man confronted him stolidly,
+with his black twinkling eyes fixed on his face. His gaze, which was
+directed to the mouth and did not reach the eyes, was so disconcerting
+to Mr. Cromering that he cleared his throat with several nervous "hems"
+before commencing his examination:
+
+"Your name is----?"
+
+"Charles Lynn, sir."
+
+The reply was delivered in a whispered voice, the not infrequent result
+of prolonged deafness, complete isolation from the rest of humanity
+causing the gradual loss of sound values in the afflicted person; but
+the whisper, coming from such a mountain of flesh, conveyed the
+impression that the speaker's voice was half-strangled in layers of fat,
+and with difficulty gasped a way to the air. Mr. Cromering looked hard
+at the waiter as though suspecting him of some trick, but Charles' eyes
+were fixed on the mouth of his interrogator, awaiting his next question.
+
+"I understand that you waited on the two gentlemen in the upstairs
+sitting-room last night"--Mr. Cromering still spoke in such an
+unnecessarily loud voice that he grew red in the face with the
+exertion--"the gentleman who was murdered, and the young man Ronald, who
+came to the inn last night. Do you understand me?"
+
+"Yes, sir. I waited on the gentlemen, sir."
+
+"Very well. I want you to tell us all that took place between these
+gentlemen while you were in the room. You were there all through the
+dinner, I suppose?"
+
+"Yes, sir, but I didn't follow all of the conversation because of my
+infirmity." He touched his ears as he spoke. "I gathered some remarks of
+Mr. Glenthorpe's, because he told me to stand opposite him and watch his
+lips for orders, but I didn't get much of what the young gentleman said,
+because I was standing behind his chair most of the time so as to see
+Mr. Glenthorpe's lips better."
+
+"Well, tell us all you did gather of the conversation, and everything
+you saw."
+
+"I beg your pardon, sir"--the interruption came from Superintendent
+Galloway--"but would it not be advisable to get from the waiter first
+something of what passed between him and Ronald when Ronald came to the
+inn last night? The waiter was the first to see him, Benson says."
+
+"Quite right. I had forgotten. Tell us, Charles, what passed when Ronald
+first came to the inn in the afternoon."
+
+"It was between five and six o'clock, sir, when the young gentleman came
+to the front door and asked for the landlord. I told him he was out, but
+would be back shortly. The young gentleman said he was very tired, as he
+had walked a long distance and lost his way in the marshes, and would I
+show him into a private room and send him some refreshments. I took him
+into the bar parlour--this room, sir--and brought him refreshments. He
+seemed very tired--hardly able to lift one leg after the other."
+
+"Did he look ill--or strange?"
+
+"I didn't notice anything strange about him, sir, but he dropped into a
+chair as though he was exhausted, and told me to send the landlord to
+him as soon as he came in. I left him sitting there, and when Mr. Benson
+returned I told him, and he went in to him. I didn't see the young
+gentleman again until I waited on him and Mr. Glenthorpe at dinner in
+the upstairs sitting-room."
+
+"Very good. Tell us what happened there."
+
+"I laid the table, and took up the dinner at half-past seven. Those were
+Mr. Glenthorpe's orders. When I went up the first time the table was
+covered with flints and fossils, which Mr. Glenthorpe was showing the
+young gentleman, and I helped Mr. Glenthorpe put these back into the
+cupboards, and then I laid the table. When I took up the dinner the
+gentlemen sat down to it, and Mr. Glenthorpe rang for Mr. Benson, and
+told him to bring up some sherry. When the sherry came up Mr. Glenthorpe
+told the young gentleman that it was a special wine sent down by his
+London wine merchants, and he asked Mr. Ronald what he thought of it.
+Mr. Ronald said he thought it was an excellent dry wine. The gentlemen
+didn't talk much during dinner, though Mr. Glenthorpe was a little upset
+about the partridges. He said they had been cooked too dry. He asked the
+young gentleman what he thought of them, but I don't know what he
+replied, for I was not watching his lips.
+
+"Mr. Glenthorpe quite recovered himself by the time coffee was served,
+and was talking a lot about his researches in the neighbourhood. It was
+very learned talk, but it seemed to interest Mr. Ronald, for he asked a
+number of questions. Mr. Glenthorpe seemed very pleased with his
+interest, and told him about a valuable discovery made in a field near
+what he called the hut circles. He said he had bought the field off the
+farmer for L300, and was going to commence his excavations immediately.
+As the farmer refused to take a cheque for the land he had been over to
+the bank at Heathfield for the money, and had brought it back with him
+so as to pay it over in the morning and take possession of the field.
+Mr. Glenthorpe complained that the bank had made him take all the money
+in Treasury notes, and he took them out of his pocket and showed them to
+the young gentleman, saying how bulky they were, and pointing out that
+they were all of the first issue."
+
+"And what did Ronald say to that?"
+
+If the chief constable's question covered a trap, the waiter seemed
+unconscious of it.
+
+"I wasn't looking at him, sir, and did not hear his reply. After putting
+the money back in his pocket, Mr. Glenthorpe told me to go downstairs
+and tell Mr. Benson to bring up some of the old brandy. Mr. Benson came
+back with me, and Mr. Glenthorpe took the bottle from him and filled the
+glasses himself, telling the young gentleman that the brandy was the
+best in England, a relic of the old smuggling days, but far too good for
+scoundrels who had never paid the King's revenue one half-penny. Then
+when Mr. Benson had left the room he began to talk about the field
+again, and how anxious he was to start the excavations. That was about
+all I heard, sir, for shortly afterwards Mr. Glenthorpe told me to clear
+away the things, which took me several trips downstairs, because, not
+having the full use of my right hand, I have to use a small tray. It was
+not till this morning, when I was cleaning the cutlery, that I noticed
+that one of the knives I had taken upstairs the night before was
+missing. I think that is all, sir."
+
+The silence which followed, broken only by the rapid travelling of
+Superintendent Galloway's pen across the paper, revealed how intently
+the fat man's auditors had followed his whispered recital of the events
+before the murder. It was Superintendent Galloway who, putting down his
+fountain pen, asked the waiter to describe the knife he had missed.
+
+"It was a small, white-handled knife, sir--not one of the dinner knives,
+but one of the smaller ones."
+
+"Are you sure it was one of the knives you took upstairs last night?"
+
+"Quite sure, sir. We are very short of good cutlery, and I picked out
+this knife to put by the young gentleman's plate because it was a very
+good one. It and the carving-knife are the only two knives we have in
+that particular white-handled pattern."
+
+"Was this knife sharp?"
+
+"Very sharp, with a rather thin blade. I keep all my cutlery in good
+order, sir."
+
+"You seem to have heard a lot that passed last night in spite of your
+deafness," said Superintendent Galloway, in the blustering manner he had
+found very useful in browbeating rural witnesses in the police courts.
+"Is it customary for waiters to listen to everything that is said when
+they are waiting at table?"
+
+"I did not hear everything, sir," rejoined the waiter, and his soft
+whisper was in striking contrast to the superintendent's hectoring
+tones. "I explained to the other gentleman that I heard very little the
+young gentleman said, because I wasn't watching his lips. It was
+principally Mr. Glenthorpe's part of the conversation I have related. I
+followed almost everything he said because I was watching his lips
+closely the whole of the time."
+
+"Why?" snapped Superintendent Galloway.
+
+"It was Mr. Glenthorpe's strict instructions that I was to watch his
+lips closely every time I waited on him, because of my infirmity. He
+disliked very much being waited on by a deaf waiter when first he came
+to the inn. He said he didn't want to have to bellow out when he wanted
+anything. But when he found that I could understand lip language, and
+could follow what he was saying by watching his lips, he allowed me to
+wait on him, but he gave me strict instructions never to take my eyes
+off him when I was waiting on him, because he disliked having to repeat
+an order."
+
+At the request of Sir Henry, Superintendent Galloway asked the waiter if
+he had noticed anything peculiar in the actions of the murdered man's
+guest during the dinner. The waiter replied that he had not noticed the
+young gentleman particularly. So far as his observation went the young
+gentleman had acted just like an ordinary young gentleman, and he had
+noticed nothing strange or eccentric about him.
+
+Mr. Cromering decided to occupy the remaining time at his disposal by
+questioning Ann. The stout servant was brought from the kitchen in a
+state of trepidation, and, after curtsying awkwardly to the assembled
+gentlemen, flopped heavily into a chair, covered her face with her
+apron, and burst into sobs. Her story--which was extracted from her with
+much difficulty--bore out the innkeeper's account of her early morning
+interview with Ronald. She said the poor young gentleman had opened the
+door when she knocked with his tea. He was fully dressed, with his boots
+in his hand, and he said he wouldn't wait for any breakfast, though she
+had offered to cook him some fresh fish the master had caught the day
+before. He asked her to clean his boots, but as she was carrying them
+away he called her back and said he would wear them as they were. They
+were all covered with mud--a regular mask of mud. She wanted to rub the
+mud off, but he said that didn't matter: he was in a hurry to get away.
+While she had them in her hands she turned them up and looked at the
+bottoms, intending to put them to the kitchen fire to dry them if the
+soles were wet, and it was then she noticed that there was a circular
+rubber heel on one which was missing on the other--only the iron peg
+being left. She took particular notice of the peg, because she intended
+to hammer it down in the kitchen, thinking it must be very uncomfortable
+to walk on, but the young gentleman didn't give her the chance--he just
+took the boots from her and walked into his room, shutting the door
+behind him.
+
+Thus far Ann proceeded, between convulsive sobs and jelly-like tremors
+of her fat frame. By dint of further questioning, it was elicited from
+her that during this colloquy at the bedroom door the young gentleman
+had put a pound note into her hand, and told her to give it to her
+master in payment of his bill. "It won't be so much as that, sir," she
+had said. "What about the change?"
+
+"Oh, damn the change!" the young gentleman had said, very
+impatient-like, and then he had said, "Here's something for yourself,"
+and put five shillings into her hand.
+
+"Did the young gentleman seem at all excited during the time you saw
+him?" asked the chief constable, anticipating the inevitable question
+from Sir Henry.
+
+"I don't know what you mean by excited, sir. He seemed rarely impatient
+to be gone, though anybody might be excited at having to walk across
+them nasty marshes in the morning mist without a bite to stay the
+stomach. I only hope he didn't catch a chill, the poor young man."
+
+Further questions on this point only brought forth another shower of
+tears, and a sobbing asseveration that she hadn't taken particular
+notice of the young gentleman, who was a kind, liberal-hearted
+gentleman, no matter what some folk might think. It was evident that the
+tip of five shillings had won her heart.
+
+The chief constable waited for the storm to subside before he was able
+to extract the information that Ann hadn't seen the young gentleman
+leave the house. He had gone when she took up Mr. Glenthorpe's breakfast
+nearly an hour later, and made the discovery that the key of Mr.
+Glenthorpe's room was in the outside of the door, and his room empty.
+The young gentleman could easily have left the inn without being seen,
+for she and Charles were in the kitchen, and nobody else was downstairs
+at the time.
+
+It was in response to Colwyn's whispered suggestion that the chief
+constable asked Ann if she had turned off the gas at the meter the
+previous night. Yes, she had, she said. She heard the gentlemen leave
+the sitting-room upstairs and say good-night to each other as they went
+to their bedrooms, and she turned off the gas at the meter underneath
+the stair five minutes afterwards, when she had finished her ironing,
+and went to bed herself. That would be about half-past ten.
+
+Mr. Cromering, who did not understand the purport of the question, was
+satisfied with the answer, and allowed the servant to retire. But
+Colwyn, as he went out to the front to get the motor ready for the
+journey to Heathfield, was of a different opinion.
+
+"Ann may have turned off the gas as she said," he thought, "but it was
+turned on again during the night. Did Ann know this, and keep it back,
+or was it turned on and off again without her knowledge?"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+"Everything fits in beautifully," said Superintendent Galloway
+confidently. "I never knew a clearer case. All that remains for me to do
+is to lay my hands on this chap Ronald, and an intelligent jury will see
+to the rest."
+
+The police official and the detective had dined together in the small
+bar parlour on Colwyn's return from driving Mr. Cromering and Sir Henry
+Durwood to Heathfield Station. The superintendent had done more than
+justice to the meal, and a subsequent glass of the smugglers' brandy had
+so mellowed the milk of human kindness in his composition that he felt
+inclined for a little friendly conversation with his companion.
+
+"You are very confident," said Colwyn.
+
+"Of course I am confident. I have reason to be so. Everything I have
+seen to-day supports my original theory about this crime."
+
+"And what is your theory as to the manner in which this crime was
+committed? I have gathered a general idea of the line you are taking by
+listening to your conversation this afternoon, but I should like you to
+state your theory in precise terms. It is an interesting case, with some
+peculiar points about it which a frank discussion might help to
+elucidate."
+
+Superintendent Galloway looked suspiciously at Colwyn out of his small
+hard grey eyes. His official mind scented an attempt to trap him, and
+his Norfolk prudence prompted him to get what he could from the
+detective but to give nothing away in return.
+
+"I see you're suspicious of me, Galloway," continued Colwyn with a
+smile. "You've heard of city detectives and their ways, and you're
+thinking to yourself that a Norfolk man is more than a match for any of
+them."
+
+This sally was so akin to what was passing in the superintendent's mind
+that a grim smile momentarily relaxed his rugged features.
+
+"My thoughts are my own, I suppose," he said.
+
+"Not when you've just given them away," replied Colwyn, in a bantering
+tone. "My dear Galloway, your ingenuous countenance is a mirror to your
+mind, in which he who runs may read. But you are quite wrong in
+suspecting me. I have no ulterior motive. My only interest in this
+crime--or in any crime--is to solve it. Anybody can have the credit, as
+far as I am concerned. Newspaper notoriety is nothing to me."
+
+"You've managed to get a good deal of it without looking for it, then,"
+retorted the superintendent cannily. "It was only the other day I was
+reading a long article in one of the London newspapers about you,
+praising you for tracking the criminals in the Treasury Bonds case. The
+police were not mentioned."
+
+"Fame--or notoriety--sometimes comes to those who seek it least,"
+replied the detective genially. "I assure you that article came unasked.
+I'm a stranger to the political art of keeping sweet with the
+journalists--it was a statesman, you know, who summed up gratitude as a
+lively sense of favours to come. Now, in this case, let us play fair,
+actuated by the one desire to see that justice is done. This case does
+not strike me as quite such a simple affair as it seems to you. You
+approach it with a preconceived theory to which you are determined to
+adhere. Your theory is plausible and convincing--to some extent--but
+that is all the more reason why you should examine and test every link
+in the chain. You cannot solve difficult points by ignoring them and, to
+my mind, there are some difficult and perplexing features about this
+case which do not altogether fit in with your theory."
+
+"If my mind is an open book to you perhaps you'll tell me what my theory
+is," responded Superintendent Galloway, sourly.
+
+"Yes; that's a fair challenge." The detective pushed back his chair, and
+stood with his back against the mantelpiece, with a cigar in his mouth.
+"Your theory in this case is that chance and opportunity have made the
+crime and the criminal. Chance brings this young man Ronald to this
+lonely Norfolk inn, and sees to it that he is allowed to remain when the
+landlord wants to turn him away. Chance throws him into the society of a
+man of culture and education, who is only too glad of the opportunity of
+relieving the tedium of his surroundings in this rough uncultivated
+place by passing a few hours in the companionship of a man of his own
+rank of life. Chance contrives that this gentleman shall have in his
+possession a large sum of money which he shows to Ronald, who is greatly
+in need of money. Opportunity suggests the murder, provides the weapon,
+and gives Ronald the next room to his intended victim in a wing of the
+inn occupied by nobody else.
+
+"Your theory as to how the murder was actually committed strikes me as
+possible enough--up to a certain point. You think that Ronald, after
+waiting until everybody in the inn is likely to be asleep, steals out of
+his own room to the room of his victim. He finds the door locked.
+Chance, however, has thoughtfully provided him with a window opening on
+to a hillside, which enables him to climb out of his own window and
+into the window of the next room. He gets in, murders Mr. Glenthorpe,
+secures his money, and, finding the key of his bedroom under the pillow,
+carries the body of his victim downstairs, and outside, casting it into
+a deep hole some distance from the house, in the hope of preventing or
+retarding discovery of the crime. Through an oversight he forgets the
+key in the door, which he had placed in the outside before carrying off
+the body, intending when he returned to lock the door and carry the key
+away with him.
+
+"Next morning you have the highly suspicious circumstance of the young
+man's hurried departure, his refusal to have his boots cleaned, the
+incident of the L1 note, and the unshakable fact that the footprints
+leading to and from the pit where the body was discovered had been made
+by his boots.
+
+"As a further contributory link in the chain of evidence against Ronald,
+you intend to use the fact that he was turned out of the Grand Hotel,
+Durrington, the previous day because he couldn't pay his hotel bill,
+because this fact, combined with the fact that Mr. Glenthorpe showed him
+the money he had drawn from the bank at Heathfield, supplies a strong
+motive for the crime. In this connection you intend to try to establish
+that the Treasury note which Ronald left to pay his inn bill was one of
+those in Mr. Glenthorpe's possession, because it happens to be one of
+the First Treasury issue, printed in black and white, and all Mr.
+Glenthorpe's notes were of that issue, according to the murdered man's
+own statement. That, I take it, is the police theory of this case."
+
+"It is," said Superintendent Galloway. "You've put it a bit more
+fancifully than I should, but it comes to the same thing. But what do
+you make out of the incident at the Grand Hotel, Durrington, yesterday
+morning? You were there, and saw it all. Does it seem strange to you
+that Ronald should have come straight to this inn and committed a murder
+after making that scene at the hotel? Do you think it suggests that
+Ronald has, well--impulses of violence, let us say?" Superintendent
+Galloway poured himself out another glass of old brandy and sipped it
+deliberately, watching the detective cautiously between the sips.
+
+Colwyn was silent for a moment. He was quick to comprehend the
+double-barrelled motive which underlay the superintendent's question,
+and he had no intention of letting the police officer pump him for his
+own ends.
+
+"Sir Henry Durwood would be better able to answer that question than I,"
+he said.
+
+"I asked him when we were driving over here this afternoon, but he shut
+up like an oyster--you know what these professional men are, with their
+stiff-and-starched ideas of etiquette," grumbled the superintendent.
+
+A flicker of amusement showed in Colwyn's eyes. Really the
+superintendent was easily drawn, for an East Anglian countryman. "After
+all, it is only Sir Henry Durwood's opinion that Ronald intended
+violence at the _Grand_," he said. "Sir Henry did not give him the
+opportunity to carry out his intention--if he had such an intention."
+
+"Exactly my opinion," exclaimed Superintendent Galloway, eagerly rising
+to the fly. "I have ascertained that Ronald's behaviour during the time
+he was staying at the hotel was that of an ordinary sane Englishman. The
+proprietor says he was quite a gentleman, with nothing eccentric or
+peculiar about him, and the servants say the same. They are the best
+judges, after all. And nobody noticed anything peculiar about him at the
+breakfast table except yourself and Sir Henry--and what happened?
+Nothing, except that he was a bit excited--and no wonder, after the
+young man had just been ordered to leave the hotel. Then Sir Henry
+grabbed hold of him and he fainted--or pretended to faint; it may have
+been all part of his game. Sir Henry may have thought he intended to do
+something or other, but no British judge would admit that as evidence
+for the defence. This chap Ronald is as sane as you or me, and a deep,
+cunning cold-blooded scoundrel to boot. If the defence try to put up a
+plea of insanity they'll find themselves in the wrong box. There's not a
+jury in the world that wouldn't hang him on the evidence against him."
+
+This time Colwyn could not forbear smiling at the guileless way in which
+Superintendent Galloway had revealed the thoughts which had been passing
+through his mind. But his amusement was momentary, and it was in a
+grave, earnest tone that he replied:
+
+"The hotel incident is a puzzling one, but I agree with you that it
+doesn't enter into the police case against Ronald. It is your duty to
+deal with the facts of the case, and if you think that Ronald committed
+this murder----"
+
+"If I think that Ronald committed this murder!" Superintendent
+Galloway's interruption was both amazed and indignant. "I'm as certain
+he committed the murder as if I saw him do it with my own eyes. Did you,
+or anybody else, ever see a clearer case?"
+
+"It is because the circumstantial evidence against him is so strong that
+I speak as I do," continued Colwyn, in the same earnest tones. "Innocent
+men have been hanged in England before now on circumstantial evidence.
+It is for that very reason that we should guard ourselves against the
+tendency to accept the circumstantial evidence against him as proof of
+his guilt, instead of examining all the facts with an open mind. We are
+the investigators of the circumstances: it is not for us to prejudge.
+That is the worst of circumstantial evidence: it tends to prejudgment,
+and sometimes to the ignoring of circumstances and facts which might
+tell in favour of the suspect, if they were examined with a more
+impartial eye. It is for these reasons that I am always careful to
+suspend judgment in cases of circumstantial evidence, and examine
+carefully even the smallest trifles which might tell in favour of the
+man to whom circumstantial evidence points.
+
+"Have you discovered anything, since you have been at the inn, which
+shakes the theory that Ronald is the murderer?"
+
+"I have come to the conclusion that the case is much more complex and
+puzzling than was at first supposed."
+
+"I should like to know what makes you think that," returned
+Superintendent Galloway. "Up to the present I have seen nothing to shake
+my conviction that Ronald is the guilty man. What have you discovered
+that makes you think otherwise?"
+
+"I do not go as far as that--yet. But I have come across certain things
+which, to my mind, need elucidation before it is possible to pronounce
+definitely on Ronald's guilt or innocence. To take them consecutively,
+let me repeat that I cannot reconcile Ronald's excitable conduct at the
+Durrington hotel with his supposed actions at the inn. In the former
+case he behaved like a man who, whether insane or merely excited, had
+not the slightest fear of the consequences. At this inn he acted like a
+crafty cautious scoundrel who had weighed the consequences of his acts
+beforehand, and took every possible precaution to save his own skin.
+You see nothing inconsistent in this----"
+
+"I do not," interjected the superintendent firmly.
+
+"Quite so. Then, the next point that perplexes me is why Ronald took the
+trouble to carry the body of his victim to the pit and throw it in."
+
+"For the motive of concealment, and to retard discovery. But for the
+footprints it would probably have given him several days--perhaps
+weeks--in which to make good his escape."
+
+"Did he not run a bigger risk of discovery by carrying the body
+downstairs in an occupied house, and across several hundred yards of
+open land close to the village?"
+
+"Not in a remote spot like this. They keep early hours in this part of
+the country. I guarantee if you walked through the village now you
+wouldn't see a soul stirring."
+
+"Ronald was not likely to know that. Next, how did Ronald, a stranger to
+the place, know the locality of this pit so accurately as to be able to
+walk straight to it?"
+
+"Easily. He might have approached the inn from that side, and passed it
+on his way. And nothing is more likely than Mr. Glenthorpe would tell
+him about the pit in the course of his conversation about the
+excavations. There is also the possibility that Ronald knew of the
+existence of the pit from a previous visit to this part of the country."
+
+"My next point is that Ronald was put to sleep in what he imagined was
+an upstairs bedroom. How did he discover that his bedroom, and the
+bedroom of Mr. Glenthorpe's adjoining, opened on to a hillside which
+enabled him to get out of one bedroom and into the other?"
+
+"Again, Mr. Glenthorpe probably told him--he seems to have been a
+garrulous old chap, according to all accounts. Or Ronald may have
+looked out of his window when he was retiring, and seen it for himself.
+I always look out of a bedroom window, and particularly if it is a
+strange bedroom, before getting into bed."
+
+"These are matters of opinion, and, though your explanations are
+possible ones, I do not agree with you. We are looking at this case from
+entirely different points of view. You believe that Ronald committed the
+murder, and you are allowing that belief to colour everything connected
+with the case. I am looking at this murder as a mystery which has not
+yet been solved, and, without excluding the possibility that Ronald is
+the murderer, I am not going, because of the circumstantial evidence
+against him, to accept his guilt as a foregone conclusion until I have
+carefully examined and tested all the facts for and against that theory.
+
+"The one outstanding probability is that Mr. Glenthorpe was murdered for
+his money. Now, excluding for the time being the circumstantial evidence
+against Ronald--though without losing sight of it--the next point that
+arises is was he murdered by somebody in the inn or by somebody from
+outside--say, for example, one of the villagers employed on his
+excavation works. The waiter's story of the missing knife suggests the
+former theory, but I do not regard that evidence as incontrovertible.
+The knife might have been stolen from the kitchen by a man who had been
+drinking at the bar; indeed, until we have recovered the weapon it is
+not even established that this was the knife with which the murder was
+committed. It might have been some other knife. We must not take the
+waiter's story for granted until we have recovered the knife, and not
+necessarily then. But that story, as it stands, inclines to support the
+theory that the murder was committed by somebody in the inn. On the
+other hand, the theory of an outside murderer lends itself to a very
+plausible reconstruction of the crime. Suppose, for example, the murder
+had been committed by one of Mr. Glenthorpe's workmen, actuated by the
+dual motives of revenge and robbery, or by either motive. Apparently the
+whole village knew of Mr. Glenthorpe's intention to draw this money
+which was in his possession when he was murdered--he seems to have been
+a man who talked very freely of his private affairs--and the amount,
+L300, would be a fortune to an agricultural labourer or a fisherman.
+Such a man would know all about the bedroom windows on that side of the
+inn opening on to the hillside, and would naturally choose that means of
+entry to commit the crime. And, if he were a labourer in Mr.
+Glenthorpe's employ, the thought of concealing the body by casting it
+into the pit would probably occur to him."
+
+"I do not think there is much in that theory," said Superintendent
+Galloway thoughtfully. "Still, it is worth putting to the test. I'll
+inquire in the morning if any of the villagers are suspicious
+characters, or whether any of Glenthorpe's men had a grudge against
+him."
+
+"Now let us leave theories and speculations and come to facts. Our
+investigations of the murdered man's room this afternoon gave us several
+clues, not the least important of which is that we are enabled to fix
+the actual time of the murder with some degree of accuracy. It is always
+useful, in a case of murder, to be able to establish the approximate
+time at which it was committed. In this case, the murder was certainly
+committed between the hours of 11 p.m. and 11.30 p.m., and, in all
+probability, not much before half-past eleven."
+
+"How do you fix it so accurately as that?" asked the police officer,
+looking keenly at the detective.
+
+"According to Ann, the gentlemen went to their rooms about half-past
+ten, and she turned off the gas downstairs shortly afterwards, and went
+to bed herself. When we examined the room this afternoon, we found
+patches of red mud of the same colour and consistency of the soil
+outside the window leading from the window to the bedside, and a
+pool--a small isolated pool--of water near the open window. There were,
+as you recollect, no footprints outside the window. On the other hand,
+the footprints from the inn to the pit are clear and distinct. Rain
+commenced to fall last night shortly before eleven, but it did not fall
+heavily until eleven o'clock. From then till half-past eleven it was a
+regular downpour, when it ceased, and it has not rained since. Now, the
+patches of red mud in the bedroom, and the obliteration of footprints
+outside the window, prove that the murderer entered the room during the
+storm, but the footprints leading to the pit prove that the body was not
+removed from the room until the rain had completely ceased, otherwise
+they would have been obliterated also, or partly obliterated. These
+facts make it clear that the murder was committed between eleven and
+half-past, but the pool of water near the window enables us to fix the
+time more accurately still, and say that he entered the room during the
+time the rain was at its heaviest--that is, between ten minutes past and
+half-past eleven."
+
+"I'm hanged if I see how you fix it so definitely," said the
+superintendent, who had been following the other's deductions with
+interest. "The pool of water may have collected at any time, once the
+window was open."
+
+"My dear Galloway, you are working on the rule-of-thumb deduction that
+the rain blew in the open window and formed the pool. As a matter of
+fact, it did nothing of the kind. The wind was blowing the other way,
+and _away_ from that side of the house. Furthermore, the hill on that
+side of the inn acts as a natural barrier against rain and weather."
+
+"Then how the deuce do you account for the water in the room?"
+
+"Surely you have not forgotten the piece of black material we found
+sticking on the nail outside the window?"
+
+"I have not forgotten it, but I do not see how you connect it with the
+pool of water."
+
+"Because it is a piece of umbrella silk. The murderer was carrying an
+umbrella--and an open umbrella--have you the piece of silk? If so, let
+us look at it."
+
+The superintendent produced the square inch of silk from his waistcoat
+pocket, and examined it closely: "Of course it's umbrella silk," he
+exclaimed, slapping his leg. "Funny I didn't recognise it at the time."
+
+"Perhaps I wouldn't have recognised it myself, but for the fact that a
+piece of umbrella silk formed an important clue in a recent case I was
+engaged upon," replied the detective. "Experience counts for a
+lot--sometimes. See, this piece of silk is hemmed on the edge--pretty
+conclusive proof that the murderer was carrying the umbrella open, to
+shield him from the rain, and that it caught on the nail outside the
+window, tearing off the edge. He closed it as he got inside the window,
+and placed it near the window-sill, and the rain dripped off it and
+formed the pool of water. The size of the pool, and the fact that the
+murderer carried an open umbrella to shield him, prove pretty
+conclusively that he made his entrance into the room during the time the
+rain was falling heaviest--which was between 11.10 p.m. and 11.30.
+
+"We now come to what is the most important discovery of all--the pieces
+of candle-grease we found in the murdered man's bedroom. They help to
+establish two curious facts, the least important of which is that
+somebody tried to light the gas in Mr. Glenthorpe's room last night,
+and, failing to do so, went downstairs and turned on the gas at the
+meter."
+
+"What if they did?" grunted Superintendent Galloway, pouring out another
+glass of brandy. He was secretly annoyed at having overlooked the clue
+of the umbrella silk, and was human enough to be angry with the
+detective for opening his eyes to the fact. "I don't see how you're
+going to prove it, and, even if you did, it doesn't matter a dump one
+way or the other."
+
+"We'll let that point go," rejoined Colwyn curtly. "Your attitude in
+shutting your eyes to facts hardly encourages me to proceed, but I'll
+try. Would you mind showing me those bits of candle-grease you picked up
+in the bedroom?"
+
+Superintendent Galloway produced a metal match-box from his pocket,
+emptied some pieces of candle-grease, a burnt wooden match and a broken
+matchhead from it, and sat back eyeing the detective with a supercilious
+smile. Colwyn, after examining them closely, brought from his own pocket
+an envelope, and shook several more pieces of candle-grease on the
+table.
+
+"Look at these pieces of candle-grease side by side," he said. "Yours
+were picked up alongside the bed; I found mine underneath the gas
+burner."
+
+Superintendent Galloway glanced at the pieces of candle-grease with the
+same supercilious smile. "I see them," he said. "They are pieces of
+candle-grease. What of them?"
+
+"Do you not see that they are different kinds of candle-grease? The
+pieces you picked up alongside the bed are tallow; mine, picked up from
+underneath the gas-globe, are wax."
+
+The Superintendent had not noticed the difference in the candle-grease,
+but he thought it beneath his dignity to examine them again. "The
+murderer may have had two candles," he said oracularly. "Anyway, what
+does it matter? They're both candle-grease."
+
+Colwyn swept his fragments back into his pocket with a quick impatient
+gesture. "Both candle-grease, as you say," he returned sharply. "We do
+not seem to be making much progress in our investigations, so let us
+discontinue them. Good-night."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+Colwyn went to bed, but not to sleep. Hour after hour he lay awake,
+staring into the darkness, endeavouring to put together the facts he had
+discovered during the afternoon's investigations at the inn. But they
+resembled those irritating odd-shaped pieces of a puzzle which refuse to
+fit into the remainder no matter which way they are turned. Try as he
+would, he could not fit his clues into harmony with the police theory of
+the murder.
+
+On the other hand, he could not, nor did he attempt, to shut his eyes to
+the strong case against Ronald, for he fully realised that there was
+much to be explained in the young man's actions before any alternative
+theory to that held by the police could be sustained. But so far he did
+not see his way to an alternative theory. He sought vainly for a
+foundation on which to build his clues and discoveries; for some
+overlooked trifle which would help him to read aright the true order and
+significance of the jumbled assortment of events in this strange case.
+
+In the first place, was Ronald's explanation, about losing his way and
+wandering to the inn by chance, the true one? The police accepted it
+without question, but was it likely that a man who was in the habit of
+taking long walks about the coast would lose his way easily? As against
+that doubt, there were the statements of the innkeeper and the deaf
+waiter that they had never seen Ronald before. If Ronald were not
+guilty, why had he departed so hurriedly from the inn that morning? And
+if he were not the murderer what was the explanation of the damning
+evidence of the footprints leading to the pit in which the body of the
+murdered man had been flung? If the discovery of the two kinds of
+candle-grease in Mr. Glenthorpe's bedroom indicated that two persons
+were in the room on the night of the murder, who were those two persons,
+and what did they both go there for?
+
+He reflected that his only tangible reason, so far, for not accepting
+the police theory was based on the belief that two people had been in
+the murdered man's room, and that belief rested on the discovery of a
+spot of candle-grease which in itself was merely presumptive, but not
+conclusive evidence. It was necessary to establish beyond doubt the
+supposition that two people had been in the room before he could presume
+to draw inferences from it. And, if he succeeded in establishing that
+supposition, might not Ronald have been one of the two persons, and the
+actual murderer? What was the significance of the broken incandescent
+burner, the turned-on gas, and the faint mark under the window?
+
+These questions revolved in Colwyn's head in a circle, always bringing
+him back to his starting point that the solution of the case did not lie
+on the surface, and that the police theory could not be made to fit in
+with his own discoveries. The latter were in themselves internal
+evidence that the whole truth had not yet been brought to light.
+
+Gradually the line of the circle grew nebulous, and Colwyn was fast
+falling asleep through sheer weariness, when a slight sharp sound, like
+that made by turning a key in a lock, brought him back to wide-eyed
+wakefulness. He sat up in bed, listening with strained ears, feeling for
+the box of matches at his bedside. He found them, and endeavoured to
+strike a light. But the matches were war matches, and one after another
+broke off in his hand against the side of the box. He tried holding the
+next close to the head, but the head flew off. With a muttered
+malediction on British manufacturers, Colwyn struck several more in
+rapid succession before he succeeded in lighting the candle at his
+bedside. He got quietly out of bed, and, leaving the candle on the
+table, opened his door noiselessly and looked out into the passage.
+
+He had been put to sleep in a small bedroom in the deserted upstairs
+wing where the murder had been committed. His room was opposite the
+lumber room, which was three doors away from the room in which the body
+of the dead man lay. When the question of accommodation for
+Superintendent Galloway and himself had been discussed, the former had
+chosen to have a bed made up in the bar parlour downstairs as more
+comfortable and snug than any of the bedrooms upstairs, but Colwyn had
+consented to sleep in the deserted wing. The innkeeper, who had lighted
+him upstairs, had apologised for the humble room and scanty furniture,
+but Colwyn had laughingly accepted the shortcomings of the room as a
+point of no importance, and had stood at his door for some moments
+watching a queer effect in shadows caused by the innkeeper's candle
+throwing gigantic wavering outlines of his gaunt retreating figure on
+the bare stone wall as he went down the side passage to his own bedroom.
+
+Colwyn, looking out into the passage, could hear or see nothing to
+account for the sound that had startled him into wakefulness. The candle
+by his bedside gave a feeble glimmer which did not reach to the door,
+and the passage was as dark and silent as the interior of a vault. The
+stillness and blackness seemed to float into the bedroom like a cloud.
+But he was certain he had not been mistaken. A door had been unlocked
+somewhere in the darkness, and it had been unlocked by human hands. Who
+had come to that deserted wing of the inn in the small hours, and on
+what business? He decided to explore the passage and find out.
+
+He left the door of his room partly open while he donned a few articles
+of clothing, and pulled a pair of slippers on his feet. He glanced at
+his watch, and noted with surprise that it wanted but a few minutes to
+three o'clock. He extinguished his candle and, taking his electric
+torch, crept silently into the passage.
+
+He recalled the arrangements of the rooms as he had observed them the
+previous afternoon. There were three more bedrooms adjoining his, all
+empty. On the other side of the passage was the lumber room opposite,
+next came the room in which Ronald slept, then the dead man's room, and
+finally the sitting-room he had occupied. The door of the sitting-room
+opened not very far from the head of the stairs.
+
+Colwyn first examined the bedrooms on his side of the passage, stepping
+as noiselessly as a cat, opening and shutting each door without a sound,
+and scrutinising the interiors by the light of his torch. They were
+empty and deserted, as he had seen them the previous afternoon. On
+reaching the end of the passage he glanced over the head of the
+staircase, but there was no light glimmering in the square well of
+darkness and no sound in the lower part of the house to suggest that
+anybody was stirring downstairs. He turned away, and made his way back
+along the passage, trying the doors on the other side with equal
+precaution as he went. The first three doors--the sitting-room, the
+murdered man's bedroom, and Ronald's bedroom--were locked, as he had
+seen them locked the previous afternoon by Superintendent Galloway, who
+had carried the keys away with him until after the inquest on the body.
+
+The lumber room at the other end of the passage had not been locked, and
+the door stood ajar. Colwyn entered it, and by the glancing light of the
+torch looked over the heavy furniture, mouldering linen, and stiffly
+upended bedpoles and curtain rods which nearly filled the room. The
+clock of a bygone generation stood on the mantel-piece, and the black
+winding hole in its white face seemed to leer at him like an evil eye as
+the light of the torch fell on it. But nobody had been in the room. The
+dust which encrusted the furniture and the floor had not been disturbed
+for months.
+
+Colwyn returned, puzzled, to his own room. Could he have been mistaken?
+Was it possible that the sound he had heard had been caused by the door
+of the lumber room swinging to? No! the sound had been too clear and
+distinct to admit the possibility of mistake, and it had been made by
+the grating of a key in a lock, not by a swinging door. He stood in the
+darkness by his open door, listening intently. Several minutes passed in
+profound silence, and then there came a scraping, spluttering sound.
+Somebody not far away had struck a match. Looking cautiously out into
+the passage, he saw, to his utter amazement, a gleam of light appear
+beneath the door in which the dead man lay. The next moment the gleam
+moved up the line of the door sideways, cutting into the darkness
+outside like a knife. The gleam became broader until the whole door was
+revealed. Somebody inside was opening it. Even as he looked a hand stole
+forth from the aperture through which the light streamed, and rested on
+the jamb outside.
+
+Colwyn was a man of strong nerves, but that sudden manifestation of
+light and a human hand from a sealed death chamber momentarily
+unbalanced his common sense, and caused it to swing like a pendulum
+towards the supernatural. He would not have been surprised if the light
+and the hand had been followed by the apparition of the murdered man on
+the threshold, demanding vengeance on his murderer. The feeling passed
+immediately, and with the return of reason the detective stepped back
+into his room, closed his door quietly, and watched through a knife's
+edge slit for the visitor to the death chamber to appear.
+
+The door of the dead man's room opened gently, and the face of the
+innkeeper's daughter peered forth into the darkness, her impassive face,
+behind which everything was hid, showing like a beautiful waxen mask
+against the light of the candle she held in her hand. Her clear gaze
+rested on Colwyn's door, and it seemed to him for a moment as though
+their glances met through the slit, then her eyes swept along the
+passage from one end to the other. As if satisfied by the scrutiny that
+she had nothing to fear, she stepped forth from the death chamber,
+closed and locked the door behind her, withdrew the key, walked swiftly
+along the passage to the head of the stairs, and descended them.
+
+Colwyn opened his door and followed her. He paused outside to pick up
+the boots which he had placed there to be cleaned, and carrying them in
+his hand, ran quickly to the head of the stairs. Looking over the
+landing, he saw the girl reach the bottom of the stairs and turn down
+the passage towards the back door, still carrying the lighted candle in
+her hand.
+
+When Colwyn reached the bottom, the girl and the light had disappeared.
+But a swift gust of wind in the passage revealed to him that she had
+gone out by the back door, and closed it after her. He followed along
+the passage till he felt the latch of the back door in his hand. The
+door yielded to the lifting of the latch, and he found himself in the
+open air.
+
+It was a grey northern night, with a bitter wind driving the sea mist in
+billows over the marshes, and a waning half moon shining fitfully
+through the dingy clouds which scudded across a lead-coloured sky. By
+the light of the moon he saw the figure of the girl, already some
+distance from the house, swiftly making her way along the reedy canal
+path which threaded the oozing marshes.
+
+Colwyn was not a stranger to marshlands. He had waded knee-deep from dawn
+to dusk through Irish bogs after wild geese; he had followed the
+migratory seafowl of Finland, Russia and Serbia into their Scottish
+breeding haunts, and he had once tried to keep pace with the sweep of
+the Bore over the Solway Marshes, but he had never undertaken a task so
+difficult as following this girl across a Norfolk marshland. The path
+she trod so unhesitatingly was narrow, and slippery, with the canal on
+one side and the marshes on the other. In keeping clear of the canal
+Colwyn frequently found himself slipping into the marshes. His feet and
+legs speedily became wet and caked with ooze, and once he nearly lost
+one of his boots, which he had pulled on hurriedly outside the inn, and
+left unlaced.
+
+But the girl walked straight on with a swift and even gait, treading the
+narrow path across the morass as securely as though she had been on the
+high road. Colwyn soon realised that the path they were following was
+taking them straight across the marshes to the sea. The surging of the
+waves against the breakwater sounded increasingly loud on his ears, and
+after a while he saw the breakwater itself rise momentarily out of the
+darkness like a yellow wall, only to disappear again. But presently it
+was visible once more, looming out in increasing clearness, with a
+ghostly glimmering of the grey waters of the North Sea heaving
+turbulently outside.
+
+As they neared the breakwater the path became drier and firmer, and the
+light of the moon, falling through a ragged rift in the scurrying
+clouds, showed a line of sand banks and strips of tussock-land emerging
+from the marshes as the marshes approached the sea.
+
+The girl kept on with the same resolute pace, until she reached a spot
+where the canal found its outlet to the sea. There she turned aside and
+skirted the breakwater wall for a little distance, as if searching for
+something. The next moment she was scaling the breakwater wall. Colwyn
+was too far away to intercept her, or reach her if she slipped. He
+stopped and watched her climb to the top of the wall, and stand there,
+like a creature of the sea, with the spray leaping hungrily at her
+slight figure. He saw her take something from the bosom of her dress and
+cast it into the wild waste of seething waters in front of her. Having
+done this she turned to descend the breakwater. Colwyn had barely time
+to leave the path, and take refuge in the shadow of the wall, before she
+reached the path again and set out to retrace her steps across the
+lonely marshes.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+Colwyn waited on the marshes until the coming of the dawn revealed the
+breakwater and the sea crashing against it. A brief scrutiny of the
+white waste of waters, raging endlessly against the barrier, convinced
+him of the futility of attempting to discover what the innkeeper's
+daughter had thrown from the breakwater wall an hour before. The sea
+would retain her secret.
+
+The sea mist hung heavily over the marshes as Colwyn cautiously picked
+his way back along the slippery canal path. Sooner than he expected, the
+inn appeared from the grey mist like a sheeted ghost. Colwyn stood for a
+few moments regarding the place attentively. There was something weird
+and sinister about this lonely inn on the edge of the marshes. Strange
+things must have happened there in the past, but the lawless secrets of
+a bygone generation of smugglers had been safely kept by the old inn.
+The cold morning light imparted the semblance of a leer to the circular
+windows high up in the white wall, as though they defied the world to
+discover the secret of the death of Roger Glenthorpe.
+
+There was no sign of life about the inn as Colwyn approached it. The
+back door yielded to his pull on the latch, and he gained his room
+unobserved; apparently all the inmates were still wrapped in slumber.
+Colwyn spent half an hour or so in making some sort of a toilet. He had
+brought a suit-case with him in the car, so he changed his wet clothes,
+shaved himself in cold water, washed, and brushed his hair. He looked
+at his watch, and found that it was after six o'clock. He wondered if
+the girl Peggy was sleeping after her night's adventure.
+
+A swishing noise, somewhere in the lower regions, broke the profound
+stillness of the house. Somebody was washing the floor, somewhere.
+Colwyn opened his door and went downstairs. Ann, the stout servant, was
+washing the passage. She was on her hands and knees, with her back
+towards the staircase, swabbing vigorously, and did not see the
+detective descending the stairs.
+
+"Good morning, Ann," said Colwyn, pleasantly.
+
+She turned her head quickly, with a start, and Colwyn could have sworn
+that the quick glance she gave him was one of fear. But she merely said,
+"Good morning, sir," and went on with her work, while the detective
+stood looking at her. She finished the passage in a few minutes and got
+awkwardly to her feet, wiping her red hands on her coarse apron.
+
+"You and I are the only early risers in the house, it seems, Ann," said
+Colwyn, still regarding her attentively.
+
+"If you please, sir, Charles is up, and gone out to the canal to see if
+there are any fish for breakfast on the master's night lines."
+
+"Fresh fish for breakfast! Well, that's a very good thing," replied the
+detective, reflecting it was just as well that he had got in before
+Charles went out. "What time does Mr. Benson come down?"
+
+"About half-past seven, sir, as a general rule, but sometimes he has his
+breakfast in bed."
+
+"That's not a bad idea at times, Ann. But I see you are impatient to get
+on with your work. Would you mind if I went into the kitchen and talked
+to you while you are preparing breakfast?"
+
+Again there was a gleam of fear in the woman's eyes as she looked
+quickly at the detective, but her voice was self-possessed as she
+replied:
+
+"Very well, sir," and turned down the passage which led to the kitchen.
+
+"What time was it when you turned off the gas the night before last?"
+asked Colwyn, when the kitchen was reached. "You told us yesterday that
+it was about half-past ten, but you did not seem very sure of the exact
+time. Can you not fix it accurately? Try and think."
+
+The look the woman gave Colwyn this time was undoubtedly one of relief.
+
+"Well, sir," she said, "I usually turn off the gas at ten o'clock, but,
+to tell you the truth, I was a little bit late that night."
+
+"A little bit late, eh? That means you forgot all about it."
+
+"I did forget about it, and that's the truth. The master told me not to
+turn off the meter until the gentlemen in the parlour upstairs had gone
+to bed. Charles told me when he came down from the upstairs parlour with
+the last of the dinner things that the gentlemen were still sitting in
+front of the fire talking, but some time after Charles had come down and
+gone to bed I heard them moving about upstairs, as though they were
+going to their rooms."
+
+"What time was that?" asked the detective.
+
+"Just half-past ten. I happened to glance at the kitchen clock at the
+time. Charles, who had been told that he wouldn't be wanted upstairs
+again, had gone to bed quite half an hour before, but I didn't go until
+I had folded some clothes which I had airing in front of the kitchen
+fire. When I did get to bed, and was just falling off to sleep, I
+suddenly remembered that I had forgotten to turn off the gas at the
+meter. I got out of bed again, lit my candle, and went up the passage to
+the meter, which is just under the foot of the stairs, turned off the
+gas, and went back to bed."
+
+"Did you notice the time then?"
+
+"The kitchen clock was just chiming eleven as I got back to my bed."
+
+"You are sure it was not twelve?"
+
+"Quite sure, sir."
+
+"Did you hear any sound upstairs?"
+
+"No, sir. It was as quiet as the dead."
+
+"Was it raining at that time?"
+
+"It started to rain heavens hard just as I got back to bed, but before
+that the wind was moaning round the house, as it do moan in these parts,
+and I knew we was in for a storm. I was glad enough to get back to my
+warm bed."
+
+"You might have seen something, if you had been a little later. The
+staircase is the only way the body could have been brought down from
+_there_." The detective pointed to the room above where the dead man
+lay.
+
+The woman trembled violently.
+
+"It's God's mercy I didn't see something," she said, and her voice fell
+to a husky whisper. "I should 'a' died wi' fright if I had seen _it_
+being brought downstairs. All day long I've been thanking God I didn't
+see anything."
+
+"Do nobody else but you and Charles sleep downstairs?"
+
+"Nobody, sir. I sleep in a small room off the kitchen, but Charles
+sleeps in one of the rooms in the passage which leads off the kitchen,
+the first room, not far from my own. But that'd been no help to me if
+I'd seen anything. I might have screamed the house down before Charles
+would have heard me, he being stone deaf."
+
+"Quite true, Ann. And now is that all you have to tell me about the
+gas?"
+
+The woman seemed to have some difficulty in replying, but finally she
+stammered out in an embarrassed voice, plucking at her apron the while:
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Look at me, Ann, and tell me the truth. Come now, it will be better for
+everybody."
+
+The countrywoman looked at the detective with whitening face, and there
+was something in his penetrating gaze that kept her frightened eyes
+fixed on his.
+
+"Please, sir----"
+
+"Yes, Ann, go on," prompted the detective encouragingly.
+
+But the woman didn't go on; there crept into her face instead an
+obstinate look, her mouth closed tightly, and her hands ceased
+twitching.
+
+"I've told you everything, sir," she said quietly.
+
+"You've not told me you found the meter turned on when you got up next
+morning," replied the detective sternly.
+
+The woman's fat face turned haggard with anxiety, and then she began to
+cry softly with her apron to her eyes.
+
+"Why did you not tell us this, Ann?"
+
+"If you please, sir, I thought that the master mightn't like it if he
+knew. He's very particular about having the gas turned off at night, and
+he might have thought I had forgotten it."
+
+Colwyn gave her another searching look.
+
+"Even if that were true, Ann, you have no right to keep back anything
+that may tend to shield the guilty, or injure the innocent."
+
+"I didn't think it mattered, sir."
+
+"You still say that you heard nothing after you went to bed?"
+
+"No, sir. I fell asleep as soon as I got into bed."
+
+"So you said before, but you did not tell us the whole truth yesterday,
+you know, and I do not know whether to believe you now."
+
+"Hush, sir, there's somebody coming down the passage."
+
+Colwyn strolled into the passage and encountered Superintendent Galloway
+coming towards the kitchen. He stared at the detective and exclaimed:
+
+"Hello, you're up early."
+
+"Yes; I found it difficult to sleep, so I came downstairs."
+
+"I hope you've not been making love to Ann," said Galloway, who had his
+own sense of humour. "I'm looking for this infernal waiter, Charles. He
+is never about when he's wanted. Charles! Charles!"
+
+Superintendent Galloway's shouts brought Ann hurrying from the kitchen,
+and she explained to him, as she had explained to Colwyn, that Charles
+had gone on to the marshes to look for fish.
+
+"Send him to my room as soon as he comes in; I've other fish for him to
+fry," grumbled the superintendent. "A queer household this," he said to
+Colwyn, as they walked along the passage. "Ah, here is Charles, fish and
+all."
+
+The fat waiter was hurrying in with a string of fish in his hand, and he
+came towards them in response to Superintendent Galloway's commanding
+gesture. The superintendent told him to go out and intercept Constable
+Queensmead before he went out with his search party, and bring him to
+the inn. Charles nodded an indication that he understood the
+instruction, and turned away to execute it.
+
+"I want Queensmead to get a dozen of the village blockheads together for
+a jury," he said to Colwyn. "The coroner sent me word before we left
+Durrington yesterday that he'd be over this morning, but he did not say
+what time, and I forgot to ask him. He's the man to kick up a devil of a
+shindy if he came and found we were not ready for him."
+
+Queensmead speedily appeared in response to the summons, listened
+quietly to Superintendent Galloway's laconic command to catch a jury and
+catch them quick, and went back to the village to secure twelve good men
+and true.
+
+Colwyn and Galloway meanwhile breakfasted together in the bar parlour,
+on some of the fish which Charles had brought in. As nothing followed
+the fish Superintendent Galloway, who was an excellent trencherman, rang
+the bell and ordered the waiter to bring some eggs and bacon. The waiter
+hesitated a moment, and then said that he believed they were out of
+bacon. There were some eggs, if they would do.
+
+"Bring me a couple, boiled, as quick as you like," said the
+superintendent. "This is a queer kind of inn," he grumbled to Colwyn.
+"They don't give you enough to eat."
+
+"I think they're a little short themselves," replied Colwyn.
+
+"By Jove, I believe you're right!" said the superintendent, staring hard
+at the edibles on the table before him. "There's not much here--a piece
+of butter no bigger than a walnut, a spoonful of jam, and tea as weak
+as water. Come to think of it, they gave us nothing but some of
+Glenthorpe's left over game for dinner last night. You're right, they
+are _hard up_."
+
+Superintendent Galloway looked at Colwyn with as much animation on his
+heavy features as though he had lighted on some new and important
+discovery. Colwyn, who had finished his breakfast and was not
+particularly interested in the conversation, strolled out with the
+intention of smoking a cigar outside the front door. In the passage he
+encountered Ann, bearing a tray with two cups and saucers, a pot of tea
+and some bread and butter which she proceeded to carry upstairs. Colwyn
+wondered for whom the breakfast was intended. There were three people
+upstairs--the father, his daughter, and the poor mad woman, and the
+breakfast was laid for two. The appearance of the innkeeper descending
+the stairs, answered the question. Colwyn accosted him as he came down.
+
+"You're a late riser, Benson."
+
+"Yes, sir, it's a bit difficult to handle Mother in the morning: the
+only way to keep her quiet is for me to stay with her until Peggy is
+ready to go to her and give her her breakfast. Mother is quiet enough
+with Peggy and me, but nobody else can do anything with her, and
+sometimes nobody can do anything with her except my daughter. She spends
+a lot of time with her, sir."
+
+The innkeeper looked more like a bird than ever as he proffered this
+explanation, standing at the foot of the stairs dressed as he had been
+the previous night, with his bright bird's eyes peering from beneath his
+shock of iron-grey hair at the man in front of him. Colwyn noticed that
+his hair had been recently wet, and plastered straight down so that it
+hung like a ridge over his forehead--just as it had been the previous
+night. Colwyn wondered why the man wore his hair like that. Did he
+always affect that eccentric style of hairdressing, or had he adopted it
+to alter his personal appearance--to disguise himself, or to conceal
+something?
+
+"It's no life for a young girl," said the detective, in answer to the
+innkeeper's last remark.
+
+"I know that, sir. But what am I to do? I cannot afford to keep a nurse.
+Peggy never complains. She's used to it. But if you'll excuse me, sir. I
+must go and get the room ready for the inquest."
+
+"What room is it going to be held in?"
+
+"Superintendent Galloway told me to put a table and some chairs into the
+last empty room off the passage leading into the kitchen. It's the
+biggest room in the house, and there are plenty of chairs in the lumber
+room upstairs."
+
+"It should do excellently for the purpose, I should think," said Colwyn.
+
+A few moments later he saw the innkeeper and the waiter carrying chairs
+from the lumber room downstairs into the empty room, where Ann dusted
+them. Then they carried in a small table from another room.
+Superintendent Galloway, with inky fingers and a red face, and a sheaf
+of foolscap papers in his hand, came bustling out of the bar parlour to
+superintend the arrangements. When the chairs had been placed to his
+liking he ordered the innkeeper to bring him a glass of ale. While he
+was drinking it Constable Queensmead entered the front door with a file
+of shambling, rough-looking villagers trailing behind him, and announced
+to his superior officer that the men were intended to form a jury.
+Superintendent Galloway seemed quite satisfied with their appearance,
+and remarked to Colwyn that he didn't care how soon the coroner
+arrived--now he had the jury and witnesses ready for him.
+
+"How many witnesses do you propose to call?" said Colwyn.
+
+"Five: Queensmead, Benson, the waiter, and the two men who found the
+footprints leading to the pit and who recovered the body and brought it
+here. That's enough for a committal. The coroner will no doubt bring a
+doctor from Heathfield to certify the cause of death. I've got all the
+statements ready. I took Benson's and the waiter's yesterday. The
+waiter's evidence is the principal thing, of course. Do you remember
+suggesting to me last night the possibility of this murder having been
+committed by one of Mr. Glenthorpe's workmen with a grudge against him?
+Well, it's a very strange thing, but Queensmead was telling me this
+morning that one of Mr. Glenthorpe's workmen had a grudge against him.
+He's a chap named Hyson, the local ne'er-do-well, who was almost
+starving when Mr. Glenthorpe came to the district. Glenthorpe was warned
+against employing him, but the fellow got round him with a piteous tale,
+and he put him on. He proved to be just as ungrateful as the average
+British workman, and caused the old gentleman a lot of trouble. He seems
+to have been a bit of a sea lawyer, and tried to disaffect the other
+workmen by talking to them about socialism, and the rights of labour,
+and that sort of rubbish. When I heard this I had the chap brought to
+the inn and cross-questioned him a bit, but I am certain that he had
+nothing to do with the murder. He's a weak, spineless sort of chap, full
+of argument and fond of beer--that's his character in the village--and
+the last man in the world to commit a murder like this. I flatter
+myself," added Superintendent Galloway in a tone of mingled
+self-complacency and pride, "that I know a murderer when I see one."
+
+"Have you made any inquiries about umbrellas?" asked Colwyn.
+
+"Yes. Apparently Ronald did not bring an umbrella with him, though it's
+cost me some trouble to establish that fact. It is astonishing how
+unobservant people are about such things as umbrellas, sticks, and
+handbags. Most people remember faces and clothes with some accuracy, but
+cannot recall whether a person carried an umbrella or walking-stick.
+Charles is not sure whether Ronald carried an umbrella, Benson thinks he
+did not, and Ann is sure he didn't. The balance of evidence being on the
+negative side, I assume that Ronald did not bring an umbrella to the
+inn, because it was more likely to have been noticed if he had. I next
+inquired about the umbrellas in the house. At first I was told there
+were only two--a cumbrous, Robinson Crusoe sort of affair, kept in the
+kitchen and used by the servant, and a smaller one, belonging to
+Benson's daughter. I have examined both. The covering of the girl's
+umbrella is complete. Ann's is rent in several places, but the covering
+is blue, whereas the piece of umbrella covering we found adhering to Mr.
+Glenthorpe's window is black. While I was questioning Ann she suddenly
+remembered that there was another umbrella in that lumber-room upstairs.
+We went upstairs to look for it, but we couldn't find it, though Ann
+says she saw it there a day or two before the murder. I think we may
+assume that Ronald took it."
+
+"But Ronald was a stranger to the place. How would he know the umbrella
+was in the lumber-room?" said Colwyn, who had followed Galloway's
+narrative with close attention.
+
+"The door of the lumber-room stands ajar. Ronald probably looked in from
+curiosity, and saw the umbrella."
+
+The easy assurance with which Superintendent Galloway dismissed or got
+over difficulties which interfered with his own theory did not commend
+itself to Colwyn, but he did not pursue the point further.
+
+"Is the umbrella still missing?" he asked.
+
+"Yes. It seems that even a murderer cannot be trusted to return an
+umbrella." Superintendent Galloway laughed shortly at his grim joke and
+walked away to supervise the preparations for the inquest.
+
+The coroner presently arrived from Heathfield in a small runabout
+motor-car which he drove himself, with a tall man sitting beside him,
+and a short pursy young man in the back seat nursing a portable
+typewriter and an attache case on his knees. Toiling in the rear, some
+distance behind the car, was a figure on a bicycle, which subsequently
+turned out to be the reporter of the Heathfield local paper, who had
+come over with instructions from one of the London agencies to send a
+twenty line report of the inquest for the London press. In peace times
+"specials" would probably have been despatched from the metropolis to
+"do a display story," and interview some of the persons concerned, but
+the war had discounted by seventy-five per cent the value of murders as
+newspaper "copy."
+
+The coroner, a short, stout, commonplace little man, jumped out of the
+car as soon as it stopped, and bustled into the inn with an air of fussy
+official importance, leaving his companions to follow.
+
+"Good day, Galloway," he exclaimed, as that officer came forward to
+greet him. "I hope you've got everything ready."
+
+"Everything's ready, Mr. Edgehill. Do you intend to commence before
+lunch?"
+
+"Of course I do. Are you aware that it is war-time? How many witnesses
+have you?"
+
+"Five, sir. Their statements have all been taken."
+
+"Then I shall go straight through--it seems a simple case--merely a
+matter of form, from what I have heard of it. I have another inquest at
+Downside at four o'clock. Where's the body? Upstairs? Doctor"--this to
+the tall thin man who had sat beside him in the run-about--"will you go
+upstairs with Queensmead and make your examination? Where's the jury?
+Pendy"--this to the young man with the typewriter and attache case--"get
+everything ready and swear in the jury. Galloway will show you the room.
+What's that? Oh, that's quite all right"--this in reply to some murmured
+apology on the part of Superintendent Galloway for the mental incapacity
+of the jury--"we ought to be glad to get juries at all--in war-time."
+
+Colwyn had feared that the result of the inquest was a foregone
+conclusion the moment he saw the coroner alighting from his motor-car
+outside the inn. Ten minutes later, when the little man had commenced
+his investigations, he realised that the proceedings were merely a
+formal compliance with the law, and in no sense of the word an inquiry.
+
+Mr. Edgehill, the coroner, was one of those people who seized upon the
+war as a pretext for the exercise of their natural proclivity to
+interfere in other people's affairs. He took the opportunity that every
+inquest gave him to lecture the British public on their duties and
+responsibilities in war-time. The body on which he was sitting formed
+his text, the jury was his congregation, and the newspaper reporters the
+vehicles by which his admonitions were conveyed to the nation. Mr.
+Edgehill saw a shirker in every suicide, national improvidence in a
+corpse with empty pockets, and had even been able to discover a
+declining war _morale_ in death by misadventure. He thanked God for air
+raids and food queues because they brought the war home to civilians,
+and he was never tired of asserting that he lived on half the voluntary
+rations scale, did harder work, felt ten years younger, and a hundred
+times more virtuous, in consequence.
+
+If he did not actually insert the last clause his look implied a
+superior virtue to his fellow creatures, and was meekly accepted as
+such. He never held an inquest without introducing some remarks upon
+uninterned aliens, the military age, Ireland and conscription, soldiers'
+wives and drinking, the prevalence of bigamy, and other popular war-time
+topics. In short, Mr. Edgehill, like many other people, had used the war
+to emerge from a chrysalis existence as a local bore into a butterfly
+career as a public nuisance. In that capacity he was still good "copy"
+in some of the London newspapers, and was even occasionally referred to
+in leading articles as a fine example of the sturdy country spirit which
+Londoners would do well to emulate.
+
+Before commencing his inquiry into the death of Mr. Glenthorpe, the
+coroner indignantly expressed his surprise that a small hamlet like
+Flegne could produce so many able-bodied men to serve on a jury in
+war-time. But after ascertaining that all the members of the jury were
+over military age, with the exception of one man who was afflicted with
+heart disease, he suffered the inquest to proceed.
+
+The evidence of the innkeeper and the waiter was a repetition of the
+story they had told to the chief constable on the preceding day.
+Constable Queensmead, in his composed way, gave an account of his
+preliminary investigations into the crime, and the finding of the body.
+
+The only additional evidence brought forward was given by two of the men
+who had been in the late Mr. Glenthorpe's employ. These men, Herward and
+Duney, had found the track of the footprints in the clay near the pit on
+going to work the previous morning. After the discovery that Mr.
+Glenthorpe was missing from the inn, Herward had been let down into the
+pit by a rope, and had brought up the body. Both these men told their
+story with a wealth of unlettered detail, and Duney, who was one of the
+aboriginals of the district, added his personal opinion that t'oud
+ma'aster mun 'a' been very dead afore the chap got him in the pit, else
+he would 'a' dinged one of the chap's eyes in, t'oud ma'aster not bein'
+a man to be taken anywhere against his will. However, the chap that
+carried him must 'a' been powerful strong, because Herward told him his
+own arms were begunnin' ter ache good tidily just a-howdin' him up to
+the rope when they wor being a-hawled out the pit.
+
+The coroner, in his summing up, dwelt upon the strong circumstantial
+evidence against Ronald, and the folly of the deceased in withdrawing a
+large sum of money from the bank for the purpose of carrying out
+scientific research in war-time. "Had he invested that money in war
+bonds he would have probably been alive to-day," said Mr. Edgehill
+gravely. The jury had no hesitation in returning a verdict of wilful
+murder against James Ronald.
+
+The coroner, the doctor, the clerk carrying the typewriter and the
+attache case, and Superintendent Galloway departed in the runabout
+motor-car shortly afterwards. Before evening a mortuary van, with two
+men, appeared from Heathfield and removed the body of the murdered man.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+
+If the inmates of the inn felt any surprise at Colwyn's remaining after
+the inquest, they did not betray it. That evening Ann nervously
+intercepted him to ask if he would have a partridge for his dinner, and
+Colwyn, remembering the shortness of the inn larder, replied that a
+partridge would do very well. Later on Charles served it in the bar
+parlour, and waited with his black eyes fixed on Colwyn's lips,
+sometimes anticipating his orders before they were uttered. He brought a
+bottle of claret from the inn cellar, assuring Colwyn in his soft
+whisper that he would find the wine excellent, and Colwyn, after
+sampling it, found no reason for disagreeing with the waiter's judgment.
+
+At the conclusion of the meal Colwyn sent for the innkeeper, and asked
+him a number of questions about the district and its inhabitants. The
+innkeeper intimated that Flegne was a poor place at the best of times,
+but the war had made it worse, and the poorer folk--the villagers who
+lived in the beach-stone cottages--were sometimes hard-pressed to keep
+body and soul together. They did what they could, eking out their scanty
+earnings by eel-fishing on the marshes, and occasionally snaring a few
+wild fowl. Mr. Glenthorpe's researches in the district had been a
+godsend because of the employment he had given, which had brought a
+little ready money into the place.
+
+It was obvious to Colwyn's alert intelligence that the innkeeper did not
+care to talk about his dead guest.
+
+There was no visible reluctance--indeed, it would have been hard to
+trace the sign of any particular emotion on his queer, bird-like
+face--but his replies were slow in coming when questioned about Mr.
+Glenthorpe, and he made several attempts to turn the conversation in
+another direction. When he had finished a glass of wine Colwyn offered
+him, he got up from the table with the remark that it was time for him
+to return to the bar.
+
+"I will go with you," said Colwyn. "It will help to pass away an hour."
+
+There were about a dozen men in the bar--agricultural labourers and
+fishermen--clustered in groups of twos and threes in front of the
+counter, or sitting on stools by the wall, drinking ale by the light of
+a smoky oil lamp which hung from the rafters. The fat deaf waiter was in
+the earthy recess behind the counter, drawing ale into stone mugs.
+
+A loud voice which had been holding forth ceased suddenly as Colwyn
+entered. The inmates of the bar regarded him questioningly, and some
+resentfully, as though they considered his presence an intrusion. But
+Colwyn was accustomed to making himself at home in all sorts of company.
+He walked across the bar, called for some whisky, and, while it was
+being served, addressed a friendly remark to the nearest group to him.
+One of the men, a white-bearded, keen-eyed Norfolk man, answered his
+question civilly enough. He had asked about wild fowl shooting in the
+neighbourhood, and the old man had been a water bailiff on the Broads in
+his younger days. The question of sport will draw most men together. One
+after another of the villagers joined in the conversation, and were soon
+as much at home with Colwyn as though they had known him from boyhood.
+Some of them were going eel-fishing that night, and Colwyn violated the
+provisions of the "no treating" order to give them a glass of whisky to
+keep out the cold of the marshes. The rest of the tap room he regaled
+with ale.
+
+From these Norfolk fishermen Colwyn learnt many of the secrets of the
+wild and many cunning methods of capturing its creatures, but the real
+object of his visit to the bar--to discover whether any of the
+frequenters of the _Golden Anchor_ had ever seen Ronald in the district
+before the evening of the murder--remained unsatisfied. He was a
+stranger to "theer" parts, the men said, in response to questions on the
+subject.
+
+But "theer" parts were limited to a mile or so of the marshland in which
+they spent their narrow, lonely lives. Their conversation revealed that
+they seldom went outside that narrow domain. Durrington, which was
+little more than ten miles away, was only a name to them. Many of them
+had not been as far as Leyland for months. They spent their days
+catching eels in the marsh canals, or in setting lobster and crab traps
+outside the breakwater. The agricultural labourers tilled the same patch
+of ground year after year. They had no recreations except an occasional
+night at the inn; their existence was a lifelong struggle with Nature
+for a bare subsistence. Most of them had been born in the beach-stone
+cottages where their fathers had been born before them, and most of them
+would die, as their fathers had died, in the little damp bedrooms where
+they had first seen the light, passing away, as their fathers had passed
+away, listening to the sound of the North Sea restlessly beating against
+the breakwater. That sound was never out of their ears while they lived,
+and it was the dirge to which they died. Such was their life, but they
+knew no other, and wished no other.
+
+Colwyn was early astir the following morning, and after breakfast went
+out. His purpose was to try to discover something which would throw
+light on Ronald's appearance at Flegne. With that object he scoured the
+country for some miles in the direction of Heathfield, for he deemed the
+possibility of Ronald having come by that route worth inquiring into.
+But his time was wasted; none of his inquiries brought to light anything
+to suggest that Ronald had ever been in the district before.
+
+When he returned to the village the day was more than half spent. As he
+entered the inn, he encountered Charles, who stopped when he saw him.
+
+"There are two men in the bar asking to see you, sir," he said, in his
+soft whisper. "Duney and Backlos are their names. They say they saw you
+in the bar last night, and they would like to speak to you privately, if
+you have no objection."
+
+"Show them into the bar parlour," the detective said. "And, Charles, you
+might ask Ann to let me have a little lunch when they are gone."
+
+Colwyn proceeded to the bar parlour. A moment or two afterwards the
+waiter ushered in two men and withdrew, closing the door after him.
+
+In response to Colwyn's request, his two visitors seated themselves
+awkwardly, but they seemed to have considerable difficulty in stating
+the object of their visit. Duney, one of the men who had helped to
+recover Mr. Glenthorpe's body from the pit, was a short, thickset,
+hairy-faced man, with round surprised eyes, which he kept intently fixed
+upon the detective's face, as though seeking inspiration for speech from
+that source. The other man, Backlos, was a tall, hawk-featured man with
+a sweeping black moustache, who needed only gaudy habiliments to make
+him the ideal pirate king of the comic opera stage. It was he who spoke
+first.
+
+"If you please, ma'aster, we uns come to you thinkin' as you might gi'
+us a bit o' advice."
+
+"About somefin' we seed last night," explained Mr. Duney, finding his
+own voice at the sound of his companion's.
+
+"I thowt 'ow 'twas agreed 'tween us I wor to tell the gentleman, bor?"
+growled the pirate king, turning a pair of dusky eyes on his companion.
+"Yow allus have a way o' overdoin' things, you know, Dick."
+
+"Right, bor, right," replied Mr. Duney. "Yow oughter know I only wanted
+to help yow out, Billy."
+
+"I dawn't want onny helpin' out," replied the pirate. "It's loike this
+'ere, ma'aster," he continued, turning again to Colwyn. "Arter Dick and
+I left the _Anchor_ las' night, we thowt we'd be walkin' a spell. We wor
+a talkin' o' th' murder at th' time, and wonderin' what we wor to do fur
+another job o' work, things bein' moighty bad heerabouts, when, as we
+neared top o' th' rise, we heered the rummiest kind o' noise a man ever
+heerd, comin' from that theer wood by th' pits. Dick says to me, in a
+skeered kind of voice, 'That's fair a rum un,' says he. There wornt much
+mune at th' time, but we could see things clar enough, and thow we
+looked around us we couldn't see a livin' thing a movin' either nigh th'
+woods nor on th' ma'shes. While we looked we seed a big harnsee rise out
+o' th' woods and go a flappin' away across th' ma'shes. Then all of a
+suddint we saw somefin' come a-wamblin' outer the shadder o' the wood,
+and run along by th' edge of ut. We couldn't make out a' furst what it
+moight be, thow for sure we got a rare fright. For my part, I thowt it
+might a' been ole Black Shuck, thow th' night didn't seem windy enough
+for un."
+
+"Stop a bit," said Colwyn. "What do you mean by Black Shuck? Oh, I
+remember. It's a Norfolk tradition or ghost story, isn't it? Black Shuck
+is supposed to be a big black dog, with one eye in the middle of the
+head, who runs without sound and howls louder than the wind. Whoever
+meets him is sure to die before the year is out."
+
+"That's him," said Mr. Backlos, affirming, with a grave nod of his head,
+his own profound belief in the canine apparition in question. "My
+grandfeyther seen un once not a hundred yards from the very spot were we
+wor standin' last night, and, sure enough, he died afore three months
+wor out. Dick and I couldn't tell what it wor we see creepin' out o' th'
+shadder o' th' wood, an' to tell yow th' trewth, ma'aster, we didn't
+care to look agen. I asked Dick if he didn't think it wor Black Shuck.
+'Naw daywt,' says Dick, 'if it ain't somefin' worse.' 'What do'st a'
+mean, bor?' says I. 'Well,' says Dick slowly like, 'it might be the
+sperrit from th' pit, for 'twas in no mortal man to holler out like that
+cry we just heered.' Wornt those yower words, bor?"
+
+Mr. Duney, thus appealed to, nodded portentously, as though to indicate
+that his words were well justified.
+
+"Never mind the spirit from the pit," said Colwyn. "Go on with your
+story."
+
+"Well, ma'aster, just as we wor walkin' away from th' wood as fast as
+ever we could, th' mune come out from behind th' shadder of a cloud, and
+threw a light right ower th' wood. We just happened to give a glance
+round ahind us at th' time, to see if we wor bein' follered, and, by its
+light, we saw a man a creepin' back into th' wood."
+
+"A man? Are you sure it was a man?"
+
+"There's no manner o' doubt about that, ma'aster. We both saw it once,
+and we didn't wait to look again. We run as hard as we could pelt to
+Dick's cottage by the ma'shes, and got inside and stood listenin' to
+heer if we were bein' follered. Dick says to me, says 'e, 'S'posen it
+wor the chap who murdered owd Mr. Glenthorpe at the _Anchor_?' I thowt
+as much meself, but a' tried to laugh it off, and says to Dick, 'What
+for should it be him? He's far enough away by this time, for we s'arched
+the place round fur miles, and we took in that theer wood where we just
+see un.' 'We never s'arched th' wood,' says Dick, 'leastways, not
+proper, an' it's a rare hidin' place for un.' 'So it be, to be sure,'
+says I. 'If he sees that there light we'll be browt out from heer dead
+men,' says Dick. 'So we will, for sartin,' says I. 'Let's put out th'
+light, so th' bloody-minded murderer won't ha' narthin' to go by if he
+ain't seen it yet.' So we put out th' light and stayed theer till th'
+mornin', when we went out to work, and then when I seed Dick later we
+thowt we'd come and tell you all about it, seein' as yower a gentleman,
+and in consiquence a man of larnin', and might p'rhaps tell us what we'd
+better do."
+
+"You have certainly done the proper thing in disclosing what you have
+seen," said the detective, after a thoughtful pause. "But why have you
+come to me in the matter? It seems to me that the proper course to
+pursue would be to lay your information before Constable Queensmead."
+
+The two men exchanged a glance of conscious embarrassment. Then Mr.
+Backlos, with the air of a man who had made up his mind to take the bull
+by the horns, blurted out:
+
+"It's like this, ma'aster. We be in a bit o' a fix about that. Yow see,
+last night we were out arter conies, and thow I can swar we were out in
+th' open and not lookin' for conies on annybody's land, cos Dick an' I
+have already bin fined ten bob for snarin' conies on Farmer Cranley's
+land, an' if we went to Queensmead he moight think we'd been a snarin'
+there again. So Dick says to me, says he, 'Why not see the chap wot came
+into th' _Anchor_ bar last night? Annybody can see wi' half an eye that
+he's a real swell, for didn't he stand treat all round--an' wot he says
+we'll go by, and 'e won't treat us dirty, whatever he says, though, mind
+ye, bor, there's narthin' to gi' away. So let's go to thissun, an' tell
+un all about it.'"
+
+"I also tol' yow, Billy, that if thar be a reward out for this chap wot
+killed Mr. Glenthorpe, thissun 'ud tell us how to get it without sharin'
+wi' Queensmead, who does narthin' but take th' bread owt o' ower mouths,
+he bein' so sharp about th' conies. For if this chap in th' woods is the
+one wot killed owd Mr. Glenthorpe, we have a right to th' money for
+cotchin' un. Didn't I say that, Billy?"
+
+"Yow did, bor, yow did; them wor yower vaery words," acquiesced Mr.
+Backlos.
+
+"I think you had better leave the matter in my hands," said Colwyn, with
+difficulty repressing a smile at this exceedingly Norfolk explanation.
+"And now, you had better have a drink, for I am sure you must be dry
+after all that talk."
+
+The men, after drinking Colwyn's health in two mugs of ale, departed
+with placid countenances, and Colwyn was left to meditate over the news
+they had imparted. The result of his meditations was that he presently
+went forth in search of Police Constable Queensmead.
+
+The constable lived in the village street--in a beach-stone cottage which
+was in slightly better repair than its neighbours, and much better kept.
+There were white curtains in the windows, and in the garden a few late
+stocks and hardy climbing roses were making a brave effort to bloom in
+depressing surroundings. It was Queensmead who answered the door to the
+detective's knock, and he led the way inside to his little office when
+he saw who his visitor was.
+
+"I do not think these chaps saw anything except what their own fears
+created," he said, after Colwyn had told him as much of the two men's
+story as he saw fit to impart. "I searched the wood thoroughly the day
+after the murder. Ronald was not there then."
+
+"He may have come back since."
+
+Queensmead's dark eyes lingered thoughtfully on the detective's face, as
+though seeking to gather the meaning underlying his words.
+
+"Why should he do such a foolish thing, sir?" he asked.
+
+"It is not always easy to account for a man's actions."
+
+"It is hard to account for a man wanted by the police running his head
+into a noose."
+
+"Ronald may not know he is wanted by the police."
+
+"Why, of course he must know. If he doesn't----" Queensmead broke off
+suddenly and looked at the detective queerly, as if suddenly realising
+all that the remark implied. "You must have some strange ideas about
+this case," he added slowly.
+
+"I have, but we won't go into them now," said the detective, with a
+slight smile. He appreciated the fact that the other was, to use an
+American colloquialism, "quick on the uptake." "Your immediate duty is
+clear."
+
+"You mean I should search the wood again?" said Queensmead, with the
+same quick comprehension as before. "Very well. Will you come with me?"
+
+Colwyn nodded, and Queensmead, without more ado, took a revolver and a
+pair of handcuffs from a cupboard, slipped them into his pockets, and
+announced that he was ready. He opened the door for his visitor to
+precede him, and they set forth.
+
+The hut circles on the rise looked more desolate than ever in the waning
+afternoon light. The excavations commenced by Mr. Glenthorpe had been
+abandoned, and a spade left sticking in the upturned earth had rusted in
+the damp air. The track of the footprints to the pit in which the body
+had been flung still showed distinctly in the clay, and the splash of
+blood gleamed dully on the edge of the hole. On the other side of the
+pit the trees of the wood stood in stunted outline against a lowering
+black sky.
+
+The two men entered the wood silently. The trees were of great age, the
+trunks thick and gnarled, with low twisted boughs, running and
+interlacing in every direction. So thickly were they intertwined that it
+was twilight in the sombre depths of the wood, although the fierce winds
+from the North Sea had already stripped the upper branches of leaves.
+The ground was covered with a rank and rotting undergrowth, from which
+tiny spirals of vapour, like gnomes' fires, floated upwards. The silence
+was absolute; even the birds of the coast seemed to shun the place,
+which looked as if it had been untrodden since the days when the beast
+men of the Stone Age prowled through its dim recesses to the hut circles
+on the rise.
+
+Colwyn and Queensmead searched the wood and the matted undergrowth as
+they progressed, closely scrutinising the ferny hollows, looking up into
+the trees, examining the thickets and clumps of shrubs. They had reached
+the centre of the wood, and were picking their way through a rank growth
+of nettles which covered the decayed bracken, when Colwyn experienced a
+mental perception as tangible as a cold hand placed upon the brow of a
+sleeper. He had the swift feeling that there was somebody else besides
+themselves in the solitude of the wood--somebody who was watching them.
+He looked around him intently, and his eyes fell upon a screen of
+interlaced branches which grew on the other side of the dip they were
+traversing. Without any conscious effort on his own part, his eyes
+travelled to the thickest part of the obstruction, and encountered
+another pair of eyes gazing at him steadily from the depths of the leafy
+screen. That gaze held his own for a moment, and then vanished. He
+looked again, but the screen was now unbroken, and not the rustle of a
+leaf betrayed the person who was concealed within.
+
+Colwyn touched Queensmead's arm.
+
+"There is somebody hiding in those bushes ahead of us," he whispered.
+
+Queensmead's eyes ran swiftly along the clump of bushes ahead, and he
+raised his revolver.
+
+"Come out, or I'll fire!" he cried.
+
+His sharp command shattered the heavy silence like the crack of a
+firearm. The next moment the figure of a man broke from the twisted
+branches and walked down the slope towards them. It was Ronald.
+
+"Put up your hands, Ronald," commanded Queensmead sternly, poising the
+revolver at the advancing man. "Put them up, or I'll fire."
+
+"Fire if you like."
+
+The words fell from Ronald's lips wearily, but he did not put up his
+hands. His clothes were torn and stained, his face gaunt and lined, and
+in his tired eyes was the look of a man who had lived in the solitudes
+with no other companion but despair. Queensmead stepped forward and with
+a swift gesture snapped the handcuffs on his wrist.
+
+"I arrest you for the murder of Roger Glenthorpe," he said.
+
+"I could have got away from you if I had wanted," said the young man
+wearily. "But what was the use? I'm glad it is over."
+
+"I warn you, Ronald, that any statement you now make may be used against
+you on your trial," broke in Queensmead harshly.
+
+"My good fellow, I know all about that." The sudden note of
+imperiousness in his manner reminded Colwyn of the way in which he had
+snubbed Sir Henry Durwood in his bedroom at the Durrington hotel three
+mornings before. But it was in his previous indifferent tone that the
+young man added: "Have either of you a spirit flask?"
+
+Police Constable Queensmead eyed his captive with the critical eye of an
+officer of justice upon whom devolved the responsibility of bringing his
+man fit and well to trial. Ronald's face had gone haggard and white, and
+he lurched a little in his walk. Then he stood still, and regarded the
+two men weakly.
+
+"I'm about done up," he admitted.
+
+"We'd better take him to the inn and get him some brandy," said
+Queensmead. "Take his other arm, will you?"
+
+They returned slowly with Ronald between them. He did not ask where they
+were taking him, but stumbled along on their supporting arms like a man
+in a dream, with his eyes fixed on the ground. When clear of the wood,
+Queensmead led his prisoner past the pit where Mr. Glenthorpe's body had
+been cast, but Ronald did not even glance at the yawning hole alongside
+of him. It was when they were descending the slope towards the inn that
+Colwyn noticed a change in his indifferent demeanour. He raised his
+head and surveyed the inn with sombre eyes, and then his glance
+travelled swiftly to his pinioned hands. For a moment his frame
+stiffened slightly, as though he were about to resist being taken
+farther. But if that were his intention the mood passed. The next moment
+he was walking along with his previous indifference.
+
+When they reached the inn Queensmead asked Colwyn in a whisper to keep
+an eye on the prisoner while he went inside and got the brandy. As soon
+as he had gone Colwyn turned to Ronald and earnestly said:
+
+"You may not know me, apart from our chance meeting at Durrington, but I
+am anxious to help you, if you are innocent."
+
+"I have heard of you. You are Colwyn, the private detective."
+
+"That makes it easier then, for you will know that I have no object in
+this case except to bring the truth to light. If you have anything to
+say that will help me to do that I beg of you to do so. You may safely
+trust me."
+
+"I know that, Mr. Colwyn, but I have nothing to say." Ronald spoke
+wearily--almost indifferently.
+
+"Nothing?" Astonishment and disappointment were mingled in the
+detective's voice.
+
+"Nothing."
+
+Before anything more could be said Queensmead reappeared from the inn
+with some brandy in a glass. Ronald raised it to his lips with his
+manacled hands, then turned away in response to an imperative gesture
+from Queensmead. Colwyn stood where he was for a moment, watching them,
+then turned to enter the inn. As he did so, his eyes fell upon the white
+face of Peggy, framed in the gathering gloom of the passage, staring
+with frightened eyes at the retreating forms of the village constable
+and his prisoner. She slipped out of the door and took a few hurried
+steps in their direction. But when she reached the strip of green which
+bordered the side of the inn she stopped with a despairing gesture, as
+though realising the futility of her effort, and turned to retrace her
+steps. Colwyn advanced rapidly towards her.
+
+"I want to speak to you," he said curtly.
+
+She stood still, but there was a prescient flash in her eyes as she
+looked at him.
+
+"You were in the dead man's room last night," he said. "What were you
+doing there?"
+
+"I do not know that it is any business of yours," she replied, in a low
+tone.
+
+"I do not think you had better adopt that attitude," he said quietly.
+"You know you had no right to go into that room. I do not wish to
+threaten you, but you had better tell me the truth."
+
+She stood silent for a moment, as though weighing his words. Then she
+said:
+
+"I will tell you why I went there, not because I am afraid of anything
+you can do, but because I am not afraid of the truth. I went there
+because of a promise I made to Mr. Glenthorpe. He was very kind and good
+to me--when he was alive. Only two days before he met his death he asked
+me, if anything happened to him at any time, to go to his bedroom and
+remove a packet I would find in a little secret drawer in his writing
+table, and destroy it without opening it. He showed me where the packet
+was, and how to open the drawer. After he was dead I thought of my
+promise, and tried several times to slip into the room and get the
+packet, but there was always somebody about. So I went in last night,
+after everybody was in bed, because I thought the police might find the
+packet in searching his desk, and I should have been very unhappy if I
+had not been able to keep my promise."
+
+"How did you get into the room? The door was locked, and Superintendent
+Galloway had the key."
+
+"He left it on the mantelpiece downstairs. I saw it there earlier in the
+evening, and when he was out of the room I slipped in and took it, and
+put the key of my own room in its place. I replaced it next morning."
+
+"What did you do with the packet you removed?"
+
+"I took it across the marshes and threw it into the sea," she replied,
+looking steadily into his face.
+
+"Why did you go to that trouble? Why did you not burn it?"
+
+"I had no fire, and I dared not keep it till the morning. Besides, there
+were rings and things in the packet--his dead wife's jewellery. He told
+me so."
+
+He looked at her keenly. She had told him the truth about her visit to
+the breakwater, but how much of the rest of her story was true?
+
+"So that is your explanation?" he said.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I am sorry to say that I find it difficult to believe. If you are
+deceiving me you are very foolish."
+
+"I have told you the truth, Mr. Colwyn," she said, and, turning away,
+returned to the inn.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+Ronald's strange silence after his arrest decided Colwyn to relinquish
+his investigations and return to Durrington. His tacit admissions,
+coupled with the damaging evidence against him, enforced conviction in
+the young man's guilt in spite of the detective's previous belief to the
+contrary. In assisting Queensmead in his search Colwyn had cherished the
+hope that Ronald, if captured, would declare his innocence and gladly
+respond to his overture of help. But, instead of doing so, Ronald had
+taken up an attitude which was suspicious in the highest degree, and one
+which caused the detective to falter in his belief that the Glenthorpe
+murder case was a much deeper mystery than the police imagined. Ronald's
+attitude, by its accordance with the facts previously known or believed
+about the case, belittled the detective's own discoveries, and caused
+him to come to the conclusion that it was hardly worth while to go
+farther into it.
+
+Nevertheless, it was in a perplexed and puzzled state of mind that he
+returned to Durrington, and his perplexity was not lessened by a piece
+of information given to him at luncheon by Sir Henry. The specialist
+started up from his seat as soon as he saw the detective, and made his
+way across to his table.
+
+"My dear fellow," he burst out, "I have the most amazing piece of news.
+Who do you think this chap Ronald turns out to be? None other than James
+Ronald Penreath, only son of Sir James Penreath--Penreath of
+Twelvetrees--one of the oldest families in England, dating back before
+the Conquest! Not very much money, but very good blood--none better in
+England, in fact. The family seat is in Berkshire, and the family take
+their name from a village near Reading, where a battle was fought in 800
+odd between the Danes and Saxons under Ethelwulf. You won't get a much
+older ancestry than _that_. Sir James married the daughter of Sir
+William Shirley, the member for Carbury, Cheshire--her family was not so
+good as his, but an honourable county family, nevertheless. This young
+man is their only child. A nice disgrace he's brought on the family
+name, the foolish fellow!"
+
+"Who told you this?" asked Colwyn.
+
+"Superintendent Galloway told me last night. The description of the
+young man was published in the London press in order to assist his
+capture, and it appears it was seen by the young lady to whom he is
+affianced, Miss Constance Willoughby, who is at present in London,
+engaged in war work. I have never met Miss Willoughby, but her aunt,
+Mrs. Hugh Brewer, with whom she is living at Lancaster Gate, is
+well-known to me. She is an immensely wealthy woman, who devotes her
+life to public works, and moves in the most exclusive philanthropic
+circles. The young lady was terribly distressed at the similarity of
+details in the description of the wanted man and that of her betrothed,
+particularly the scar on the cheek. Although she could not believe they
+referred to Mr. Penreath, she deemed it advisable to communicate with
+the Penreath family solicitor, Mr. Oakham, of Oakham and Pendules.
+
+"Mr. Oakham called up Superintendent Galloway on the trunk line
+yesterday, to make inquiries, and shortly afterwards the news came
+through of Ronald's arrest. Superintendent Galloway was rather perturbed
+at learning that the arrested man resembled the description of the heir
+of one of the oldest baronetcies in England, and sought me to ask my
+advice. As he rather vulgarly put it, he was scared at having flushed
+such high game, and he thought, in view of my professional connection
+with some of the highest families in the land, that I might be able to
+give him information which would save him from the possibility of making
+a mistake--if such a possibility existed."
+
+"Superintendent Galloway did not seem much worried by any such fears the
+last time I saw him," said Colwyn. "His one idea then was to catch
+Ronald and hang him as speedily as possible."
+
+"The case wears another aspect now," replied Sir Henry gravely,
+oblivious of the irony in the detective's tones. "To arrest a nobody
+named Ronald is one thing, but to arrest the son of Penreath of
+Twelvetrees is quite a different matter. The police--quite rightly, in
+my opinion--wish to guard against the slightest possibility of mistake."
+
+"There is no certainty that Ronald is the son of Sir James Penreath,"
+said Colwyn thoughtfully. "Printed descriptions of people are very
+misleading."
+
+"Exactly my contention," replied Sir Henry eagerly. "I told Galloway
+that the best way to settle the point was to let the young lady see the
+prisoner. The police are acting on the suggestion. Mr. Oakham is coming
+down with Miss Willoughby and her aunt from London by the afternoon
+train. They will go straight to Heathfield, where they will see Ronald
+before his removal to Norwich gaol. Superintendent Galloway is driving
+over from here in a taxicab to meet them at the station and escort them
+to the lock-up, and I am going with him. It is a frightful ordeal for
+two highly-strung ladies to have to undergo, and my professional skill
+may be needed to help them through with it. I shall suggest that they
+return here with me afterwards, and stay for the night at the hotel,
+instead of returning to London immediately. The night's rest will serve
+to recuperate their systems after the worry and excitement."
+
+"No doubt," said Colwyn, who began to see how Sir Henry Durwood had
+built up such a flourishing practice as a ladies' specialist.
+
+Sir Henry, having imparted his information, promised to acquaint him
+with the result of the afternoon's interview, and bustled out of the
+breakfast room in response to the imperious signalling of his wife's
+eye.
+
+It was after dinner that evening, in the lounge, that Sir Henry again
+approached Colwyn, smoking a cigar, which represented the amount of a
+medical man's fee in certain London suburbs. But as Sir Henry counted
+his fees in guineas, and not in half-crowns, he could afford to be
+luxurious in his smoking. He took a seat beside the detective and,
+turning upon him his professionally portentous "all is over" face,
+remarked:
+
+"There is no mistake. Ronald is Sir James Penreath's son."
+
+"Miss Willoughby identified him, then?"
+
+"It was a case of mutual identification. Mr. Penreath, to give him his
+proper name, was brought under escort into the room where we were
+seated. He started back at the sight of Miss Willoughby--I suppose he
+had no idea whom he was going to see--and said, 'Why, Constance!' The
+poor girl looked up at him and exclaimed, 'Oh, James, how could you?'
+and burst into a flood of tears. It was a very painful scene."
+
+"I have no doubt it was--for all concerned," was Colwyn's dry comment.
+"Why did Miss Willoughby greet her betrothed husband in that way, as
+though she were convinced of his guilt? What does she know about the
+case?"
+
+"Superintendent Galloway prepared her mind for the worst during the ride
+from the station to the gaol. She asked him a number of questions, and
+he told her that there was no doubt that the man she was going to see
+was the man who had murdered Mr. Glenthorpe."
+
+"I suspected as much. But what else transpired during the interview? How
+did Penreath receive Miss Willoughby's remark?"
+
+"Most peculiarly. He seemed about to speak, then checked himself with a
+half smile, looked down on the ground, and said no more. Superintendent
+Galloway signed to the policemen to remove him, and we withdrew. The
+interview did not last more than a minute or so."
+
+"Miss Willoughby did not see him alone, then?"
+
+"No. Galloway told her that she would not be permitted to see him
+alone."
+
+"And nothing more was said on either side while Penreath was in the
+room?"
+
+"Nothing. Penreath's attitude struck me as that of a man who did not
+wish to speak. He appeared self-conscious and confused, like a man with
+a secret to hide."
+
+"Perhaps his silence was due to pride. After Miss Willoughby's tactless
+remark he may have thought there was no use saying anything when his
+sweetheart believed him guilty." Colwyn spoke without conviction; the
+memory of Penreath's demeanour to him after his arrest was too fresh in
+his mind.
+
+"You wrong Miss Willoughby. She is only too anxious to catch at any
+straw of hope. When she learnt that you had been making some
+investigations into the case she expressed an anxiety to see you. She
+and her aunt yielded to my advice, and returned here to spend the night
+at the hotel before going back to London. As they did not feel inclined
+to face the ordeal of public scrutiny after the events of the day they
+are dining in private, and they have asked me to take you to their room
+when you are at liberty. Mr. Oakham has gone to Norwich, where he will
+stay for some days to prepare the defence of this unhappy young man, but
+he is coming here in the morning to see the ladies before they depart
+for London. He asked me to tell you that he would like to see you also."
+
+"I shall be glad to see him, and Miss Willoughby as well. Have the
+ladies asked you your opinion of the case?"
+
+"Naturally they did. I gave them the best comfort I could by hinting
+that in my opinion Mr. Penreath is not in a state of mind at present in
+which he can be held responsible for his actions. I did not say anything
+about epilepsy--the word is not a pleasant one to use before ladies."
+
+"Did you tell them this in front of Galloway?"
+
+"Certainly not. A professional man in my position cannot be too careful.
+I am glad now that I was so circumspect about this matter in my dealings
+with the police--very glad indeed. It was my duty to tell Mr. Oakham,
+and I did so. He was interested in what I told him--exceedingly so, and
+was anxious to know if I had given my opinion of Penreath's condition to
+anybody else. I mentioned that I had told you--in confidence."
+
+"And it was then, no doubt, that Mr. Oakham said he would like to see
+me. I fancy I gather his drift. And now shall we visit Miss Willoughby?"
+
+"Yes, I should say the ladies will be expecting us," said Sir Henry,
+looking at a fat watch with jewelled hands which registered golden
+minutes for him in Harley Street. He beckoned a waiter, and asked him to
+conduct them to Mrs. Brewer's sitting-room. The waiter led them along a
+corridor on the first floor, tapped deferentially, opened the door
+noiselessly in response to a feminine injunction to "come in," waited
+for the gentlemen to enter, and then closed the door behind them.
+
+Two ladies rose to greet them. One was small and overdressed, with
+fluffy hair and China blue eyes. She carried some knitting in her hand,
+and a pet dog under her arm. Colwyn had no difficulty in identifying her
+with the frequent photographs of Mrs. Brewer which appeared in Society
+and illustrated papers. She belonged to a class of women who took
+advantage of the war to advertise themselves by philanthropic
+benefactions and war work, but she was able to distance most of her
+competitors for newspaper notoriety by reason of her wealth. Her niece,
+Miss Constance Willoughby, was of a different type. She was tall and
+graceful, with dark eyes and level brows. A straight nose and a firm
+chin indicated that their possessor was not lacking in a will of her
+own. Her manner was self-possessed and assured--a trifle too much so for
+a sensitive girl in the circumstances, Colwyn thought. Then he
+remembered having read in some paper that Miss Willoughby was one of the
+leaders of the new feminist movement which believed that the war had
+brought about the complete emancipation of English woman-hood, and with
+it the right to possess and display those qualities of character which
+hitherto were supposed to be peculiarly masculine. It was perhaps owing
+to her advocacy of these claims that Miss Willoughby felt herself called
+upon to display self-possession and self-control at a trying time.
+Colwyn, appraising her with his clear eye as Sir Henry introduced him,
+found himself speculating as to the reasons which had caused Penreath
+and her to fall in love with one another.
+
+"Please sit down, Mr. Colwyn," said Mrs. Brewer, resuming a comfortable
+arm-chair in front of the fire, and adjusting the Pekingese on her lap.
+"I am so grateful to you for coming to see us in this unconventional
+way. I have been so anxious to see you! Everybody has heard of you, Mr.
+Colwyn--you're so famous. It was only the other day that I was reading a
+long article about you in some paper or other. I forget the name of the
+paper, but I remember that it said a lot of flattering things about you
+and your discoveries in crime. It said----Oh, you naughty, naughty
+Jellicoe." This to the dog, which had become entangled in the skein of
+wool on her lap, and was making frantic efforts to free itself. "Bad
+little doggie, you've ruined this sock, and some poor soldier will have
+to go with bare feet because you've been naughty! Are you a judge of
+Pekingese, Mr. Colwyn? Don't you think Jellicoe a dear?"
+
+"Do you mean Sir John Jellicoe, Mrs. Brewer?"
+
+"Of course not! I mean my Pekingese. I've named him after our great
+gallant commander, because it is through him we are all able to sleep
+safe and sound in our beds these dreadful nights."
+
+"Sir John Jellicoe ought to feel flattered," said Colwyn gravely.
+
+"Yes, I really think he should," replied Mrs. Brewer innocently.
+"Jellicoe is not a pretty name for a dog, but I think we should all be
+patriotic just now. But tell me what you think of this dreadful case,
+Mr. Colwyn. I am so frightfully distressed about it that I really don't
+know what to do. How could Mr. Penreath do such a shocking thing? Why
+didn't he go back to the front, if he had to kill somebody, instead of
+hiding away from everybody and murdering this poor old man in this wild
+spot? Such a disgrace to us all!"
+
+"Mr. Penreath has been in the Army, then?" asked Colwyn.
+
+"Of course. Didn't you know? He was in Mesopotamia, but was sent to the
+West Front recently, where he won the D.S.O. for an act of great
+gallantry under heavy fire, but was shortly afterwards invalided out of
+the Army. It was in all the papers at the time."
+
+"You forget, my dear lady, that Mr. Penreath did not disclose his full
+name while he was staying here," interposed Sir Henry solemnly. "I
+myself was in complete ignorance of his identity until last night."
+
+"Why, of course--you told me this afternoon. My poor head! Whatever
+induced Mr. Penreath to do such a thing as to conceal his name? So
+common and vulgar! What motive could he have? What do you think his
+motive was, Mr. Colwyn?"
+
+"I think, Aunt Florence, as your nerves are bad, that you had better
+permit me to talk to Mr. Colwyn," said Miss Willoughby, speaking for the
+first time. "Otherwise we shall get into a worse tangle than the
+Pekingese."
+
+"I am sure I shall be only too relieved if you will talk to Mr. Colwyn,"
+rejoined the elder woman. "My head is really not equal to the task--my
+nerves are so frightfully unstrung."
+
+Mrs. Brewer returned to the task of untangling the dog from the knitting
+wool, and the girl faced the detective earnestly.
+
+"Mr. Colwyn," she said, "I understand you have been investigating this
+terrible affair. Will you tell me what you think of it? Do you believe
+that Mr. Penreath is guilty? You need not fear to be frank with me."
+
+"I will not hesitate to be so. I shall be pleased to give you my
+conclusions about this case--so far as I have formed any--but I should
+be greatly obliged if you would answer a few questions first. That might
+help me to clear up one or two points on which I am at present in doubt,
+and make my statement to you clearer."
+
+"Ask me any questions you wish."
+
+"Thank you. In the first place, how long is it since Mr. Penreath
+returned from the front, invalided out of the Army?"
+
+"About two months ago."
+
+"Was he wounded?"
+
+"No. I understand that he broke down through shell-shock, and the
+doctors said that it would be some time before he completely recovered.
+I do not know the details. Mr. Penreath was very sensitive and reticent
+about the matter, and so I forbore questioning him."
+
+Colwyn nodded sympathetically.
+
+"I understand. Have you noticed much difference in his demeanour since
+he returned from the front?"
+
+"That question is a little difficult to answer," said the girl,
+hesitating.
+
+"I can quite understand how you feel about it. My motive in asking the
+question is to see if we can ascertain why Penreath came to Norfolk
+under a concealed name, and then wandered over to this place, Flegne, in
+an almost penniless condition, when he had plenty of friends who would
+have supplied his needs, and, I should say, had money of his own in the
+bank, for it is quite certain that he would be in receipt of an
+allowance from his father. He acted most unusually for a young man of
+his standing and position, and I am wondering if shell-shock left him in
+that restless, unsettled, reckless condition which is one of its worst
+effects."
+
+"I have seen so little of him since he returned from the front that it
+is difficult for me to answer you," said the girl, after a pause. "He
+went down to Berkshire to his father's place on his return, and stayed
+there a month. Then he came to London, and we met several times, but
+rarely alone. I am very deeply engaged in war work, and was unable to
+give him much of my time. When I did see him he struck me as rather
+moody and distrait, but I put that down to his illness, and the fact
+that he must naturally feel unhappy at his forced inaction. My friends
+paid him much attention and sent him many invitations--in fact, they
+would have made quite a fuss of him if he had let them--and, of course,
+he had friends of his own, but he didn't seem to want to go anywhere,
+and he told me once or twice that he wished people would let him alone.
+I pointed out to him that he had his duty to do in Society as well as at
+the front, but he said he disliked Society, particularly in war-time.
+About three weeks ago he told me one night at a dance that he was sick
+of London, and thought he would be better for a change of air. He was
+looking rather pale, and I agreed he would be the better for a change. I
+asked him where he intended going, and he said he thought he would try
+the east coast--he didn't say what part. He left me with the intention
+of going away the next day. That was the last I saw of him--until
+to-day."
+
+"You got no letter from him?"
+
+"I did not hear from him--nor of him--until I saw his description
+published in the London newspapers as that of a criminal wanted by the
+police."
+
+Miss Willoughby uttered the last sentence in some bitterness, with a
+sparkle of resentment in her eyes. It was apparent that she considered
+she had been badly treated by her lover, and that his arrest had
+hardened, instead of softening, her feelings of resentment.
+
+"I am much obliged to you for answering my questions, Miss Willoughby,"
+said the detective. "As I told you before, they are not dictated by
+curiosity, but in the hope of eliciting some information which would
+throw light on this puzzling case."
+
+"A puzzling case! You consider it a puzzling case, Mr. Colwyn?" She
+glanced at him with a more eager and girlish expression than he had yet
+seen on her face. "I understood from the police officer that there was
+no room for doubt in the matter. Sir Henry Durwood shares the police
+view." She turned a swift questioning glance in the specialist's
+direction.
+
+Sir Henry caught the glance, and felt it incumbent upon himself to utter
+a solemn commonplace.
+
+"I beg of you not to raise false hopes in Miss Willoughby's breast, Mr.
+Colwyn," he said.
+
+"I have no intention of doing so," returned the detective. "On the other
+hand, I protest against everybody condemning Penreath until it is
+certain he is guilty. And now, Miss Willoughby, I will tell you what I
+have discovered."
+
+He entered upon a brief account of his investigations at the inn, with
+the exception that he omitted the visit of Peggy to the murdered man's
+chamber and her subsequent explanation. Miss Willoughby listened
+attentively, and, when he had concluded, remarked:
+
+"Do you think the wax and tallow candle-grease dropped in the room
+suggests the presence of two persons?"
+
+"I feel sure that it does."
+
+"And who do you think the other was?"
+
+"It is not yet proved that Penreath was one of them."
+
+She flushed under the implied reproof, and hurriedly added:
+
+"Have you acquainted the police with your discoveries, Mr. Colwyn?"
+
+"I have, and I am bound to say that they attach very little importance
+to them."
+
+"Do you propose to go any further with your investigations?"
+
+"I would prefer not to answer that question until I have seen Mr. Oakham
+to-morrow."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+
+When Colwyn went in to lunch the following day after a walk on the
+front, he found Sir Henry awaiting him in the lounge with a visitor
+whose identity the detective guessed before Sir Henry introduced him.
+
+"This is Mr. Oakham," said Sir Henry. "I have told him of your
+investigation into this painful case which has brought him to Norfolk."
+
+"An investigation in which you helped," said Colwyn, with a smile.
+
+"I am afraid it would be stretching the fable of the mouse and the lion
+to suggest that I was able to help such a renowned criminal investigator
+as yourself," returned Sir Henry waggishly. "When Mr. Oakham learnt that
+you had been investigating this case he expressed a strong desire to see
+you."
+
+"I am returning to London by the afternoon express, Mr. Colwyn," said
+the solicitor. "I should be glad if you could spare me a little of your
+time before I go."
+
+"Certainly," replied Colwyn, courteously. "It had better be at once, had
+it not? You have not very much time at your disposal."
+
+"If it does not inconvenience you," replied Mr. Oakham politely. "But
+your lunch----"
+
+"That can wait," said the detective. "I feel deeply interested in this
+case of young Penreath."
+
+"Mr. Oakham saw him this morning before coming over," said Sir Henry.
+"He is quite mad, and refuses to say anything. Therefore, we have come
+to the conclusion----"
+
+"Really, Sir Henry, you shouldn't have said that." Mr. Oakham's tone was
+both shocked and expostulatory.
+
+"Why not?" retorted Sir Henry innocently. "Mr. Colwyn knows all about
+it--I told him myself. I thought you wanted him to help you?"
+
+"I am aware of that, but, my dear sir, this is an extremely delicate and
+difficult business. As Mr. Penreath's professional adviser, I must beg
+of you to exercise more reticence."
+
+"Then I had better go and have my lunch while you two have a chat," said
+Sir Henry urbanely, "or I shall only be putting my foot in it again. Mr.
+Oakham, I shall see you before you go." Sir Henry moved off in the
+direction of the luncheon room.
+
+"Perhaps you will come to my sitting-room," said Colwyn to Mr. Oakham.
+"We can talk quietly there."
+
+"Thank you," responded Mr. Oakham, and he went with the detective
+upstairs.
+
+Mr. Oakham, of Oakham and Pendules, Temple Gardens, was a little
+white-haired man of seventy, attired in the sombre black of the
+Victorian era, with a polished reticent manner befitting the senior
+partner of a firm of solicitors owning the most aristocratic practice in
+England; a firm so eminently respectable that they never rendered a bill
+of costs to a client until he was dead, when the amount of legal
+expenses incurred during his lifetime was treated as a charge upon the
+family estate, and deducted from the moneys accruing to the next heir,
+who, in his turn, was allowed to run his allotted course without a bill
+from Oakham and Pendules. They were a discreet and dignified firm, as
+ancient as some of the names whose family secrets were locked away in
+their office deed boxes, and were reputed to know more of the inner
+history of the gentry in Burke's Peerage than all the rest of the legal
+profession put together.
+
+The arrest of the only son of Sir James Penreath, of Twelvetrees, Berks,
+on a charge of murder, had shocked Mr. Oakham deeply. Divorces had come
+his way in plenty, though he remembered the day when they were
+considered scandalous in good families. But the modern generation had
+changed all that, and Mr. Oakham had since listened to so many stories
+of marital wrongs, and had assisted in obtaining so many orders for
+restitution of conjugal rights, that he had come to regard divorce as
+fashionable enough to be respectable. He was intimately versed in most
+human failings and follies, and a past master in preventing their
+consequences coming to light. Financial embarrassments he was well used
+to--they might almost be said to be his forte--for many of his clients
+had more lineage than money, but the crime of murder was a thing outside
+his professional experience.
+
+The upper classes of the present generation had, in this respect at
+least, improved on the morals of their freebooting ancestors, and murder
+had gone so completely out of fashion among the aristocracy that Mr.
+Oakham had never been called upon to prepare the defence of a client
+charged with killing a fellow creature. Mr. Oakham regarded murder as an
+ungentlemanly crime. He believed that no gentleman would commit murder
+unless he were mad. Since his arrival in Norfolk he had come to the
+conclusion that young Penreath was not only mad, but that he had
+committed the murder with which he stood charged. Sir Henry Durwood had
+been responsible for the first opinion, and the police had helped him to
+form the second. Two interviews he had had with his client since his
+arrest had strengthened and deepened both convictions.
+
+It was in this frame of mind that Mr. Oakham seated himself in the
+detective's sitting room. He accepted a cigar from Colwyn's case, and
+looked amiably at his companion, who waited for him to speak. The
+interview had been of the solicitor's seeking, and it was for him to
+disclose his object in doing so.
+
+"This is a very unfortunate case, Mr. Colwyn," the solicitor remarked.
+
+"Yes; it seems so," replied Colwyn.
+
+"I am afraid there is not the slightest doubt that this unhappy young
+man has committed this murder."
+
+"You have arrived at that conclusion?"
+
+"It is impossible to arrive at any other conclusion, in view of the
+evidence."
+
+"It is purely circumstantial. I thought that perhaps Penreath would have
+some statement to make which would throw a different light on the case."
+
+"I will be frank with you, Mr. Colwyn," said the solicitor. "You are
+acquainted with all the facts of the case, and I hope you will be able
+to help us. Penreath's attitude is a very strange one. Apparently he
+does not apprehend the grave position in which he stands. I am forced to
+the conclusion that he is suffering from an unhappy aberration of the
+intellect, which has led to his committing this crime. His conduct since
+coming to Norfolk has not been that of a sane man. He has hidden himself
+away from his friends, and stayed here under a false name. I understand
+that he behaved in an eccentric and violent way in the breakfast room of
+this hotel on the morning of the day he left for the place where the
+murder was subsequently committed."
+
+"You have learnt this from Sir Henry, I presume?"
+
+"Yes. Sir Henry has conveyed to me his opinion, based on his observation
+of Mr. Penreath's eccentricity at the breakfast table the last morning
+of his stay here, that Mr. Penreath is an epileptic, liable to attacks
+of _furor epilepticus_--a phase of the disease which sometimes leads to
+outbreaks of terrible violence. He thought it advisable that I should
+know this at once, in view of what has happened since. Sir Henry
+informed me that he confided a similar opinion to you, as you were
+present at the time, and assisted him to convey Penreath upstairs. May I
+ask what opinion you formed of his behaviour at the breakfast table, Mr.
+Colwyn?"
+
+"I thought he was excited--nothing more."
+
+"But the violence, Mr. Colwyn! Sir Henry Durwood says Penreath was about
+to commit a violent assault on the people at the next table when he
+interfered."
+
+"The violence was not apparent--to me," returned the detective, who did
+not feel called upon to disclose his secret belief that Sir Henry had
+acted hastily. "Apart from the excitement he displayed on this
+particular morning, Penreath seemed to me a normal and average young
+Englishman of his class. I certainly saw no signs of insanity about him.
+It occurred to me at the time that his excitement might be the outcome
+of shell-shock. We had had an air raid two nights before, and some
+shell-shock cases are badly affected by air raids. I have since been
+informed that Penreath was invalided out of the Army recently, suffering
+from shell-shock."
+
+"In Sir Henry's opinion the shell-shock has aggravated a tendency to the
+disease."
+
+"Has Penreath ever shown any previous signs of epilepsy?"
+
+"Not so far as I am aware, but his mother developed the disease in later
+years, and ultimately died from it. Her illness was a source of great
+worry and anxiety to Sir James. And epilepsy is hereditary."
+
+"Pathologists differ on that point. I know something of the disease, and
+I doubt whether Penreath is an epileptic. He showed none of the symptoms
+which I have always associated with epilepsy."
+
+"An eminent specialist like Sir Henry is hardly likely to be mistaken.
+The fact that Penreath seemed a sane and collected individual to your
+eye proves nothing. Epileptic attacks are intermittent, and the sufferer
+may appear quite sane between the attacks. Epilepsy is a remarkable
+disease. A latent tendency to it may exist for years without those
+nearest and dearest to the sufferer suspecting it, so Sir Henry says.
+Penreath's case is a very strange and sad one."
+
+"It is a strange case in very way," said Colwyn earnestly. "Why should a
+young man like Penreath go over to this remote Norfolk village, where he
+had not been before, and murder an old man whom he had never seen
+previously? The police theory that this murder was committed for the
+sake of L300 which the victim had drawn out of the bank that day seems
+incredible to me, in the case of a young man like Penreath."
+
+"The only way of accounting for the whole unhappy business is on Sir
+Henry's hypothesis that Penreath is mad. In acute epileptic mania there
+are cases in which there is a seeming calmness of conduct, and these are
+the most dangerous of all. The patient walks about like a man in a
+dream, impelled by a force which he cannot resist, and does all sorts of
+things without conscious purpose. He will take long walks to places he
+has never been, will steal money or valuables, and commit murder or
+suicide with apparent coolness and cunning. Sir Henry describes this as
+automatic action, and he says that it is a notable characteristic of
+the form of epileptic mania from which Penreath is suffering. You will
+observe that these symptoms fit in with all the facts of the case
+against Penreath. The facts, unfortunately, are so clear that there is
+no gainsaying them."
+
+"It seems so now," said Colwyn thoughtfully. "Yet, when I was
+investigating the facts at the time, I came across several points which
+seemed to suggest the possibility of an alternative theory to the police
+theory."
+
+"I should like to know what those points are."
+
+"I will tell you."
+
+The detective proceeded to set forth the result of his visit to the inn,
+and the solicitor listened to him with close attention. When he had
+finished Mr. Oakham remarked:
+
+"I am afraid there is not much in these points, Mr. Colwyn. Your
+suggestion that there were two persons in the murdered man's room is
+interesting, but you have no evidence to support it. The girl's
+explanation of her visit to the room is probably the true one. Far be it
+from me, as Penreath's legal adviser, to throw away the slightest straw
+of hope, but your conjectures--for, to my mind, they are nothing
+more--are nothing against the array of facts and suspicious
+circumstances which have been collected by the police. And even if the
+police case were less strong, there is another grave fact which we
+cannot overlook."
+
+"You mean that Penreath refuses to say anything?" said Colwyn.
+
+"He appears to be somewhat indifferent to the outcome," returned the
+lawyer guardedly.
+
+"It is his silence which baffles me," said Colwyn. "I saw him alone
+after his arrest, and told him I was willing to help him if he could
+tell me anything which would assist me to establish his innocence--if
+he were innocent. He replied that he had nothing to say."
+
+"What you tell me deepens my conviction that Penreath does not realise
+the position in which he is placed, and cannot be held accountable for
+his actions."
+
+"Is it your intention to plead mental incapacity at the trial?"
+
+"Sir Henry Durwood has offered to give evidence that, in his opinion,
+Penreath is not responsible for his actions. The Penreath family is
+under a debt of gratitude to Sir Henry. I consider it little short of
+providential that Sir Henry was staying here at the time." Like most
+lawyers, Mr. Oakham had a firm belief in the interposition of
+Providence--particularly in the affairs of the families of the great.
+"And that is the reason for my coming over here to see you this morning,
+Mr. Colwyn. You were present at the breakfast table scene--you witnessed
+this young man's eccentricity and violence. The Penreath family is
+already under a debt of gratitude to you--will you increase the
+obligation? In other words, will you give evidence in support of the
+defence at the trial?"
+
+"You want me to assist you in convincing the jury that Penreath is a
+criminal lunatic," said Colwyn. "That is what your defence amounts to.
+It is a grave responsibility. Doctors and specialists are sometimes
+mistaken, you know."
+
+"I am afraid there is very little doubt in this case. Here is a young
+man of birth and breeding, who hides from his friends under an assumed
+name, behaves in public in an eccentric manner, is turned out of his
+hotel, goes to a remote inn, and disappears before anybody is up. The
+body of a gentleman who occupied the room next to him is subsequently
+discovered in a pit close by, and the footprints leading to the pit are
+those of our young friend. The young man is subsequently arrested close
+to the place where the body was thrown, and not then, or since, has he
+offered his friends any explanation of his actions. In the
+circumstances, therefore, I shall avail myself of Sir Henry's evidence.
+In my own mind--from my own observation and conversation with
+Penreath--I am convinced that he cannot be held responsible for his
+actions. In view of the tremendously strong case against him, in view of
+his peculiar attitude to you--and others--in the face of accusation, and
+in view of his previous eccentric behaviour, I shall take the only
+possible course to save the son of Penreath of Twelvetrees from the
+gallows. I had hoped, Mr. Colwyn, that you, who witnessed the scene at
+this hotel, and subsequently helped Sir Henry Durwood convey this
+unhappy young man upstairs, would see your way clear to support Sir
+Henry's expert opinion that this young man is insane. Your reputation
+and renown would carry weight with the jury."
+
+"I am sorry, but I am afraid you must do without me," replied Colwyn.
+"In view of Penreath's silence I can come to no other conclusion, though
+against my better judgment, than that he is guilty, but I cannot take
+upon myself the responsibility of declaring that he is insane. In spite
+of Sir Henry Durwood's opinion, I cannot believe that he is, or was. It
+will be a difficult defence to establish in the case of Penreath. If you
+wish the jury to say that Penreath is the victim of what French writers
+call _epilepsie larvee_, in which an outbreak of brutal or homicidal
+violence takes the place of an epileptic fit, with a similar break in
+the continuity of consciousness, you will first have to convince the
+judge that Penreath's preceding fits were so slight as to permit the
+possibility of their being overlooked, and you will also have to
+establish beyond doubt that the break in his consciousness existed from
+the time of the scene in the hotel breakfast-room until the time the
+murder was committed. The test of that state is the unintelligent
+character of some of the acts of the sufferer. In my opinion, a defence
+of insanity is not likely to be successful. Personally, I shall go no
+further in the case, but I cannot give up my original opinion that the
+whole of the facts in this case have not been brought to light. Probably
+they never will be--now."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+
+Although no hint of the defence was supposed to transpire, the magic
+words "No precedent" were whispered about in legal circles as the day
+for Penreath's trial approached, and invested the case with more than
+ordinary interest in professional eyes. Editors of London legal journals
+endeavoured to extract something definite from Mr. Oakham when he
+returned to London to brief counsel and prepare the defence, but the
+lunches they lavished on him in pursuit of information might have been
+spent with equal profit on the Sphinx.
+
+The editors had to content themselves with sending shorthand writers to
+Norwich to report the case fully for the benefit of their circle of
+readers, whose appetite for a legal quibble was never satiated by
+repetition.
+
+On the other hand, the case aroused but languid interest in the breasts
+of the ordinary public. The newspapers had not given the story of the
+murder much prominence in their columns, because murders were only good
+copy in war-time in the slack season between military offensives, and,
+moreover, this particular case lacked the essentials of what modern
+editors call, in American journalese jargon, "a good feature story." In
+other words, it was not sufficiently sensational or immoral to appeal to
+the palates of newspaper readers. It lacked the spectacular elements of
+a filmed drama; there was no woman in the case or unwritten law.
+
+It was true that the revelation of the identity of the accused man had
+aroused a passing interest in the case, bringing it up from paragraph
+value on the back page to a "two-heading item" on the "splash" page, but
+that interest soon died away, for, after all, the son of a Berkshire
+baronet was small beer in war's levelling days, when peers worked in
+overalls in munition factories, and personages of even more exalted rank
+sold pennyworths of ham in East-end communal kitchens.
+
+Nevertheless, because of the perennial interest which attaches to all
+murder trials, the Norwich Assizes Court was filled with spectators on
+the dull drizzling November day when the case was heard, and the fact
+that the accused was young and good-looking and of gentle birth probably
+accounted for the sprinkling of well-dressed women amongst the audience.
+The younger ones eyed him with sympathy as he was brought into the dock:
+his good looks, his blue eyes, his air of breeding, his well-cut
+clothes, appealed to their sensibilities, and if they had been given the
+opportunity they would have acquitted him without the formality of a
+trial as far "too nice a boy" to have committed murder.
+
+To the array of legal talent assembled together by the golden wand of
+Costs the figure of the accused man had no personal significance but the
+actual facts at issue entered as little into their minds as into the
+pitying hearts of the female spectators. The accused had no individual
+existence so far as they were concerned: he was merely a pawn in the
+great legal game, of which the lawyers were the players and the judge
+the referee, and the side which won the pawn won the game. As this
+particular game represented an attack on the sacred tradition of
+Precedent, both sides had secured the strongest professional intellects
+possible to contest the match, and the lesser legal fry of Norwich had
+gathered together to witness the struggle, and pick up what points they
+could.
+
+The leader for the prosecution was Sir Herbert Templewood, K.C., M.P., a
+political barrister, with a Society wife, a polished manner, and a
+deadly gift of cross-examination. With him was Mr. Grover Braecroft, a
+dour Scotch lawyer of fifty-five, who was currently believed to know the
+law from A to Z, and really had an intimate acquaintance with those five
+letters which made up the magic word Costs. Apart from this valuable
+knowledge, he was a cunning and crafty lawyer, picked in the present
+case to supply the brains to Sir Herbert Templewood's brilliance, and do
+the jackal work which the lion disdained. The pair were supported by a
+Crown Solicitor well versed in precedents--a little prim figure of a man
+who sat with so many volumes of judicial decisions and reports of test
+cases piled in front of him that only the upper portion of his grey head
+was visible above the books.
+
+The defence relied mainly upon Mr. Reginald Middleheath, the eminent
+criminal counsel, who depended as much upon his portly imposing stage
+presence to bluff juries into an acquittal as upon his legal
+attainments, which were also considerable. Mr. Middleheath's cardinal
+article of legal faith was that all juries were fools, and should be
+treated as such, because if they once got the idea into their heads that
+they knew something about the case they were trying they were bound to
+convict in order to sustain their reputation for intelligence. One of
+Mr. Middleheath's favourite tricks for disabusing a jury of the belief
+that they possessed any common sense was, before addressing them, to
+stare each juryman in the face for half a minute or so in turn with his
+piercing penetrative eyes, accompanying the look with a pitying
+contemptuous smile, the gaze and the smile implying that counsel for the
+opposite side may have flattered them into believing that their
+intelligences were fit to try such an intricate case, but they couldn't
+deceive _him_.
+
+Having robbed the jury of their self-esteem by this means, Mr.
+Middleheath would proceed to put them on good terms with themselves
+again by insinuating in persuasive tones that the case was one
+calculated to perplex the most astute legal brain. He would frankly
+confess that it had perplexed him at first, but as he had mastered its
+intricacies the jury were welcome to his laboriously acquired knowledge
+in order to help them in arriving at a right decision. Mr. Middleheath's
+junior was Mr. Garden Greyson, a thin ascetic looking lawyer whose
+knowledge of medical jurisprudence had brought him his brief in the
+case. Mr. Oakham sat beside Mr. Greyson with various big books in front
+of him.
+
+The judge was Mr. Justice Redington, whose presence on the bench was
+always considered a strengthening factor in the Crown case. Judges
+differ as much as ordinary human beings, and are as human in their
+peculiarities as the juries they direct and the prisoners they try.
+There are good-tempered and bad-tempered judges, harsh and tender
+judges, learned and foolish judges, there are even judges with an eye to
+self-advertisement, and a few wise ones. Mr. Justice Redington belonged
+to that class of judges who, while endeavouring to hold the balance
+fairly between the Crown and the defence, see to it that the accused
+does not get overweight from the scales of justice. Such judges take
+advantage of their judicial office by cross-examining witnesses for the
+defence after the Crown Prosecutor has finished with them, in the effort
+to bring to light some damaging fact or contradiction which the previous
+examination has failed to elicit. In other respects, Mr. Justice
+Redington was a very fair judge, and he worked as industriously as any
+newspaper reporter, taking extensive notes of all his cases with a gold
+fountain pen, which he filled himself from one of the court inkstands
+whenever it ran dry. In appearance he was a florid and pleasant looking
+man, and his hobby off the bench was farming his own land and breeding
+prize cattle.
+
+There were the usual preliminaries, equivalent to the clearing of the
+course or the placing of the pieces, which bored the regular habitues of
+the court but whetted the appetites of the more unsophisticated
+spectators. First there was the lengthy process of empanelling a jury,
+with the inevitable accompaniment of challenges and objections, until
+the most unintelligent looking dozen of the panel finally found
+themselves in the jury box. Then the Clerk of Arraigns gabbled over the
+charges: wilful murder of Roger Glenthorpe on 26th October, 1916, and
+feloniously stealing from the said Roger Glenthorpe the sum of L300 on
+the same date. To these charges the accused man pleaded "Not guilty" in
+a low voice. The jury were directed on the first indictment only, and
+Sir Herbert Templewood got up to address the jury.
+
+Sir Herbert knew very little about the case, but his junior was well
+informed; and what Mr. Braecroft didn't know he got from the Crown
+Solicitor, who sat behind the barristers' table, ready to lean forward
+at the slightest indication and supply any points which were required.
+Under this system of spoon-feeding Sir Herbert ambled comfortably along,
+reserving his showy paces for the cross-examination of witnesses for the
+defence.
+
+Sir Herbert commenced by describing the case as a straightforward one
+which would offer no difficulty to an intelligent jury. It was true that
+it rested on circumstantial evidence, but that evidence was of the
+strongest nature, and pointed so clearly in the one direction, that the
+jury could come to no other conclusion than that the prisoner at the bar
+had committed the murder with which he stood charged.
+
+With this preamble, the Crown Prosecutor proceeded to put together the
+chain of circumstantial evidence against the accused with the deliberate
+logic of the legal brain, piecing together incidents, interpreting
+clues, probing motives, and fashioning together the whole tremendous
+apparatus of circumstantial evidence with the intent air of a man
+building an unbreakable cage for a wild beast. As Colwyn had
+anticipated, the incident at the Durrington hotel had been dropped from
+the Crown case. That part of the presentment was confined to the
+statement that Penreath had registered at the hotel under a wrong name,
+and had left without paying his bill. The first fact suggested that the
+accused had something to hide, the second established a motive for the
+subsequent murder.
+
+Sir Herbert Templewood concluded his address in less than an hour, and
+proceeded to call evidence for the prosecution. There were nine
+witnesses: that strangely assorted pair, the innkeeper and Charles, the
+deaf waiter, Ann, the servant, the two men who had recovered Mr.
+Glenthorpe's body from the pit, the Heathfield doctor, who testified as
+to the cause of death, Superintendent Galloway, who gave the court the
+result of the joint investigations of the chief constable and himself at
+the inn, Police-Constable Queensmead, who described the arrest and
+Inspector Fredericks, of Norwich, who was in charge of the Norwich
+station when the accused was taken there from Flegne. In order to save
+another witness being called, Counsel for the defence admitted that
+accused had registered at the Grand Hotel, Durrington, under a wrong
+name, and left without paying his bill.
+
+Mr. Middleheath cross-examined none of the witnesses for the prosecution
+except the last one, and his forensic restraint was placed on record by
+the depositions clerk in the exact words of the unvarying formula
+between bench and bar. "Do you ask anything, Mr. Middleheath?" Mr.
+Justice Redington would ask, with punctilious politeness, when the Crown
+Prosecutor sat down after examining a witness. To which Mr. Middleheath
+would reply, in tones of equal courtesy: "I ask nothing, my lord."
+Counsel's cross-examination of Inspector Fredericks consisted of two
+questions, intended to throw light on the accused's state of mind after
+his arrest. Inspector Fredericks declared that he was, in his opinion,
+quite calm and rational.
+
+Mr. Middleheath's opening address to the jury for the defence was brief,
+and, to sharp legal ears, vague and unconvincing. Although he pointed
+out that the evidence was purely circumstantial, and that in the absence
+of direct testimony the accused was entitled to the benefit of any
+reasonable doubt, he did not attempt to controvert the statements of the
+Crown witnesses, or suggest that the Crown had not established its case.
+His address, combined with the fact that he had not cross-examined any
+of the Crown witnesses, suggested to the listening lawyers that he had
+either a very strong defence or none at all. The point was left in
+suspense for the time being by Mr. Justice Redington suggesting that, in
+view of the lateness of the hour, Counsel should defer calling evidence
+for the defence until the following day. As a judicial suggestion is a
+command, the court was adjourned accordingly, the judge first warning
+the jury not to try to come to any conclusion, or form an opinion as to
+what their verdict should be, until they had heard the evidence for the
+prisoner.
+
+When the case was continued the next day, the first witness called for
+the defence was Dr. Robert Greydon, an elderly country practitioner with
+the precise professional manner of a past medical generation, who stated
+that he practised at Twelvetrees, Berkshire, and was the family doctor
+of the Penreath family. In reply to Mr. Middleheath he stated that he
+had frequently attended the late Lady Penreath, the mother of the
+accused, for fits or seizures from which she suffered periodically, and
+that the London specialist who had been called into consultation on one
+occasion had agreed with him that the seizures were epileptic.
+
+"I want to give every latitude to the defence," said Sir Herbert
+Templewood, rising in dignified protest, "but I am afraid I cannot
+permit this conversation to go in. My learned friend must call the
+London specialist if he wants to get it in."
+
+"I will waive the point as my learned friend objects," said Mr.
+Middleheath, satisfied that he had "got it in" the jury's ears, "and
+content myself with asking Dr. Greydon whether, from his own knowledge,
+Lady Penreath suffered from epilepsy."
+
+"Undoubtedly," replied the witness.
+
+"One moment," said the judge, looking up from his notes. "Where is this
+evidence tending, Mr. Middleheath?"
+
+"My lord," replied Mr. Middleheath solemnly, "I wish the court to know
+all the facts on which we rely."
+
+The judge bowed his head and waved his gold fountain-pen as an
+indication that the examination might proceed. The witness said that
+Lady Penreath was undoubtedly an epileptic, and suffered from attacks
+extending over twenty years, commencing when her only son was five years
+old, and continuing till her death ten years ago. For some years the
+attacks were slight, without convulsions, but ultimately the grand mal
+became well developed, and several attacks in rapid succession
+ultimately caused her death. In the witness's opinion epilepsy was an
+hereditary disease, frequently transmitted to the offspring, if either
+or both parents suffered from it.
+
+"Have you ever seen any signs of epilepsy in Lady Penreath's son--the
+prisoner at the bar?" asked Sir Herbert, who began to divine the
+direction of the defence.
+
+"Never," replied the witness.
+
+"Was he under your care in his infancy and boyhood? I mean were you
+called in to attend to his youthful ailments?"
+
+"Yes, until he went to school."
+
+"And was he a normal and healthy boy?"
+
+"Quite."
+
+"Did you see him when he returned home recently?" asked Mr. Middleheath,
+rising to re-examine.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You are aware he was discharged from the Army suffering from
+shell-shock?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And did you notice a marked change in him?"
+
+"Very marked indeed. He struck me as odd and forgetful at times, and
+sometimes he seemed momentarily to lose touch with his surroundings. He
+used to be very bright and good-tempered, but he returned from the war
+irritable and moody, and very silent, disliking, above all things, to be
+questioned about his experiences at the front. He used to be the very
+soul of courtesy, but when he returned from the front he refused to
+attend a 'welcome home' at the village church and hear the vicar read a
+congratulatory address."
+
+"I hope you are not going to advance the latter incident as a proof of
+_non compos mentis_, Mr. Middleheath," said the judge facetiously.
+
+In the ripples of mirth which this judicial sally aroused, the little
+doctor was permitted to leave the box, and depart for his native
+obscurity of Twelvetrees. He had served his purpose, so far as Mr.
+Middleheath was concerned, and Sir Herbert Templewood was too good a
+sportsman to waste skilful flies on such a small fish, which would do no
+honour to his bag if hooked.
+
+Sir Herbert Templewood and every lawyer in court were by now aware that
+the defence were unable to meet the Crown case, but were going to fight
+for a verdict of insanity. The legal fraternity realised the
+difficulties of that defence in a case of murder. It would be necessary
+not only to convince the jury that the accused did not know the
+difference between right and wrong, but to convince the judge, in the
+finer legal interpretation of criminal insanity, that the accused did
+not know the nature of the act he was charged with committing, in the
+sense that he was unable to distinguish whether it was right or wrong at
+the moment of committing it. The law, which assumes that a man is sane
+and responsible for his acts, throws upon the defence the onus of
+proving otherwise, and proving it up to the hilt, before it permits an
+accused person to escape the responsibility of his acts. Such a defence
+usually resolves itself into a battle between medical experts and the
+counsel engaged, the Crown endeavouring to upset the medical evidence
+for the defence with medical evidence in rebuttal.
+
+The lawyers in court settled back with a new enjoyment at the prospect
+of the legal and medical hair-splitting and quibbling which invariably
+accompanies an encounter of this kind, and Crown Counsel and solicitors
+displayed sudden activity. Sir Herbert Templewood and Mr. Braecroft held
+a whispered consultation, and then Mr. Braecroft passed a note to the
+Crown Solicitor, who hurried from the court and presently returned
+carrying a formidable pile of dusty volumes, which he placed in front of
+junior counsel. The most uninterested person in court seemed the man in
+the dock, who sat looking into a vacancy with a bored expression on his
+handsome face, as if he were indifferent to the fight on which his
+existence depended.
+
+The next witness was Miss Constance Willoughby, who gave her testimony
+in low clear tones, and with perfect self-possession. It was observed by
+the feminine element in court that she did not look at her lover in the
+dock, but kept her eyes steadily fixed on Mr. Middleheath. Her story was
+a straightforward and simple one. She had become engaged to Mr. Penreath
+shortly before the war, and had seen him several times since he was
+invalided out of the Army. The last occasion was a month ago, when he
+called at her aunt's house at Lancaster Gate. She had noticed a great
+change in him since his return from the front. He was moody and
+depressed. She did not question him about his illness, as she thought he
+was out of spirits because he had been invalided out of the Army, and
+did not want to talk about it. He told her he intended to go away for a
+change until he got right again--he had not made up his mind where, but
+he thought somewhere on the East Coast, where it was cool and bracing,
+would suit him best--and he would write to her as soon as he got
+settled anywhere. She did not see him again, and did not hear from him
+or know anything of his movements till she read his description in a
+London paper as that of a man wanted by the Norfolk police for murder.
+Her aunt, who showed her the paper, communicated with the Penreaths'
+solicitor, Mr. Oakham. The following day she and her aunt were taken to
+Heathfield and identified the accused.
+
+"Your aunt took action to allay your anxiety, I understand?" said Mr.
+Heathfield, whose watchful eye had noted the unfavourable effect of this
+statement on the jury.
+
+The witness bowed.
+
+"Yes," she replied. "I was terribly anxious, as I had not heard from Mr.
+Penreath since he went away. Anything was better than the suspense."
+
+"You say accused was moody and depressed when you saw him?" asked Sir
+Herbert Templewood.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"May I take it that there was nothing terrifying in his
+behaviour--nothing to indicate that he was not in his right mind?"
+
+"No," replied the witness slowly. "He did not frighten me, but I was
+concerned about him. He certainly looked ill, and I thought he seemed a
+little strange."
+
+"As though he had something on his mind?" suggested Sir Herbert.
+
+"Yes," assented the witness.
+
+"Were you aware that the accused, when he went to see you at your aunt's
+home before he departed for Norfolk, was very short of money?"
+
+"I was not. If I had known----"
+
+"You would have helped him--is that what you were going to say?" asked
+Mr. Middleheath, as Sir Herbert resumed his seat without pursuing the
+point.
+
+"My aunt would have helped Mr. Penreath if she had known he was in
+monetary difficulties."
+
+"Thank you." Mr. Middleheath sat down, pulling his gown over his
+shoulders.
+
+The witness was leaving the stand when the sharp authoritative voice of
+the judge stopped her.
+
+"Wait a minute, please, I want to get this a little clearer. You said
+you were aware that the accused was discharged from the Army suffering
+from shell-shock. Did he tell you so himself?"
+
+"No, my lord. I was informed so."
+
+"Really, Mr. Middleheath----"
+
+The judge's glance at Counsel for the Defence was so judicial that it
+brought Mr. Middleheath hurriedly to his feet again.
+
+"My lord," he explained, "I intend to prove in due course that the
+prisoner was invalided out of the Army suffering from shell-shock."
+
+"Very well." The judge motioned to the witness that she was at liberty
+to leave the box.
+
+The appearance of Sir Henry Durwood in the box as the next witness
+indicated to Crown Counsel that the principal card for the defence was
+about to be played. Lawyers conduct defences as some people play
+bridge--they keep the biggest trump to the last. Sir Henry represented
+the highest trump in Mr. Middleheath's hand, and if he could not score
+with him the game was lost.
+
+Sir Henry seemed not unconscious of his importance to the case as he
+stepped into the stand and bowed to the judge with bland professional
+equality. His evidence-in-chief was short, but to the point, and
+amounted to a recapitulation of the statement he had made to Colwyn in
+Penreath's bedroom on the morning of the episode in the breakfast-room
+of the Grand Hotel, Durrington. Sir Henry related the events of that
+morning for the benefit of the jury, and in sonorous tones expressed his
+professional opinion that the accused's strange behaviour on that
+occasion was the result of an attack of epilepsy--petit mal, combined
+with _furor epilepticus_.
+
+The witness defined epilepsy as a disease of the nervous system, marked
+by attacks of unconsciousness, with or without convulsions. The loss of
+consciousness with severe convulsive seizures was known as grand mal,
+the transient loss of consciousness without convulsive seizures was
+called petit mal. Attacks of petit mal might come on at any time, and
+were usually accompanied by a feeling of faintness and vertigo. The
+general symptoms were sudden jerkings of the limbs, sudden tremors,
+giddiness and unconsciousness. The eyes became fixed, the face slightly
+pale, sometimes very red, and there was frequently some almost automatic
+action. In grand mal there was always warning of an attack, in petit mal
+there was no warning as a rule, but sometimes there was premonitory
+giddiness and restlessness. _Furor epilepticus_ was a medical term
+applied to the violence displayed during attacks of petit mal, a
+violence which was much greater than extreme anger, and under its
+influence the subject was capable of committing the most violent
+outrages, even murder, without being conscious of the act.
+
+"There is no doubt in your mind that the accused man had an attack of
+petit mal in the breakfast-room of the Durrington hotel the morning
+before the murder?" asked Mr. Middleheath.
+
+"None whatever. All the symptoms pointed to it. He was sitting at the
+breakfast table when he suddenly ceased eating, and his eyes grew
+fixed. The knife which he held in his hand was dropped, but as the
+attack increased he picked it up again and thrust it into the table in
+front of him--a purely automatic action, in my opinion. When he sprang
+up from the table a little while afterwards he was under the influence
+of the epileptic fury, and would have made a violent attack on the
+people sitting at the next table if I had not seized him.
+Unconsciousness then supervened, and, with the aid of another of the
+hotel guests, I carried him to his room. It was there I noticed foam on
+his lips. When he returned to consciousness he had no recollection of
+what had occurred, which is consistent with an epileptic seizure. I saw
+that his condition was dangerous, and urged him to send for his friends,
+but he refused to do so."
+
+"It would have been better if he had followed your advice. You say it is
+consistent with epilepsy for him to have no recollection of what
+occurred during this seizure in the hotel breakfast room. What would a
+man's condition of mind be if, during an attack of petit mal, he
+committed an act of violence, say murder, for example?"
+
+"The mind is generally a complete blank. Sometimes there is a confused
+sense of something, but the patient has no recollection of what has
+occurred, in my experience."
+
+"In this case the prisoner is charged with murder. Could he have
+committed this offence during another attack of _furor epilepticus_ and
+recollect nothing about it afterwards? Is that consistent?"
+
+"Yes, quite consistent," replied the witness.
+
+"Is epilepsy an hereditary disease?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And if both parents, or one of them, suffered from epilepsy, would
+there be a great risk of the children suffering from it?"
+
+"Every risk in the case of both persons being affected; some probability
+in the case of one."
+
+"What do you think would be the effect of shell-shock on a person born
+of one epileptic parent?"
+
+"It would probably aggravate a tendency to epilepsy, by lowering the
+general health."
+
+"Thank you, Sir Henry."
+
+Mr. Middleheath resumed his seat, and Sir Herbert Templewood got up to
+cross-examine.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+
+Sir Herbert Templewood did not believe the evidence of the specialist,
+and he did not think the witness believed it himself. Sir Herbert did
+not think any the worse of the witness on that account. It was one of
+the recognised rules of the game to allow witnesses to stretch a point
+or two in favour of the defence where the social honour of highly
+respectable families was involved.
+
+Sir Herbert saw in the present defence the fact that the hand of his
+venerable friend, Mr. Oakham, had not lost its cunning. Mr. Oakham was a
+very respectable solicitor, acting for a very respectable client, and he
+had called a very respectable Harley Street specialist--who, by a most
+fortuitous circumstance, had been staying at the same hotel as the
+accused shortly before the murder was committed--to convince the jury
+that the young man was insane, and that his form of insanity was
+epilepsy, a disease which had prolonged lucid intervals.
+
+A truly ingenious and eminently respectable defence, and one which, in
+his heart of hearts, perhaps, Sir Herbert might not have been sorry to
+see succeed, for he knew Sir James Penreath of Twelvetrees, and was
+sorry to see his son in such a position. But he had his duty to perform,
+and that duty was to discredit in the eyes of the jury the evidence of
+the witness in the box, because juries were prone to look upon
+specialists as men to whom all things had been revealed, and return a
+verdict accordingly.
+
+Sir Herbert made one mistake in his analysis of the defence. Sir Henry,
+at least, believed in his own evidence and took himself very seriously
+as a specialist. Like most stupid men who have got somewhere in
+life, Sir Henry became self-assertive under the least semblance
+of contradiction, and he grew violent and red-faced under
+cross-examination. He would not hear of the possibility of a mistake in
+his diagnosis of the accused's symptoms, but insisted that the accused,
+when he saw him at the Durrington hotel, was suffering from an epileptic
+seizure, combined with _furor epilepticus_, and was in a state of mind
+which made him a menace to his fellow creatures. It was true he
+qualified his statements with the words "so far as my observation goes,"
+but the qualification was given in a manner which suggested to the jury
+that five minutes of Sir Henry Durwood's observation were worth a
+month's of a dozen ordinary medical men.
+
+Sir Henry's vehement insistence on his infallibility struck Sir Herbert
+as a flagrant violation of the rules of the game. He did not accept the
+protestations as genuine; he thought Sir Henry was overdoing his part,
+and playing to the gallery. He grew nettled in his turn, and, with a
+sudden access of vigour in his tone, said:
+
+"You told my learned friend that it is quite consistent with the
+prisoner's malady that he could have committed the crime with which he
+stands charged, and remember nothing about it afterwards. Is that a
+fact?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"In that case, will you kindly explain how the prisoner came to leave
+the inn hurriedly, before anybody was up, the morning after the murder
+was committed? Why should he run away if he had no recollection of his
+act?"
+
+"I must object to my learned friend describing the accused's departure
+from the inn as 'running away,'" said Mr. Middleheath, with a bland
+smile of protest. "It is highly improper, as nobody knows better than
+the Crown Prosecutor, and calculated to convey an altogether erroneous
+impression on the minds of the jury. There is not the slightest evidence
+to support such a statement. The evidence is that he saw the servant and
+paid his bill before departure. That is not running away."
+
+"Very well, I will say hastened away," replied Sir Herbert impatiently.
+"Why should the accused hasten away from the inn if he retained no
+recollection of the events of the night?"
+
+"He may have had a hazy recollection," replied Sir Henry. "Not of the
+act itself, but of strange events happening to him in the
+night--something like a bad dream, but more vivid. He may have found
+something unusual--such as wet clothes or muddy boots--for which he
+could not account. Then he would begin to wonder, and then perhaps there
+would come a hazy recollection of some trivial detail. Then, as he came
+to himself, he would begin to grow alarmed, and his impulse, as his
+normal mind returned to him, would be to leave the place where he was as
+soon as he could. This restlessness is a characteristic of epilepsy. In
+my opinion, it was this vague alarm, on finding himself in a position
+for which he could not account, which was the cause of the accused
+leaving the Durrington hotel. His last recollection, as he told me at
+the time, was entering the breakfast-room; he came to his senses in his
+bedroom, with strangers in the room."
+
+"Does not recollection return completely in attacks of petit mal?"
+
+"Sometimes it does; sometimes not. I remember a case in my student days
+where an epileptic violently assaulted a man in the street--almost
+murdered him in fact--then assaulted a man who tried to detain him, ran
+away, and remembered nothing about it afterwards."
+
+"Is it consistent with petit mal, combined with _furor epilepticus_, for
+a man to commit murder, conceal the body of his victim, and remember
+nothing about it afterwards?"
+
+"Quite consistent, though the probability is, as I said before, for him
+to have some hazy recollection when he came to his senses, which would
+lead to his leaving that place as quickly as he could."
+
+"Would it be consistent with petit mal for a man to take a weapon away
+beforehand, and then, during a sudden fit of petit mal, use it upon the
+unfortunate victim?"
+
+"If he took the weapon for another purpose, it is quite possible that he
+might use it afterwards."
+
+"I should like to have that a little clearer," said the judge,
+interposing. "Do you mean to get the weapon for another, possibly quite
+innocent purpose, and then use it for an act of violence?"
+
+"Yes, my lord," replied Sir Henry. "That is quite consistent with an
+attack of petit mal."
+
+"When a man has periodical attacks of petit mal, would it not be
+possible, by observation of him between the attacks, or when he was
+suffering from the attacks, to tell whether he had a tendency to them?"
+
+"No, only in a very few and exceptional cases."
+
+"In your opinion epilepsy is an hereditary disease?"
+
+"Undoubtedly."
+
+"Are you aware that certain eminent French specialists, including Marie,
+are of the opinion that hereditary influences play a very small part in
+epilepsy?"
+
+"That may be." Sir Henry dismissed the views of the French specialists
+with a condescending wave of his fat white hand.
+
+"That does not alter your own opinion?"
+
+"Certainly not."
+
+"And do you say that because this man's mother suffered from epilepsy
+the chances are that he is suffering from it?"
+
+"Pardon me, I said nothing of the kind. I think the chances are that he
+would have a highly organised nervous system, and would probably suffer
+from some nervous disease. In the case of the prisoner, I should say
+that shell-shock increased his predisposition to epilepsy."
+
+"Do you suggest that shell-shock leads to epilepsy?"
+
+"In general, no; in this particular case, possibly. A man may have
+shell-shock, and injury to the brain, which is not necessarily
+epileptic."
+
+"It is possible for shell-shock alone to lead to a subsequent attack of
+insanity?" asked the judge.
+
+"It is possible--certainly."
+
+"How often do these attacks of petit mal occur?" asked Sir Herbert.
+
+"They vary considerably according to the patient--sometimes once a week,
+sometimes monthly, and there have been cases in which the attacks are
+separated by months."
+
+"Are not two attacks in twenty-four hours unprecedented?"
+
+"Unusual, but not unprecedented. The excitement of going from one place
+to another, and walking miles to get there, would be a predisposing
+factor. Prisoner would have been suffering from the effects of the first
+attack when he left the Durrington hotel, and the excitement of the
+change and the fatigue of walking all day would have been very
+prejudicial to him, and account for the second and more violent attack."
+
+"How long do the after effects last--of an attack of petit mal, I mean."
+
+"It depends on the violence of the attack. Sometimes as long as five or
+six hours. The recovery is generally attended with general lassitude."
+
+"There is no evidence to show that the prisoner displayed any symptoms
+of epilepsy before the attack which you witnessed at the Durrington
+hotel. Is it not unusual for a person to reach the age of twenty-eight
+or thereabouts without showing any previous signs of a disease like
+epilepsy?"
+
+"There must be a first attack--that goes without saying," interposed the
+judge testily.
+
+That concluded the cross-examination. Mr. Middleheath, in
+re-examination, asked Sir Henry whether foam at the lips was a
+distinguishing mark of epilepsy.
+
+"It generally indicates an epileptic tendency," replied Sir Henry
+Durwood.
+
+At the conclusion of Sir Henry Durwood's evidence Mr. Middleheath called
+an official from the War Office to prove formally that Lieutenant James
+Penreath had been discharged from His Majesty's forces suffering from
+shell-shock.
+
+"I understand that, prior to the illness which terminated his military
+career, Lieutenant Penreath had won a reputation as an exceedingly
+gallant soldier, and had been awarded the D.S.O," said Mr. Middleheath.
+
+"That is so," replied the witness.
+
+"Is that the case?" asked the judge.
+
+"That, my lord, is the case," replied Mr. Middleheath.
+
+Sir Herbert Templewood, on behalf of the Crown, proceeded to call
+rebutting medical evidence to support the Crown contention that the
+accused was sane and aware of the nature of his acts. The first witness
+was Dr. Henry Manton, of Heathfield, who said he saw the accused when he
+was brought into the station from Flegne by Police Constable Queensmead.
+He seemed perfectly rational, though disinclined to talk.
+
+"Did you find any symptom upon him which pointed to his having recently
+suffered from epilepsy of any kind?" asked Sir Herbert.
+
+"No."
+
+"Do you agree with Sir Henry Durwood that between attacks of epilepsy
+the patient would exhibit no signs of the disease?" asked Mr.
+Middleheath.
+
+"What do you mean by between the attacks?"
+
+"I mean when he had completely recovered from one fit and before the
+next came on," explained counsel.
+
+"I quite agree with that," replied the witness.
+
+"How long does it usually take for a man to recover from an attack of
+epilepsy?"
+
+"It depends on the severity of the attack."
+
+"Well, take an attack serious enough to cause a man to commit murder."
+
+"It may take hours--five or six hours. He would certainly be drowsy and
+heavy for three or four hours afterwards."
+
+"But not longer--he would not show symptoms for thirty-six hours?"
+
+"Certainly not."
+
+"Then, may I take it from you, doctor, that after the five or six hours
+recovery after a bad attack an epileptic might show no signs of the
+disease--not even to medical eyes--till the next attack?"
+
+"I should say so," replied the witness. "But I am not an authority on
+mental diseases."
+
+"Thank you."
+
+The next witness was Dr. Gilbert Horbury, who described himself as
+medical officer of His Majesty's prison, Norwich, and formerly medical
+officer of the London detention prison. In reply to Sir Herbert
+Templewood, he said he had had much experience in cases of insanity and
+alleged insanity. He had had the accused in the present case under
+observation since the time he had been brought to the gaol. He was very
+taciturn, but he was quiet and gentlemanly in his behaviour. His
+temperature and pulse were normal, but he slept badly, and twice he
+complained of pains in the head. Witness attributed the pains in the
+head to the effect of shell-shock. He had seen no signs which suggested,
+to his mind, that prisoner was an epileptic. In reply to a direct
+question by Sir Herbert Templewood, he expressed his deliberate
+professional opinion that the accused was not suffering from epilepsy in
+any form. Epilepsy did not start off with a bad attack ending in
+violence--or murder. There were premonitory symptoms and slight attacks
+extending over a considerable period, which must have manifested
+themselves, particularly in the case of a man who had been through an
+arduous military campaign. His illness might have had a bad effect on
+the brain, but if it had led to mental disease he would have expected it
+to show itself before.
+
+From this point of view the witness, a dour, grey figure of a man,
+refused to be driven by cross-examination. His many professional years
+within the sordid atmosphere of gaol walls had taught him that most
+criminals were malingerers by instinct, and that pretended insanity was
+the commonest form of their imposition to evade the consequence of
+their misdeeds. The number of false cases which had passed through his
+hands had led him to the very human conclusion that all such defences
+were merely efforts to defraud the law, and, as a zealous officer of the
+law, he took a righteous satisfaction in discomfiting them, particularly
+when--as in the present instance--the defence was used to shield an
+accused of some social standing. For Dr. Horbury's political tendencies
+were levelling and iconoclastic, and he had a deep contempt for caste,
+titles, and monarchs.
+
+He was too sophisticated as a witness to walk into Mr. Middleheath's
+trap and contradict Sir Henry's evidence directly, but he contrived to
+convey the impression that his own observation of accused, covering a
+period of nine days, was a better guide for the jury in arriving at a
+conclusion as to the accused's state of mind than Sir Henry's opinion,
+formed after a single and limited opportunity of diagnosing the case. He
+also managed to infer, in a gentlemanly professional way, that Sir Henry
+Durwood was deservedly eminent in the medical world as a nerve
+specialist, rather than as a mental specialist, whereas witness's own
+experience in mental cases had been very wide. He talked learnedly of
+the difficulty of diagnosing epilepsy except after prolonged
+observation, and cited lengthily from big books, which a court constable
+brought into court one by one, on symptoms, reflex causes, auras, grand
+mal, petit mal, Jacksonian epilepsy, and the like.
+
+The only admission of any value that Mr. Middleheath could extract from
+Dr. Horbury was a statement that while he had seen no symptoms in the
+prisoner to suggest that he was an epileptic, epileptics did not, as a
+rule, show symptoms of the disease between the attack.
+
+"Therefore, assuming the fact that Penreath is subject to epilepsy, you
+would not necessarily expect to find any symptoms of the disease during
+the time he was awaiting trial?" asked Mr. Middleheath, eagerly
+following up the opening.
+
+"Possibly nothing that one could swear to," rejoined the witness, in an
+exceedingly dry tone.
+
+Mr. Middleheath essayed no more questions, but got the witness out of
+the box as quickly as possible, trusting to his own address to remove
+the effect of the evidence on the mind of the jury. At the outset of
+that address he pointed out that the case for the Crown rested upon
+purely circumstantial evidence, and that nobody had seen the prisoner
+commit the murder with which he was charged. The main portion of his
+remarks was directed to convincing the jury that the prisoner was the
+unhappy victim of epileptic attacks, in which he was not responsible for
+his actions. He scouted the theory of motive, as put forward by the
+Crown. It was not fair to suggest that the Treasury note which the
+accused paid to the servant at the inn was necessarily part of the dead
+man's money which had disappeared on the night of the murder and had not
+since been recovered. The fact that the accused had been turned out of
+the Grand Hotel, for not paying his hotel bill, was put forward by the
+Crown to show that he was in a penniless condition, but that assumption
+went too far. It might well be that a man in the accused's social
+standing would have a pound or two in his pocket, although he might not
+be able to meet an hotel bill of L30.
+
+"Can you conceive this young man, this gallant soldier, this heir to an
+old and honourable name, with everything in life to look forward to,
+committing an atrocious murder for L300?" continued Mr. Middleheath.
+"The traditions of his name and race, his upbringing, his recent gallant
+career as a soldier, alike forbid the sordid possibility. Moreover, he
+had no need to commit a crime to obtain money. His father, his friends,
+or the woman who was to be his wife, would have instantly supplied him
+with the money he needed, if they had known he was in want. To a young
+man in his station of life L300 is a comparatively small sum. Is it
+likely that he would have committed murder to obtain it?"
+
+"On the other hand, the prisoner's actions, since returning to England,
+strongly suggest that his mind has been giving way for some time past.
+He was invalided from the Army suffering from shell-shock, with the
+result that his constitution became weakened, and the fatal taint of
+inherited epilepsy, which was in his blood, began to manifest itself.
+His family doctor and his fiancee have told you that his behaviour was
+strange before he left for Norfolk; since coming to Norfolk it has been
+unmistakably that of a man who is no longer sane. Was it the conduct of
+a sane man to conceal his whereabouts from his friends, and stay at an
+hotel without money till he was turned out, when he might have had
+plenty of money, or at all events saved himself the humiliation of being
+turned out of the hotel, at the cost of a telegram? And why did he
+subsequently go miles across country to a remote and wretched inn, where
+he had never been before, and beg for a bed for the night? Were these
+the acts of a sane man?"
+
+In his peroration Mr. Middleheath laid particular emphasis on the
+evidence of Sir Henry Durwood, whose name was known throughout England
+as one of the most eminent specialists of his day. Sir Henry Durwood,
+Mr. Middleheath pointed out, had seen the prisoner in a fit at the
+Durrington hotel, and he emphatically declared that the accused was an
+epileptic, with homicidal tendencies. Such an opinion, coming from such
+a quarter, was, to Mr. Middleheath's mind, incontrovertible proof of
+the prisoner's insanity, and he did not see how the jury could go behind
+it in coming to a decision.
+
+Sir Herbert Templewood's address consisted of a dry marshalling of the
+facts for and against the theory of insanity. Sir Herbert contended that
+the defence had failed to establish their contention that the accused
+man was not in his right mind. He impressed upon the jury the decided
+opinion of Dr. Horbury, who, as doctor of the metropolitan receiving
+gaol, had probably a wider experience of epilepsy and insanity than any
+specialist in the world. Dr. Horbury, after nine days close observation
+of the accused, had come to the conclusion that he was perfectly sane
+and responsible for his actions.
+
+The general opinion among the bunch of legal wigs which gathered
+together at the barristers' table as Sir Herbert Templewood resumed his
+seat was that the issue had been very closely fought on both sides, and
+that the verdict would depend largely upon the way the judge summed up.
+
+His lordship commenced his summing up by informing the jury that in the
+first place they must be satisfied that the prisoner was the person who
+killed Mr. Glenthorpe. He did not think they would have much difficulty
+on that head, because, although the evidence was purely circumstantial,
+it pointed strongly to the accused, and the defence had not seriously
+contested the charge. Therefore, if they were satisfied that the accused
+did, in fact, cause the death of Mr. Glenthorpe, the only question that
+remained for them to decide was the state of the prisoner's mind at the
+time. If they were satisfied that he was not insane at the time, they
+must find him guilty of murder. If, however, they came to the conclusion
+that he was insane at the time he committed the act, they would return
+a verdict that he was guilty of the act charged against him, but that he
+was insane at the time.
+
+His lordship painstakingly defined the difference between sanity and
+insanity in the eyes of the law, but though his precise and legal
+definition called forth appreciative glances from the lawyers below him,
+it is doubtful whether the jury were much wiser for the explanation.
+After reviewing the evidence for the prosecution at considerable length,
+his lordship then proceeded, with judicial impartiality, to state the
+case for the defence. The case for the prisoner, he said, was that he
+had been strange or eccentric ever since he returned from the front
+suffering from shell-shock, that his eccentricity deepened into
+homicidal insanity, and that he committed the act of which he stood
+charged while suffering under an attack of epilepsy, which produced a
+state of mind that led the sufferer to commit an act of violence without
+understanding what he was doing. In view of the nature of this defence
+the jury were bound to look into the prisoner's family and hereditary
+history, and into his own acts before the murder, before coming to a
+conclusion as to his state of mind.
+
+The defence, he thought, had proved sufficient to enable the jury to
+draw the conclusion that Lady Penreath, the mother of the prisoner, was
+an epileptic. The assertion that the prisoner was an epileptic rested
+upon the evidence of Sir Henry Durwood, for the evidence of Miss
+Willoughby and the family doctor went no further than to suggest a
+slight strangeness or departure from the prisoner's usual demeanour. Sir
+Henry Durwood, by reason of his professional standing, was entitled to
+be received with respect, but he had himself admitted that he had had no
+previous opportunity of diagnosing the case of accused, and that it was
+difficult to form an exact opinion in a disease like epilepsy. Dr.
+Horbury, on the other hand, had declared that the prisoner showed
+nothing symptomatic of epilepsy while awaiting remand. In Dr. Horbury's
+opinion, he was not an epileptic. Therefore the case resolved itself
+into a direct conflict of medical testimony, and it was for the jury to
+decide, and form a conclusion as to the man's state of mind in
+conjunction with the other evidence.
+
+"The contention for the defence," continued his lordship, leaning
+forward and punctuating his words with sharp taps of his fountain pen on
+the desk in front of him, "is this: 'Look at this case fairly and
+clearly, and you are bound to come to the conclusion that this man is
+not in a sound frame of mind.' The prosecution, on the other hand, say,
+'The facts of this case do not point to insanity at all, but to
+deliberate murder for gain.' The defence urge further, 'You have got to
+look at the probabilities. No man in prisoner's position, a gentleman by
+birth and upbringing, the heir of an old and proud name, with a hitherto
+unblemished reputation, and the prospects of a long and not
+inconspicuous career in front of him, would in his senses have murdered
+this old man.' That is a matter for you to consider, because we do know
+that brutal crimes are committed by the most unlikely persons. But the
+prosecution also allege motive, and you must consider the question of
+motive. It is suggested, and it is for you to consider whether rightly
+or wrongly suggested, that there was a motive in killing this man,
+because the prisoner was absolutely penniless and wanted to get money."
+
+"Gentlemen, you will first apply your minds to considering all the
+evidence, and you will next consider whether you are satisfied that the
+prisoner knew the difference between right and wrong so far as the act
+with which he is charged is concerned. You must decide whether he knew
+the nature and quality of the act, and whether he knew the difference
+between that act being right, and that act being wrong. I have already
+pointed out to you that the law presumes him to be of sane mind, and
+able to distinguish between right and wrong, and it is for him to
+satisfy you, if he is to escape responsibility for this act, that he
+could not tell whether it was right or wrong. If you are satisfied of
+that, you ought to say that he is guilty of the act alleged, but insane
+at the time it was committed. If you are not satisfied on that point,
+then it is your duty to find him guilty of murder. Gentlemen, you will
+kindly retire and consider your verdict."
+
+The jury retired, and there ensued a period of tension, which the
+lawyers employed in discussing the technicalities of the case and the
+probabilities of an acquittal. Mr. Oakham thought an acquittal was a
+certainty, but Mr. Middleheath, with a deeper knowledge of the ways of
+provincial juries, declared that the defence would have stood a better
+chance of success before a London jury, because Londoners had more
+imagination than other Englishmen.
+
+"You never can tell how a d----d muddle-headed country jury will decide
+a highly technical case like this," said the K.C. peevishly. "I've lost
+stronger cases than this before a Norfolk jury. Norfolk men are
+clannish, and Horbury's evidence carried weight. He is a Norfolk man,
+though he has been in London. One never knows, of course. If the jury
+remain out over an hour I think we will pull it off."
+
+But the jury returned into court after an absence of forty minutes. The
+judge, who was waiting in his private room, was informed, and he entered
+the court and resumed his seat. The jury answered to their names, and
+then the Clerk of Arraigns, in a sing-song voice, said:
+
+"Gentlemen, have you agreed upon your verdict? Do you find the prisoner
+guilty or not guilty of wilful murder?"
+
+"Guilty!" answered the foreman, in a loud, clear voice.
+
+"You say that he is guilty of murder, and that is the verdict of you
+all?"
+
+"That is the verdict of us all," was the response.
+
+"James Ronald Penreath," continued the clerk, turning to the accused
+man, and speaking in the same sing-song tones of one who repeated a
+formula by rote, "you stand convicted of the crime of wilful murder.
+Have you anything to say for yourself why the Court should not give you
+judgment of death according to law?"
+
+The man in the dock, who had turned very pale, merely shook his head.
+
+The judge, with expressionless face and in an expressionless voice,
+pronounced sentence of death.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+
+Colwyn returned to Durrington in a perplexed and dissatisfied frame of
+mind. The trial, which he had attended and followed closely, had failed
+to convince him that all the facts concerning the death of Roger
+Glenthorpe had been brought to light. Really, the trial had not been a
+trial at all, but merely a battle of lawyers about the state of
+Penreath's mind.
+
+If Penreath was really sane--and Colwyn, who had watched him closely
+during the trial, believed that he was--the Crown theory of the murder
+by no means accounted for all the amazing facts of the case.
+
+Should he have done more? Colwyn asked himself this question again and
+again. But that query always led to another one--_Could_ he have done
+more? In his mental probings the detective could rarely get away from
+the point--and when he did get away from it he always returned to
+it--that Penreath, by his dogged silence, had been largely responsible
+for his own conviction. If a man, charged with murder, refused to
+account for actions which pointed to him as the murderer, how could
+anybody help him? Silence, in certain circumstances, was the strongest
+presumptive proof of guilt. A man was the best judge of his own actions
+and, if he refused to speak when his own life might pay the forfeit for
+silence, he must have the strongest possible reason for holding his
+tongue. What other reason could Penreath have except the consciousness
+of guilt, and the hope of escaping the consequences through a loop-hole
+of the law?
+
+Colwyn, however, was unable to accept this line of argument as
+conclusive, so he tried to put the case out of his mind. But the
+unsolved points of the mystery--the points that he himself had
+discovered during his visit to the inn--kept returning to his mind at
+all sorts of odd times, in the night, and during his walks. And each
+recurrence was accompanied by the consciousness that he had not done his
+best in the case, but had allowed the silence of the accused man to
+influence his judgment and slacken his efforts to unravel the clues he
+had originally discovered. Thus he travelled back to his starting-point,
+that the conviction of Penreath had not solved the mystery of the murder
+of Roger Glenthorpe.
+
+The hotel and its guests bored him. The season was over, and the few
+people who remained were elderly and commonplace, prone to overeating,
+and to falling asleep round the lounge fire after dinner. The only
+topics of conversation were the weather, the war, and food. Sometimes
+the elderly clergyman, who still lingered, though the other golfers had
+gone, sought to turn the conversation to golf, but nobody listened to
+him except his wife, who sat opposite to him in the warmest part of the
+lounge placidly knitting socks for the War Comforts Fund. The Flegne
+murder and its result were not discussed; by tacit mutual understanding
+the guests never referred to the unpleasant fact that they had lived for
+some weeks under the same roof with a man who had since been declared a
+murderer by the laws of his country.
+
+Colwyn decided to return to London, although the month he had allowed
+himself for a holiday was not completed. He was restless and uneasy and
+bored, and he thought that immersion in work would help him to forget
+the Glenthorpe case. He came to this decision at breakfast one morning.
+Within an hour he had paid his bill, received the polite regrets of the
+proprietor at his departure, and was motoring leisurely southward along
+the cliff road towards its junction with the main London road.
+
+Important consequences frequently spring from trifling incidents.
+Colwyn, turning his car to the side of the road to avoid a flock of
+sheep, punctured a tyre on a sharp jagged piece of rock concealed in the
+loose sand at the side of the road. He had not a spare tyre on the car,
+and the shepherd informed him that the nearest town where he could hope
+to get the tyre replaced was Faircroft, but even that was doubtful,
+because Faircroft was a small town without a garage, and the one
+tradesman who did motor-car repairs was, just as likely as not, without
+the right kind of tyres, or equally likely to have none at all. As he
+had left Durrington barely three miles behind Colwyn decided to return
+there, to have the car repaired, and defer his departure till the
+following day.
+
+He reached Durrington with a deflated tyre, took the car to the garage,
+and then went back to the hotel. It wanted nearly an hour to lunch-time,
+and on his way in he paused at the office window to inform the clerk
+that he had returned, and would stay till the following day. The
+proprietor was in the office, checking some figures. The latter looked
+up as Colwyn informed the lady clerk of his altered plans, and informed
+him that a young lady had been at the hotel inquiring for him shortly
+after his departure.
+
+"What was her name?" asked the detective, in some surprise.
+
+"She didn't give her name. She seemed very disappointed when she learnt
+that you had departed for London, and went away at once."
+
+"What was she like?"
+
+The proprietor and the lady clerk described her at the same time. In the
+former's eyes the visitor had appeared pretty and young with golden hair
+and a very clear complexion. The lady clerk, without the least departure
+from the standard of courtesy imposed upon her by her position, managed
+to indicate that the impression made upon her feminine mind was that of
+a white-faced girl with red hair. From both descriptions Colwyn had no
+difficulty in identifying the visitor as Peggy.
+
+Why had she come to Durrington to see him? Obviously the visit was
+connected with the murder at the inn. Colwyn recalled his last
+conversation with her on the marshes the day after he had seen her come
+out of the dead man's room.
+
+He hurried out in the hope of finding her. She had probably come by
+train from Leyland, and would go back the same way. Colwyn looked at his
+watch. It was a quarter past twelve, and there was no train back to
+Leyland till half-past one--so much Colwyn remembered from his study of
+the local time-table. Therefore, unless she had walked back to Flegne
+she should not be difficult to find--probably she was somewhere on the
+cliffs, or near the sea. Somehow, Peggy seemed to belong to the sea and
+Nature. It was difficult to picture her in a conventional setting.
+
+It was by the sea that he found her, sitting in one of the shelters on
+the parade, with her hands clasped in her lap, looking listlessly at a
+fisher-boat putting out from the yellow sands below. She glanced round
+at the sound of his footsteps, and, seeing who it was, came out from the
+shelter and advanced to meet him.
+
+"They told me at the hotel somebody had been asking for me, and I
+guessed it was you. You wanted to see me?"
+
+"Yes." She did not express any surprise at his return, as another girl
+would, but stood with her hands still clasped in front of her, and a
+look of entreaty in her eyes. Colwyn noticed that her face had grown
+thinner, and that in the depths of her glance there lurked a troubled
+shadow.
+
+"Shall we walk a little and you can tell me what you wish to say?"
+
+"It is very kind of you."
+
+He turned away from the front and towards the cliffs, judging that the
+girl would feel more disposed to talk freely away from human habitation
+and people. They went on for some distance in silence, the girl walking
+with a light quick step, looking straight in front of her, as though
+immersed in thought.
+
+They reached a part of the cliffs where a low wall divided the foreland
+from an old churchyard which was fast crumbling into the sea. Peggy
+paused with her hand on the wall, and looked seaward. The sun, piercing
+a rift in the dark clouds, lighted the sullen grey waters with patches
+of gold. Colwyn, in the hope of inducing his companion to talk, pointed
+out the beautiful effect of the light and shadow on the sea.
+
+"I hate the sea! I have never looked at it since the war started without
+seeing the many, many dead sailor boys at the bottom, staring up with
+their dead eyes through the weight of waters for a God of Justice in the
+heavens, and looking in vain." She turned her eyes from the sea, and
+looked at him passionately. "You do not care about the sea, either. You
+are only trying to put me at my ease--to help me say what I want to
+say. It is kind of you, but it is not necessary. I feel I can trust
+you--I must trust you. I am only a girl and there is nobody else in the
+world I dare trust. It is about--_him_. Have you seen him? Have you
+spoken to him? Did he speak about me?"
+
+"I saw him only at the trial," replied Colwyn, with his ready
+comprehension. "I had no opportunity of speaking to him alone."
+
+"I read about the trial in the paper," she went on. "They said that he
+was mad in order to try and save him, but he is not mad--he was too good
+and kind to be mad. Oh, why did he kill Mr. Glenthorpe? Will they kill
+him for that? You are clever, can you not save him? I have come to beg
+you to save him. Ever since they took him away I have seen his eyes
+wherever I go, looking at me reproachfully, as though calling upon me to
+save him. Last night, while I was in my grandmother's room, I thought I
+saw him standing there, and heard his voice, just as he used to speak.
+And in the night I woke up and thought I heard him whisper, 'Peggy, it
+is better to tell the truth.' This morning I could endure it no longer,
+and I came across to find you."
+
+"You have known him before, then?"
+
+"Yes." The girl met Colwyn's grave glance with clear, unafraid eyes. "I
+did not tell you before, not because I was afraid to trust you, for I
+liked you from the first, but I was afraid that if I told you all you
+would think him guilty, and not try to help him. And when you spoke to
+me on the marshes that day you believed he might be innocent."
+
+"How do you know that?"
+
+"I heard you say so to that police officer--Superintendent
+Galloway--after dinner the first night you were at Flegne. I was passing
+the bar parlour when you and he were talking about the murder, and I
+heard you say that you thought somebody else might have done it. The day
+after, when you saw me on the marshes, I was frightened to tell you the
+truth, because I thought if you knew it you might go away and not try to
+save him."
+
+"You had better tell the whole truth to me now. Nothing you can now say
+will make it worse for Penreath, and it may be possible to help him.
+When did you first meet him?"
+
+"Nearly three weeks before--it happened. I used to go out for long
+walks, when I could get away from grandmother, and this day I walked
+nearly as far as Leyland. He came walking along the sands a little while
+afterwards, and he looked at me as he passed. Presently he came back
+again, and stopped to ask me if there was a shorter way back to
+Durrington than by the coast road. I told him I didn't know, and he
+stopped to talk to me for a while. He told me he was in Norfolk for a
+holiday, and was spending the time in country rambles.
+
+"I will tell you the whole truth. I returned to the headland next day in
+the hope that I might see him again. After I had been there a little
+while I saw him walking along the sands. He waved his hand when he saw
+me, as though we had been old friends, and that afternoon we stayed
+talking much longer.
+
+"I saw him nearly every afternoon after that--whenever I could get away
+I walked down to the headland, and he was always there. The spot where
+we used to meet was hidden from the road by some fir-trees, and I do not
+think we were ever seen by anybody. He told me all about himself, but I
+did not tell him anything about myself or my home. I knew he was a
+gentleman, and I thought if I told him that my father kept an inn he
+might not want to see me any more, and I could not bear that. I told
+him my Christian name, and he liked it, and used to call me by it, but I
+would not tell him my other name.
+
+"The night that he came to the inn I met him in the afternoon at the
+headland as usual, and we stayed talking until it was time for me to go
+home. He was very troubled that day, and it grieved me to see him
+looking so white and ill. When I questioned him he told me that he had
+been slightly ill that morning, and that he was very much worried about
+money matters. I felt very unhappy to think that he was troubled about
+money, and when he saw that he said he was sorry he had told me.
+
+"When I left him it was later than usual. I was supposed to look after
+my grandmother every afternoon, and when I went to the headland I
+usually got Ann to sit in her room until I returned. I was always
+careful to get back before my father came in from fishing on the
+marshes. He would have been very angry if he had returned and found me
+absent, and I should not have been able to get out again. It was nearly
+four that afternoon when I left the headland, and I walked very quick so
+as to be back in time. It was getting on towards dusk when I reached
+home.
+
+"I went straight up to my grandmother's room, so that Ann could go down
+and get dinner for Mr. Glenthorpe, who usually came in about dark. I sat
+with grandmother till past six o'clock, and then, as Ann hadn't brought
+grandmother's tea, I went down to the kitchen to get it myself. Ann was
+very busy getting dinner, and she told me a young gentleman had arrived
+at the inn half an hour before, and he was going to dine upstairs with
+Mr. Glenthorpe, and stay for the night. I was surprised, for we rarely
+had visitors at the inn. I asked Ann some questions about him, but she
+could tell me very little. Charles, the waiter, came into the kitchen to
+get the things ready to take upstairs, and he told me that the visitor
+was young, good-looking, and seemed a gentleman.
+
+"I got grandmother's tea ready, and was carrying it along the passage
+from the kitchen when I fancied I heard Mr. Penreath's voice in the bar
+parlour. I thought at first that I must be mistaken; then the door of
+the parlour opened, and Mr. Glenthorpe and Mr. Penreath came out. I was
+so surprised and frightened that I almost dropped the tray I was
+carrying. If they had looked down the side passage they would have seen
+me. But he and Mr. Glenthorpe turned the other way, and went upstairs.
+Then Charles came along carrying a dinner tray, and went upstairs also.
+I knew then that Mr. Penreath was the gentleman who was going to dine
+with Mr. Glenthorpe, and stay the night.
+
+"I did not know what to do. I took grandmother's tea upstairs, and crept
+past the room where they were having dinner, because I did not want him
+to see me till I had made up my mind what to do. The door was shut, and
+they couldn't see me, though I could hear them talking inside. When I
+got to my grandmother's room I tried to think what was best to do. My
+first thought was that he had found out who I was. Then it seemed to me
+that he might have come by accident, in some way that I didn't
+understand, because why should he dine with Mr. Glenthorpe, and stay
+with him, if he had come to see me? Then I wondered if it were possible
+that he knew Mr. Glenthorpe, who was a gentleman like himself, and had
+come to ask him to help him. I had never told him anything about Mr.
+Glenthorpe or myself.
+
+"I determined to try and see him that night to let him know that the inn
+was my home. If he had come to the inn by accident it was better that he
+should not meet me in front of my father, because in his surprise he
+might say that he had met me before. My father would have been very
+angry if he knew I had been meeting a stranger. So I went along the
+passage several times in the hope of seeing him as he came from dinner.
+But once my father was going into the room where they were having
+dinner, and he nearly saw me, so I dared not go again.
+
+"A little after ten o'clock my grandmother began to get restless, as she
+always does when a storm is coming on, and I had to stay with her to
+keep her quiet. I can do more with her than anybody else when she is
+like that, and it is not safe to leave her. Sometimes my father goes and
+sits with her a while before he goes to bed, but this night he did not.
+She got very bad as the storm came on, and while it lasted I sat
+alongside of her holding her hand and soothing her. After about half an
+hour the rain ceased as suddenly as it had commenced, and grandmother
+fell asleep. I knew she was all right until the morning, so I left her
+for the night.
+
+"As I turned to go to my room, I thought I saw a light in the other
+passage, and I went down to see what it was. I thought perhaps Mr.
+Penreath might be waiting up reading before going to bed.
+
+"I crept along to the bend of the passage, and looked down it, thinking
+perhaps I might see him and speak to him. There was nobody in the
+passage, but the door of Mr. Glenthorpe's room was half open and a light
+was streaming through it.
+
+"I do not know really what took me to Mr. Glenthorpe's room. I have
+tried to think it out clearly since, but I cannot. I know I was
+distressed and troubled about Mr. Penreath's presence at the inn, and I
+was afraid he would be cross and angry with me for not having told him
+the truth about myself. And before that, when I was walking home after
+meeting him that afternoon, I had been unhappy about his wanting money,
+and wished that I could do something to help him. These thoughts kept
+going through my head as I sat with grandmother during the storm.
+
+"When I saw the door of Mr. Glenthorpe's room open, and the light
+burning, all these thoughts seemed to come back into my head together. I
+remembered how good and kind Mr. Glenthorpe had always been to me. I had
+heard my father tell Charles that morning that Mr. Glenthorpe had gone
+to the bank at Heathfield that day to draw out a large sum of money to
+buy Mr. Cranley's field.
+
+"I think I had a confused idea that I would go and confide in Mr.
+Glenthorpe, and ask him to help Mr. Penreath. Perhaps I have not made
+myself very clear about this, but I do not remember very clearly myself,
+for I acted on a sudden impulse, and ran along the passage quickly, in
+case he should shut his door before I got there, because I knew if he
+did that I should not have the courage to knock. Through the half-open
+door I could see the inside of the room between the door and the window.
+It seemed to me to be empty. I gave a little tap at the door, but there
+was no reply. It was then I noticed that the bedroom window was wide
+open, and that a current of air was blowing into the room and causing
+the light behind the door to cast flickering shadows across the room.
+
+"That struck me as strange. I knew Mr. Glenthorpe always used a reading
+lamp, and never a candle, and I knew that the reading lamp wouldn't
+cast shadows because of the lamp glass. I do not know what I feared, but
+I know a dreadful shiver of fear crept over me, and that some force
+stronger than myself seemed to compel me to step inside the room in
+spite of my fears."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+
+"He was lying on the bed, quite dead. There was blood on his breast, and
+his hands were held out, as though he had tried to push off the man who
+had killed him. On the table, by the head of the bed, was a lighted
+candle, and it was the light of the candle which had cast the flickering
+shadows I had seen before entering the room. On the bed, near the
+pillow, was a match-box, and I remember picking it up and placing it in
+the candlestick--mechanically, for I am sure I did not know what I was
+doing, and I did not recall the act till afterwards. I have a clearer
+recollection of touching something with my foot, and stooping to pick it
+up. It was a knife--a white handled knife, with blood on the blade. And
+as I stood there, with it in my hand, there came to my mind, clear and
+distinct, the memory of having seen that knife on the dinner tray
+Charles had carried past me upstairs, as I stood in the passage near the
+kitchen, where I first discovered that Mr. Penreath was in the house.
+
+"I do not know how long I stood there, with the knife in my hand,
+looking at the body--perhaps it was not more than a moment. There seemed
+to be two individualities in me, one urging me to fly, the other keeping
+me rooted to the spot, petrified.
+
+"Then I heard a sound downstairs. A wild panic came over me, and my head
+grew dizzy. The shadows in the corners of the room seemed full of
+mocking eyes, and I thought I heard stealthy steps creeping up the
+stairs. I dared not stay where I was, but I was too afraid to go out
+into the passage in the dark. Then my eyes fell on the candle, and I
+picked it up and was going to rush from the room, when I remembered that
+I had the knife in my hand.
+
+"I did not know what to do with it. I wanted to shield him, but some
+feeling within me would not let me carry it away. I looked round the
+room for somewhere to hide it, and my eye fell on a picture against the
+wall, close to the door. Quick as thought I put the knife behind the
+picture as I ran from the room.
+
+"There was nobody in the passage, and I gained my own room and locked
+the door. I think I must have fainted, or become unconscious, for I
+remember nothing more after throwing myself on my bed, and when I came
+to my senses the dawn was creeping in through my bedroom window. I was
+very cold, and dazed. I crept into bed without taking off my clothes,
+and fell asleep. When I awoke it was broad daylight, and as I lay in bed
+I heard the kitchen clock chime seven.
+
+"I got up, and went into grandmother's room. A little while afterwards
+Ann came up with some tea, and she told me that Mr. Penreath had gone
+away early, without having any breakfast. She told me that she had found
+Mr. Glenthorpe's room empty, with the key in the outside of the door.
+She was afraid something had happened to him, so she had sent for
+Constable Queensmead. I did not tell her what I had seen in the night. I
+wanted to be alone, to think. I could not understand how Mr.
+Glenthorpe's body had disappeared from his room. I think I hoped that I
+would presently wake up and find that what I had seen during the night
+was some terrible dream. But Ann came up a little later and told me that
+Mr. Glenthorpe's body had been discovered in the pit on the rise, and
+that Mr. Ronald, as she called Mr. Penreath, was suspected of having
+murdered him.
+
+"When she told me that I felt as though my blood turned to ice. I knew
+it was true--I knew that he had killed Mr. Glenthorpe because he wanted
+money--but I knew that in spite of all I wanted to shield and help him.
+I kept in my grandmother's room all day, determined to keep silence, and
+tell nobody about what I had seen during the night. The one thing that
+worried me was the knife which I had put behind the picture on the wall.
+I tried once to go into the room and get it, but the door was locked,
+and I dared not ask for the key.
+
+"Then in the afternoon the police came from Durrington. I did not know
+who you were when you came with them into my grandmother's room, but as
+soon as I saw you I was afraid, though I tried hard not to let you see
+it. I knew you were cleverer than the others. But your eyes seemed to go
+right into mine, and search my soul. I asked my father afterwards who
+you were, and he said your name was Mr. Colwyn, and that you were a
+London detective. I had read about you; I knew that you were famous and
+clever, and after seeing you I felt that you would be sure to discover
+my secret, and put Mr. Penreath in prison.
+
+"That night when I was downstairs, I heard you and the police officer
+talking in the room where you had dined, and I listened at the door.
+When I heard you say that you were not certain who committed the murder,
+I was very much surprised, because up till then I felt quite certain
+that you would think Mr. Penreath was guilty. I believed if you found
+the knife you would alter your opinion, Ann having told me that the
+police knew that Mr. Glenthorpe had been murdered with a knife which Mr.
+Penreath had used at dinner. The idea came into my head that if I could
+get the knife before you found it, you might go on thinking that
+somebody else had committed the crime, and perhaps persuade the police
+to think so as well.
+
+"I made up my mind I would go into the room that night and get the
+knife. I knew that the door was locked, and that the police officer had
+placed the key on the mantelpiece in the bar parlour. During the evening
+I kept downstairs at the back of the passage waiting for an opportunity
+to get it. You both stayed there so long that I did not think I should
+get the chance.
+
+"After you went upstairs to bed Mr. Galloway called Charles to get him
+some brandy. Charles came out from his room to get it. Mr. Galloway
+followed him into the bar. While he was there I slipped into the room
+and got the key, and left the key of my own room in its place. I did not
+think the police officer would notice the difference, but it was a risk
+I had to take. Then I ran up to my room.
+
+"Although I had got the key I was for some time afraid to use it. I
+could not bear the thought of going into that room, and to get there I
+had to go past your door; I did not like that.
+
+"Then I crept out along the passage as quietly as I could, carrying my
+shoes, for I had made up my mind that after I got the knife I would take
+it across the marshes to the breakwater and throw it into the sea. That
+was the one place where I felt sure you would not find it. I carried a
+candle in my hand, but I dared not light it until I got past your door,
+in case you were awake and saw the light. When I reached Mr.
+Glenthorpe's room I lit the candle and unlocked the door, turning the
+key as gently as I could. But it made a noise, and, as I stood
+listening, I thought I heard a movement in your room. I blew out the
+candle, stepped inside the room, took the key out, and locked the door
+on the inside.
+
+"I do not know how long I stood there listening in the dark, but I know
+that I was not as frightened as I had expected to be--at first. I kept
+telling myself that Mr. Glenthorpe had always been kind to me while he
+was alive, and that he would not harm me now that he was dead. I did not
+look towards the bed, but kept close to the door, straining my ears to
+catch any sound in the passage outside. But after a while I began to get
+frightened in that dark room with the door locked, and dreadful thoughts
+came into my mind. I remembered a story I had read about a man who was
+locked up all night in a room with a dead body, and was found mad in the
+morning, and the position of the corpse had changed. It seemed to me as
+though Mr. Glenthorpe was sitting up in bed looking at me, but I dared
+not turn round to see. I knew that I must get out of the room or scream.
+I lit the candle, felt for the knife behind the picture, and opened the
+door. As soon as the candle was alight I felt braver, and I looked out
+of the door before going into the passage. I could see nothing--all
+seemed quiet--so I came out of the room and locked the door behind me
+and went downstairs.
+
+"Once I was outside the house and could see the friendly stars all my
+fears vanished. I know the marshes so well that I can find my way across
+them at any time. And in my heart I had the feeling that I had been
+brave and helped him. When I had thrown the knife into the sea from the
+breakwater I felt almost lighthearted, and when I reached my room again
+I fell asleep as soon as I got into bed.
+
+"Until you spoke to me the next day I had no idea that you had seen and
+followed me. But I knew it the moment you stopped me and said you
+wanted to speak to me. Then I realised you had watched me, and the story
+I told you to account for my visit to the room came into my head. I did
+not know whether you believed me or not, but I did not care much,
+because I knew you could not have seen what I threw into the sea. That
+secret was safe as long as I kept silence; and you couldn't make me
+speak against my will."
+
+Peggy, as she concluded, glanced up wistfully to see how her companion
+received her story, but she could learn nothing from the detective's
+inscrutable face. Colwyn, on his part, was thinking rapidly. He believed
+that the innkeeper's daughter, yielding to the strain of a secret too
+heavy to be borne alone, had this time told him the truth, but, as he
+ran over the main points of her narrative in his mind, he could not see
+that it shed any additional light on the murder. The only new fact that
+she had revealed was that she and Penreath had been acquainted before.
+She had also, perhaps unconsciously, given away the fact that she and
+Penreath were in love with each other; at all events, her story proved
+that she was so deeply in love with Penreath that she had displayed
+unusual force of character in her efforts to shield him. But that
+knowledge did not carry them any further towards a solution of the
+mystery. It was with but a faint hope of eliciting anything of real
+value that he turned to her and said:
+
+"There is one point of your story on which I am not quite clear. You
+said that in the morning, when you heard of the recovery of Mr.
+Glenthorpe's body from the pit, you knew that Mr. Penreath was the
+murderer. Why were you so sure of that? Was is because you picked up the
+knife with which the murder was committed? The knife was a clue--the
+police theory of course is that Penreath secreted the knife at the
+dinner table for the purpose of committing the murder--but, by itself,
+it was hardly a convincing clue. Was there something else that made you
+feel sure he was guilty of this crime?"
+
+"Yes, there was something else," she repeated slowly.
+
+"I thought as much. And that something else was the match-box--is that
+not so?"
+
+"Yes, it was the match-box," she repeated again, this time almost in a
+whisper.
+
+"What was there about the match-box that made you feel so certain?"
+
+"Must I tell you that?" she said, looking at him helplessly.
+
+"Of course you must tell me." Colwyn's face was stern. "As I told you
+before, nothing you can do or say can hurt him now, and the only hope of
+helping him is by telling the whole truth."
+
+"It was his match-box. It had his monogram on it."
+
+"You have brought it with you?"
+
+For answer she took something from the bosom of her dress and laid it,
+with a heart-broken look, in Colwyn's hand. The article was a small
+match-box, with a regimental badge in enamel on one side, and on the
+other some initials in monogram. Colwyn examined it closely.
+
+"I see the initials are J.R.P.," he said. "How did you know they were
+his initials? You knew his name?"
+
+"Yes. He used to light cigarettes with matches from that match-box when
+I was with him, and one day I asked him to show it to me. He did so, and
+I asked him what the initials were for, and he told me they stood for
+his own name--James Ronald Penreath. And then he told me much about
+himself and his family, and--and he said he cared for me, but he was not
+free."
+
+She gave out the last few words in a low tone, and stood looking at him
+like a girl who had exposed the most sacred secret of her heart in
+order to help her lover. But Colwyn was not looking at her. He had
+opened the match-box, and was shaking out the few matches which remained
+in the interior. They fell, half a dozen of them, into the palm of his
+hand. They were wax matches, with blue heads. A sudden light leapt into
+the detective's eyes as he saw them--a look so strange and angry that
+the girl, who was watching him, recoiled a little.
+
+"What is it? What have you found?" she cried.
+
+"It is a pity you did not tell me the truth in the first instance
+instead of deceiving me," he retorted harshly. "Listen to me. Does any
+one at the inn know of your visit to me to-day? I do not suppose they
+do, but I want to make sure."
+
+"Nobody. I told them I was going to Leyland to see the dressmaker."
+
+"So much the better." Colwyn looked at his watch. "You have just time to
+catch the half-past one train back. You had better go at once. I will go
+to the inn some time this evening, but you must not let any one know
+that I am coming, or that you have seen me to-day. Do you understand?
+Can I depend on you?"
+
+"Yes," she replied. "I will do anything you tell me. But, oh, do tell me
+before I go whether you are going to save him."
+
+"I cannot say that," he replied, in a gentler voice. "But I am going to
+try to help him. Go at once, or you will not catch the train."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+
+Colwyn formed his plans on his way back to the hotel. He stopped at the
+office as he went in to lunch, and informed the lady clerk that he had
+changed his mind about leaving, and would keep on his room, but expected
+to be away in the country for two or three days. The lady clerk, who had
+mischievous eyes and wore her hair fluffed, asked the detective if he
+had been successful in finding the young lady who had called to see him.
+On Colwyn gravely informing her that he had, she smiled. It was obvious
+that she scented a romance in the guest's changed plans.
+
+As the detective wished to attract as little attention as possible in
+the renewed investigations he was about to make, he decided not to take
+his car to Flegne. After lunch he packed a few necessaries in a handbag,
+and caught the afternoon train to Heathfield. Arriving at that wayside
+station, he asked the elderly functionary who acted as station-master,
+porter and station cleaner the nearest way across country to Flegne,
+and, receiving the most explicit instructions in a thick Norfolk
+dialect, set out with his handbag.
+
+The road journey to Flegne was five miles. By the footpath across the
+fields it was something less than four, and Colwyn, walking briskly,
+reached the rise above the marshes in a little less than an hour. The
+village on the edge of the marshes looked grey and cheerless and
+deserted in the dull afternoon light, and the sighing wind brought from
+the North Sea the bitter foretaste of winter. The inn was cut off from
+the village by a new accession of marsh water which had thrust a slimy
+tongue across the road, forming a pool in which frogs were vociferously
+astir.
+
+As Colwyn descended the rise the front door of the inn opened, and the
+gaunt figure of the innkeeper emerged, carrying some fishing lines in
+his hands. He paused beneath the inn signboard, the rusty swinging
+anchor, and looked up at the sky, which was lowering and black. As he
+did so, he turned, and saw Colwyn. He waited for him to approach, and
+left it to the visitor to speak first. He showed no surprise at Colwyn's
+appearance, but his bird-like face did not readily lend itself to the
+expression of human emotions. It would have been almost as easy for a
+toucan to display joy, grief, or surprise.
+
+"Good afternoon, Benson," said the detective cheerfully. "Going to be
+rather wet for a fishing excursion, isn't it?"
+
+"That's just what I can't make up my mind, sir," replied the other.
+"Clouds like these do not always mean rain in this part of the world.
+The clouds seem to gather over the marshes more, and sometimes they hang
+like this for days without rain. But I do not think I'll go fishing
+to-night. The rain in these parts goes through you in no time, and
+there's no shelter on the marshes."
+
+"In that case you'll be able to attend to me."
+
+"I'd do that in any case, sir," replied the other quickly.
+
+"I think of spending a few days here before returning to London. I am
+interested in archaeological research, and this part of the Norfolk coast
+is exceedingly rich in archaeological and prehistoric remains, as, of
+course, you are well aware."
+
+"Yes, sir. Many scientific gentlemen used to visit the place at one
+time. We had one who stayed at the inn for a short time last year--Dr.
+Gardiner, perhaps you have heard of him. He was very interested in the
+hut circles on the rise, and when he went back to London he wrote a book
+about them. Then there was poor Mr. Glenthorpe. He was never tired of
+talking of the ancient things which were under the earth hereabouts."
+
+"Quite so. I should like to make a few investigations on my own account.
+That is why I have come over this afternoon. I have left my car and my
+luggage at Durrington, where I have been staying, thinking you might
+find it easier to put me up without them. I presume you can accommodate
+me, Benson?"
+
+"Well, sir, you know the place is rough and I haven't much to offer you.
+But if you do not mind that----"
+
+"Not in the least. You need not go to any trouble on my account."
+
+"Then, sir, I shall be pleased to do what I can to make you comfortable.
+Will you step inside? This way, sir--I must ask Ann about your room
+before I can take you upstairs."
+
+The innkeeper opened the door of the bar parlour, and asked Colwyn to
+excuse him while he consulted the servant. He returned in a few minutes
+with Ann lumbering in his wake. The stout countrywoman bobbed at the
+sight of the detective, and proceeded to explain in apologetic tones,
+with sundry catches of the breath and jelly-like movements of her fat
+frame, that she was sorry being caught unawares, and not expecting
+visitors, but the fact was that Mr. Colwyn couldn't have the room he
+slept in before, because she had given it a good turn out that day, and
+everything was upside down, to say nothing of it being as damp as damp
+could be. There was only poor Mr. Glenthorpe's room--of course, that
+wouldn't do--and the room next, which the poor young gentleman had
+slept in. Would Mr. Colwyn mind having that room? If he didn't mind, she
+could make it quite comfortable, and would have clean sheets aired in
+front of the kitchen fire in no time.
+
+Colwyn felt that he had reason to congratulate himself that he had been
+asked to occupy the very room which he desired to examine closely. The
+lucky accident of turning out the other room would save him a midnight
+prowl from the one room to the other, with the possible risk of
+detection. He told Ann that the room Mr. Penreath had slept in would do
+very well, and assured her that she was not to bother on his account.
+But Ann was determined to worry, and her mind was no sooner relieved
+about the bedroom than she propounded the problem of dinner. She had
+been taken unawares in that direction also. There was nothing in the
+house but a little cold mutton, and some hare soup left over from the
+previous day. If she warmed up a plateful of soup--it was lovely soup,
+and had set into a perfect jelly--and made rissoles of the mutton, and
+sent them to table with some vegetables, with a pudding to follow; would
+_that_ do? Colwyn replied smilingly that would do excellently, and Ann
+withdrew, promising to serve the meal within an hour.
+
+Colwyn passed that time in the bar parlour. The innkeeper, of his own
+accord, brought in some of the famous smuggled brandy, and willingly
+accepted the detective's invitation to drink a glass of it. With an
+old-fashioned long-footed liqueur glass of the brown brandy in front of
+him, the innkeeper waxed more loquacious than Colwyn had yet found him,
+and related many strange tales of the old smuggling days of the inn,
+when cargoes of brandy were landed on the coast, and stowed away in the
+inn's subterranean passages almost under the noses of the excise
+officers. According to local history, the inn had been built into the
+hillside to afford better lurking-places, for those who were continually
+at variance with His Majesty's excise officers. There was one local
+worthy named Cranley, the lawless ancestor of the yeoman who had sold
+the piece of land to Mr. Glenthorpe, who was reported to be the most
+brazen smuggler in Norfolk, which was saying something, considering the
+greater portion of the coastal population were engaged in smuggling in
+those days.
+
+Cranley was a local hero, with a hero's love for the brandy he smuggled
+so freely, and tradition declared of him that on one occasion he set
+light to some barns and hayricks in order to warn some of his smuggling
+companions who were "running a cargo" that a trap had been laid for
+them. The farmers who had suffered by the blaze had sought to carry
+Cranley before the justices, but he, with a few choice spirits, had
+barricaded himself in the inn, defying the countryside for months,
+subsisting on bread and brandy, and shooting from the circular windows
+on the south side of the house at the soldiers sent to take him. Local
+tradition varied as to the ultimate fate of Cranley and his desperate
+band.
+
+According to some authorities, they escaped through the marshes and put
+to sea; but another version of the story declared that they had been
+captured and tried in the inn, and then ingloriously hanged, one after
+the other, from the stanchion outside the door from which the anchor
+suspended. This version added the touch that Cranley's last request was
+for a bumper of the famous old brandy he had lost his life for, and when
+it was given him he quaffed it to the bottom, dashed the cup in the
+hangman's face, and swung himself off into eternity. Confirmatory
+evidence of the siege of Cranley and his merry men was to be seen in
+the outside wall, which was dinted with bullet marks made by the King's
+troops as they tried to hit the smugglers, firing through the circular
+windows.
+
+The innkeeper rambled on in this fashion until the entry of Charles with
+a table-cloth reminded him of the flight of time, and he withdrew with a
+halting apology for having sat there talking so long. The fat waiter
+saluted Colwyn with a grave bow, and proceeded to lay the cloth. When he
+had done this he left the room and returned with a bottle of claret,
+which he put down in front of the fire, and proceeded to warm the wine,
+keeping his hand on the bottle as he did so. Then he lifted the bottle
+and held it to the light before setting it carefully on the table.
+
+"Your knowledge of wine is not of much use to you in Flegne, Charles,"
+remarked Colwyn. "You do not belong to these parts, I fancy."
+
+"No, sir. I'm a Londoner born and bred," replied the waiter, in his soft
+whisper.
+
+"Why did you leave it? Londoners, as a rule, prefer their city to any
+other part of the world."
+
+"I'd starve there now that my hearing is gone. London takes everything
+from you, but gives you nothing in return. I'm only too grateful to Mr.
+Benson for employing me here, considering the nature of my affliction.
+No London hotel would give me a job now. But though I do say it, sir, I
+think I make myself useful to Mr. Benson, and earn my keep and the few
+shillings he gives me. I save him all the trouble I can."
+
+This was undoubtedly true, as Colwyn had observed during his former
+visit to the inn. The deaf waiter was, to all intents and purposes, the
+real manager of the inn, leaving the innkeeper free to pursue his
+solitary life while he attended to the bar and the cellar, helped Ann
+with the work, and waited on infrequent travellers. Doubtless the
+arrangement suited both, though it could not have been profitable to
+either, for there was little more than a bare living for one in such a
+place.
+
+Looking up suddenly from his plate, Colwyn caught the waiter's black
+eyes fixed on him in a keen penetrating gaze. Meeting the detective's
+eyes, Charles instantly lowered his own. But for the latter action
+Colwyn would have thought nothing of the incident, for he was aware that
+Charles, on account of his deafness, had to watch the lips of people he
+was serving in order to read their lips. But if Charles had been merely
+watching for him to speak he would not have felt impelled to avert his
+gaze when detected. The sudden lowering of his eyes was the swift
+unconscious action of a man taken by surprise. The detective realised
+that Charles did not accept the reason he had given to account for his
+second visit to the inn. Charles evidently suspected that that reason
+masked some ulterior motive.
+
+Colwyn finished his dinner and produced his cigar-case. Selecting a
+cigar, he lit it with a match from the box Peggy had given him that day.
+
+"Have you ever seen this box before, Charles?" he said, placing the box
+on the table.
+
+The waiter picked up the little silver and enamel box and examined it
+attentively.
+
+"I have, sir," he said, handing it back. "It is Mr. Penreath's."
+
+"How do you recognise it?"
+
+"By the letters in enamel, sir. I noticed them that night at the dinner
+table, when I was holding Mr. Penreath's candlestick while he lit it
+with a match from that box."
+
+"Did he put it back in his pocket after lighting the candle?"
+
+"Yes, sir; into his vest pocket."
+
+"It was picked up in Mr. Glenthorpe's room after the murder was
+committed. A strong clue, Charles! Many a man has been hanged on less."
+
+"No doubt, sir."
+
+The waiter, balancing a tray on his deformed arm, proceeded to clear the
+table. When he had completed his task he asked the detective if he
+needed him any more, because if he did not it was time for him to go
+into the bar. On Colwyn saying that he needed nothing further he
+noiselessly withdrew, steadying the loaded tray with his sound hand.
+
+Colwyn spent the evening sitting by the fire, smoking. It was fortunate
+he had plenty to think about, for the inn did not offer any resources in
+the way of reading to occupy the mind of the chance visitor to its roof.
+There were a few books in the recess by the fireplace, but they
+consisted of bound volumes of _The Norfolk Sporting Gazette_ from 1860
+to 1870, with an odd volume on _Fishing on the Broads_ and an obsolete
+_Farmers' Annual_. The past occupants of the inn had evidently been keen
+sportsmen, for there were specimens of stuffed fowl and fish ranged in
+glass cases around the walls, and two old rusty fowling pieces and a
+fishing rod hung suspended near the ceiling.
+
+Shortly after nine o'clock the innkeeper entered the room with a
+candlestick, which he placed on the table. He explained that it was his
+custom to go upstairs early, in order to sit with his mother for a
+little while before he retired. The poor soul looked for it, he said,
+and grew restless if he was late.
+
+"Who is sitting with her at present?" inquired the detective.
+
+"My daughter, sir. She always waits till I go up."
+
+"You never leave her alone, then?"
+
+"Only at night-time, sir. The doctor told me she could be safely left at
+night. She sleeps fairly well, considering, though when there's wild
+weather I always go in to her. The sound of the wind shrieking across
+the marshes from the sea excites her, and we get a lot of that sort of
+weather on the Norfolk coast, particularly in the winter months. I wish
+I could afford to have her better looked after, but I cannot, and that's
+the long and short of it."
+
+"Things are pretty bad with you, Benson?"
+
+"Very bad, indeed, sir. It keeps me awake at night, wondering where it's
+all going to end. However, I don't want to burden you with my
+troubles--I suppose we all have our own to bear. I merely came in to
+bring your candlestick, and to ask you if there is anything you want
+before I go to bed. Charles is gone to his room, but Ann is still up."
+
+"Tell Ann she need not sit up on my account. I need nothing further, and
+I can find my way to my room. Is it ready yet?"
+
+"Quite, sir. Ann has just been up there, putting on some fresh sheets.
+Perhaps you wouldn't mind turning off the gas at the meter as you go
+up--it is just underneath the stairs. If you would not mind the trouble
+Ann could then go to bed. We keep early hours here, as a rule. There is
+nothing to sit up for."
+
+"I'll turn off the gas--I know where the meter is. How is it, Benson,
+that the gas is laid on in only two of the rooms upstairs--the rooms Mr.
+Glenthorpe used to occupy? It would have been an easy matter to lay it
+on to the adjoining rooms, once the pipes had been taken upstairs."
+
+"That's quite true, sir, but the gas was taken upstairs on Mr.
+Glenthorpe's account, shortly after he came here. He thought he would
+like it, and he paid the bill for having it fixed. But after it was laid
+on he rarely used it. He said he found the gaslight trying for his eyes
+when he wanted to read in bed, so he got a reading lamp."
+
+"And yet the gas tap was partly turned on in his room the morning after
+the murder," remarked Colwyn meditatively.
+
+"Perhaps the murderer turned it on," suggested the innkeeper in a low
+tone.
+
+But there was a slight tremor in his voice that did not escape the keen
+ears of the detective.
+
+"That is possible, but the point was not cleared up at the trial; it
+probably never will be now," he replied, eyeing the innkeeper
+attentively. "And the incandescent burner was broken too. Have you had a
+new burner attached, Benson?"
+
+"No, sir. The room has never been used since."
+
+"It's a queer thing about that broken burner. That's another point in
+this case that was not cleared up at the trial. Who do you think broke
+it?"
+
+"How should I know, sir?" His bird's eyes, in their troubled shadow,
+turned uneasily from the detective's glance.
+
+"Nevertheless, you can hazard an opinion. Why not? The case is over and
+done with now, and Penreath--or Ronald, as he called himself--is
+condemned to death. So who do you think broke that burner, Benson?"
+
+"Who else but the murderer, sir?"
+
+"That's the police theory, I know, but I doubt whether Penreath was tall
+enough to strike it with his head. It's more than six feet from the
+ground." The detective threw a critical glance over the innkeeper's
+figure as though he were measuring his height with his eye. "You are
+well over six feet, Benson--you might have done it."
+
+It was a chance shot, but the effect was remarkable. The innkeeper swung
+his small head on the top of his long neck in the direction of the
+detective, with a strange gesture, like a pinioned eagle twisting in a
+trap.
+
+"What makes you say that!" he cried, and his voice had a new and
+strident note. "I had nothing whatever to do with it."
+
+"What do you mean?" replied the detective sternly. "What do you suppose
+I am suggesting?"
+
+"I beg your pardon, sir," replied the other. "The fact is I have not
+been myself for some time past."
+
+His voice broke off in an odd tremor, and Colwyn noticed that the long
+thin hand he stretched out, as though to deprecate his previous
+violence, was shaking violently.
+
+"What's the matter with you, man?" The detective eyed him keenly. "Your
+nerve has gone."
+
+"I know it has, sir. What happened in this house a fortnight ago upset
+me terribly, and I haven't got over it yet. I have other troubles as
+well--private troubles. I've had to sit up with mother a good deal
+lately."
+
+"You'd better take a few doses of bromide," said the detective
+brusquely. "A man with your nerves should not live in a place like this.
+You had better go to bed now. Good night."
+
+"Good night, sir." The innkeeper hurried out of the room without another
+word.
+
+Colwyn sat by the fire for some time longer pondering over this
+unexpected incident, until the kitchen clock chiming eleven warned him
+to go to bed. He turned off the gas at the meter underneath the stairs
+as Benson had requested. When he reached the room in which Mr.
+Glenthorpe had been murdered, he paused outside the door, and turned the
+handle. The door was locked.
+
+As he was about to enter the adjoining bedroom which had been allotted
+to him, a slender pencil of light pierced the darkness of the passage
+leading off the one in which he stood. As he watched the gleam grew
+brighter and broader; somebody was walking along the other passage. A
+moment later the innkeeper's daughter came into view, carrying a candle.
+She advanced quickly to where the detective was standing.
+
+"I heard you coming upstairs," she explained, in a whisper. "I have been
+waiting and listening at my door. I wanted to see you, but it is
+difficult for me to do so without the others knowing. So I thought I
+would wait. I wanted to let you know that if you wish to see me at any
+time--if you need me to do anything--perhaps you would put a note under
+my door, and I could meet you down by the breakwater at any time you
+appoint. Nobody would see us there."
+
+Colwyn nodded approvingly. Decidedly this girl was not lacking in
+resource and intelligence.
+
+"I am so glad you are here," she went on earnestly. "I was afraid, after
+I left you to-day, that you might change your mind. I waited at one of
+the upstairs windows all the afternoon till I saw you coming. You will
+save him, won't you?"
+
+She looked up at him with a faint smile, which, slight as it was, gave
+her face a new rare beauty.
+
+"I will try," responded Colwyn, gravely. "Can you tell where the key of
+Mr. Glenthorpe's room is kept?"
+
+"It hangs in the kitchen. Do you want it? I will get it for you. If Ann
+or Charles see me, they, will not think it as strange as if they saw
+you."
+
+She was so eager to be of use to him that she did not wait for his
+reply, but ran quickly and noiselessly along the passage, and down the
+stairs. In a very brief space she returned with the key, which she
+placed in his hand. "Is there anything else I can do?" she asked.
+
+"Nothing, except to tell me where you got the key. I want to put it back
+again without anybody knowing it has been used."
+
+"It hangs on the kitchen dresser--the second hook. You cannot mistake
+it, because there is a padlock key and one of my father's fishing lines
+hanging on the same hook."
+
+"Then that is all you can do. I will let you know if I want to see you
+at any time."
+
+"Thank you. Good night!" She was gone without another word.
+
+Colwyn stood at his door watching her until she disappeared into the
+passage which led to her own room. Then he turned into his bedroom and
+shut the door behind him.
+
+He walked to the window and threw it open. The sea mist, driving over
+the silent marshes like a cloud, touched his face coldly as he stood
+there, meditating on the strange turn of events which had brought him
+back to the inn to pursue his investigations into the murder at the
+point where he had left them more than a fortnight before. In that brief
+period how much had happened! Penreath had been tried and sentenced to
+death for a crime which Colwyn now believed he had not committed.
+Chance--no, Destiny--by placing in his hand a significant clue, had
+directed his footsteps thither, and left it for his intelligence to
+atone for his past blunder before it was too late.
+
+It was with a feeling that the hand of Destiny was upon him that Colwyn
+turned from the window and regarded the little room with keen
+curiosity. Its drab interior held a secret which was a challenge to his
+intelligence to discover. What had happened in that room the night
+Ronald slept there? He noted the articles of furniture one by one.
+Nothing seemed changed since he had last been in the room, the day after
+the murder was committed. There was a washstand near the window, a chest
+of drawers, a dressing table and a large wardrobe at the side of the
+bed. Colwyn looked at this last piece of furniture with the same
+interest he had felt when he saw it the first time. It was far too big
+and cumbrous a wardrobe for so small a room, about eight feet high and
+five feet in width, and it was placed in the most inconvenient part of
+the room, by the side of the bed, not far from the wall which abutted on
+the passage. He opened its double doors and looked within. The wardrobe
+was empty.
+
+Colwyn made a methodical search of the room in the hope of discovering
+something which would throw light on the events of the night of the
+murder. Doubtless the room had not been occupied since Penreath had
+slept there, and he might have left something behind him--perhaps some
+forgotten scrap of paper which might help to throw light on this strange
+and sinister mystery. In the detection of crime seeming trifles often
+lead to important discoveries, as nobody was better aware than Colwyn.
+But though he searched the room with painstaking care, he found nothing.
+
+It was while he was thus engaged that a faint rustle aroused his
+attention, and looking towards the corner of the room whence it
+proceeded, he saw a large rat crouching by the skirting-board watching
+him with malevolent eyes. Colwyn looked round for a weapon with which to
+hit it. The creature seemed to divine his intentions, for it scuttled
+squeaking across the room, and disappeared behind the wardrobe.
+
+Colwyn approached the wardrobe and pushed it back. As he did so, he had
+a curious sensation which he could hardly define. It was as though an
+unseen presence had entered the room, and was silently watching him. His
+actions seemed not of his own volition; it was as though some force
+stronger than himself was urging him on. And, withal, he had the uncanny
+feeling that the whole incident of the rat and the wardrobe, and his
+share in it, was merely a repetition of something which had happened in
+the room before.
+
+The wardrobe moved much more easily than he had expected, considering
+its weight and size. There was no rat behind it, but a hole under the
+skirting showed where the animal had made its escape. But it was the
+space where the wardrobe had stood that claimed Colwyn's attention. The
+reason why it had been placed in its previous position was made plain.
+The damp had penetrated the wall on that side, and had so rotted the
+wall paper that a large portion of it had fallen away.
+
+In the bare portion of the wall thus revealed, about two feet square,
+was a wooden trap door, fastened by a button. Colwyn unfastened the
+button, and opened the door. A black hole gaped at him.
+
+The light of the candle showed that the wall was hollow, and the trap
+opened into the hollow space. There was nothing unusual in such a door
+in an old house; Colwyn had seen similar doors in other houses built
+with the old-fashioned thick walls. It was the primitive ventilation of
+a past generation; the doors, when opened, permitted a free current of
+air to percolate through the building, and get to the foundations. But a
+further examination of the hole revealed something which Colwyn had
+never seen before--a corresponding door on the other side of the wall.
+The other door opened into the bedroom which had been occupied by Mr.
+Glenthorpe. Colwyn pushed it with his hand, but it did not yield. It was
+doubtless fastened with a button on the outside, like the other.
+
+Colwyn, scrutinising the second door closely, noticed that the wood was
+worm-eaten and shrunken. For that reason it fitted but loosely into the
+aperture of the wall, and on the one side there was a wide crack which
+arrested Colwyn's attention. It ran the whole length of the door, along
+the top--that is, horizontally--and was, perhaps, a quarter of an inch
+wide.
+
+With the tightened nerves which presage an important discovery, Colwyn
+felt for his pocket knife, opened the largest blade, and thrust it into
+the crack. It penetrated up to the handle. He ran the knife along the
+whole length of the crack without difficulty. There was no doubt it
+opened into the next room.
+
+Colwyn closed the trap-door carefully, and started to push the wardrobe
+back into its previous position. As he did so, his eye fell upon several
+tiny scraps of paper lying in the vacant space. He stooped, and picked
+them up. They were the torn fragments of a pocket-book leaf, which had
+been written upon. Colwyn endeavoured to place the fragments together
+and read the writing. But some of the pieces were missing, and he could
+only decipher two disjointed words--"Constance" and "forgive."
+
+Slowly, almost mechanically, the detective felt for his pipe, lit it,
+and stood for a long time at the open window, gazing with set eyes into
+the brooding darkness, wrapped in profound thought, thinking of his
+discoveries and what they portended.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+
+Colwyn was astir with the first glimmering of a grey dawn. He wanted to
+test the police theory that the murder was committed by climbing from
+one bedroom to the other, but he did not desire to be discovered in the
+experiment by any of the inmates of the inn.
+
+The window of his bedroom was so small that it was difficult to get
+through, and there was a drop of more than eight feet from the ledge to
+the hillside. After one or two attempts Colwyn got out feet foremost,
+and when half way through wriggled his body round until he was able to
+grasp the window-ledge and drop to the ground. The fall caused his heels
+to sink deeply into the clay of the hillside, which was moist and sticky
+after the rain.
+
+Colwyn closely examined the impression his heels had made, and then
+walked along until he stood underneath the window of the next room. It
+was an easy matter to climb through this window, which was larger, and
+closer to the ground--five feet from the hillside, at the most. Colwyn
+sprang on to the ledge, and tried the window with his hand. It was
+unlocked. He pushed up the lower pane, and entered the room.
+
+From the window he walked straight to the bedside, noting, as he walked,
+that his footsteps left on the carpet crumbs of the red earth from
+outside, similar to those which had been found in the room the morning
+after the murder. He next examined the broken incandescent burner in the
+chandelier in the middle of the room, and took careful measurements of
+the distances between the gas jet, the bedside and the door, observing,
+as he did so, that the gaslight was almost in a line with the foot of
+the bed. That was a point he had marked previously when Superintendent
+Galloway had suggested that the incandescent burner was broken by the
+murderer striking it with the corpse he was carrying. Colwyn had found
+it difficult to accept that point of view at the time, but now, in the
+light of recent discoveries, and the new theory of the crime which was
+gradually taking shape in his mind, it seemed almost incredible that the
+murderer, staggering under the weight of his ghastly burden, should have
+taken anything but the shortest track to the door.
+
+After examining the bed with an attentive eye, Colwyn next looked for
+the small door in the wall. It was not apparent: the wall-paper appeared
+to cover the whole of the wall on that side of the room in unbroken
+continuity. But a closer inspection revealed a slight fissure or crack,
+barely noticeable in the dark green wall-paper, extending an inch or so
+beyond a small picture suspended near the door of the room. When the
+picture was taken down the crack was more apparent, for it ran nearly
+the whole length of the space. The door had been papered over when the
+room was last papered, which was a long time ago, judging by the dingy
+condition of the wall-paper, and the crack had been caused by the
+shrinking of the woodwork of the door, as Colwyn had noticed the
+previous night.
+
+Colwyn let himself out of the room with the key Peggy had given him,
+locked the door behind him, and took the key down to the kitchen. It was
+still very early, and nobody was stirring. Having hung the key on the
+hook of the dresser, he returned to his room.
+
+At breakfast time that morning Charles informed him, in his husky
+whisper, that he had to go over to Heathfield that day, to ascertain why
+the brewer had not sent a consignment of beer, which was several days
+overdue. Charles' chief regret was that for some hours his guest would
+be left to the tender mercies of Ann, and he let it be understood that
+he had the poorest opinion of women as waitresses. But he promised to
+return in time to minister to Colwyn's comforts at dinner. Somewhat
+amused, Colwyn told the fat man not to hurry back on his account, as Ann
+could look after him very well.
+
+As Colwyn was smoking a cigar in front of the inn after breakfast, he
+saw Charles setting out on his journey, and watched his short fat form
+toil up the rise and disappear on the other side. Immediately
+afterwards, the gaunt figure of the innkeeper emerged from the inn,
+prepared for a fishing excursion. He hesitated a moment on seeing
+Colwyn, then walked towards him and informed him that he was going to
+have a morning's fishing in a river stream a couple of miles away,
+having heard good accounts in the bar overnight of the fish there since
+the recent rain.
+
+"Who will look after the inn, with both you and Charles away?" asked
+Colwyn, with a smile.
+
+The innkeeper, carefully bestowing a fishing-line in the capacious side
+pocket of his faded tweed coat, replied that as the inn was out of beer,
+and not likely to have any that day, there was not much lost by leaving
+it. That seemed to exhaust the possibilities of the conversation, but
+the innkeeper lingered, looking at his guest as though he had something
+on his mind.
+
+"I do not know if you care for fishing, sir," he remarked, after a
+rather lengthy pause. "If you do, I should be happy at any time to show
+you a little sport. The fishing is very good about this district--as
+good as anywhere in Norfolk."
+
+Colwyn was quick to divine what was passing in the innkeeper's mind. He
+had been brooding over the incident in the bar parlour of the previous
+night, and hoped by this awkward courtesy to remove the impression of
+his overnight rudeness from his visitor's mind. As Colwyn was equally
+desirous of allaying his fears, he thanked him for his offer, and stood
+chatting with him for some moments. His pleasant and natural manner had
+the effect of putting the innkeeper at his ease, and there was an
+obvious air of relief in his bearing as he wished the detective good
+morning and departed on his fishing expedition.
+
+Colwyn spent the morning in a solitary walk along the marshes, thinking
+over the events of the night and morning. He returned to the inn for an
+early lunch, which was served by Ann, who gossiped to him freely of the
+small events which had constituted the daily life of the village since
+his previous visit. The principal of these, it seemed, had been the
+reappearance, after a long period of inaction, of the White Lady of the
+Shrieking Pit--an apparition which haunted the hut circles on the rise.
+Colwyn, recalling that Duney and Backlos imagined they had encountered a
+spectre the night they saw Penreath on the edge of the wood, asked Ann
+who the "White Lady" was supposed to be. Ann was reticent at first. She
+admitted that she was a firm believer in the local tradition, which she
+had imbibed with her mother's milk, but it was held to be unlucky to
+talk about the White Lady. However, her feminine desire to impart
+information soon overcame her fears, and she launched forth into full
+particulars of the legend. It appeared that for generations past the
+deep pit on the rise in which Mr. Glenthorpe's body had been thrown had
+been the haunt of a spirit known as the White Lady, who, from time to
+time, issued from the depths of the pit, clad in a white trailing
+garment, to wander along the hut circles on the rise, shrieking and
+sobbing piteously. Whose ghost she was, and why she shrieked, Ann was
+unable to say. Her appearances were infrequent, with sometimes as long
+as a year between them, and the timely warning she gave of her coming by
+shrieking from the depths of the pit before making her appearance,
+enabled folk to keep indoors and avoid her when she was walking. As long
+as she wasn't seen by anybody, not much harm was done, but the sight of
+her was fatal to the beholder, who was sure to come to a swift and
+violent end.
+
+Ann related divers accredited instances of calamity which had followed
+swiftly upon an encounter with the White Lady, including that of her own
+sister's husband, who had seen her one night going home, and the very
+next day had been kicked by a horse and killed on the spot. Ann's
+grandmother, when a young girl, had heard her shrieking one night when
+she was going home, but had had the presence of mind to fall flat on her
+face until the shrieking had ceased, by which means she avoided seeing
+her, and had died comfortably in her bed at eighty-one in consequence.
+
+Colwyn gathered from the countrywoman's story that the prevailing
+impression in the village was that Mr. Glenthorpe's murder was due to
+the interposition of the White Lady of the Shrieking Pit. The White
+Lady, after a long silence, had been heard to shriek once two nights
+before the murder, but the warning had not deterred Mr. Glenthorpe from
+taking his nightly walk on the rise, although Ann, out of her liking and
+respect for the old gentleman, had even ventured to forget her place
+and beg and implore him not to go. But he had laughed at her, and said
+if he met the White Lady he would stop and have a chat with her about
+her ancestors. Those were his very words, and they made her blood run
+cold at the time, though she little thought how soon he would be
+repenting of his foolhardiness in his coffin. If he had only listened to
+her he might have been alive that blessed day, for she hadn't the
+slightest doubt he met the White Lady that night in his walk, and his
+doom was brought about in consequence.
+
+Ann concluded by solemnly urging Colwyn, as long as he remained at the
+inn, to keep indoors at night as he valued his life, for ever since the
+murder the White Lady had been particularly active, shrieking nearly
+every night, as though seeking another victim, and the whole village was
+frightened to stir out in consequence. Ann had reluctantly to admit that
+she had never actually heard her shrieking herself--she was a heavy
+sleeper at any time--but there were those who had, plenty of them.
+Besides, hadn't he heard that Charles, while shutting up the inn the
+very night poor Mr. Glenthorpe's body had been taken away, had seen
+something white on the rise? On Colwyn replying that he had not heard
+this, Ann assured him the whole village believed that Charles had seen
+the White Lady, and regarded him as good as dead, and many were the
+speculations as to the manner in which his inevitable fate would fall.
+
+The relation of the legend of the White Lady lasted to the conclusion of
+lunch, and then Colwyn sauntered outside with a cigar, in order to make
+another examination of the ground the murderer had covered in going to
+the pit. The body had been carried out the back way, across the green
+which separated the inn from the village, and up the rise to the pit.
+The green was now partly under water, and the track of the footprints
+leading to the rise had been obliterated by the heavy rains which had
+fallen since, but the soft surface retained the impression of Colwyn's
+footsteps with the same distinctness with which it had held, and
+afterwards revealed, the track of the man who had carried the corpse to
+the pit.
+
+Colwyn examined the pit closely. The edges were wet and slippery, and in
+places the earth had been washed away. The sides, for some distance
+down, were lined with a thick growth of shrubs and birch. Colwyn knelt
+down on the edge and peered into the interior of the pit. He tested the
+strength of the climbing and creeping plants which twisted in snakelike
+growth in the interior. It seemed to him that it would be a
+comparatively easy matter to descend into the pit by their support, so
+far as they went. But how far did they go?
+
+While he was thus occupied he heard the sound of footsteps crashing
+through the undergrowth of the little wood on the other side of the pit.
+A moment later a man, carrying a rabbit, and followed by a mongrel dog,
+came into view. It was Duney. He stared hard at Colwyn and then advanced
+towards him with a grin of recognition.
+
+"Yow be lookin' to see how t'owd ma'aster was hulled dune th' pit?" he
+asked.
+
+"I was wondering how far the pit ran straight down," replied Colwyn. "It
+seems to take a slight slope a little way down. Does it?"
+
+"I doan't know narthin' about th' pit, and I doan't want to," replied
+Mr. Duney, backing away with a slightly pale face. "Doan't yow meddle
+wi' un, ma'aster. It's a quare place, thissun."
+
+"Why, what's the matter with it?"
+
+"Did you never hear that th' pit's haunted? Like enough nobody'd tell
+yow. Folk hereabowts aren't owerfond of talkin' of th' White Lady of th'
+Shrieking Pit, for fear it should bring un bad luck."
+
+"I've been hearing a little about her to-day. Is she any relation of
+Black Shuck, the ghost dog you were telling me about?"
+
+"It's no larfin' matter, ma'aster. You moind the day me and Billy
+Backlog come and towld yow about us seein' that chap on th' edge of yon
+wood that night? Well, just befower we seed un we heerd th' rummiest
+kind of noise--summat atween a moan and a shriek, comin' from this 'ere
+pit. I reckon, from what's happened to that chap Ronald since, that it
+wor the White Lady of th' Pit we heered. It's lucky for us we didn't see
+un."
+
+"I remember at the time you mentioned something about it."
+
+"Ay, she be a terr'ble bad sperrit," said Mr. Duney, wagging his head
+unctuously. "She comes out of this yare pit wheer t'owd man was chucked,
+and wanders about the wood and th' rise, a-yellin' somefin awful. It's
+nowt to hear her--we've all heerd her for that matter--but to see her is
+to meet a bloody and violent end within the month. That's why they call
+this 'ere pit 'the Shrieking Pit.' I'm thinkin' that owd Mr. Glenthorpe,
+who was allus fond of walkin' up this way at nights, met her one night,
+and that'll account for his own bloody end. And it's my belief that she
+appeared to the young chap who was hidin' in th' woods the night we saw
+un. And look what's happened to un! He's got to be hanged, which is a
+violent end, thow p'r'aps not bloody."
+
+"If that's the local belief, I wonder anybody went down into the pit to
+recover Mr. Glenthorpe's body."
+
+"Nobody wouldn't 'a' gone down but Herward. I wouldn't 'a' gone down for
+untowd gowd, but Herward comes from th' Broads, and don't know nartin'
+about this part of the ma'shes. Besides, he ain't no Christian, down't
+care for no ghosts nor sperrits. I've often heerd un say so."
+
+"Is it true that the White Lady has been seen since Mr. Glenthorpe was
+murdered?"
+
+"She's been heered, shure enough. Billy Backlog, who lives closest to
+the rise, was a-tellin' us in the _Anchor_ bar that she woke him up two
+nights arter th' murder, a-yowlin' like an old tomcat, but Billy knew
+it worn't a cat--it weer far more fearsome, wi gasps at th' end. The
+deaf fat chap at Benson's arst him what time this might be. Billy said
+he disremembered th' time--mebbe it wor ten or a bit past. Then the fat
+chap said it wor just about that time the same night, as he wor shuttin'
+up, he saw somefin white float up to th' top of th' pit. He thowt at th'
+time it might be mist, thow there weren't much mist on th' ma'shes that
+night, but now he says 'es sure that it wor the White Lady from the
+Shrieking Pit that he saw. 'Then Gawdamighty help yow, poor fat chap,'
+says Billy, looking at him solemn-like. 'The hearin' of her is narthin',
+it's th' seein' o' her that's the trouble.' The poor fat chap a' been
+nigh skeered out o' his wits ever since, and nobody in th' village wud
+go near th' pit a' nighttimes--no, not for a fortin. I ain't sure as
+it's safe to be here even in daytimes, thow I never heered of her comin'
+out in the light." Mr. Duney turned resolutely away from the pit, and
+called to his dog, who was sitting near the edge, regarding his master
+with blinking eyes and lolling tongue. "I'll be goin', in case that
+Queensmead sees me from th' village. I cot this coney fair and square in
+th' open, but it be hard to make Queensmead believe it. Well, I'll be
+goin'. Good mornin', ma'aster."
+
+He trudged away across the rise, with his dog following at his heels.
+Colwyn was about to turn away also, when his eye was caught by a scrap
+of stained and discoloured paper lying near the edge of the pit, where
+the rain had washed away some of the earth. He stooped, and picked it
+up. It was a slip of white paper, about five inches long, and perhaps
+three inches in width, quite blank, but with a very apparent watermark,
+consisting of a number of parallel waving lines, close together, running
+across the surface. Although the watermark was an unusual one, it seemed
+strangely familiar to Colwyn, who tried to recall where he had seen it
+before. But memory is a tricky thing. Although Colwyn's memory instantly
+recognised the watermark on the paper, he could not, for the moment,
+recollect where he had seen it, though it seemed as familiar to him as
+the face of some old acquaintance whose name he had temporarily
+forgotten. Colwyn ultimately gave up the effort for the time being, and
+placed the piece of paper in his pocket-book, knowing that his memory
+would, sooner or later, perform unconsciously the task it refused to
+undertake when asked.
+
+Colwyn spent the afternoon in another solitary walk, and darkness had
+set in before he returned to the village. As he reached the inn he
+glanced towards the hut circles, and was startled to see something white
+move slowly along by the edge of the Shrieking Pit and vanish in the
+wood. There was something so weird and ghostly in the spectacle that
+Colwyn was momentarily astounded by it. Then his eye fell on the sea
+mist which covered the marshes in a white shroud, and he smiled
+slightly. It was not the White Lady of the Shrieking Pit he had seen,
+but a spiral of mist, floating across the rise.
+
+The sight brought back to his mind the stories he had heard that day,
+and when he was seated at dinner a little later he casually asked
+Charles if he believed in ghosts. The fat man, with a sudden uplifting
+of his black eyes, as though to ascertain whether Colwyn was speaking
+seriously, replied that he did not.
+
+"I'm surprised to hear of your scepticism, Charles, for I'm told that
+the apparition from the pit--the White Lady, as she is called--has
+favoured you with a special appearance," said Colwyn, in a bantering
+tone.
+
+"I see what you mean now, sir. I didn't understand you at first. It was
+like this: some of the villagers were talking about this ghost in the
+bar a few nights back, and one or two of the villagers, who all firmly
+believed in it, declared that they had heard her wandering about the
+previous night, moaning and shrieking, as is supposed to be her custom.
+I, more by way of a joke than anything else, told them I had seen
+something white on the rise the previous night, when I was shutting up
+the inn. But the whole village has got it into their heads that I saw
+the White Lady, and they think because I've seen her I'm a doomed man.
+The country folk round about here are an ignorant and superstitious lot,
+sir."
+
+"And did you actually see anything, Charles, the night you speak of?"
+
+"I saw something, sir--something long and white--like a moving white
+pillar, if I may so express myself. While I looked it vanished into the
+woods."
+
+"It was probably mist. I saw something similar this evening!"
+
+"Very likely, sir. I do not think it was a ghost."
+
+Colwyn did not pursue the subject further, though he was struck by the
+wide difference between Charles' account of the incident and that given
+to him by Duney at the pit that afternoon.
+
+When Charles had cleared the table Colwyn sat smoking and thinking until
+late. After he was sure that the rest of the inmates of the inn had
+retired, he went to the kitchen and took the key of Mr. Glenthorpe's
+room from the hook of the dresser. When he reached his own bedroom, his
+first act was to push back the wardrobe and open the trap door he had
+discovered the previous night. He looked at his watch, and found that
+the hour was a little after eleven. He decided to wait for half an hour
+before carrying out the experiment he contemplated. By midnight he would
+be fairly safe from the fear of discovery. He lay down on his bed to
+pass the intervening time, but he was so tired that he fell asleep
+almost immediately.
+
+He awakened with a start, and sat up, staring into the black darkness.
+For a moment or two he did not realise his surroundings, then the sound
+of stealthy footsteps passing his door brought him back to instant
+wakefulness. The footsteps halted--outside his door, it seemed to
+Colwyn. There followed the sound of a hand fumbling with a lock,
+followed by the shooting of a bolt and the creaking of a door. The truth
+flashed upon the detective; somebody was entering the next room. As he
+listened, there was the scrape of a match, and a moment later a narrow
+shaft of light streamed through the open wall-door into his room.
+
+Colwyn got noiselessly off his bed and looked through the crack in the
+inner small door into the other room. The picture on the other side of
+the wall narrowed his range of vision, but through the inch or so of
+crack extending beyond the picture he was able to see clearly that
+portion of the adjoining bedroom in which the bed stood. Near the bed,
+examining with the light of a candle the contents of the writing table
+which stood alongside of it, was Benson, the innkeeper.
+
+He was searching for something--rummaging through the drawers of the
+table, taking out papers and envelopes, and tearing them open with a
+furious desperate energy, pausing every now and again to look hurriedly
+over his shoulder, as though he expected to see some apparition start up
+from the shadowy corners. The search was apparently fruitless, for
+presently he crammed the papers back into the drawers with the same
+feverish haste, and, walking rapidly across the room, passed out of the
+view of the watcher on the other side, for the picture which hung on the
+inside wall prevented Colwyn seeing beyond the foot of the bed. Although
+the innkeeper could not now be seen, the sound of his stealthy quick
+movements, and the flickering lights cast by the candle he carried,
+suggested plainly enough that he was continuing his search in that
+portion of the room which was not visible through the crack.
+
+In a few minutes he came back into Colwyn's range of vision, looking
+dusty and dishevelled, with drops of perspiration starting from his
+face. With a savage gesture, which was akin to despair, he wiped the
+perspiration from his face, and tossed back his long hair from his
+forehead. It was the first time Colwyn had seen his forehead uncovered,
+and a thrill ran through him as he noticed a deep bruise high upon the
+left temple. The next moment the innkeeper walked swiftly out of the
+room, and Colwyn heard him close the door softly behind him.
+
+Colwyn waited awhile. When everything seemed quiet, he cautiously opened
+his door in the dark, and tried the door of the adjoining room. It was
+locked.
+
+The innkeeper, then, had another key which fitted the murdered man's
+door. And what was he searching for? Money? The treasury notes which Mr.
+Glenthorpe had drawn out of the bank the day he was murdered, which had
+never been found? Money--notes!
+
+By one of those hidden and unaccountable processes of the human brain,
+the association of ideas recalled to Colwyn's mind where he had
+previously seen the peculiar watermark of waving lines visible on the
+piece of paper he had picked up at the brink of the pit that afternoon:
+it was the Government watermark of the first issue of War Treasury
+notes.
+
+Colwyn lit his bedroom candle, and examined the piece of paper in his
+pocket-book with a new and keen interest. There was no doubt about it,
+the mark on the dirty blank paper was undoubtedly the Treasury
+watermark. But how came such a mark, designed exclusively for the
+protection of the Treasury against bank-note forgeries, to appear on a
+dirty scrap of paper?
+
+As he stood there, turning the bit of paper over and over, in his hand,
+puzzling over the problem, the solution flashed into his mind--a
+solution so simple, yet, withal, so remarkable, that he hesitated to
+believe it possible. But a further examination of the paper removed his
+doubts. Chance had placed in his hands another clue, and the most
+important he had yet discovered, to help him in the elucidation of the
+mystery of the murder of Roger Glenthorpe. But to verify that clue it
+would be necessary for him to descend the pit.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+
+An orange crescent of a waning moon was sinking in a black sky as Colwyn
+let himself quietly out of the door and took his way up to the rise. But
+the darkness of the night was fading fast before the grey dawn of the
+coming day, and in the marshes below the birds were beginning to stir
+and call among the reeds.
+
+Colwyn waited for the first light of dawn before attempting the descent
+of the pit. His plan was to climb down by the creepers as far as they
+went, and descend the remainder of the distance by the rope, which he
+would fasten to one of the shrubs growing in the interior. He realised
+that his chances of success depended on the slope of the pit and the
+depth to which the shrubs grew, but the attempt was well worth making.
+Assistance would have made the task much easier, but publicity was the
+thing Colwyn desired most to avoid at that stage of his investigations.
+There would be time enough to consider the question of seeking help if
+he failed in his individual effort.
+
+He made his plans carefully before commencing the descent. He first
+tested a rope he had found in the lumber room of the inn; it was thin
+but strong and capable of bearing the weight of a heavier man than
+himself. The rope was not more than fifteen feet in length, but if the
+hardy climbing plants which lined the sides of the pit were capable of
+supporting him ten or twelve feet down, that length should be sufficient
+for his purpose. Having tested the rope and coiled it, he slipped it
+into the right-hand pocket of his coat with one end hanging out. Next he
+opened his knife, and placed it with a candle and a box of matches in
+his other pocket. Then turning on his electric torch, he lowered himself
+cautiously into the pit by the creepers which fringed the surface.
+
+There was no difficulty about the descent for the first eight or ten
+feet. Then the shrubs that had afforded foothold for his feet suddenly
+ceased, and the foot that he had thrust down for another perch touched
+nothing but the slippery side of the pit. Clinging firmly with his left
+hand to the network of vegetation which grew above his head, Colwyn
+flashed his electric torch into the blackness of the pit beneath him.
+One or two long tendrils of the climbing plants which grew higher up
+dangled like pendulous snakes, but the vegetable growth ceased at that
+point. Beneath him the naked sides of the pit gleamed sleek and wet in
+the rays of the torch.
+
+Pulling himself up a little way to gain a securer footing, Colwyn took
+the coil of rope from his pocket, and selecting a strong withe which
+hung near him, sought to fasten the end of the rope to it. It took him
+some time to do this with the hand he had at liberty, but at length he
+accomplished it to his satisfaction, and then he allowed the coils of
+the rope to fall into the pit. He next essayed to test the strength of
+the support, by pulling at it. To his disappointment, his first vigorous
+tug snapped the withe to which the rope was attached. He tied the rope
+to a stronger growth, but with no better result: the growths seemed
+brittle, and incapable of bearing a great strain when tested separately.
+It was the twisted network of the withes and twigs which gave the
+climbing plants inside the pit sufficient toughness to support his
+weight. Taken singly, they had very little strength.
+
+Colwyn reluctantly realised that it would be folly to endeavour to
+attempt the further descent of the pit by their frail support, and he
+decided to relinquish the attempt.
+
+As he was about to ascend, the light of the torch brought into view that
+part of the pit to which he was clinging, and he noticed that the
+testing of the withes had torn away a portion of the leafy screen,
+revealing the black and slimy surface of the pit's side. Colwyn was
+amazed to see a small peg, with a fishing line attached to it, sticking
+in the bare earth thus exposed. Somebody had been down the pit and
+placed it there--recently, judging by the appearance of the peg, which
+was clean and newly cut. What was at the other end of the line, which
+dangled in the darkness of the pit? A better hiding place for anything
+valuable could not have been devised. The thin fishing line was
+indiscernible against the slimy side of the pit, and Colwyn realised
+that he would never have discovered it had it not been for the lucky
+accident which had exposed the peg to which the line was anchored. A
+place of concealment chosen at the expense of so much trouble and risk
+indicated something well worth concealing, and it was with a strong
+premonition of what was suspended down the pit that the detective,
+taking a firmer hold of the twining tendrils above his head, began to
+haul up the line. The weight at the end was slight; the line came up
+readily enough, foot after foot running through his hand, and then,
+finally, a small oblong packet, firmly fastened and knotted to the end
+of the line.
+
+Colwyn examined the packet by the light of the torch. It was a man's
+pocket-book of black morocco leather, a large and serviceable article,
+thick and heavy. The detective did not need the information conveyed by
+the initials "R. G." stamped in silver lettering on one side, to
+enlighten him as to the owner of the pocket-book and what it contained.
+
+Removing the peg from the earth, Colwyn was about to place the
+pocket-book and the line in his pocket, but on second thoughts he
+restored the peg to its former position, and endeavoured to untie the
+knots by which the pocket-book was fastened to the line. It was
+difficult to do this with one hand, but, by placing the pocket-book in
+his pocket, and picking at the knots one by one, he at length unfastened
+it from the line. He tied his own pocket-book to the end of the line,
+and dropped it back into the pit. He next replaced the greenery torn
+from the spot where the peg rested. When he had restored, as far as he
+could, the original appearance of the hiding place, he ascended swiftly
+to the surface.
+
+The first act, on reaching the fresh air, was to examine the contents of
+the pocket-book. As he anticipated, it was crammed full of notes of the
+first Treasury issue. He did not take them out to count them; a rook,
+watching him curiously from the edge of the wood, warned him of the
+danger of human eyes.
+
+Here, then, was the end of his investigations, and a discovery which
+would necessitate his departure from the inn sooner than he had
+anticipated. Nothing remained for him to do but to acquaint the
+authorities with the fresh facts he had brought to light, indicate the
+man to whom those facts pointed, and endeavour to see righted the
+monstrous act of injustice which had condemned an innocent man to the
+ignominy of a shameful death. The sooner that task was commenced the
+better. The law was swift to grasp and slow to release, and many were
+the formalities to be gone through before the conviction of a wrongly
+convicted man could be quashed, especially in a grave charge like
+murder. Only on the most convincing fresh evidence could the jury's
+verdict be upset, and none knew better than Colwyn that such evidence
+had not yet been obtained. But the additional facts discovered during
+his second visit to the inn, if not in themselves sufficient to upset
+the verdict against Penreath, nevertheless threw an entirely new light
+on the crime, which, if speedily followed up, would prove Penreath's
+innocence by revealing the actual murderer. The only question was
+whether the police would use the clues he was going to place in their
+hands in the manner he wished them to be used. If they didn't--but
+Colwyn refused to contemplate that possibility. His mind reverted to the
+chief constable of Norfolk. He felt he was on firm ground in believing
+that Mr. Cromering would act promptly once he was certain that there had
+been a miscarriage of justice in the Glenthorpe case.
+
+It would be necessary to arrange his departure from the inn in such a
+manner as not to arouse suspicion, and also to have the pit watched in
+case any attempt was made to recover the money he had found that
+morning. Colwyn, after some consideration, decided to invoke the aid of
+Police Constable Queensmead. His brief association with Queensmead had
+convinced him that the village constable was discreet and intelligent.
+
+It was still very early as he descended to the village and sought the
+constable's house. His knock at the door was not immediately answered,
+but after the lapse of a minute or two the door was unbolted, and the
+constable's face appeared. When he saw who his visitor was he asked to
+be excused while he put on some clothes. He was back speedily, and
+ushered Colwyn into the room in which he did his official business.
+
+"Queensmead," said the detective earnestly, "I have to go to Norwich,
+and I want you to do something for me in my absence. I am going to tell
+you something in strict confidence. Fresh facts have come to light in
+the Glenthorpe case. You remember Mr. Glenthorpe's money, which was
+supposed to have been stolen by Penreath, but which was never recovered.
+I found it this morning down the pit where the body was thrown."
+
+"How did you get down the pit?" asked Queensmead.
+
+"I climbed down the creepers as far as they went. I had a rope for the
+rest of the descent, but it wasn't needed, for I found Mr. Glenthorpe's
+pocket-book suspended by a cord about ten feet down. Here it is."
+
+Queensmead scrutinised the pocket-book and its contents, and on handing
+it back remarked:
+
+"Do you think Penreath returned and concealed himself in the wood to
+recover these notes?"
+
+Colwyn was struck by the penetration of this remark.
+
+"No, quite the contrary," he replied. "Your deduction is drawn from an
+isolated fact. It has to be taken in conjunction with other fresh facts
+which have come to light--facts which put an entirely fresh complexion
+on the case, and tend to exculpate Penreath."
+
+"I would rather not know what they are, then," replied Queensmead
+quietly. "It is better I should not know too much. You see, it might be
+awkward, in more ways than one, if things are turning out as you say.
+What is it you want me to do?"
+
+"I want you to watch the pit on the rise while I am away, chiefly at
+night. It is of paramount importance that the man whom I believe to be
+the thief and murderer should not be allowed to escape in my absence. I
+do not think that he has any suspicions, so far, and it is practically
+certain nobody saw me descend the pit. But if he should, by any chance,
+go down to the pit for his money, and find it gone, he would know he
+had been discovered, and instantly seek safety in flight. That must be
+prevented."
+
+"How?"
+
+"You must arrest him."
+
+"I do not see how that can be done," replied Queensmead. "I cannot take
+upon myself to arrest a man simply for descending the pit. It's not
+against the law."
+
+"In order to get over that difficulty I left my own pocket-book tied to
+the cord in the pit," replied Colwyn. "It's a black leather one, like
+Mr. Glenthorpe's. If the thief goes down he is hardly likely to discover
+the difference till he gets to the surface. You can arrest him for the
+theft of my pocket-book, which contains a little money. You can make a
+formal entry of my complaint of my loss."
+
+"Well, I've heard that you were a cool customer, Mr. Colwyn, and now I
+believe it," replied Queensmead, laughing outright. "Fancy thinking out
+a plan like that down in the pit! But as you've made the complaint it's
+my duty to enter it, and keep a look out for your lost pocket-book. I'll
+watch the pit, and if anybody goes down it I'll arrest him."
+
+"If the attempt is made it will not be in daytime--it will be in the
+night, you may be sure of that. I want you to watch the pit at night.
+The life of an innocent man may depend on your vigilance. It will only
+be for two nights, or three at the most. I shall certainly return within
+three days."
+
+"You may depend on me," replied the constable. "I will go to the pit as
+soon as it grows dark, and watch from the edge of the wood till
+daylight."
+
+"Thank you," said Colwyn. "I felt sure you would do it when you knew
+what was at stake. I have an idea that your vigil will not be
+disturbed, but I want to be on the safe side. I suppose you are not
+afraid of the ghost?"
+
+"You have heard of the White Lady of the Shrieking Pit?" said
+Queensmead, looking at the other curiously.
+
+"I have heard of her, but I have not heard her, or seen her. Have you?"
+
+"I cannot say I have, but I live at the wrong end of the village, and I
+never go out at night. But there are plenty of villagers, principally
+customers of the _Anchor_, who are prepared to take their Bible oath
+that they have heard her--if not seen her. The White Lady has terrorised
+the whole village--since the murder."
+
+There was something in the tone of the last three words which attracted
+the detective's attention.
+
+"There was not much talk of the ghost before the murder, then?" he
+asked.
+
+"Very little. I have been stationed here for two years, and hardly knew
+of its existence. Of course, it's a deep-rooted local tradition, and
+every villager has heard the story in childhood, and most of them
+believe it. Many of them actually think they have heard moans and
+shrieks coming from the rise during this last week or so. It's a lonely
+sort of place, with very little to talk about; it doesn't take much to
+get a story like that going round."
+
+"Then you think there is some connection between the reappearance of the
+ghost and the hiding of the money in the pit it is supposed to haunt?"
+
+"It's not my business to draw inferences of that kind, sir. I leave that
+to my betters, if they think fit to do so. I am only the village
+constable."
+
+"But you've already inferred that the legend has been spread round again
+by means of gossip at the _Anchor_. Was it started there?"
+
+"It was and it wasn't. A fool of a fellow named Backlog burst into the
+tap-room one night and said he had heard the White Lady shrieking, and
+Charles--that's the waiter--declared that he had seen something white
+the same night. That was the start of the business."
+
+"So I have heard. But what has kept it going ever since?"
+
+"Well, from what I hear--I never go to the inn myself, but a local
+policeman learns all the gossip in a small place like this--the subject
+is brought up in the bar-room every evening, either by the innkeeper or
+Charles, and discussed till closing time, when the silly villagers go
+home, huddled together like a flock of sheep, not daring to look round
+for fear of seeing the White Lady."
+
+"Do Benson and Charles both believe in the ghost?"
+
+"It seems as if they do." The constable's voice was noncommittal.
+
+As Colwyn rose to go, Queensmead looked at him with a trace of
+hesitation in his manner.
+
+"Perhaps you'd answer me a question, sir," he said in a low tone, as
+though afraid of being overheard. "That greenery that grows inside the
+pit, by which you climbed down, will it support a heavy weight?"
+
+"It will hold a far heavier man than you, if you are thinking of making
+the descent," said Colwyn laughingly. "It's a case of unity is strength.
+The tendrils of the climbing plants are so twisted together that they
+are as tough as ropes."
+
+"Thank you. What time will you reach here when you return?"
+
+"Probably not before dusk, but certainly by then. In the meantime, of
+course, you will not breathe a word of this to anybody."
+
+"I am not likely to do that. I shall keep a close watch on the pit till
+I see you again."
+
+"That's right. Good day."
+
+"Good day, sir."
+
+It still wanted a few minutes to seven when Colwyn returned to the inn.
+The front door was as he had left it, closed, but unlocked. The house
+was silent: nobody was yet stirring. He locked the door after him, and
+proceeded to his room, pleased to think he had not been seen going or
+coming. His first act on reaching his room was to lock the door and
+count the money in the pocket-book. The money was all in single Treasury
+notes, with one five-pound note. The case contained nothing else except
+a faded newspaper clipping on Fossil Sponges. Colwyn replaced the notes,
+and put the case in an inside breast pocket. He next performed the best
+kind of toilet the primitive resources of the inn permitted, and
+occupied himself for an hour or so in completing his notes of his
+investigations.
+
+While he was breakfasting he saw the innkeeper passing the half-open
+door, and he called him into the room and told him to let him have his
+bill without delay, as he was returning to Durrington that morning. The
+innkeeper made no comment on hearing his guest's intention, and Charles
+brought in the bill a little later. Colwyn, as he paid it, casually
+asked Charles if he happened to know the time of the morning trains from
+Heathfield.
+
+"There's one to Durrington at eleven o'clock, sir," said the waiter,
+consulting a greasy time-table. "There's one at 9:30, but it's a good
+long walk to the station, and you could not catch it because there's no
+way of getting there except by walking, as you know, sir."
+
+"The eleven o'clock train will suit me," said Colwyn, consulting his
+watch.
+
+"Shall I go and get your bag, sir?"
+
+"No, thanks, I've not packed it yet."
+
+Colwyn went upstairs shortly afterwards determined to pack his bag and
+leave the place as soon as possible. As he was about to enter his room
+he saw Peggy appear at the end of the passage. She looked at him with a
+timid, wistful smile, and made a step towards him, as though she would
+speak to him. Colwyn pretended not to see her, and hurried into his room
+and shut the door. How could he tell her what she had so innocently done
+in recalling him to the inn? How inform her what the cost of saving her
+lover would be to her? Somebody else must break the news to her, when it
+came to that. He packed his things quickly, anxious only to leave a
+place which had grown repugnant to him, and to drop the dissimulation
+which had become hateful. Never had he so acutely realised how little a
+man is master of his actions when entangled in the strange current of
+Destiny which men label Chance.
+
+When he emerged from the room with his bag, Peggy was no longer visible.
+The innkeeper was standing in the passage as he went downstairs, and
+Colwyn nodded to him as he passed. He breathed easier in the fresh
+morning air, and set out briskly for the station.
+
+He reached Heathfield an hour later, and found he had nearly half an
+hour to wait for his train. The first ten minutes of that time he
+utilised despatching two telegrams. One was to the chief constable of
+Norfolk, at Norwich, and the other to Mr. Oakham, in London. In the
+latter telegram he indicated that fresh discoveries had come to light in
+Penreath's case, and he asked the solicitor to go as soon as possible to
+Norwich where he would await him at his hotel.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+
+Colwyn reached Durrington by midday, and proceeded to the hotel for his
+letters and lunch. After a cold meal served by a shivering waiter in the
+chilly dining room he went to the garage where he had left his car, and
+set out for Norwich. He arrived at the cathedral city late in the
+afternoon, and drove to the hotel where Mr. Oakham had stayed. While
+engaging a room, he told the clerk that he expected Mr. Oakham from
+London, and asked to be informed immediately he arrived. After making
+these arrangements the detective left the hotel and went to the city
+library, where he spent the next couple of hours making notes from legal
+statutes and the Criminal Appeal Act.
+
+When he returned to the hotel for dinner the clerk informed him that Mr.
+Oakham had arrived a short time previously, and had requested that Mr.
+Colwyn would join him at dinner. Colwyn proceeded to the dining-room,
+and saw Mr. Oakham dining in solitary state at a large table, reading a
+London evening newspaper between the courses. He looked up as Colwyn
+approached, and rose and shook hands.
+
+"This is an unexpected pleasure," said the detective. "I hardly thought
+you would get here before the morning."
+
+"I had arranged to visit Norwich to-morrow, but in view of the urgent
+nature of your telegram I decided to catch the afternoon train instead,"
+replied the solicitor. "Will you dine with me, Mr. Colwyn, and we can
+talk business afterwards."
+
+Colwyn complied, and when the meal was finished, Mr. Oakham turned to
+him with an eagerness which he did not attempt to conceal, and said:
+
+"Now for your news, Mr. Colwyn. But, first, where shall we talk?"
+
+"As well here as anywhere. There is nobody within hearing."
+
+The solicitor followed his glance round the almost empty dining-room,
+and nodded acquiescence. Drawing his chair a little nearer the
+detective, he begged him to begin.
+
+"I have not very much to tell you--at present. But since the conviction
+of your client, James Ronald Penreath, I have been back to the inn where
+the murder was committed, and I have discovered fresh evidence which
+strengthens considerably my original belief that Penreath is an innocent
+man. But I have reached a stage in my investigations when I need your
+assistance in completing my task before I go to the authorities with my
+discoveries. It is hardly necessary for me to tell a man of your
+experience that it is one of the most difficult things in the world to
+upset a jury's verdict in a case of murder."
+
+"What have you discovered?"
+
+"This, for one thing." Colwyn produced the pocket-book, and displayed
+the contents on the table. "This is the murdered man's pocket-book,
+containing the missing notes which Penreath is supposed to have murdered
+him for. The prosecution dropped the charge of robbery, but the theft
+formed an important part of the Crown theory of the crime, as
+establishing motive."
+
+"Where did you find this pocket-book?"
+
+"Suspended by a piece of cord, half way down the pit where the body was
+flung."
+
+"It's an interesting discovery," replied Mr. Oakham thoughtfully
+tapping his nose with his gold-rimmed eye-glasses as he stared at the
+black pocket-book on the white tablecloth. "Speaking personally, it is
+proof of what I have thought all along, that a Penreath of Twelvetrees
+would not commit a robbery. Therefore, on that line of reasoning, one
+could argue that as Penreath did not commit the robbery, and the Crown
+hold that the murder was committed for the money, Penreath must be
+innocent. But the Crown is more likely to hold that as Penreath threw
+the body in the pit, he concealed the money there afterwards, and was
+hiding in the wood to recover it when he was arrested. The real point
+is, Mr. Colwyn, can you prove that it was not Mr. Penreath who placed
+the money in the pit?"
+
+"I believe I can prove, at all events, that it was not Penreath who
+threw the body into the pit."
+
+"You can! Then who was it?"
+
+"I am not prepared to answer that question at the moment. During my
+visit to the inn I made a number of other discoveries besides that of
+the pocket-book, which, though slight in themselves, all fit in with my
+present theory of the murder. But before disclosing them, I want to
+complete my investigations by testing my theory to the uttermost. It is
+just possible that I may be wrong, though I do not think so. When I have
+taken the additional step which completes my investigations, I will go
+to the chief constable, reconstruct the crime for him as I see it now,
+and ask him to take action."
+
+"Then why have you sent for me?"
+
+"To help me to complete my task. Part of my theory is that Penreath is
+deliberately keeping silent to shield some one else. The solicitor of a
+convicted man has access to him even when he is condemned to death. I
+want you to take me with you to see Penreath."
+
+"For what purpose?"
+
+"In order to get him to speak."
+
+"It would be quite useless." The lawyer spoke in some agitation. "I have
+seen him twice since the verdict, and implored him to speak if he has
+anything to say, but he declared that he had nothing to say."
+
+"Nevertheless, I shall succeed where you have failed. Penreath is an
+innocent man."
+
+"Then why does he not speak out, even now--more so now than ever?"
+
+"He has his reasons, and they seem sufficient to him to keep him silent
+even under the shadow of the gallows."
+
+"And why do you think he will confide them to you, when he refuses to
+divulge them to his professional adviser?"
+
+"He will not willingly reveal them to me. My hope of getting his story
+depends entirely upon my success in springing a surprise upon him. That
+is one of my reasons for not telling you more just now. The mere fact
+that you knew would hamper my handling a difficult situation. The
+slightest involuntary gesture or look might put him on his guard, and
+the opportunity would be lost. It is not absolutely essential that I
+should gain Penreath's statement before going to the police, but if his
+statement coincides with my theory of the crime it will strengthen my
+case considerably when I reconstruct the crime for the police."
+
+"Your way of doing business strikes me as strange, Mr. Colwyn," said the
+solicitor stiffly. "As Mr. Penreath's professional adviser, surely I am
+entitled to your fullest confidence. You are asking me to behave in a
+very unprofessional way, and take a leap in the dark. There are proper
+ways of doing things. I will be frank with you. I have come to Norwich
+in order to urge Penreath for the last time to permit me to lodge an
+appeal against his conviction. That interview has been arranged to take
+place in the morning."
+
+"Has he previously refused to appeal?"
+
+"He has--twice."
+
+"May I ask on what grounds you are seeking permission to appeal?"
+
+"If he consents, my application to the Registrar would be made under
+Section Four of the Criminal Appeal Act," was the cautious reply.
+
+"That means you are persisting in your original defence--that Penreath
+is guilty, but insane. Therefore your application for leave to appeal
+against the sentence on the ground of insanity only enables you to
+appeal to the Court to quash the sentence on the ground that Penreath is
+irresponsible for his acts. Even if you succeed in your appeal he will
+be kept in gaol as a criminal lunatic. In a word, you intend to persist
+in a defence which, as I told you before the trial, had very little
+chance of success. In my opinion it has no more chance of success before
+the Court of Appeal. You have not sufficient evidence for a successful
+defence on the grounds of insanity. The judge, in his summing up at the
+trial, was clearly of the opinion that Sir Henry Durwood was wrong in
+thinking Penreath insane, and he directed the jury accordingly.
+
+"In my opinion the judge was right. I do not think Penreath is insane,
+or even subject to fits of impulsive insanity. If you ask my opinion, I
+think he is still suffering from the effects of shell shock, and, like
+many other brave men who have been similarly affected, he endeavoured to
+conceal the fact. I have come to the conclusion that Penreath's peculiar
+conduct at the Durrington hotel, on which Sir Henry based his theory of
+_furor epilepticus_, was nothing more than the combined effect of
+mental worry and an air raid shock on a previously shattered nervous
+system. Penreath is a sane man--as sane as you or I--and my late
+investigations at the scene of the murder have convinced me that he is
+an innocent man also. The question is, are you going to allow
+professional etiquette to stand in the way of proving his innocence?"
+
+"But you have not shown me anything to convince me that he _is_ an
+innocent man. Your statement comes as a great surprise to me, and you
+cannot expect that I should credit your bare assumption. It would be
+exceedingly difficult to believe without the most convincing proofs,
+which you have not brought forward. I prepared the case for the defence
+at the trial, and I only permitted that defence to be put forward
+because there was no other course--the evidence was so overwhelming, and
+Penreath's obstinate silence in the face of it pointed so conclusively
+to his guilt."
+
+"Nevertheless, you were wrong. The question is, are you going to help me
+undo that wrong?"
+
+"You have not yet proved to me that it is a wrong," quibbled the
+solicitor.
+
+"Mr. Oakham, let me make this quite clear to you," said the detective
+sternly. "I have sent for you out of courtesy, because, as I said
+before, I like to do things in a regular way. As you force me to speak
+plainly, there is another reason, which is that I did not wish to make
+you look small, or injure your professional reputation, by acting
+independently of you. It would be a bad advertisement for Oakham and
+Pendules if it got abroad--as it assuredly will if you persist in your
+attitude--that an innocent client of yours was almost sent to the
+gallows through your wrong defence at his trial. It is in your hands to
+prevent such a scandal from becoming public property. But if you are
+going to stand on professional etiquette it is just as well you should
+understand that I am quite prepared to act independently of you. I have
+sufficient influence to obtain an order from the governor of the gaol
+for an interview with the condemned man, and I shall do so. I have
+discovered sufficient additional evidence in this case to save Penreath,
+and I am going to save him, with or without your assistance. You have
+had your way--it was a wrong way. Now I am going to have my way. I only
+ask you to trust me for a few hours. After I have seen Penreath you are
+at liberty to accompany me to the chief constable, to whom I shall tell
+everything. That is my last word."
+
+"I will do as you ask, Mr. Colwyn," replied the solicitor, after a short
+pause. "Not because I am apprehensive of the consequences, but because
+you have convinced me that it would be foolish and wrong on my part to
+place any obstacles in the way of establishing my client's innocence,
+even if it is only the smallest chance. You must forgive my hesitation.
+I am an old man, and your story has been such a shock that I am unable
+to realise it yet. But I will not stand on punctilio when it is a
+question of trying to save a Penreath of Twelvetrees from the gallows. I
+think I can arrange it with the governor of the gaol to permit you to
+accompany me when I see Penreath in the morning. That interview is to
+take place at twelve o'clock. We can go together from here to the gaol,
+if that will suit you."
+
+"That will suit me excellently. And before that interview takes place I
+should be glad if you would tell me the facts of Penreath's engagement
+to Miss Willoughby."
+
+"I really know very little about it," said Mr. Oakham, looking somewhat
+surprised at the question. "I have heard, though, that Penreath met
+Miss Willoughby in London before the war, and became engaged after a
+very brief acquaintance. Ill-natured people say that the girl's aunt
+threw her at Penreath's head. The aunt is a Mrs. Brewer, a wealthy
+manufacturer's widow, a pushing nobody----"
+
+"I have met her."
+
+"I had forgotten. Well, you know that type of woman, with an itch to get
+into Society. Perhaps she thought that the marriage of her niece to a
+Penreath of Twelvetrees would open doors for her. At any rate, I
+remember there was a great deal of tittle-tattle at the time to the
+effect that she manoeuvred desperately hard to bring about the
+engagement. On the other hand, there can be no harm in stating now that
+Ronald Penreath's father was almost equally keen on that match for
+monetary reasons. The Penreaths are far from wealthy. From that point of
+view the match seemed suitable enough--money on one side, and birth and
+breeding on the other. I am not sure that there was very much love in
+the case, or that the young people's feelings were deeply involved on
+either side. There is no reason why I should not mention these things
+now, for the match has been broken off. It was broken off shortly after
+Penreath's arrest."
+
+"By the young lady?"
+
+"By the aunt, in her presence. It happened the day after they went to
+Heathfield to identify Penreath. Mrs. Brewer was furious about the whole
+business as soon as she ascertained that it wasn't a mistake, as she had
+hoped at first, and that there was likely to be much unpleasant
+publicity over it. She said she would never be able to hold up her head
+in Society after the disgrace, and all that sort of thing. It all came
+about through my asking Miss Willoughby if she would like to see her
+lover while he was awaiting trial. The girl replied, coldly enough, that
+it would be time enough to see him after he had cleared himself of the
+dreadful charge hanging over his head. By the way she spoke she seemed
+to think herself a deeply injured person, as perhaps she was. Then the
+aunt had her say, and insisted that I must tell Penreath the engagement
+was broken off. I asked Miss Willoughby if that was her wish also, and
+she replied that it was. I told Penreath the following day, but I do not
+think that it worried him very much."
+
+"I do not think it would," replied Colwyn with a smile.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+
+Colwyn found Mr. Oakham awaiting him in the hotel lobby, a little before
+eleven the following morning, to inform him that the necessary
+arrangements had been made to enable him to be present at his interview
+with Penreath. Colwyn forbore to ask him on what pretext he had obtained
+the gaol governor's consent to his presence, but merely signified that
+he was ready. Mr. Oakham replied that they had better go at once, and
+asked the porter to call a taxi.
+
+On arriving at the gaol they passed through the double entrance gates,
+Mr. Oakham turned to a door on the left just within the gates, and
+entered. The door opened into a plainly furnished office, with walls
+covered with prison regulations. Behind a counter, at a stand-up desk
+opposite the door, a tall burly man in a uniform of blue and silver was
+busily writing in a large ledger. Ranged in rows, on hooks alongside
+him, were bunches of immense keys, and as he turned to attend to Oakham
+and Colwyn another bunch of similar keys could be seen dangling at his
+side. Mr. Oakham explained the purpose of their visit, and produced the
+order for the interview. The functionary in blue and silver, who was the
+entrance gaoler, perused it attentively, and pushed over two forms for
+the solicitor and the detective to fill in. It was the last formality
+that the law insisted on--a grim form of visiting card whereon the
+visitor inscribes his name and business, which is sent to the condemned
+man, who must give his consent to the interview before it is granted.
+
+When Mr. Oakham and Colwyn had filled in their forms the entrance gaoler
+took them and pulled a rope. Somewhere in a corridor a bell clanged, and
+a moment afterwards a gaoler opened a small door on the other side of
+the counter. The entrance gaoler gave him the forms, and he disappeared
+with them. There ensued a long period of waiting, and nearly half an
+hour elapsed before he reappeared again, accompanied by a warder. The
+blue and silver functionary silently lifted the flap of the counter, and
+beckoned Mr. Oakham and Colwyn to accompany the warder through the small
+door at the other end of the room.
+
+They went through and the bell clanged once more as the door closed
+behind them. The warder took them along a corridor to a door at the
+farther end, and ushered them into a room--a large apartment, not unlike
+a board room, furnished with a table and chairs ranged on each side. It
+was the governor of the gaol's room, where the interview was to take
+place. Colwyn took one of the chairs at the table, Mr. Oakham took
+another, and silently they awaited the coming of the condemned man.
+
+Another quarter of an hour elapsed before the door at the other end of
+the room opened, and Penreath appeared between two warders. They
+conducted him to the table, and placed a chair for him. With a quick
+glance at his visitors he sat down, and the warders seated themselves on
+each side of him. The warder who had brought the visitors in then nodded
+to Mr. Oakham, as an indication that the interview might begin.
+
+In the brief glance that the young man cast at his visitors Colwyn
+observed both calmness of mind and self-possession. Although deep
+shadows under the eyes and the tenseness of the muscles round the mouth
+revealed sleepless nights and mental agony, Penreath's face showed no
+trace of insanity or the guilty consciousness of evil deeds, but had the
+serene expression of a man who had fought his battle and won it.
+
+Mr. Oakham began the interview with him in a dry professional way, as
+though it were an interview between solicitor and client in the sanctity
+of a private room, with no hearers. And, indeed, the prison warders
+sitting there with the impassive faces of officialdom might have been
+articles of furniture, so remote were they from displaying the slightest
+interest in the private matters discussed between the two. No doubt they
+had been present at many similar scenes, and custom is a deadening
+factor. Mr. Oakham's object was to urge his client to consent to the
+lodgement of an appeal against the jury's verdict, and to that end he
+advanced a multitude of arguments and a variety of reasons. The young
+man listened patiently, but when the solicitor had concluded he shook
+his head with a gesture of finality which indicated an unalterable
+refusal.
+
+"It's no use, Oakham," he said. "My mind is quite made up. I'm obliged
+to you for all the trouble you have taken in my case, but I cannot alter
+my decision. I shall go through with it--to the end."
+
+"In that case it is no use my urging you further." Mr. Oakham spoke
+stiffly, and put his eye-glasses in his pocket with an air of vexation.
+"Mr. Colwyn has something to say to you on the subject. Perhaps you will
+listen to him. He believes he can help you."
+
+"He helped to arrest me," said Penreath, with a slight indifferent look
+at the detective.
+
+"But not to convict you," said Colwyn. "I had hoped to help you."
+
+"What do you want of me?" Penreath's tone was cold.
+
+"In the first place, I have to say that I believe you innocent."
+
+The young man lifted his eyebrows slightly, as if to indicate that the
+other's opinion was a matter of indifference to him, but he remained
+silent.
+
+"I have come to beg of you, even at this late hour, to break your
+silence, and give an account of your actions that night at the inn."
+
+"You might have saved yourself the trouble of coming here. I have
+nothing whatever to say."
+
+"That means that you continue in your refusal to speak. Will you answer
+one or two questions?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Will you not tell me why you kept silence about what you saw in Mr.
+Glenthorpe's room that night of the murder?"
+
+"Man, how did you find that out?" Penreath's calm disappeared in a
+sudden fury of voice and look. "What do you know?"
+
+"I know whom you are trying to shield," replied the detective, with his
+eyes fixed on Penreath's face. "You are wrong. She----"
+
+"I beg of you to be silent! Do not mention names, for God's sake."
+Penreath's face had grown suddenly white.
+
+"It is in your power to ensure my silence."
+
+"How?"
+
+"By speaking yourself."
+
+"That I will never do."
+
+"Then you compel me to go to the authorities and tell them what I have
+discovered. I will save you in spite of yourself."
+
+"Do you think that I want to be saved--like that?"
+
+Struggling desperately for self-control Penreath turned to Mr. Oakham.
+"Why did you bring Mr. Colwyn here?" he asked the solicitor fiercely.
+"To torture me?"
+
+Before Mr. Oakham could reply Colwyn laughed aloud. A clear ringing
+laugh of unmistakable satisfaction. The laugh sounded strangely
+incongruous in such a place.
+
+"Penreath," he said, "you've told me all that I came here to know.
+You're a splendid young Briton, but finesse is not your strong point.
+You've acted like a quixotic young idiot in this case, and got yourself
+into a nice muddle for nothing. The girl is as innocent as you are, and
+you are a pair of simpletons! Yes. I mean what I say," continued the
+detective, answering the young man's amazed look with a reassuring
+smile. "Do you think that I would want to save you at her expense? Now
+perhaps, when I have told you what happened that night, you will answer
+a few questions. Before you went to bed you sat down and wrote a letter
+on a leaf torn from your pocket-book. That letter was to Miss
+Willoughby, breaking off your engagement. After writing it you went to
+bed. At that time it was raining hard.
+
+"You must have fallen asleep almost immediately, and slept for half an
+hour--perhaps a little more--for when you awoke the rain had ceased. You
+heard a slight noise in your room, and lit your candle to see what it
+was. There was a rat in the corner of the room. You got up to throw
+something at it, but as soon as you moved the rat darted across the room
+and disappeared behind the wardrobe at the side of the bed. You pushed
+back the wardrobe and----"
+
+"For God's sake, say no more!" said Penreath. His face was grey, and he
+was staring at the detective with the eyes of a man who saw his heart's
+secret--the secret for which he was prepared to die--being dragged out
+into the light of day. "How did you learn all this?"
+
+"That does not matter much just now. What you saw through the wall made
+you determine to leave the house as speedily as possible, and also
+caused you to destroy the letter you had written to Miss Willoughby.
+
+"You were wrong in what you did. In the first place, you misinterpreted
+what you saw through the door in the wall. By thinking Peggy guilty and
+leaving the inn early in the morning, you not only wronged her
+grievously, but brought suspicion on yourself. Peggy's presence in the
+room was quite by accident. She had gone to ask Mr. Glenthorpe to assist
+you in your trouble, by lending you money, and, finding the door open,
+she impulsively went in and found him dead--murdered. And at the bedside
+she picked up the knife--the knife you had used at dinner--and this."
+
+Colwyn produced Penreath's match-box from his pocket and laid it on the
+table in front of him.
+
+"Because of the knife and this match-box she thought you guilty."
+
+"I! Why I never left my room after I went into it," exclaimed Penreath.
+"I left the match-box in the room where I had dined with Mr. Glenthorpe.
+When I awoke after falling asleep, and heard the noise in the room--just
+as you describe--I could not find my match-box when I wanted a match to
+light my candle, then I remembered that I had left it in the
+sitting-room on the mantelpiece. I happened to find a loose match in my
+vest pocket."
+
+"Peggy came to see me at my hotel, after the trial, and told me all she
+knew," continued Colwyn. "It was well she did, for my second visit to
+the inn brought to light a number of facts which will enable me to
+establish your innocence."
+
+"And what about the real murderer?" asked Penreath, in a hesitating
+voice, without looking at the detective.
+
+"We will not go into that just now, unless you have anything to tell me
+that will throw further light on the events of the night." Colwyn shot a
+keen, questioning glance at the young man.
+
+"I will answer any questions you wish to put to me. It is the least I
+can do after having made such a fool of myself. It was the shock of
+seeing Peggy in the room that robbed me of my judgment. I should have
+known her better, but you must remember that I had no idea she was in
+the house until I looked through the door in the wall which I had
+accidentally discovered, and saw her standing at the bedside, with the
+knife in her hand. I started to follow her home that day because I
+wished to know more about her. I lost my way in the mist. I met a man on
+the marshes who directed me to the village and the inn."
+
+"When she heard your voice, and saw you going upstairs, she waited about
+in the hope of seeing you before she went to bed, as she wished to avoid
+meeting you in the presence of her father. When she saw Mr. Glenthorpe's
+door open she acted on a sudden impulse, and went in."
+
+"I have been rightly punished for my stupidity and my folly," said
+Penreath. "I have wronged her beyond forgiveness."
+
+"You really have not much to blame yourself for except your obstinate
+silence. That was really too quixotic, even if things had been as you
+imagined. No man is justified in sacrificing his life foolishly. And you
+had much to live for. You had your duty to do in life. Nobody knew that
+better than you--a soldier who had served his country gallantly and
+well. In fact, your silence has been to me one of the puzzles of this
+case, and even now it seems to me that you must have had a deeper motive
+than that of shielding the girl, because you could have asserted your
+innocence without implicating her."
+
+"You are a very clever man, Colwyn," said the other slowly. "There was
+another reason for my silence."
+
+"What was it?"
+
+"I am supposed to be an epileptic. I happen to know a little of the
+course of that frightful disease, and it seemed to me that it was better
+to die--even at the hands of the hangman--than to live on to be a burden
+to my friends and relations, particularly when by dying I could shield
+the girl I loved. That is why I was glad when the plea put up for my
+defence failed. I preferred to die rather than live branded as a
+criminal lunatic. So, you see, it was not such a great sacrifice on my
+part, after all."
+
+"What brought you back to the wood where you were arrested?"
+
+"To see her. I do not know if I wanted to speak to her; but I wanted
+above all things to see her once again. When I left the inn that morning
+I had no idea that I might fall under suspicion for having committed the
+murder, but I was desperately unhappy after what I had seen the night
+before, and I didn't care what I did or where I went. Instead of walking
+back to Durrington I struck across the marshes in the opposite
+direction. I walked along all day, through a desolate area of marshes,
+meeting nobody except an old eel fisherman in the morning, and, later
+on, a labourer going home from his work. I was very tired when I saw the
+labourer, and I asked him to direct me to some place where I could
+obtain rest and refreshment. He pointed to a short cut across the
+marshes, which, he said, led to a hamlet with an inn. I went along the
+path he had pointed out, but I lost my way in the gathering darkness.
+After wandering about the marshes for some time I saw the light of a
+cottage window some distance off, and went there to inquire my way. The
+occupant, an old peasant woman, could not have heard anything about the
+murder, for she was very kind to me, and gave me tea and food.
+Afterwards I set out for the inn again, and when I reached the road I
+sat down by the side of it to rest awhile.
+
+"While I was sitting there two men came along. They did not see me in
+the dark, and I heard them talking about the murder, and from what they
+said I knew that I was suspected, and that the whole country side was
+searching for me. It seemed incredible to me, and my first instinct was
+to fly. I sat there until the men's voices died away in the distance,
+then I turned off the road, and hurried across some fields, looking for
+a place to hide. After walking some distance I came to a large barn,
+standing by itself. The door was open, and I went in. I had no matches,
+but I felt some hay or straw on the floor. I lay down and pulled some
+over me, and fell fast asleep.
+
+"I had only intended to rest in the barn for a while, but I was so tired
+that I slept all night. When I awoke it was broad daylight. I did not
+know where I was at first, but it all came back to me, and I started up
+in a fright, determined to leave the barn as quickly as possible, for I
+knew it was an unsafe hiding place, and likely to be searched at any
+time. But before I could get away I heard loud voices approaching, and I
+knew I should be seen. I looked hastily around for some place of
+concealment. It was just a big empty shed with one or two shelves
+covered with apples, and a lot of straw on the floor. In desperation,
+as the voices came nearer, I lay down on the floor again, and pulled
+straw over me till I was completely hidden from view.
+
+"The door opened, and some men looked in. Through the straw that covered
+me I could see them quite distinctly--three fishermen and a farm
+labourer--though apparently they couldn't see me. From their
+conversation I gathered that they formed part of a search party looking
+for me, and had been told off to search the barn. This apparently they
+were not anxious to do, for they merely peeped in at the door, and one
+of them, in rather a relieved tone, said I wasn't in there, wherever I
+was. One of the fishermen replied that he expected that I was far enough
+off by that time. They stood at the door for a few moments, talking
+about the murder, and then they went away.
+
+"I stayed in the barn all day, but nobody else came near me. When it was
+dark, I filled my pockets with apples from the shelves, and went out. I
+wandered about all night, and found myself close to a railway station at
+daybreak. I had been in that part of the country before, so I knew where
+I was--not far from Heathfield, with Flegne about three miles away
+across the fields. The country was nearly all open, and consequently
+unsafe. As I walked through a field I spied a little hut, almost hidden
+from view in a clump of trees. The door was open, and I could see it was
+empty. I went in, lay down, and fell fast asleep.
+
+"When I awoke it was getting dusk. I was very stiff and cold, so I
+started out walking again to get myself warm. It was then, I remember
+well, that the longing came over me to see Peggy again. I cursed myself
+for my weakness, knowing what I knew--or thought I knew, God forgive
+me.
+
+"I found myself making my way back to Flegne as fast as my legs would
+carry me--which wasn't very fast, because I was weak from want of food,
+and so footsore that I could hardly stumble along. But I got over the
+three miles somehow, and reached the wood, where I crawled into some
+undergrowth, and lay there all night, sometimes dozing, sometimes wide
+awake, and sometimes a bit light-headed, I think. It was there you found
+me next day, and I was glad you did. I was about finished when I saw you
+looking through the bushes and only too glad to come out. I didn't care
+what happened to me then. And now, I have told you all."
+
+The young man, as he finished his story, buried his face in his hands,
+as though overcome by the recollection of the mental anguish he had been
+through, and what he had endured.
+
+"Not quite all, I think," said Colwyn, after a pause.
+
+"I have told you everything that counts," said Penreath, without looking
+up.
+
+"You have not," replied the detective firmly. "You have not told me all
+you saw when you were looking through the door between the two rooms the
+night of the murder."
+
+Penreath raised his head and regarded the other with startled eyes.
+
+"What do you mean?" he said, in a whisper.
+
+"I mean that you have kept back that you saw the body removed," he said
+grimly.
+
+"Are you a man or a wizard?" cried Penreath fiercely. "God! how did you
+find that out?"
+
+"By guess work, if you like," responded the other coolly. "Listen to me!
+There has been too much concealment about this case already, so let us
+have no more of it. It was because of what you saw afterwards that your
+suspicions were doubly fastened on the girl, is that not so? I thought
+as much," he continued, as the other nodded without speaking. "How long
+after Peggy left the room was it before the body was removed?"
+
+"Not very long," replied Penreath. "After she went out of the room I sat
+on the bedside. I did not close the small door I had discovered, or
+replace the wardrobe. I was too overwhelmed. In a little while--perhaps
+ten minutes--I saw a light shine through the hole again. I went to it
+and looked through--God knows why--and I saw somebody walking stealthily
+into the room, carrying a candle. He went to the bedside and, with a
+groan, lifted the body on to his shoulders, and carried it out of the
+room. I crept to my door, and looked out and saw him descending the
+stairs. God in heaven, what a horror, what a horror!
+
+"I waited to see no more. I shut the door in the wall, pulled the
+wardrobe back into its place and determined to leave the accursed inn as
+soon as it was daylight. In my cell at nights, when I hear the footsteps
+of the warder sounding along the corridor and dying away in the
+distance, it reminds me of how I stood at the door that night, listening
+to the sound of the footsteps stumbling down the staircase."
+
+"You heard the footsteps distinctly, then?" said the detective.
+
+"Distinctly and clearly. The staircase is a stone one, as you know."
+
+"Did you put your boots out to be cleaned before you went to bed?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And were they there when you looked out of the door?"
+
+"I do not remember. But I know they were there in the morning, dirty
+and covered with clay. I took them in, and was about to put them on,
+when the servant knocked at the door with a cup of morning tea. I
+answered the door with the boots in my hand. She offered to clean them
+for me, and was taking them away, but I called her back and said I would
+not wait for them. I was too anxious to get away from the place."
+
+"Do you remember when you lost the rubber heel of one of them?"
+
+"It must have been when I was walking the previous day. They were only
+put on the day before. I happened to mention to a bootmaker at
+Durrington that my left heel had become jarred with walking. He
+recommended me to try rubber heels to lessen the strain, and he put them
+on for me. I had never worn them before, and found them very
+uncomfortable when I was walking along the marshes. They seemed to hold
+and stick in the wet ground."
+
+"And now there are one or two other points I want you to make clear. Why
+did you register in the name of James Ronald at the Durrington Hotel?"
+
+"That was merely a whim. I was disgusted with London and society after
+my return from the front. Those who have been through this terrible war
+learn to see most things at their true worth, and the frivolity, the
+snobbishness, and the shams of London society at such a time sickened
+and disgusted me. They tried to lionise me in drawing rooms and make me
+talk for their entertainment. They put my photograph in the illustrated
+papers, and interviewed me, and all that kind of thing. What had I done!
+Nothing! Not a tithe of what thousands of better men are doing every day
+out there. So I went away from it all. I had no intention, when I went
+into the hotel, of not registering in my full name though. That came
+about in a peculiar way. It was the first registration form I had
+seen--it was the first hotel I had stayed at after nearly eighteen
+months at the front--and I put down my two christian names, James
+Ronald, in the wrong space, the space for the surname, which is the
+first column. I saw my error as I glanced over the form, but the girl,
+thinking I had filled it up, took it away from me. It then struck me
+that it was just as well to let it go; it would prevent my being worried
+by fools."
+
+"And how came it that you ran so short of money that you had to leave
+the hotel?"
+
+"I have practically nothing except what my father allows me, and which
+is paid quarterly through his bankers in London. I left London with a
+few pounds in my pocket, and thought no more about money until the hotel
+proprietor stopped me one morning and asked me politely to discharge my
+bill, as I was a stranger to him. It was then that I first realised the
+difference between a name like Penreath of Twelvetrees and plain James
+Ronald. I was furious, and told him he should have the money in two
+days, as soon as I could communicate with my London bankers. I wrote
+straight away, and asked them to send me some money. The money came, the
+morning I was turned out of the hotel; I saw the letter in the rack,
+addressed to J. R. Penreath, but what good was that to me? I could not
+claim it because I was booked in the name of James Ronald. I knew nobody
+in the place to whom I could apply. I had some thoughts of confiding in
+the hotel proprietor, but one look at his face was sufficient to put
+that out of the question.
+
+"So I went in to breakfast, desperately angry at being treated so, and
+feeling more than a little ill. You know what happened at the breakfast
+table. I began to feel pretty seedy, and left my place to get to the
+fresh air, when that doctor--Sir Henry Durwood--jumped up and grabbed
+me. I tried to push him off, but he was too strong for me, and I found
+myself going. The next thing I knew was that I was lying in my bedroom,
+and hearing somebody talk. After you had left the room I determined to
+leave the hotel as quickly as possible. I packed a small handbag, and
+told the hotel-keeper on my way downstairs that he could keep my things
+until I paid my bill. Then I walked to Leyland Hoop, where I had an
+appointment with Peggy, as you know. I seem to have acted as a pretty
+considerable ass all round," said the young man, with a rueful smile.
+"But I had a bad gruelling from shell-shock. I wouldn't mention this,
+but it's really affected my head, you know, and I don't think I'm always
+quite such a fool as this story makes me appear to be."
+
+"And your nerves were a bit rattled by the Zeppelin raid at Durrington,
+were they not?" said Colwyn sympathetically.
+
+"You seem to know everything," said the young man, flushing. "I am
+ashamed to say that they were."
+
+"You have no cause to be ashamed," replied Colwyn gently. "The bravest
+men suffer that way after shell-shock."
+
+"It's not a thing a man likes to talk about," said Penreath, after a
+pause. "But if you have had experience of this kind of thing, will you
+tell me if you have ever seen a man completely recover--from
+shell-shock, I mean?"
+
+"I should say you will be quite yourself again shortly. There cannot be
+very much the matter with your nerves to have stood the experience of
+the last few weeks. After we get you out of here, and you have had a
+good rest, you will be yourself again."
+
+"And what about this other thing--this _furor epilepticus_, whatever it
+is?" asked Penreath, anxiously.
+
+"As you didn't murder anybody, you haven't had the epileptic fury,"
+replied Colwyn, laughing.
+
+"But Sir Henry Durwood said at the trial that I was an epileptic,"
+persisted the other.
+
+"He was wrong about the _furor epilepticus_, so it is just as likely
+that he was wrong about the epilepsy. His theory was that you were going
+to attack somebody at the breakfast table of the hotel, and you have
+just told us that you had no intention of attacking anybody--that your
+only idea was to get out of the room. You are neither an epileptic nor
+insane, in my opinion, but at that time you were suffering from the
+after effects of shell-shock. Take my advice, and forget all about the
+trial and what you heard there, or, if you must think of it, remember
+the excellent certificate of sanity and clear-headedness which the
+doctors for the Crown gave you! When you get free I'll take you to half
+a dozen specialists who'll probably confirm the Crown point of view."
+
+Penreath laughed for the first time.
+
+"You've made me feel like a new man," he said. "How can I thank you for
+all you have done?"
+
+"The only way you can show your gratitude is by instructing Mr. Oakham
+to lodge an appeal for you--at once. Have you the necessary forms with
+you, Mr. Oakham?"
+
+"I have," said the solicitor, finding voice after a long silence.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+
+Mr. Oakham did not discuss what had taken place in the prison as he and
+Colwyn drove to the office of the chief constable after the interview.
+He sat silent in his corner of the taxi, his hands clasped before him,
+and gazing straight in front of him with the look of a man who sees
+nothing. From time to time his lips moved after the fashion of the old,
+when immersed in thought, and once he audibly murmured, "The poor lad;
+the poor lad." Colwyn forbore to speak to him. He realised that he had
+had a shock, and was best left to himself.
+
+By the time the taxi reached the office of the chief constable Mr.
+Oakham showed symptoms of regaining his self-possession. He felt for his
+eye-glasses, polished them, placed them on his nose and glanced at his
+watch. It was in something like his usual tones that he asked Colwyn, as
+they alighted from the cab, whether he had an appointment with the chief
+constable.
+
+"I wired to you both at the same time," replied the detective. "I asked
+him to keep this afternoon free," he explained with a smile.
+
+A police constable in the outer office took in their names. He speedily
+returned with the message that the chief constable would be glad to see
+them, and would they step this way, please. Following in his wake, they
+were conducted along a passage and into a large comfortably furnished
+room, where Mr. Cromering was writing at a small table placed near a
+large fire. He looked up as the visitors entered, put down his pen, and
+came forward to greet them.
+
+"I am pleased to see you again, Mr. Colwyn, and you also, Mr. Oakham.
+Please draw your chairs near the fire gentlemen--there's a decided nip
+in the air. I got your telegram, Mr. Colwyn, and I am at your disposal,
+with plenty of time. Your telegram rather surprised me. What has
+happened in the Glenthorpe case?"
+
+"Fresh facts have come to light--facts that tend to prove the innocence
+of Penreath, who was accused and convicted for the murder."
+
+"Dear me! This is a very grave statement. What proofs have you?"
+
+"Sufficient to warrant further steps in the case. It is a long story,
+but I think when you have heard it you will feel justified in taking
+prompt action."
+
+Before Mr. Cromering could reply, the police constable who had shown in
+Colwyn and Mr. Oakham entered the room and said that Superintendent
+Galloway, from Durrington, was outside.
+
+"Bring him in, Johnson," said Mr. Cromering. He turned to Colwyn and
+added: "When I received your telegram I telephoned to Galloway and asked
+him to be here this afternoon. As he worked up the case against
+Penreath, I thought it better that he should be present and hear what
+you have to say. You have no objection, I suppose?"
+
+"On the contrary, I shall be very glad for Galloway to hear what I have
+to say."
+
+The police constable returned, ushering in Superintendent Galloway, who
+looked rather surprised when he saw his superior officer's visitors. He
+nodded briefly to Colwyn, and looked inquiringly at the chief constable.
+
+"Mr. Colwyn has discovered some fresh facts in the Glenthorpe murder,
+Galloway," explained Mr. Cromering. "I sent for you in order that you
+might hear what they are."
+
+"What sort of facts?" asked Galloway, with a quick glance at the
+detective.
+
+"That is what Mr. Colwyn proposes to explain to us."
+
+"I shall have to go back to the beginning of our investigations to do
+so--to the day when we motored from Durrington to Flegne," said the
+detective. "We went there with the strong presumption in our minds that
+Penreath was the criminal, because of suspicious facts previously known
+about him. He was short of money, he had concealed his right name when
+registering at the hotel, and his behaviour at the breakfast table the
+morning of his departure suggested an unbalanced temperament. It is a
+legal axiom that men's minds are influenced by facts previously known or
+believed, and we set out to investigate this case under the strong
+presumption that Penreath, and none other, was the murderer.
+
+"The evidence we found during our visit to the inn fitted in with this
+theory, and inclined the police to shut out the possibility of any
+alternative theory because of the number of concurrent points which
+fitted in with the presumption that Penreath was the murderer. There
+was, first, the fact that the murderer had entered through the window.
+Penreath had been put to sleep in the room next the murdered man, in an
+unoccupied part of the inn, and could easily have got from one window to
+the other without being seen or heard. Next was the fact that the murder
+had been committed with a knife with a round end. Penreath had used such
+a knife when dining with Mr. Glenthorpe, and that knife was afterwards
+missing. Next, we have him hurriedly departing from the inn soon after
+daybreak, refusing to wait till his boots were cleaned, and paying his
+bill with a Treasury note.
+
+"Then came the discovery of the footprints to the pit where the body had
+been thrown, and those footprints were incontestably made by Penreath's
+boots. The stolen notes suggested a strong motive in the case of a man
+badly in need of money, and the payment of his bill with a Treasury note
+of the first issue suggested--though not very strongly--that he had
+given the servant one of the stolen notes. These were the main points in
+the circumstantial evidence against Penreath. The stories of the
+landlord of the inn, the deaf waiter, and the servant supported that
+theory in varying degrees, and afforded an additional ground for the
+credibility of the belief that Penreath was the murderer. The final and
+most convincing proof--Penreath's silence under the accusation--does not
+come into the narrative of events at this point, because he had not been
+arrested.
+
+"It was when we visited the murdered man's bedroom that the first doubts
+came to my mind as to the conclusiveness of the circumstantial evidence
+against Penreath. The theory was that Penreath, after murdering Mr.
+Glenthorpe, put the body on his shoulder, and carried it downstairs and
+up the rise to the pit. The murderer entered through the window--the
+bits of red mud adhering to the carpet prove that conclusively
+enough--but if Penreath was the murderer where had he got the umbrella
+with which he shielded himself from the storm? The fact that the
+murderer carried an umbrella is proved by the discovery of a small patch
+of umbrella silk which had got caught on a nail by the window. Again,
+why should a man, getting from one window to another, bother about using
+an umbrella for a journey of a few feet only? He would know that he
+could not use it when carrying the body to the pit, for that task would
+require both his hands. And what had Penreath done with the umbrella
+afterwards?
+
+"The clue of the umbrella silk, and the pool of water near the window
+where the murderer placed the umbrella after getting into the room,
+definitely fixed the time of the murder between eleven and 11.30 p.m.,
+because the violent rainstorm on that night ceased at the latter hour.
+If Penreath was the murderer, he waited until the storm ceased before
+removing the body. There were no footprints outside the window where the
+murderer got in, because they were obliterated by the rain. On the other
+hand, the footsteps to the pit where the body was thrown were clear and
+distinct, proving conclusively that no rain fell after the murderer left
+the house with his burden. It seemed to me unlikely that a man after
+committing a murder would coolly sit down beside his victim and wait for
+the rain to cease before disposing of the body. His natural instinct
+would be to hide the evidence of his crime as quickly as possible.
+
+"These points, however, were of secondary importance, merely tending to
+shake slightly what lawyers term the probability of the case against
+Penreath. But a point of more importance was my discovery that the
+candle-grease dropped on the carpet was of two different kinds--wax and
+tallow--suggesting that two different persons were in the room on the
+night of the murder. Mr. Glenthorpe did not use a candle, but a reading
+lamp. Neither did Mr. Glenthorpe use the gas globe in the middle of the
+room. Yet that gas tap was turned on slightly when we examined the room,
+and the globe and the incandescent burner smashed. Who turned on the
+tap, and who smashed the globe? Penreath is not tall enough to have
+struck it with his head. Superintendent Galloway's theory was that it
+might have been done by the murderer when throwing the body of his
+victim over his shoulder.
+
+"An ideal case of circumstantial evidence may be weakened, but not
+destroyed, by the destruction of one or more of the collateral facts
+which go to make it up. There are two kinds of circumstantial evidence.
+In one kind presumption of guilt depends on a series of links forming a
+chain. In the other, the circumstances are woven together like the
+strands of a rope. That is the ideal case of circumstantial evidence,
+because the rope still holds when some of the strands are severed. The
+case against Penreath struck me as resembling a chain, which is no
+stronger than its weakest link. The strongest link in the chain of
+circumstances against Penreath was the footprints leading to the pit.
+They had undoubtedly been made by his boots, but circumstances can lie
+as well as witnesses, and in both cases the most plausible sometimes
+prove the greatest liars. Take away the clue of the footprints, and the
+case against Penreath was snapped in the most vital link. The remaining
+circumstances in the case against him, though suspicious enough, were
+open to an alternative explanation. The footprints were the damning
+fact--the link on which the remaining links of the chain were hung.
+
+"But the elimination of the clue of the footprints did not make the
+crime any easier of solution. From the moment I set foot in the room it
+struck me as a deep and baffling mystery, looking at it from the point
+of view of the police theory or from any other hypothesis. If Penreath
+had indeed committed the murder, who was the second visitor to the room?
+And if Penreath had not committed the murder, who had?
+
+"That night, in my room, I sought to construct two alternative theories
+of the murder. In the first place, I examined the case thoroughly from
+the police point of view, with Penreath as the murderer. In view of what
+has come to light since the trial, there is no need to take up time with
+giving you my reasons for doubting whether Penreath had committed the
+crime. I explained those reasons to Superintendent Galloway at the time,
+pointing out, as he will doubtless remember, that the police theory
+struck me as illogical in some aspects, and far from convincing as a
+whole. There were too many elements of uncertainty in it, too much
+guess-work, too much jumping at conclusions. Take one point alone, on
+which I laid stress at the time. The police theory originally started
+from the point of Penreath's peculiar behaviour at the Durrington hotel,
+which, from their point of view, suggested homicidal mania. To my mind,
+there was no evidence to prove this, although that theory was actually
+put forth by the defence at Penreath's trial. I witnessed the scene at
+the breakfast table, and, in my opinion, Sir Henry Durwood acted hastily
+and wrongly in rushing forward and seizing Penreath. There was nothing
+in his behaviour that warranted it. He was a little excited, and nothing
+more, and from what I have heard since he had reason to be excited.
+Neither at the breakfast table nor in his room subsequently did his
+actions strike me as the actions of a man of insane, neurotic, or
+violent temperament. He was simply suffering from nerves. It is
+important to remember, in recalling the events which led up to this
+case, that Penreath was invalided out of the Army suffering from
+shell-shock, and that two nights before the scene at the hotel there was
+an air raid at Durrington. Shell-shock victims are always prejudicially
+affected by air raids.
+
+"Even if the police theory had been correct on this point, it seemed
+inconceivable to me that a man affected with homicidal tendencies would
+have displayed such cold-blooded caution and cunning in carrying out a
+murder for gain, as the murderer at the _Golden Anchor_ did. The Crown
+dropped this point at the trial. I merely mention it now in support of
+my contention that the case of circumstantial evidence against Penreath
+was by no means a strong one, because it originally depended, in part,
+on inferred facts which the premises did not warrant.
+
+"Next, the discoveries made in the room where the murder was committed,
+and certain other indications found outside, did not fit in with the
+police case against Penreath. Superintendent Galloway's reconstruction
+of the crime, after he had seen the body and examined the inn premises,
+did not account for the existence of all the facts. There were
+circumstances and clues which were not consistent with the police theory
+of the murder. The probability of the inference that Penreath was the
+murderer was not increased by the discoveries we made. I am aware that
+absolute proof is not essential to conviction in a case of
+circumstantial evidence, but, on the other hand, to ignore facts which
+do not accord with a theory is to go to the other extreme, for by so
+doing you are in danger of excluding the possibility of any alternative
+theory.
+
+"On the other hand, when I sought to account for the crime by any other
+hypothesis I found myself puzzled at every turn. The presence of two
+persons in the room was the baffling factor. The murderer had entered
+through the window in the storm, lighted the tallow candle which he
+brought with him, walked straight to the bed and committed the murder.
+Then he had waited till the rain ceased before carrying the body
+downstairs to the pit. But what about the second person--the person who
+had carried the wax candle and dropped spots of grease underneath the
+broken gas globe? Had he come in at a different time, and why? Why had
+he sought to light the gas, when he carried a candle? Why had he--as I
+subsequently ascertained--left the room and gone downstairs to turn on
+the gas at the meter?
+
+"Eliminating Penreath for the time being, I tried next to fit in the
+clues I had discovered with two alternative theories. Had the murder
+been committed from outside by a villager, or by somebody in the inn?
+There were possibilities about the former theory which I pointed out to
+Superintendent Galloway, who subsequently investigated them, and
+declared that there was no ground for the theory that the murder had
+been committed from outside. The theory that the murder had been
+committed by somebody inside the inn turned my attention to the inmates
+of the inn. Excluding Penreath for the time being, there were five
+inmates inside the walls the night the murder was committed--the
+innkeeper, his daughter, his mother, the waiter, and Ann, the servant.
+The girl could hardly have committed the murder, and could certainly not
+have carried away the body. The old mad woman might have committed the
+murder if she could have got out of her room, but she could not have
+carried the body to the pit--neither could the servant. By this process
+of elimination there remained the landlord and the deaf waiter.
+
+"For a reason which it is not necessary to explain now, my thoughts
+turned to the waiter when I first saw the body of the murdered man. The
+possibility that he was the murderer was strengthened by the slight clue
+of the line in the clay which I found underneath the murdered man's
+bedroom window. That window is about five feet from the ground outside,
+and the waiter, who is short and stout, could not have climbed through
+the window without something to stand on. But the waiter could not
+possibly have carried the body to the pit. His right arm is malformed,
+and only a very strong man, with two strong arms, could have performed
+that feat.
+
+"There remained the innkeeper. He was the only person on the inn
+premises that night, except Penreath, who could have carried the corpse
+downstairs and thrown it into the pit. Although thin, I should say he is
+a man of great physical strength. It is astonishing to think, in looking
+back over all the circumstances of this extraordinary case, that some
+suspicion was not diverted to him in the first instance. He was very
+hard-pressed for money, and he knew for days beforehand that Mr.
+Glenthorpe was going to draw L300 from the bank--a circumstance that
+Penreath could not possibly have known when he sought chance shelter at
+the inn that night. He was the only person in the place tall enough to
+have smashed the gas globe and incandescent burner in Mr. Glenthorpe's
+room by striking his head against it. He knew the run of the place and
+the way to the pit intimately--far better than a stranger like Penreath
+could. I was struck with that fact when we were examining the
+footprints. The undeviating course from the inn to the mouth of the pit
+suggested an intimate acquaintance with the way. The man who carried the
+body to the pit in the darkness knew every inch of the ground.
+
+"It is easy to be wise after the event, but my thoughts and suspicions
+were centering more and more around the innkeeper when Penreath was
+arrested. His attitude altered the whole aspect of the case. His
+hesitating answers to me in the wood, his fatalistic acceptance of the
+charge against him, seemed to me equivalent to a confession of guilt,
+so I abandoned my investigations and returned to Durrington.
+
+"I was wrong. It was a mistake for which I find it difficult to forgive
+myself. Penreath's hesitation, his silence--what were they in the
+balance of probabilities in such a strange deep crime as this murder? In
+view of the discoveries I had already made--discoveries which pointed to
+a most baffling mystery--I should not have allowed myself to be swerved
+from my course by Penreath's silence in the face of accusation,
+inexplicable though it appeared at the time. You know what happened
+subsequently. Penreath, persisting in his silence, was tried, convicted,
+and sentenced to death--because of that silence, which compelled the
+defence to rely on a defence of insanity which they could not sustain.
+
+"I went back to the inn a second time, not of my own volition, but
+because of a story told me by the innkeeper's daughter, Peggy, at
+Durrington four days ago. The night before the inquest Peggy paid a
+visit to the room in which the murdered man lay. I did not see her go
+in, but I saw her come out. She went downstairs and hurried across the
+marshes and threw something into the sea from the top of the breakwater.
+The following day, after Penreath's arrest, I questioned her. She gave
+me an explanation which was hardly plausible, but Penreath's silence,
+coming after the accumulation of circumstances against him, had caused
+me to look at the case from a different angle, and I did not
+cross-examine her. The object of her visit to me after the trial was to
+admit that she had not told me the truth previously. Her amended story
+was obviously the true one. She and Penreath had met by chance on the
+seashore near Leyland Hoop two or three weeks before, and had met
+secretly afterward. The subsequent actions of these two foolish young
+people prove, convincingly enough, that they had fallen passionately in
+love with each other. Peggy, however, had never told Penreath her name
+or where she lived--because she knew her position was different from
+his, she says--and she could not understand how he came to be at the inn
+that night. Naturally, she was very much perturbed at his unexpected
+appearance. She waited for an opportunity to speak to him after hearing
+his voice, but was compelled to attend on her mad grandmother until it
+was very late.
+
+"Before going to bed she went down the passage to see if by any chance
+he had not retired. There was a light in Mr. Glenthorpe's room, and,
+acting on a sudden girlish impulse, she ran along the passage to Mr.
+Glenthorpe's door, intending to confide her troubles in one who had
+always been very good and kind to her. The door was partly open, and as
+she got no reply to her knock, she entered. Mr. Glenthorpe was lying on
+his bed, murdered, and on the floor--at the side of the bed--she found
+the knife and this silver and enamel match-box. She hid the knife behind
+a picture on the wall. She did a very plucky thing the following night
+by going into the dead man's room and removing the knife in order to
+prevent the police finding it, for by that time she was aware that the
+knife formed an important piece of evidence in the case against her
+lover. It was the knife she threw into the sea, but she kept the
+match-box, which she recognised as Penreath's. When she came to me she
+did not intend to tell me anything about the match-box if she could help
+it. She was frank enough up to a point, but beyond that point she did
+not want to go.
+
+"After Penreath's conviction she began, womanlike, to wonder if she had
+not been too hasty in assuming his guilt, and as the time slipped by and
+brought the day of his doom nearer she grew desperate, and as a last
+resource she came to me. It was a good thing she did so. For her story,
+though apparently making the case against Penreath blacker still,
+incidentally brought to light a clue which threw a new light on the case
+and decided me to return to Flegne. That clue is contained in the
+match-box."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+
+Colwyn opened the silver and enamel box, and emptied the matches on the
+table.
+
+"I showed this match-box to Charles on my return to the inn, and he told
+me that Penreath used it in the upstairs sitting-room the night he dined
+there with Mr. Glenthorpe. Therefore, it is a reasonable deduction to
+assume that he had no other matches in his possession the night of the
+murder.
+
+"This fact is highly significant, because the matches in Penreath's
+silver box are, as you see, blue-headed wax matches, whereas the matches
+struck in Mr. Glenthorpe's room on the night of the murder were of an
+entirely different description--wooden matches with pink heads, of
+British manufacture--so-called war matches, with cork pine sticks. The
+sticks of these matches break rather easily unless they are held near
+the head. Two broken fragments of this description of match, with
+unlighted heads, were found in Mr. Glenthorpe's room the morning after
+the murder. Superintendent Galloway picked up one by the foot of the
+bed, and I picked up the other under the broken gas-globe. The recovery
+of Penreath's match-box in the murdered man's room suggested several
+things. In the first place, if he had no other matches in his possession
+except those in his silver and enamel box, he was neither the murderer
+nor the second person who visited the room that night. But if my
+deduction about the matches was correct, how was it that his match-box
+was found in the murdered man's room? The inference is that Penreath
+left his match-box in the dining room after lighting his candle before
+going to bed, and the murderer found it and took it into Mr.
+Glenthorpe's bedroom to point suspicion towards Penreath.
+
+"This fact opened up a new possibility about the crime--the possibility
+that Penreath was the victim of a conspiracy. When we were examining the
+footprints which led to the pit, the possibility of somebody else having
+worn Penreath's boots occurred to me, because I have seen that trick
+worked before, but the servant's story suggested that Penreath did not
+put his boots outside his door to be cleaned, but came to the door with
+them in his hand in the morning. But Penreath told me this morning that
+he put out his boots overnight to be cleaned, but had taken them back
+into his room before Ann brought up his tea. The murderer, therefore,
+had ample opportunity to use them for his purpose of carrying the body
+to the pit and to put them back afterwards outside Penreath's door.
+
+"But Peggy's belated admissions did more than suggest that Penreath was
+the victim of a sinister plot--they narrowed down the range of persons
+by whom it could have been contrived. The plotter was not only an inmate
+of the inn, but somebody who had seen the match box and knew that it
+belonged to Penreath.
+
+"I returned to Flegne to resume the investigations I had broken off
+nearly three weeks before, and from that point my discoveries were very
+rapid, all tending to throw suspicion on Benson. The first indication
+was the outcome of a remark of mine about his height, and the broken gas
+light in Mr. Glenthorpe's bedroom. It was purely a chance shot, but it
+threw him into a pitiable state of excitement. I let him think, however,
+that it was nothing more than a chance remark. That night I was put to
+sleep in Penreath's room, and there I made two discoveries. The first
+was the existence of a small door, behind the wardrobe, opening on a
+corresponding door on the other side, which in its turn opens into Mr.
+Glenthorpe's room. Thus it would be possible for a person in the room
+Penreath occupied, discovering these doors as I did, to see into the
+next bedroom--under certain conditions. My second discovery was the
+outcome of my first discovery--I picked up underneath the wardrobe a
+fragment of an appealing letter which Penreath had commenced to write to
+his fiancee, and had subsequently torn up. It was a long time before I
+grasped the full significance of these two discoveries. Why should a
+man, after writing a letter of appeal to his fiancee, decide not to send
+it and destroy it? The most probable reason was that something had
+happened to cause him to change his mind. What could have happened to
+change the conditions so quickly? The hidden doors in the wall, which
+looked into the next room, supplied an answer to the question. Penreath
+had looked through, and seen--what? My first thought was that he had
+seen the murder committed, but that theory did not account for the
+destruction of the letter, and his silence when arrested, unless,
+indeed, the girl had committed the murder. The girl--Peggy! It came to
+me like a flash, the solution of the strangest aspect of this puzzling
+case--the reason why Penreath maintained his dogged silence under an
+accusation of murder.
+
+"It came to me, the clue for which I had been groping, with the
+recollection of a phrase in the girl's story to me--her second story--in
+which she not only told me of her efforts to shield Penreath, but
+revealed frankly to me her relations with Penreath, innocent enough, but
+commenced in chance fashion, and continued by clandestine meetings in
+lonely spots. I remembered when she told me about it all that I was
+impressed by Penreath's absolute straightforwardness in his dealings
+with this girl. He was open and sincere with her throughout, gave her
+his real name, and told her much about himself: his family, his
+prospects, and even his financial embarrassment. He went further than
+that: he told her that he was engaged to be married, and that if he
+could get free he would marry her. A young man who talks in this strain
+is very much in love. The artless story of Peggy revealed that Penreath
+was as much in love with the girl as she was with him. 'If he could get
+free!' That was the phrase that gave me the key to the mystery. He had
+set out to get free by writing to Miss Willoughby, breaking off his
+engagement. Later he had torn up the letter because through the door in
+the wall he had seen Peggy standing by the bedside of the murdered man,
+and had come to the conclusion that she had murdered him.
+
+"If you think it a little strange that Penreath should have jumped to
+this conclusion about the woman he loved, you must remember the
+circumstances were unusual. Peggy had surrounded herself with mystery;
+she refused to tell her lover where she lived, she would not even tell
+him her name. When he looked into the room he did not even know she was
+in the house, because she had kept out of his way during the previous
+evening, waiting for an opportunity to see him alone. Consequently he
+experienced a great shock at the sight of her, and the mystery with
+which she had always veiled her identity and movements recurred to him
+with a terrible and sinister significance as he saw her again under such
+damning conditions, standing by the bedside of the dead man with a knife
+in her hand.
+
+"Penreath's subsequent actions--his destruction of the letter he had
+written to Miss Willoughby, his hurried departure from the inn, and his
+silence in the face of accusation--are all explained by the fact that he
+saw the girl Peggy in the next room, and believed that she had committed
+this terrible crime.
+
+"I now come to the clues which point directly to Benson's complicity in
+the murder. I have already told you of his alarm at my chance remark
+about his height and the smashed gas globe. You also know that he was in
+need of money. The next point is rather a curious one. When Benson was
+telling us his story the day after the murder I observed that he kept
+smoothing his long hair down on his forehead. There was something in the
+action that suggested more than a mannerism. The night after I
+discovered the door in the wall, I left it open in order to watch the
+next room. During the night Benson entered and searched the dead man's
+chamber. I do not know what he was looking for--he did not find it,
+whatever it was--but during the search he grew hot, and threw back his
+hair from his forehead, revealing a freshly healed scar on his temple.
+The reason he had worn his hair low was explained: he wanted to hide
+from us the fact that it was he who had smashed the gas-globe in Mr.
+Glenthorpe's room, and had cut his head by the accident.
+
+"But his visit to the dead man's room revealed more than the scar on his
+forehead. How did Benson get into the room? The room had been kept
+locked since the murder. That night I had taken the key from a hook on
+the kitchen dresser in order to examine the room when the inmates of the
+place had retired. Benson, therefore, had let himself in with another
+key. This was our first knowledge of another key. Hitherto we had
+believed that the only key was the one found in the outside of the door
+the morning after the murder. The police theory is partly based on that
+supposition. Benson's possession of a second key, and his silence
+concerning it, point strongly to his complicity in the crime. He knew
+that Mr. Glenthorpe was accustomed to lock his door and carry the key
+about with him, so he obtained another key in order to have access to
+the room whenever he desired. There would have been nothing in this if
+he had told his household about it. A second key would have been useful
+to the servant when she wanted to arrange Mr. Glenthorpe's room. But
+Benson kept the existence of the second key a close secret. He said
+nothing about it when we questioned him concerning the key in the door.
+An innocent man would have immediately informed us that there was a
+second key to the room. Benson kept silence because he had something to
+hide.
+
+"I now come to the events of the next morning. My investigation of the
+rise and the pit during the afternoon had led to a discovery which
+subsequently suggested to my mind that the missing money had been hidden
+in the pit. I determined to try and descend it. I arose before daybreak,
+as I did not wish any of the inmates of the inn to see me. Before going
+to the pit I got out of the window and into the window of the next room,
+as Penreath is supposed to have done. That experiment brought to light
+another small point in Penreath's favour. The drop from the first window
+is an awkward one--more than eight feet--and my heels made a deep
+indentation in the soft red clay underneath the window. If Penreath had
+dropped from the window, even in his stocking feet, the marks of his
+heels ought to have been visible. There was not enough rain after the
+murder was committed to obliterate them entirely. There were no such
+marks under his window when we examined the ground the morning after
+the murder.
+
+"I next proceeded to the rise and lowered myself down the pit by the
+creepers inside. About ten feet down the vegetable growth ceased, and
+the further descent was impossible without ropes. But at the limit of
+the distance to which a man can climb down unaided, I saw a peg sticking
+into the side of the pit, with a fishing line suspended from it. I drew
+up the line, and found attached to it the murdered man's pocket-book
+containing the L300 he had drawn out of the bank at Heathfield the day
+he was murdered.
+
+"Let me now try to reconstruct the crime in the light of the fresh
+information we have gained. Benson was in desperate straits for money,
+and he knew that Mr. Glenthorpe had drawn L300 from the bank that
+morning, all in small notes, which could not be traced. The fact that he
+obtained a second key to the room suggests that he had been meditating
+the act for some time past. It will be found, I think, when all the
+facts are brought to light, that he obtained the second key when he
+learnt that Mr. Glenthorpe intended to take a large sum of money out of
+the bank. Penreath's chance arrival at the inn on the day that the money
+was drawn out, probably set him thinking of the possibility of murdering
+and robbing Mr. Glenthorpe in circumstances that would divert suspicion
+to the stranger. Penreath unconsciously helped him by leaving his
+match-box in the room where he had dined with Mr. Glenthorpe. Benson
+found the match-box on looking into the room to see that everything was
+all right when his guests had retired, and determined to commit the
+murder that night, and leave it by the murdered man's bedside, as a clue
+to direct attention to Penreath. His next idea, to murder Mr.
+Glenthorpe with the knife which Penreath had used at dinner, probably
+occurred to him as he considered the possibilities of the match-box.
+
+"It is difficult to decide why Benson chose to enter the room from the
+window instead of by the door when he had a second key of the room. He
+may have attempted to open the door with the key, and found that Mr.
+Glenthorpe had locked the door and left the key on the inside. Or he may
+have thought that as Penreath was sleeping in the next room, he ran too
+great a risk of discovery by entering from the door, and so decided to
+enter by the window. We must presume that Benson subsequently found Mr.
+Glenthorpe's key, either inside the door or under his pillow, and kept
+it. He entered the window, stabbed Mr. Glenthorpe, and placed the
+match-box and the knife at the side of the bed. His next act would be to
+search for the money. Finding it difficult to search by the light of the
+tallow candle, he decided to go downstairs and turn on the gas.
+
+"During his absence Peggy entered the room, saw the dead body, and
+picked up the knife and the match-box. Then she picked up the
+candlestick by the bed, and fled in terror. Benson, after turning on the
+gas at the meter, returned to find the room in darkness. Thinking that
+the wind had blown out the candle, he walked to the gas with the
+intention of lighting it. In doing so he knocked his head against the
+globe, cutting his forehead, and smashing the incandescent burner.
+
+"Benson, when he found that the candlestick had disappeared must, in his
+fright, have rushed downstairs for another. He could not light the gas,
+because he had smashed the burner. In no other way can I account for the
+second lot of candle-grease that I found in the room underneath the
+gas-light, which made me believe at first that the room had been
+visited by two persons on the night of the murder. There _were_ two
+persons, Benson and his daughter, but Peggy did not bring a candlestick
+into the room. It looks to me as though Benson, on returning with the
+second candle, attempted to light the gas with it and failed. That
+action would account for the gas tap being turned on, and the spilt
+grease directly underneath. He then searched the room till he found the
+pocket-book containing the money.
+
+"The subsequent removal of the body to the pit strikes me as an
+afterthought. The complete plan was too diabolically ingenious and
+complete to have formed in the murderer's mind at the outset. The man
+who put the match-box and knife by the bedside of the murdered man in
+order to divert suspicion to Penreath had no thought, at that stage, of
+removing the body. That idea came afterwards, probably when he went
+upstairs the second time with the lighted candle, and saw Penreath's
+boots outside the door. I cannot help thinking that the clue of the
+footprints, which was such a damning point in the case against Penreath,
+was quite an accidental one so far as the murderer was concerned. The
+thought that the boots would leave footprints which would subsequently
+be identified as Penreath's was altogether too subtle to have occurred
+to a man like Benson. That is the touch of a master criminal--of a much
+higher order of criminal brain than Benson's.
+
+"It is my belief that he originally intended to leave the murdered man
+in his room, thinking that the match-box and knife would point suspicion
+to Penreath. But after killing Mr. Glenthorpe he was overcome with the
+fear that his guilt would be discovered, in spite of his precautions to
+throw suspicions on another man, and he decided to throw the body into
+the pit in the hope that the crime would never be found out. The fact
+that he had entered the room in his stocking feet supports this theory,
+because he would be well aware that he would not be able to carry the
+body over several hundred yards of rough ground in his bare feet. He
+took Penreath's boots, which were close at hand, in preference to the
+danger and delay which he would have incurred in going to his own room,
+some distance away, for his own boots. Having put on the boots, he took
+the body on his shoulders and conveyed it to the pit.
+
+"There are two or three points in this case which I am unable to clear
+up to my complete satisfaction. Why did Benson leave the key in the
+outside of the door? Was it merely one of those mistakes--those
+oversights--which all murderers are liable to commit, or did he do it
+deliberately, in the hope of conveying the impression that Mr.
+Glenthorpe had gone out and left the key in the outside of the door. In
+the next place, I cannot account for the mark of the box underneath the
+window. There is a third point--the direction of the wound in the
+murdered man's body, which gave me some ideas at the time that I am now
+compelled to dismiss as erroneous. But these are points that I hope will
+be cleared up by Benson's arrest, and confession, for I am convinced, by
+my observation of the man, that he will confess.
+
+"There are one or two more points. Benson is an ardent fisherman, who
+spends all his spare time fishing on the marshes. The stolen pocket-book
+was suspended in the pit by a piece of fishing line. But I attach more
+importance to the second point, which is that since the murder has been
+committed the nightly conversation at the inn tap-room has centred
+around a local ghost, known as the White Lady of the Shrieking Pit, who
+is supposed from time immemorial to have haunted the pit where the body
+was thrown, and to bring death to anybody who encounters her at night.
+This spectre, which is profoundly believed in by the villagers, had not
+been seen for at least two years before the murder, but she made a
+reappearance a night or two after the crime, and is supposed to have
+been seen frequently ever since. It looks to me as though Benson set the
+story going again in order to keep the credulous villagers away from the
+pit where the money was concealed.
+
+"This morning, in company with Mr. Oakham, I saw Penreath in the gaol,
+and by a ruse induced him to break his stubborn silence. His story,
+which it is not necessary for me to give you in detail, testifies to his
+innocence, and supports my own theory of the crime. He did not see the
+murder committed, but he saw the girl go into the room, and subsequently
+he saw her father enter and remove the body. It was the latter spectacle
+that robbed him of any lingering doubts he may have had of the girl's
+guilt, and forced him to the conclusion that she and her father were
+accomplices in the crime. But he loved her so much that he determined to
+keep silence and shield her."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+
+"This is a remarkable story, Mr. Colwyn," said the chief constable,
+breaking the rather lengthy silence which followed the conclusion of the
+detective's reconstruction of the crime. "It has been quite entrancing
+to listen to your syllogistical skill. You would have made an excellent
+Crown Prosecutor." The chief constable's official mind could conceive no
+higher compliment. "Your statements seem almost too incredible for
+belief, but undoubtedly you have made out a case for the further
+investigation of this crime. What do you think, Galloway?"
+
+"The question, to my mind, is what Mr. Colwyn's discoveries really
+represent," replied Galloway. "He has built up a very ingenious and
+plausible reconstruction, but let us discard mere theory, and stick to
+the facts. What do they amount to? Apart from Penreath's statement in
+the gaol that he saw the body carried down stairs----"
+
+"You can leave that out of the question," said the detective curtly. "My
+reconstruction of the crime is independent of Penreath's testimony,
+which is open to the objection that it should have been made before."
+
+"Exactly what I was going to point out," rejoined Galloway bluntly.
+"Well, then, let us examine the fresh facts. There are five as I see
+them. The recovery of Penreath's match-box, the discovery of the door
+between the two rooms, the wound on the innkeeper's forehead, the
+additional key, and the finding of the pocket-book in the pit. Exclude
+the idea of conspiracy, and the recovery of the match-box becomes an
+additional point against Penreath, because it strikes me as guess work
+to assume that he had no other matches in his possession except that
+particular box and the loose one he found in his vest pocket. Smokers
+frequently carry two or three boxes of matches. The discovery of the
+hidden door is interesting, but has no direct bearing on the crime. The
+wound on the innkeeper's head looks suspicious, but there is no proof
+that it was caused by his knocking his head against the gas globe in the
+murdered man's room on the night of the murder. As Mr. Colwyn himself
+has pointed out, there is not much in Benson having a second key of
+Glenthorpe's room. Many hotel-keepers and innkeepers keep duplicate keys
+of bedrooms. The significance of this discovery is that Benson kept
+silence about the existence of this key. Undoubtedly he should have told
+us about it, but I am not prepared to accept, offhand, that his silence
+was the silence of a guilty man. He may have kept silence regarding it
+through a foolish fear of directing suspicion to himself. That theory
+seems to me quite as probable as Mr. Colwyn's theory. There remains the
+recovery of the money in the pit. In considering that point I find it
+impossible to overlook that Penreath returned to the wood after making
+his escape. That suggests, to my mind, that he hid the money in the pit
+himself, and took the risk of returning in order to regain possession of
+it."
+
+"You are worthier of the chief constable's compliment than I, my dear
+Galloway," said Colwyn genially. "Your gift of overcoming points which
+tell against you by ignoring them, and your careful avoidance of
+tell-tale inferences, would make you an ideal Crown Prosecutor."
+
+"I don't believe in inferences in crime," replied Galloway, flushing
+under the detective's sarcasm. "I am a plain man, and I like to stick to
+facts."
+
+"What was the whole of your case against Penreath but a series of
+inferences?" retorted Colwyn. "Circumstantial evidence, and the
+circumstances on which you depended in this case, were never fully
+established. Furthermore, your facts were not consistent with your
+original hypothesis, and had to be altered when the case went to trial.
+Now that I have discovered other facts and inferences which are
+consistent with another hypothesis, you strive to shut your eyes to
+them, or draw wrong conclusions from them. Your suggestion that Penreath
+must have hidden the money in the pit because he was arrested near it is
+a choice example of false deduction based on the wrong premise that
+Penreath hid the money there on the night of the murder. He could not
+have done so because he had no rope, and how was he, a stranger to the
+place, to know that the inside of the pit was covered with creeping
+plants of sufficient strength to bear a man's weight? The choice of the
+pit as a hiding place for the money argues an intimate local knowledge."
+
+"You have not yet told us how you came to deduce that the money was in
+the pit," said Mr. Cromering, who had been examining the pocket-book and
+money.
+
+"While I was examining the mouth of the pit the previous afternoon I
+found this piece of paper at the brink, trodden into the clay. Later on
+I recognised the peculiar watermark of waving lines as the Government
+watermark in the first issue of Treasury war notes. From that I deduced
+that the money was hidden in the pit. It was all in Treasury notes, as
+you see."
+
+"I'm afraid I don't quite follow you now," said the chief constable,
+with a puzzled glance at the piece of dirty paper in his hand. "This
+piece of paper is not a Treasury note."
+
+"Not now, perhaps, but it was once," said the detective with a smile.
+"It puzzled me at first. I could not account for the Treasury watermark,
+designed to prevent forgery of the notes, appearing on a piece of blank
+paper. Then it came to me. The first issue of Treasury notes were very
+badly printed. Ordinary black ink was used, which would disappear if the
+note was immersed in water. It was an official at Somerset House who
+told me this. He informed me that they had several cases of munition
+workers who, after being paid in Treasury notes, had put them into the
+pockets of their overalls, and forgotten about them until the overalls
+came back from the wash with every vestige of printing washed out from
+the notes, leaving nothing but the watermarks. It occurred to me that
+the same thing had happened in this case. The murderer, when about to
+descend to the pit to conceal the money, had accidentally dropped a note
+and trodden it underfoot, and it had lain out in the open exposed to
+heavy rains and dew until every scrap of printing was obliterated."
+
+"By Jove, that's very clever, very clever indeed!" exclaimed Galloway.
+He picked up a magnifying glass which was lying on the table, and
+closely examined the dirty piece of white paper which Colwyn had found
+at the mouth of the pit. "It was once a Treasury note, sure enough--the
+watermark is unmistakable. You've scored a point there that I couldn't
+have made, and I'm man enough to own up to it. You see more deeply into
+things than I do, Mr. Colwyn. And I'm willing to admit that you've made
+some new and interesting discoveries about this case, though in my
+opinion you are inclined to read too much into them. But I certainly
+think they ought to be investigated further. If Penreath's statement to
+you this morning is true, Benson is the murderer, and there has been a
+miscarriage of justice. But what makes me doubt the truth of it is
+Penreath's refusal to speak before. I mistrust confessions made out at
+the last moment. And his explanation that he kept silence to save the
+girl strikes me as rather thin. It is too quixotic."
+
+"There is more than that in it," replied Colwyn. "He had a double
+motive. Penreath heard Sir Henry Durwood depose at the trial that he
+believed him to be suffering from epilepsy."
+
+"How does that constitute a second motive?"
+
+"In this way. Penreath has a highly-strung, introspective temperament.
+He went to the front from a high sense of duty, but he was
+temperamentally unfit for the ghastly work of modern warfare, and broke
+down under the strain. Men like Penreath feel it keenly when they are
+discharged through shell-shock. They feel that the carefully hidden
+weaknesses of their temperaments have been dragged out into the light of
+day, and imagine they have been branded as cowards in the eyes of their
+fellow men. I suspect that the real reason why Penreath left London and
+sought refuge in Norfolk under another name was because he had been
+discharged from the Army through shell-shock. He wanted to get away from
+London and hide himself from those who knew him. To his wounded spirit
+the condolences of his friends would be akin to taunts and sneers. When
+Sir Henry Durwood questioned him he was careful to conceal the fact that
+he had been a victim of shell-shock. As a matter of fact, Penreath's
+behaviour in the breakfast room that morning was nothing more than the
+effects of the air raid on his disordered nerves, but he would sooner
+have died than admit that to strangers. After listening to the evidence
+for the defence at the trial, he came to the conclusion that he was an
+epileptic as well as a neurasthenic. He might well believe that life
+held little for him in these circumstances, and that conviction would
+strengthen him in his determination to sacrifice his life as a thing of
+little value for the girl he loved."
+
+"If that is true he must be a very manly young fellow," said the chief
+constable.
+
+"Supposing it is true, what is to be done?" asked Galloway, earnestly.
+"Penreath has been tried and convicted for the murder."
+
+"The conviction will be upset on appeal," replied the detective
+decisively.
+
+"But I do not see that carries us much further forward as regards
+Benson," persisted Galloway. "If he is the murderer, as you say, he will
+clear out as soon as he hears that Penreath is appealing."
+
+"He will not be able to clear out if you arrest him."
+
+"On what grounds? I cannot arrest him for a murder for which another man
+has been sentenced to death."
+
+"True. But you can arrest him as accessory after the fact, on the ground
+that he carried the body downstairs and threw it into the pit."
+
+"And suppose he denies having done so? Look here, Mr. Colwyn, I want to
+help you all I can, but if I have made one mistake, I do not want to
+make a second one. Frankly, I do not know what to think of your story.
+It may be true, or it may not. But speaking from a police point of view,
+we have mighty little to go on if we arrest Benson. If he likes to bluff
+us we may find ourselves in an awkward position. Nobody saw him commit
+the murder."
+
+"I realise the truth of what you say because I thought it all over
+before coming to see you," replied Colwyn. "If Benson denies the truth
+of the points I have discovered against him, or gives them a different
+interpretation, it may be difficult to prove them. But he will not--he
+will confess all he knows."
+
+"What makes you think so?"
+
+"Because his nerve has gone. If I had confronted him that night when I
+saw him in the room I would have got the whole truth from him."
+
+"Why did you not do so?"
+
+"Because I had not the power to detain him. I am merely a private
+detective, and can neither arrest a man nor threaten him with arrest.
+That is why I have come to you. You, with the powers of the law behind
+you, can frighten Benson into a confession much more effectually than I
+could."
+
+"I don't half like it," grumbled Galloway. "There's a risk about it----"
+
+"It's a risk that must be taken, nevertheless." It was Mr. Cromering who
+intervened in the discussion between the two, and he spoke with unusual
+decision. "I agree with Mr. Colwyn that this is the best course to
+pursue. I will go with you and take full responsibility, Galloway."
+
+"There is no need for that," said Galloway quickly. "I am quite willing
+to go."
+
+"I will accompany you and Mr. Colwyn. It has been a remarkable case
+throughout, and I want to see the end--if this is the end. I feel keenly
+interested in this young man's fate."
+
+"I should like to go also, but an engagement prevents me," said Mr.
+Oakham. "I am quite content to leave Penreath's interests in Mr.
+Colwyn's capable hands." He rose as he spoke, and held out his hand to
+the detective. "We have all been in error, but you have saved us from
+having an irreparable wrong on our consciences. I cannot forgive myself
+for my blindness. Perhaps you will acquaint me with the result of your
+visit when you return. I shall be anxious to know."
+
+"I will not fail to do so," replied Colwyn, grasping the solicitor's
+hand. "We had better catch the five o'clock train to Heathfield and walk
+across to Flegne," he added, turning to the others. "It will be as quick
+as motoring across, and the sound of the car might put Benson on his
+guard. We want to take him unawares."
+
+"He'll have got wind of something already if he finds the pocket-book
+gone," said Galloway. "He may have bolted while we have been talking
+over things here."
+
+"I've seen to that," replied the detective. "I tied my own pocket-book
+to the fishing line in the pit, and left Queensmead watching the pit. If
+Benson tries to escape with my pocket-book Queensmead will arrest him
+for robbery. I've made a complaint of the loss."
+
+"You haven't left much to chance," replied Galloway, with a grim smile.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+
+It was characteristic of Mr. Cromering to beguile the long walk in the
+dark from Heathfield Station by discussing Colwyn's theory that Benson
+had circulated the reappearance of the White Lady of the Shrieking Pit
+in order to keep the villagers away from the place where the stolen
+money was hidden. Mr. Cromering had been much impressed--he said
+so--with the logical skill and masterly deductive powers by which Colwyn
+had reconstructed the hidden events of the night of the murder, like an
+Owen reconstructing the extinct moa from a single bone, but he was loath
+to accept that part of the theory which seemed to throw doubt on the
+authenticity of a famous venerable Norfolk legend which had at least two
+hundred years of tradition behind it.
+
+Mr. Cromering, without going so far as to affirm his personal belief in
+the story, declared that there were several instances extant of
+enlightened and educated people who had seen the ghost, and had suffered
+an untimely end in consequence. He cited the case of a visiting
+magistrate, who had been visiting in the district some twenty years ago,
+and knew nothing about the legend. He was riding through Flegne one
+night, and heard dismal shrieks from the wood on the rise. Thinking
+somebody was in need of help, he dismounted from his horse, and went up
+to the rise to investigate. As he neared the pit the White Lady appeared
+from the pit and looked at him with inexpressibly sad eyes, drew her
+hand thrice across her throat, and disappeared again in the pit. The
+magistrate was greatly startled at what he had seen, and related the
+experience to his host when he got home. The latter did not tell him of
+the tragic significance which was attached to the apparition, but the
+magistrate cut his throat three days after his return to London.
+"Surely, _that_ was more than a mere coincidence?" concluded Mr.
+Cromering.
+
+"I do not wish to undermine the local belief in the White Lady of the
+Shrieking Pit," said Colwyn, with a smile which the darkness hid. "All I
+say is that her frequent reappearances since the money was hidden in the
+pit were exceedingly useful for the man who hid the money. I can assure
+you that none of the villagers would go near the pit for twice the
+amount. There are plenty of them who will go to their graves convinced
+that they have heard her nightly shrieks since the murder was
+committed."
+
+"It is difficult to believe that they are all mistaken," said Mr.
+Cromering slowly.
+
+"I do not think they are mistaken--at least, not all of them. Some have
+probably heard shrieks."
+
+"Then how do you account for the shrieks?" asked the chief constable
+eagerly.
+
+"I think they have heard Benson's mother shrieking in her paroxysms of
+madness."
+
+"By Jove, that's a shrewd notion!" chuckled Superintendent Galloway.
+"You don't miss much, Mr. Colwyn. Whether you're right or not, there's
+not the slightest doubt that the whole village is in terror of the
+ghost, and avoids the Shrieking Pit like a pestilence. I was talking to
+a Flegne farmer the other day, and he assured me, with a pale face, that
+he had heard the White Lady shrieking three nights running, and when his
+men went to the inn after dark they walked half a mile out of their way
+to avoid passing near the pit. He told me also that the general belief
+among the villagers is that Mr. Glenthorpe saw the White Lady a night or
+so before he was murdered."
+
+"I heard that story also," responded Colwyn. "He was in the habit of
+walking up to the rise after dark. He appears to have been keenly
+interested in his scientific work."
+
+"He was absorbed in it to the exclusion of everything else," said the
+chief constable, with a sigh. "His death is a great loss to British
+science, and Norfolk research in particular. I was very much interested
+in that newspaper clipping which was found in his pocket-book with the
+money. It was a London review on a brochure he had published on sponge
+spicules he had found in a flint at Flegne, and was his last
+contribution to science, published two days before he was struck down.
+What a loss!"
+
+Their conversation had brought them to the top of the rise. Beneath them
+lay the little hamlet on the edge of the marshes, wrapped in a white
+blanket of mist. Colwyn asked his companions to remain where they were,
+while he went to see if Queensmead was on the watch. He walked quickly
+across the hut circles until he reached the pit. There his keen eyes
+detected a dark figure standing motionless in the shadow of the wood.
+
+"Is that you, Queensmead?" he said, in a low voice.
+
+"Yes, Mr. Colwyn." The figure advanced out of the shadow.
+
+"Is everything all right?"
+
+"Quite all right, sir. I've watched from this spot from dark till dawn
+since you've been away, and there's not been a soul near the pit. I've
+not been disturbed--not even by the White Lady."
+
+"You have done excellently. The chief constable and Superintendent
+Galloway have come over with me, and we are going to the inn now. You
+had better keep watch here for half an hour longer, so as to be on the
+safe side. If anybody comes to the pit during that time you must detain
+him, and call for assistance. I will come and relieve you myself."
+
+"Very good, sir, you can depend on me," said Queensmead quietly, as he
+returned to his post.
+
+Colwyn rejoined his companions, and told them what had passed.
+
+"I want to be on the safe side in case Benson tries to bolt when he sees
+us," he explained. "He's hardly likely to go without making an effort to
+get the money. Now, let us go to the inn."
+
+"One moment," said the chief constable. "How do you propose to proceed
+when we get there?"
+
+"Get Benson by himself and frighten him into a confession," was the
+terse reply. "I want your authority to threaten him with arrest. In
+fact, I should prefer that you or Superintendent Galloway undertook to
+do that. It would come with more force."
+
+"Let it be Galloway," responded the chief constable. "You will act just
+as if I were not present, Galloway, and it is my wish that you do
+whatever Mr. Colwyn asks you."
+
+"Thank you," replied the detective. "Let us go, now. There is no time to
+be lost. Somebody may have seen me speaking to Queensmead."
+
+They descended the rise and, reaching the flat, discerned the gaunt
+walls of the old inn looming spectrally from the mist. A light glimmered
+in the bar, and loud voices were heard within. Colwyn felt for the door.
+It was shut and fastened. He knocked sharply; the voices within ceased
+as though by magic, and presently there was the sound of somebody
+coming along the passage. Then the door was opened, and the white face
+of Charles appeared in the doorway, framed in the yellow light of a
+candle which he held above his head as he peered forth into the mist.
+His black eyes roved from Colwyn to the forms behind him.
+
+"I'm sorry you were kept waiting, sir," he said, in his strange whisper,
+which seemed to have a tremor in it. "But the customers will have the
+door locked at night now. They are frightened of this ghost--this White
+Lady--she's been heard shrieking----"
+
+"Never mind that now," replied Colwyn. He had determined how to act, and
+stepped quickly inside. "Where's Benson?"
+
+"He's sitting upstairs with his mother, sir. Shall I tell him you want
+him?"
+
+"No. I will go myself. Take these gentlemen into the bar parlour, and
+return to the bar."
+
+Colwyn made his way upstairs in the dark. He passed the rooms where Mr.
+Glenthorpe had been murdered and Penreath had slept, and the room from
+which he had watched Peggy's nocturnal visit to the death chamber. That
+wing of the inn was as empty and silent as it had been the night of the
+murder, but a lighted candle, placed on an old hall stand which Colwyn
+remembered having seen that night in the lumber room, flickered in the
+wavering shadows--a futile human effort to ward off the lurking terrors
+of darkness by the friendly feeble companionship of a light which could
+be extinguished even more quickly than a life.
+
+Colwyn took the candle to light him down the second passage to the mad
+woman's room. As he reached it, the door opened, and Peggy stepped
+forth. She recoiled at the sight of the detective.
+
+"You!" she breathed. "Oh, why----"
+
+"I have come to see your father," said Colwyn. It went to his heart to
+see the entreaty in her eyes, the pitiful droop of her lips and the
+thinness of her face.
+
+The door was opened widely, and the innkeeper appeared on the threshold
+beside his daughter. Behind him, Colwyn could see the old mad woman in
+her bed in the corner of the room, mumbling to herself and fondling her
+doll. The innkeeper fastened his bird-like eyes on the detective's face.
+
+"What are you doing here?" he said, and there was no mistaking the note
+of terror in his voice. "What is it you want?"
+
+"I want to speak to you downstairs," said the detective.
+
+The innkeeper looked swiftly to the right and left with the instinct of
+a trapped animal seeking an avenue of escape. Then his eyes returned to
+the detective's face with the resigned glance of a man who had made up
+his mind.
+
+"I will come down with you," he said. "Peggy, you must look after your
+grandmother till I return."
+
+The girl went back into the room and shut the door behind her, without a
+word or a glance. Once more Colwyn felt admiration for her as a rare
+type of woman-hood. Truly, she had self-control, this girl.
+
+He and the innkeeper took their way along the passages and descended the
+stairs without exchanging a word. When they got to the foot of the
+stairs Benson half hesitated, and turned to Colwyn as if for direction.
+The latter nodded towards the door of the bar parlour, and motioned the
+innkeeper to enter. Following closely behind, he saw the innkeeper start
+with surprise at the sight of the two inmates of the room. Mr. Cromering
+was seated at the table, but Superintendent Galloway was standing up
+with his back to the fireplace. There was a moment's tense silence
+before the latter spoke.
+
+"We have sent for you to ask you a few questions, Benson."
+
+"I was under the impression--that is, I was led to believe--that it was
+Mr. Colwyn who wanted to see me."
+
+"Never mind what you thought," retorted Galloway impatiently. "You know
+perfectly well what has brought us here. I'm going to ask you some
+questions about the murder which was committed in this inn less than
+three weeks ago."
+
+"I know nothing about it, sir, beyond what I told you before."
+
+"You will be well advised, in your own interests, not to lie, Benson.
+Why did you not tell us you had a second key to Mr. Glenthorpe's room?"
+
+There was a perceptible pause before the reply came.
+
+"I didn't think it mattered, sir."
+
+"Then you admit you have a second key?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Very well." Superintendent Galloway took out a pocket-book and made a
+note of the reply. "Now, where did you conceal the money?"
+
+"What money, sir?"
+
+"Don't equivocate, man!" Superintendent Galloway produced the
+pocket-book Colwyn had recovered from the pit, and held it at arm's
+length in front of the innkeeper. "I mean the L300 in Treasury notes in
+this pocket-book, which Mr. Glenthorpe drew from the bank, and which you
+took from his room the night he was murdered."
+
+"I know nothing about it."
+
+To Colwyn at least it seemed that the expression on the innkeeper's face
+as he glanced at the pocket-book might have been mistaken by an
+unprejudiced observer for genuine surprise.
+
+"I suppose you never saw it before, eh?" sneered Galloway.
+
+"I never did."
+
+"Nor hid it in the pit?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+Galloway paused in his questioning in secret perplexity. Benson's
+answers to his last three questions were given so firmly and
+unhesitatingly that some of his former doubts of Colwyn's theory
+returned to him with redoubled force. But it was in his most truculent
+and overbearing manner that he next remarked:
+
+"Do you also deny that you carried Mr. Glenthorpe's body from his room
+and threw it down the pit?"
+
+The spasm of sudden terror which contorted the innkeeper's face was a
+revelation to the three men who were watching him closely.
+
+"I don't know anything about it," he quavered weakly.
+
+"That won't go down, Benson!" Galloway was quick to follow up his
+stroke, shaking his head fiercely, like a dog worrying a rat. "You were
+seen carrying the body downstairs, the night of the murder. You might as
+well own up to it, first as last. Lies will not help you. We know too
+much for you to wriggle out of it. And never mind smoothing your hair
+down like that. We know all about that scar on your forehead, and how
+you got it."
+
+A wooden clock, standing on the mantelpiece, measured off half a minute
+in heavy ticks. Then the innkeeper, in a voice which was little more
+than a whisper, spoke:
+
+"It is true. I carried the body downstairs."
+
+"Why did you not tell us this before?"
+
+"It would not have made any difference."
+
+"What!" Superintendent Galloway's indignation and amazement threatened
+to choke his utterance. "You keep silence till an innocent man is almost
+hanged for your misdeeds, and now have the brazen effrontery to say it
+makes no difference."
+
+"Is Mr. Penreath innocent?"
+
+"Nobody should know that better than you."
+
+"Then who murdered Mr. Glenthorpe?"
+
+"Let us have no more of this fooling, Benson." Superintendent Galloway's
+voice was very stern. "You have already admitted that you carried Mr.
+Glenthorpe's body downstairs."
+
+"Oh!" The wretched man cried out wildly, like one who sees an engulfing
+wave too late. "I see what you mean--you think I murdered him. But I did
+not--I did not! Before God I am innocent." His voice rang out loudly.
+
+"We don't want to listen to this talk," interrupted Galloway roughly.
+"You are under arrest, Benson, for complicity in this murder, and the
+less you say the better for yourself."
+
+"But I tell you I am innocent." The innkeeper brought his skeleton hands
+together in a gesture which was almost tragic in its despair. "I carried
+the body downstairs, but I did not murder him. Let me explain. Let me
+tell you----"
+
+"My advice to you is to keep silence, man. Keep your story for the
+trial," replied the police official. "You'd better get ready to go to
+Heathfield with me. I'll go upstairs with you, and give you five minutes
+to get ready."
+
+"Let him tell his story before you take him away, Galloway," said
+Colwyn, who had been keenly watching the innkeeper's face during the
+dialogue between him and his accuser. "I want to hear it."
+
+"I do not see what good it will do," grumbled Superintendent Galloway.
+"However, as you want to hear it, let him go ahead. But let me first
+warn you, Benson, that anything you say now may be used in evidence
+against you afterwards."
+
+"I do not care for that--I am not afraid of the truth being known,"
+replied the innkeeper. He turned from the uncompromising face of the
+police officer to Colwyn, as though he divined in him a more
+unprejudiced listener. "I did not murder Mr. Glenthorpe, but I went to
+his room with the intention of robbing him the night he was murdered,"
+he commenced. "I was in desperate straits for money. The brewer had
+threatened to turn me out of the inn because I couldn't pay my way. I
+knew Mr. Glenthorpe had taken money out of the bank that morning, and in
+an evil moment temptation overcame me, and I determined to rob him. I
+told myself that he was a wealthy man and would never feel the loss of
+the money, but if I was turned out of the inn my daughter and my old
+mother would starve.
+
+"My plan was to go to his room after everybody was asleep, let myself in
+with my key, and secure the pocket-book containing the money. I knew
+that Mr. Glenthorpe was a sound sleeper, and I was aware that he
+generally locked his door and slept with the key under his pillow.
+
+"I went to my room early that night, and waited a long time before
+making the attempt. It came on to rain about eleven o'clock, and I
+waited some time longer before leaving my room. I walked in my stocking
+feet, so as to make no sound, and I carried a candle, but it was not
+lighted. When I got to the door I stood and listened awhile outside,
+thinking I might judge by Mr. Glenthorpe's breathing whether he was
+asleep, but I could hear nothing. I unlocked the door quietly, and felt
+my way towards the bed in the dark, hoping to find his coat and the
+money in it without running the risk of striking a light.
+
+"But I could not lay my hands on the coat in the dark, so I struck a
+match to light the candle. I had made up my mind that if Mr. Glenthorpe
+should wake up and see me at his bedside I would tell him the truth and
+ask him to lend me some money.
+
+"By the light of the candle I saw Mr. Glenthorpe lying on his back, with
+his arms thrown out from his body. He was uncovered, and the bed-clothes
+were lying in a tumbled heap at the foot of the bed. I stood looking at
+him for a minute, not knowing what to do. I did not realise at the time
+that he was dead, because the wind blowing in at the open window caused
+the candle to flicker, and I could not see very clearly. I thought he
+must be in a fit, and I wondered what I could do to help him. As the
+candle still kept flickering in the wind, I picked up the candlestick
+and walked to the gas-jet in the centre of the room, turned on the tap
+and tried to light it with the candle. It would not light, and then I
+remembered that I had told Ann to turn it off at the meter before going
+to bed. I walked back to the bedside, put the candle down on the table,
+and had a closer look at Mr. Glenthorpe. As he was still in the same
+attitude I put my hand on his heart to see if it was beating. I felt
+something warm and wet, and when I drew back my hand I saw that it was
+covered with blood.
+
+"When I realised that he was dead--murdered--I lost my nerve and rushed
+from the room, leaving the candle burning at the bedside. My one thought
+was to get downstairs and wash the blood off my hand. It was not until I
+had reached the kitchen that I remembered that I had left the candle
+burning upstairs. I considered whether I should return for it at once or
+wash my hands first. I decided on the latter course, and went into the
+kitchen.
+
+"I had just lit a candle, when I heard a door open behind me, and,
+turning round, I saw Charles coming out of his room in his shirt and
+trousers, with a candle in his hand. He said he had seen the light under
+his door, and wondering who had come into the kitchen had got up to see.
+Then his face changed when he saw my hands, and he asked me how the
+blood came to be on them.
+
+"I tried to put him off at first by telling him I had knocked my hand
+upstairs. He didn't say any more, but stood there watching me wash my
+hands, and when I had finished he said that if I was going upstairs he
+would come with me, as he remembered he had left his corkscrew in Mr.
+Glenthorpe's sitting room, and would want it in the morning.
+
+"I could see that he suspected me, and that if he went upstairs he would
+see the light burning in Mr. Glenthorpe's bedroom, and might go in. So,
+in desperation, I confessed to him that I had gone into Mr. Glenthorpe's
+room, and found him dead. I asked Charles what I should do. He heard me
+very quietly, but when he learnt that I had left my candle burning in
+Mr. Glenthorpe's room he said the first thing was to go and get that,
+and then we could discuss what had better be done.
+
+"I realised that was good advice, and went upstairs to get the
+candlestick. But when I got to the door I was amazed to find the room in
+darkness. The door was on the jar, just as I remembered leaving it, but
+there was not a glimmer of light. I was in a terrible fright, but as I
+stood there in the dark, listening intently, the sound of the wind
+roaring round the house reminded me how the candle had flickered in the
+wind while I was in the room before, and I concluded that it must have
+blown out the light. So I went into the room, feeling my way along the
+walls with my hands. When I got near the bed I struck a match and looked
+for the candlestick. But it was gone.
+
+"Then I knew somebody had been in the room, and I made my way downstairs
+again as fast as I could, and told Charles, and asked him what he
+thought of it. Charles said it was clear that the murderer, whoever he
+was, had revisited the room since I had been there, and finding the
+candle, had carried it off with him. I asked Charles for what purpose?
+Charles turned it over in his mind for a moment, and then said that it
+seemed to him that he might have done it to secure himself, in case he
+was caught, by being able to prove that somebody else had been in Mr.
+Glenthorpe's room that night.
+
+"I saw the force of that and was greatly alarmed, and asked Charles what
+he thought I had better do. Charles, after thinking it over for a while,
+said in my own interests I would be well advised if I carried the body
+away and concealed it somewhere where it was not likely to be found. He
+pointed out that if the facts came to light it would be very awkward for
+me. On my own admission I had gone into Mr. Glenthorpe's room in the
+middle of the night, and had come away leaving him dead in bed, with his
+blood on my hands, and my bedroom candlestick alight at his bedside.
+Charles pointed out that these facts were sure to come to light if the
+body was left where it was, but if the body was removed and safely
+hidden, it might be thought that Mr. Glenthorpe had simply disappeared.
+
+"I was struck by the force of these arguments, and we next discussed
+where the body should be hidden. We both thought of the pit, but I
+didn't like that idea at first because I thought the police would be
+sure to search the pit when they learnt of Mr. Glenthorpe's
+disappearance, because his excavations were near the pit. Charles, on
+the other hand, thought it was the safest place--much safer than the
+sea, which was sure to cast up the body. He said it would never occur to
+the police to search the pit, until the body had lain there so long that
+it would be impossible to say how he came by his death. Perhaps it would
+never be searched, in which case the body would never be recovered.
+
+"We decided on the pit, and Charles said he would keep watch downstairs
+while I went up and got the body. But first I went and opened the back
+door and went to the side of the inn to see if anybody was about. The
+rain had ceased, it was a dark and stormy night, and everybody long
+since gone to bed. The rough stones outside cut my feet, and recalled to
+my mind that I was without boots. I knew I could not carry the body all
+the way up the rise without boots, and I was about to go to my room to
+get them when I remembered that I had seen Penreath's boots outside his
+bedroom door. I decided to wear them and avoid the risk of going back to
+my room for my own boots. I have a small foot, and I had no doubt that
+they would fit me.
+
+"Charles suggested that I should go into the room in the dark, so as to
+lessen the risk of being seen, and light the candle when I got inside. I
+took the candle, but I said I would turn on the gas at the meter, in
+case the wind blew out the candle. I will keep nothing back now. The
+real reason was that I wanted the better light to make quite sure if the
+money was gone. I thought perhaps the murderer might have overlooked it,
+and I hoped to find it because I needed it so badly. When I got upstairs
+I stopped outside Mr. Penreath's room, picked up his boots, and put them
+on. I went into the room in the dark, intending to strike a match, and
+light the gas, and search for the money. I miscalculated the distance,
+and bumped into the gas globe in the dark, cutting my head badly. When I
+struck a match I found that I couldn't light the gas because the
+incandescent burner had been broken by the blow, so I lit the candle.
+
+"I shuddered at the ordeal of carrying the body downstairs, and only
+nerved myself to the task by reflecting on the risk to myself if I
+allowed it to remain where it was. As I stood by the bedside, I noticed
+Mr. Glenthorpe's key of the room lying by the pillow, and I picked it up
+and put it in my pocket. I then lifted the body on my shoulders, carried
+it downstairs, steadying it with one hand, and carrying the candle in
+the other. Charles was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs, and
+he took the candle from me and lighted me to the back door.
+
+"A late moon was just beginning to show above the horizon when I got
+outside, and by its light I had no difficulty in finding my way up the
+rise and to the pit. It was a terrible task, and I was glad when I had
+accomplished it. I returned to the back door, where Charles was awaiting
+me. We then fastened the back door, and he went to his room off the
+kitchen, and I went upstairs to my room. As I passed Mr. Glenthorpe's
+room I saw the door was open, and I pulled it quickly to, but I forgot
+to take out the key I had left in the door when I first entered the
+room.
+
+"I remembered the key in the morning when Ann told me Mr. Glenthorpe's
+room was empty, but I dared not remove it then because I knew Ann must
+have seen it. And later on, when you were questioning me about the key
+in the door, I was afraid to tell you about the second key, because I
+knew you would question me.
+
+"When I learnt from Ann that Mr. Penreath had left early in the morning,
+and wouldn't stay for breakfast, I felt sure it was he who had committed
+the murder. It was a little later that Charles took me aside in the bar
+and told me that he had walked up to the rise early that morning to see
+if everything was all right, and that I had left traces of my footprints
+across the clay to the mouth of the pit. I was very much upset when I
+heard this, for I knew the body was sure to be found. But Charles said
+that, as things turned out, it was a very lucky accident.
+
+"Charles said there was no doubt Mr. Penreath was the murderer. He had
+not only cleared out, but the knife he had used at dinner had
+disappeared. Charles said he had not missed the knife the night before,
+but he had discovered the loss when counting the cutlery that morning.
+If the police found out that it was his boots which made the prints
+leading to the pit it would only be another point against him, and as he
+was sure to be hanged in any case the best thing I could do was to go
+and inform Constable Queensmead of Mr. Glenthorpe's disappearance and
+Mr. Penreath's departure, but to keep silence about my own share in
+carrying the body to the pit. Even if the murderer denied removing the
+body nobody would believe him. I thought the advice good, and I followed
+it. I don't know whether I could have kept it up if I had been
+cross-questioned, but from first to last nobody seemed to have the least
+suspicion of me. The only time I was really afraid was when one of you
+gentlemen asked me about the key in the outside of the door, but you
+passed it over and went on to something else.
+
+"And now you know the whole truth. But I should like to say that I kept
+silence about carrying the body away because I didn't think I was
+injuring anybody. I believed Mr. Penreath to be guilty. Now you tell me
+he is innocent. If I had had any idea of that I would have told the
+truth at once, even though you had hanged me for it."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+
+"You're a nice scoundrel, Benson," said Superintendent Galloway, nodding
+his head at the innkeeper with a kind of ferocious banter. "You're
+really a first-class villain, upon my soul! But this precious story with
+which you've tried to bamboozle us is not complete. Would it be putting
+too much strain on your inventive faculties to ask you, while you are
+about it, to give us your version of how the money which was stolen from
+Mr. Glenthorpe came to be hidden in the pit in which you flung his
+body?"
+
+"But I didn't know the money was hidden in the pit," said the wretched
+man, glancing uneasily at the pocket-book, which was still lying on the
+table. "I never saw the money, though I've confessed to you that I would
+have taken it if I had seen it. That's the truth, sir--every word I've
+told you to-night is true! Charles will bear me out."
+
+"I've no doubt he will. I'll have something to say to that scoundrel
+later on. There's a pair of you. I've no doubt he caught you in the act
+of carrying away the body of your victim, and that you bribed him to
+keep silence. You planned together to let an innocent man go to the
+gallows in order to save your own skin. Now, my man----"
+
+"Wait a moment, Galloway."
+
+It was Colwyn who spoke. The innkeeper's story had been to him like a
+finger of light in a murky depth, revealing unseen and unimagined
+abominations, but supplying him with those missing pieces of the puzzle
+for which he had long and vainly searched. During the brief colloquy
+between Galloway and the innkeeper his brain had been busy fitting
+together the whole intricate design of knavery.
+
+"I want to ask a question," he continued, in answer to the other's
+glance of inquiry. "What time was it you went to Mr. Glenthorpe's
+room--the first time I mean, Benson. Can you fix it definitely?"
+
+"Yes, sir. I kept looking at my watch in my room, waiting for the time
+to pass. It was twenty past eleven the last time I looked, and I left my
+room about five minutes later."
+
+"Was it raining then?"
+
+"Yes, sir, but not so hard as previously, and it stopped altogether
+before I entered the room, though the wind was blowing."
+
+"That is as I thought. Benson's story is true, Galloway."
+
+"What!" The police officer's vociferous exclamation was in striking
+contrast to the detective's quiet tones. "How do you make that out?"
+
+"He couldn't have committed the murder. Mr. Glenthorpe was killed during
+the storm, between eleven and half-past. Benson says he didn't enter the
+room till nearly half-past eleven."
+
+"If that's all you're going on----"
+
+"It isn't." There was a trace of irritation in the detective's voice.
+"But Benson's story fills in the gaps of my reconstruction in a
+remarkable way--so completely, that he couldn't have invented it to save
+his life, because he does not know all we know. In this extraordinarily
+complicated case the times are everything. My original theory was right.
+There were two persons in the room the night of the murder--three,
+really, but Peggy doesn't affect the reconstruction one way or the
+other. The murderer, who carried an umbrella to shield himself from the
+rain, entered the room about twenty past eleven. He murdered Mr.
+Glenthorpe, took the money, and escaped the same way he entered--by the
+window. Benson entered by the door at half-past eleven, certainly not
+later, and after standing at the bedside for two or three minutes,
+rushed downstairs, as he related, leaving his candle burning at the
+bedside. During his absence downstairs his daughter entered the room.
+Benson returned for the candle and found it gone. Had he returned a
+minute or two earlier he would have seen his daughter carrying it away,
+because in her story to me she said she thought she heard somebody
+creeping up the stairs as she left the room. I thought at the time that
+she imagined this, but now I have very little doubt that it was her
+father she heard, going upstairs again to get the candle. Finally,
+Benson, after planning it with Charles, removed the body to the pit some
+time after midnight."
+
+"This is mere guess-work. Let us stick to facts. On Benson's own
+confession he entered the room nefariously and removed the dead man's
+body."
+
+"Yes, but it was a dead body when he got there--just dead. Mr.
+Glenthorpe was alive and well not ten minutes before."
+
+"Oh, come, Mr. Colwyn, this is going too far," Galloway expostulated.
+"Again, I say, let us have no guess-work."
+
+"This is not guess-work. There can be no doubt that the murderer left
+the room by the window just before Benson entered it by the door."
+
+"How do you know that?" asked Galloway.
+
+"_Because he was watching Benson from the window._"
+
+Galloway looked startled.
+
+"You go too deep for me," he said. "Was it Penreath who got out of the
+window?"
+
+"No, Penreath, like Benson, was the victim of a deep and subtle
+villain."
+
+"Then who was it?"
+
+Before Colwyn could reply a shriek rang out--a single hoarse and
+horrible cry, which went reverberating and echoing over the marshes,
+rising to a piercing intensity at its highest note, and then ceasing
+suddenly. In the hush that ensued the chief constable looked nervously
+at Colwyn.
+
+"It came from the rise," he said in a voice barely raised above a
+whisper. "Do you think----"
+
+Colwyn read the unspoken thought in his mind.
+
+"I'll go and see what it was," he said briefly.
+
+He opened the door and went out. In the passage he encountered Ann
+shaking and trembling, with a face blanched with terror.
+
+"It came from the pit, sir--the Shrieking Pit," she whispered. "It's the
+White Lady. Don't leave me, I'm like to drop. God a' mercy, what's
+that?" she cried, finding her voice in a fresh access of terror as a
+heavy knock smote the door. "For God's sake, don't 'ee go, sir, don't
+'ee go, as you value your life. It's the White Lady at the door, come to
+take her toll again from this unhappy house. You be mad to face her,
+sir--it's certain death."
+
+But Colwyn loosened himself quickly from her detaining grasp, and strode
+to the door. As he passed the bar he caught a glimpse of a ring of
+cowering frightened faces within, huddled together like sheep, and
+staring with saucer eyes. The mist spanned the doorway like a sheet.
+
+"Who's there?" he cried.
+
+"It's me, sir." Constable Queensmead stepped out of the mist into the
+passage, looking white and shaken. "Something's happened up at the pit.
+While I was watching from the corner of the wood I saw somebody appear
+out of the mist and come creeping up the rise towards the pit. I waited
+till he got to the brink, and when he made to climb down, I knew he was
+the man you were after, so I went over to the pit. He had disappeared
+inside, but I could hear the creepers rustling as he went down. After a
+bit, I heard him coming up again, tugging and straining at the creepers,
+and gasping for breath. When he was fairly out, I turned my torch on him
+and told him to stand still. It is difficult to say exactly how it
+happened, sir, but when he saw he was trapped he made a kind of spring
+backwards, slipped on the wet clay, lost his balance, and fell back into
+the pit. I sprang forward and tried to save him, but it was too late. He
+caught at the creepers as he fell, hung for a second, then fell back
+with a loud cry."
+
+"Who was it, Queensmead?"
+
+"Charles, the waiter, sir."
+
+"We must get him out at once," said Colwyn. "We shall need a rope and
+some men. Can you get some ropes, Queensmead? There's some men in the
+bar--we'll get them to help.
+
+"I don't think they're likely to come, sir. They're all too frightened
+of the Shrieking Pit, and the ghost."
+
+"I'll go and talk to them. Meanwhile, you go and get ropes."
+
+Colwyn returned to the bar parlour and, after explaining to Mr.
+Cromering and Galloway what had happened, went into the bar.
+
+"Men," said Colwyn, "Charles has fallen into the pit on the rise, and I
+need the help of some of you to get him out. Queensmead has gone for
+ropes. Who will come with me?"
+
+There was no response. The villagers looked at each other in silence,
+and moved uneasily. Then a man in jersey and sea-boots spoke:
+
+"None of us dare go up to th' pit, ma'aster."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Life be sweet, ma'aster. It be a suddint and bloody end to meet th'
+White Lady of th' pit. Luke what's happened to Charles, who went out of
+this bar not ten minutes agone! Who knows who she may take next?"
+
+"Very well, then stay where you are. You are a lot of cowards," said
+Colwyn, turning away.
+
+The faces of the men showed that the epithet rankled, as Colwyn intended
+that it should. There was a brief pause, and then another fisherman
+stepped forward and said:
+
+"I'm a Norfolk man, and nobbut agoin' to say I'm afeered. I'll go wi'
+yow, ma'aster."
+
+"If yower game, Tom, I'll go too," said another.
+
+By the time Queensmead returned with the ropes there was no lack of
+willing helpers, and the party immediately set forth. When they arrived
+at the pit Colwyn said that it would be best for two men to descend by
+separate ropes, so as to be able to carry Charles to the surface in a
+blanket if he were injured, and not killed. Colwyn had brought a blanket
+from the inn for the purpose.
+
+"I'll go down, for one," said the seaman who had acted as spokesman in
+the bar. "I'm used to tying knots and slinging a hammock, so maybe I
+can make it a bit easier for the poor chap if he's not killed outright."
+
+"And I'll go with you," said Colwyn.
+
+Mr. Cromering drew the detective aside.
+
+"My good friend," he said, "do you think it is wise for you to descend?
+This man Charles, if he is still alive, may be actuated by feelings of
+revenge towards you, and seek to do you an injury."
+
+"I am not afraid of that," returned Colwyn. "I laid the trap for him,
+and it is my duty to go down and bring him up."
+
+Colwyn left the chief constable and returned to the pit. The next moment
+he and the seaman commenced the descent. They carried electric torches,
+and took with them a blanket and a third rope. They were carefully
+lowered until the torches they carried twinkled more faintly, and
+finally vanished in the gloom. A little while afterwards the strain on
+the ropes slackened. The rescuers had reached the bottom of the pit. A
+period of waiting ensued for those on top, until a jerk of the ropes
+indicated the signal for drawing up again. The men on the surface pulled
+steadily. Soon the torches were once more visible down the pit, and then
+the lanterns on the surface revealed Colwyn and the fisherman,
+supporting between them a limp bundle wrapped in the blanket, and tied
+to the third rope. As they reached the air they were helped out, and the
+burden they carried was laid on the ground near the mouth of the pit.
+The blanket fell away, exposing the face of Charles, waxen and still in
+the rays of the light which fell upon it.
+
+"Dead?" whispered Mr. Cromering.
+
+"Dying," returned Colwyn. "His back is broken."
+
+The dying man unclosed his eyelids, and his dark eyes, keen and
+brilliant as ever, roved restlessly over the group who were standing
+around him. They rested on Colwyn, and he lifted a feeble hand and
+beckoned to him. The detective knelt beside him, and rested his head on
+his arm. The white lips formed one word:
+
+"Closer."
+
+Colwyn bent his head nearer, and those standing by could see the dying
+man whispering into the detective's ear. He spoke with an effort for
+some minutes, and hurriedly, like one who knew that his time was short.
+Then he stopped suddenly, and his head fell back grotesquely, like a
+broken doll's. Colwyn felt his heart, and rose to his feet.
+
+"He is dead," he said.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+
+"There are several things that I do not understand," said Superintendent
+Galloway to Colwyn a little later. "How were you able to decide so
+quickly that Benson had told the truth when he declared that he had not
+committed the murder, after he had made the damning admission that he
+had removed the body?"
+
+"Partly because it was extremely unlikely that Benson could have
+invented a story which fitted so nicely with the facts. The slightest
+mistake in his times would have proved him to be a liar. But I had more
+than that to go upon. I said this afternoon that my reconstruction was
+not wholly satisfactory, because there were several loose ends in it. At
+that time I believed he was the murderer, and I was anxious to frighten
+the truth out of him in order to see where my reconstruction was at
+fault. His story proved that my original conception of the crime was the
+correct one, and my mistake was in departing from it, and ignoring some
+of my original clues in order to square the new facts with a fresh
+theory. I should never have lost sight of my first conviction that there
+were two persons in Mr. Glenthorpe's room the night he was murdered.
+
+"When Benson told his story I asked myself, Could Charles' conduct be
+dictated by the desire to have a hold over Benson--with a view to
+blackmail later on? But he was not likely to risk his own neck by
+becoming an accomplice in the concealment of the murdered man's body!
+Charles, if he were innocent himself, must have thought that Benson was
+the murderer. It was impossible that he could have come to any other
+conclusion. He discovers a man washing blood off his hands at midnight,
+and this man admits to him that he has just come from a room which he
+had no right to enter, and found a dead man there. Why had Charles
+believed--or pretended to believe--Benson's story?
+
+"It came to me suddenly, with the recollection of the line under the
+murdered man's window--one of the clues which I had discarded--and the
+whole of this baffling sinister mystery became clear in my mind. The
+murder was committed by Charles, who got out of the window by which he
+had entered just before Benson came into the room. Charles saw a light
+in the room he had left, and returned to the window to investigate.
+Crouching outside the window, he saw Benson in the room, examining the
+body, and it came into his mind as he watched that his employer had
+conceived the same idea as himself--had seized on the presence of a
+stranger staying at the inn in order to rob Mr. Glenthorpe, hoping that
+the crime would be attributed to the man who slept in the next room.
+Charles was quick to see how Benson's presence in the room might be
+turned to his own advantage. Charles had taken precautions, in
+committing the murder, to leave clues in the room which should direct
+suspicion to Penreath, but the innkeeper's visit to the room suggested
+to him an even better plan for securing his own safety. When Benson left
+the room Charles got through the window again, and followed him
+downstairs.
+
+"Charles' story, told to me when he was dying, filled in the gaps which
+I have omitted. He said that he watched the whole of Benson's movements
+from the window. He saw him searching for the money, saw him feel the
+body, and saw the blood on his hands. When Benson turned to leave the
+room he forgot the candle, and it was then that the idea of following
+him leapt into Charles' mind. He divined that Benson would go downstairs
+and wash the blood off his hands. Charles' idea was to go after him and
+surprise him in the act. He followed him swiftly, and was never more
+than a few feet behind. While Benson was striking a match and lighting
+the kitchen candle Charles slipped into his own room, lit his own
+candle, and then emerged from his door as though he had been disturbed
+in his sleep. The rest of his plan was easily carried out through the
+fears of Benson, who agreed, in his own interests, to conceal the body
+of the man whom the other had murdered.
+
+"The clue by which Penreath was virtually convicted--the track of
+bootmarks to the pit--was an accidental one so far as Charles was
+concerned. It is strange to think that Chance, which removed the clues
+Charles deliberately placed in the room, should have achieved Charles'
+aim by directing suspicion to Penreath in a different, yet more
+convincing manner.
+
+"The murderer's revelation clears up those points which I was unable to
+settle this afternoon. He entered Mr. Glenthorpe's room during the
+heaviest part of the storm. He carried a box, under his arm, because he
+was too short to get into the window without something to stand on, he
+shielded himself from the rain with an umbrella, which got caught on the
+nail by the window, and he lit a tallow candle which he had brought from
+the bar.
+
+"Another clue, which I originally discovered and laid aside, is also
+explained. The wound in Mr. Glenthorpe's body struck me as an unusual
+one. You heard Sir Henry Durwood say, in answer to my questions, that
+the blow was a slanting one, struck from the left side, entering almost
+parallel with the ribs, yet piercing the heart on the right side. The
+manner in which Mr. Glenthorpe's arms were thrown out, his legs drawn
+up, proved that he was lying on his back when murdered. For that reason,
+the direction of the blow suggested Charles as the murderer."
+
+"I am afraid I do not follow you there," said Mr. Cromering.
+
+"Charles had a malformed right hand; his left hand was his only
+serviceable one. The blow that killed Mr. Glenthorpe struck me at the
+time as a left-handed blow. The natural direction of a right-handed
+blow, with the body in such a position, would be from right to left--not
+from left to right. But, after considering this point carefully, I came
+to the conclusion that the blow might have been struck by a right-handed
+man. I was wrong."
+
+"I do not think you have much cause to blame yourself," said the chief
+constable. "You were right in your original conception of the crime, and
+right in your later reconstruction in every particular except----"
+
+"Except that I picked the wrong man," said Colwyn, with a slightly
+bitter laugh. "My consolation is that Benson's confession brought the
+truth to light, as I expected it would."
+
+"It took you to see the truth," said Galloway. "I should never have
+picked it. I suppose there has never been a case like it."
+
+"There is nothing new--not even in the annals of crime," returned
+Colwyn. "But this was certainly a baffling and unusual case. The
+murderer was such a deep and subtle scoundrel that I feel a respect for
+his intelligence, perverted though it was. His master stroke was the
+disposal of the body. That shielded him from suspicion as completely as
+an alibi. I put aside my first suspicion of him largely because I
+realised that it was impossible for a man with a deformed arm to carry
+away the body. Such a sardonic situation as a murderer persuading
+another man that he was likely to be suspected of the murder unless he
+removed the body was one that never occurred to me. That, at all events,
+is something new in my experience."
+
+"It is a wonder that Charles, with his deformed arm, was able to go down
+the pit and conceal the money," said the chief constable.
+
+"He did not go down very far. It is not a difficult matter to climb down
+the creepers inside with the support of one hand, and he was able to use
+the other sufficiently to thrust the small peg into the soft earth. He
+first hid the money in the breakwater wall, being too careful and clever
+to hide it in the pit until after the inquest. When he had concealed it
+in the pit he revived the story of the White Lady of the Shrieking Pit
+so as to keep the credulous villagers away from the spot. He need not
+have taken that precaution, because the hiding place was an excellent
+one, and it was only by chance that I discovered the money when I
+descended the pit. But he left nothing to chance. The use of the
+umbrella on the night of the murder proves that. Murderers do not
+usually carry umbrellas, but he did, because he feared that if his
+clothes got wet they might be seen in his room the following day, and
+direct suspicion to him. He chose to commit the crime when the storm was
+at its height because he thought he was safest from the likelihood of
+discovery then.
+
+"The callous scoundrel told me with his last breath that he was waiting
+until Penreath was safely hanged before disappearing with the money.
+When he opened the door to us to-night, he knew that he was at the end
+of his tether, and he decided to try to bolt. He realised that Benson
+would tell the truth when he was questioned and, although the
+innkeeper's story did not implicate him directly, he did our common
+intelligence the justice to believe that, through his dupe's confession,
+we should arrive at the truth."
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Shrieking Pit, by Arthur J. Rees
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