‘It would be a kindness, Mr Innes, if you would tell me just what happened on that night.’
The valet started, and an uneasy expression passed over his face. Neither were lost on the Inspector.
‘I don’t know of anything special,’ Innes answered. ‘Just what are you getting at?’
The Inspector bluffed again.
‘Mr Austin was upset too? Come now, Mr Innes, you’ll agree to that, surely?’
‘Well, he may have been a bit.’
‘Was that when he was going or on arrival and departure both?’
‘He seemed a bit absent-minded when he was going, but, Lord! Mr Tanner, what’s that? He may have been feeling a bit seedy, or had a headache, or half a dozen things.’
The man seemed nervous and ill at ease. More strongly than ever Inspector Tanner felt there was more to come. He racked his brains to guess what might have happened, and to frame leading questions. Suddenly an idea occurred to him. He bent forward and tapped the valet on the knee.
‘Now, Mr Innes, about the trouble they had that night. You might tell me what you know.’
The valet gave his questioner a sour look.
‘I suppose Parkes told you about that,’ he grumbled, ‘but I think he might have kept his mouth shut. It’s no business of yours, or mine either.’
‘Tell me anyway.’
‘I heard them in the study. Their voices were raised, and that’s all there’s of it.’
‘And what did they say?’
‘I only heard a word or two. I didn’t wait to listen.’
‘Of course not, Mr Innes. But people can’t help overhearing things. What was it you heard?’
The valet seemed to be considering his answer. At last he replied:
‘I heard Mr Austin say, “My God, sir, she’s not.” That’s every blessed word, so now you know it all.’
His manner had altered, and Tanner felt this was the truth.
So the father and son had been quarrelling that Sunday evening about a woman! That was a suggestive fact, and it was evident from his hesitation that Innes thought so too. Then Tanner remembered that Austin had told him it was on the previous day that he had proposed to Miss Lois Drew, and been accepted. Could he have been telling Sir William, and could the latter have objected to the match? He continued his questions.
‘Thank you, Mr Innes. I’m sorry to be such a nuisance. But I don’t see that it helps us very much after all. Now about Sir William’s visits to town. Can you give me any hint of his business there?’
‘No.’
‘You’ve been up with him, I suppose?’
‘Lord, yes. Scores of times.’
‘Where does he usually lunch?’
‘Sometimes the Savoy, but usually at one of his clubs, the St George or the Empire.’
‘I have done at last, Mr Innes. Could you just tell me in conclusion the trains Sir William travelled up and down by on Saturday and Monday, and also how he was dressed on each occasion?’
The deceased gentleman, it appeared, had gone by the same train on each occasion, the 10.55 from Halford. He had motored to the station direct on the Saturday, but on the Monday had on his way made a call at the local branch of the Midland Counties Bank. On Saturday, he had returned comparatively early, but on Monday he had not reached home till close on dinner time.
Having received this information, the Inspector expressed his indebtedness to the other’s forbearance and good nature. Innes, who had seemed rather ruffled by the catechism, was mollified.
‘I’m afraid,’ Tanner went on, ‘I shall have to have a look over Sir William’s papers, but not now. I’ll come on Sunday, and take a long quiet day at it. Now I wonder could I see Mr Smith, your boatman?’
‘Why, certainly. Let’s see; it’s quarter-past one. He’ll be at his dinner. I’ll show you his house if you come along.’
They went to a trim, clematis-covered cottage at the back of the yard, and there found the boatman-gardener. Tanner questioned him in detail, but without learning anything fresh.
On his return to Halford for lunch Tanner telephoned to Scotland Yard for assistance, and it was arranged that Detective-Sergeant Longwell should be sent down by the first train. The Inspector met him on his arrival, and explained what he wanted done, showing him the casts of the fifth man’s footsteps.
‘I want you,’ he said ‘to find the man who made those tracks. You need not mind about the Manor people, I shall attend to them. Get round the country, and make inquiries in the neighbouring towns and villages. Particularly work the railway stations and garages. The man will be small, and of the working classes in all probability, and he will certainly have had very wet and muddy boots and trousers on account of walking through the stream. It’s not conclusive, but the fact that he missed the stepping-stones by so great a distance, points to his being a stranger to the locality. But in any case he shouldn’t be hard to trace. Keep in touch with me through the Halford police station.’
That afternoon and the next morning the Inspector saw all the other servants at Luce Manor, both indoor and out, but here again without result. In the case of the men he took prints from their boots to compare with those he had found on the river bank. This was a tedious operation, involving troublesome explanations and reassurances, but at last it was done, and Tanner was able to say with certainty that three of the four men who had walked together were the butler, the valet, and the gardener, while the tracks of the fifth man, who had stood in the boathouse, were not made by anyone belonging to the estate. It was probable, therefore, that this fifth man was concerned in the tragedy, and Tanner was glad he had lost no time in setting Sergeant Longwell to work to trace him.
In the afternoon the Inspector called at Austin’s villa, and interviewed first Lady Ponson, and secondly Enid. Apologising courteously for his intrusion, he questioned both ladies on all the points about which he was in doubt, but once more without gaining any fresh information. Both had noticed Sir William had not been quite up to his usual form for a few days before their departure for London, but both had put it down to some trifling physical indisposition, and neither could throw light on any possible cause of worry to him. Asked if he had an enemy who might have been giving him annoyance, they emphatically negatived the suggestion, saying that as far as they knew Sir William had been universally beloved. As they had been in London on the night in question, they of course knew nothing of the actual details of the tragedy.
Inspector Tanner was sure from the bearing and manner of both ladies that they were telling him the absolute truth, and really were ignorant of anything which might have been at the bottom of the affair. They clearly were terribly shocked and distressed, and he made his interview as short as possible.
The next day was Sunday, and, as he had mentioned to the valet, Tanner determined to spend it in going over the late Sir William’s papers. He brought the sergeant out to help him, and they were soon settled in the library, immersed in their work. Tanner, seated at the big roll top desk, went through paper after paper, while the sergeant, with the keys found on the body, unlocked drawers and carried their contents to the desk for his superior’s inspection. The work was tedious, but they kept hard at it, and when after some time Parkes came into the room, they found with surprise that it was nearly two o’clock.
‘What about a bite of lunch, gentlemen?’ the butler invited them. ‘I should be pleased if you would join me.’
‘Very good of you, I’m sure, Mr Parkes,’