CHAPTER XVIII
THE ICE AX
The police put Carter in the dock before a full bench of magistrates nextmorning, and the court was so crowded that it was all Mr. Lindsey and Icould do to force our way to the solicitors' table. Several minor casescame on before Carter was brought up from the cells, and during thishearing I had leisure to look round the court and see who was there. Andalmost at once I saw Sir Gilbert Carstairs, who, though not yet a justiceof the peace--his commission to that honourable office arrived a few dayslater, oddly enough,--had been given a seat on the bench, in company withone or two other local dignitaries, one of whom, I observed with somecuriosity, was that Reverend Mr. Ridley who had given evidence at theinquest on Phillips. All these folk, it was easy to see, were in a highstate of inquisitiveness about Crone's murder; and from certain whispersthat I overheard, I gathered that the chief cause of this interest lay ina generally accepted opinion that it was, as Mr. Lindsey had declared tome more than once, all of a piece with the crime of the previous week.And it was very easy to observe that they were not so curious to seeCarter as to hear what might be alleged against him.
There appeared to be some general surprise when Mr. Lindsey quietlyannounced that he was there on behalf of the prisoner. You would havethought from the demeanour of the police that, in their opinion, therewas nothing for the bench to do but hear a bit of evidence and commitCarter straight away to the Assizes to take his trial for wilful murder.What evidence they did bring forward was, of course, plain andstraightforward enough. Crone had been found lying in a deep pool in theRiver Till; but the medical testimony showed that he had met his fate bya blow from some sharp instrument, the point of which had penetrated theskull and the frontal part of the brain in such a fashion as to causeinstantaneous death. The man in the dock had been apprehended withCrone's purse in his possession--therefore, said the police, he hadmurdered and robbed Crone. As I say, Mr. Murray and all of them--as youcould see--were quite of the opinion that this was sufficient; and I ampretty sure that the magistrates were of the same way of thinking. Andthe police were not over well pleased, and the rest of the folk in courtwere, to say the least, a little mystified, when Mr. Lindsey asked a fewquestions of two witnesses--of whom Chisholm was one, and the doctor whohad been fetched to Crone's body the other. And before setting down whatquestions they were that Mr. Lindsey asked, I will remark here that therewas a certain something, a sort of mysterious hinting in his manner ofasking them, that suggested a lot more than the mere questionsthemselves, and made people begin to whisper amongst each other thatLawyer Lindsey knew things that he was not just then minded to let out.
It was to Chisholm that he put his first questions--casually, as if theywere very ordinary ones, and yet with an atmosphere of meaning behindthem that excited curiosity.
"You made a very exhaustive search of the neighbourhood of the spot whereCrone's body was found, didn't you?" he inquired.
"A thorough search," answered Chisholm.
"You found the exact spot where the man had been struck down?"
"Judging by the marks of blood--yes."
"On the river-bank--between the river and a coppice, wasn't it?"
"Just so--between the bank and the coppice."
"How far had the body been dragged before it was thrown into the river?"
"Ten yards," replied Chisholm promptly.
"Did you notice any footprints?" asked Mr. Lindsey.
"It would be difficult to trace any," explained Chisholm. "The grass isvery thick in some places, and where it isn't thick it's that close andwiry in texture that a boot wouldn't make any impression."
"One more question," said Mr. Lindsey, leaning forward and lookingChisholm full in the face. "When you charged the man there in the dockwith the murder of Abel Crone, didn't he at once--instantly!--show thegreatest surprise? Come, now, on your oath--yes or no?"
"Yes!" admitted Chisholm; "he did."
"But he just as readily admitted he was in possession of Crone's purse?Again--yes or no?"
"Yes," said Chisholm. "Yes--that's so."
That was all Mr. Lindsey asked Chisholm. It was not much more that heasked the doctor. But there was more excitement about what he did askhim--arising out of something that he did in asking it.
"There's been talk, doctor, as to what the precise weapon was whichcaused the fatal injury to this man Crone," he said. "It's been suggestedthat the wound which occasioned his death might have been--and probablywas--caused by a blow from a salmon gaff. What is your opinion?"
"It might have been," said the doctor cautiously.
"It was certainly caused by a pointed weapon--some sort of a spikedweapon?" suggested Mr. Lindsey.
"A sharp, pointed weapon, most certainly," affirmed the doctor.
"There are other things than a salmon gaff that, in your opinion, couldhave caused it?"
"Oh, of course!" said the doctor.
Mr. Lindsey paused a moment, and looked round the court as if he werethinking over his next question. Then he suddenly plunged his hand underthe table at which he was standing, and amidst a dead silence drew out along, narrow brown-paper parcel which I had seen him bring to the officethat morning. Quietly, while the silence grew deeper and the intereststronger, he produced from this an object such as I had never seenbefore--an implement or weapon about three feet in length, its shaft madeof some tough but evidently elastic wood, furnished at one end with astrong iron ferrule, and at the other with a steel head, one extremity ofwhich was shaped like a carpenter's adze, while the other tapered off toa fine point. He balanced this across his open palms for a moment, sothat the court might see it--then he passed it over to the witness-box.
"Now, doctor," he said, "look at that--which is one of the latest formsof the ice-ax. Could that wound have been caused by that--or somethingvery similar to it?"
The witness put a forefinger on the sharp point of the head.
"Certainly!" he answered. "It is much more likely to have been caused bysuch an implement as this than by a salmon gaff."
Mr. Lindsey reached out his hand for the ice-ax, and, repossessinghimself of it, passed it and its brown-paper wrapping to me.
"Thank you, doctor," he said; "that's all I wanted to know." He turned tothe bench. "I wish to ask your worships, if it is your intention, on theevidence you have heard, to commit the prisoner on the capital chargetoday?" he asked. "If it is, I shall oppose such a course. What I do ask,knowing what I do, is that you should adjourn this case for a week--whenI shall have some evidence to put before you which, I think, will provethat this man did not kill Abel Crone."
There was some discussion. I paid little attention to it, beingconsiderably amazed at the sudden turn which things had taken, andastonished altogether by Mr. Lindsey's production of the ice-ax. But thediscussion ended in Mr. Lindsey having his own way, and Carter wasremanded in custody, to be brought up again a week later; and presentlywe were all out in the streets, in groups, everybody talking excitedlyabout what had just taken place, and speculating on what it was thatLawyer Lindsey was after. Mr. Lindsey himself, however, was moreimperturbable and, if anything, cooler than usual. He tapped me on thearm as we went out of court, and at the same time took the parcelcontaining the ice-ax from me.
"Hugh," he said; "there's nothing more to do today, and I'm going out oftown at once, until tomorrow. You can lock up the office now, and youand the other two can take a holiday. I'm going straight home and thento the station."
He turned hurriedly away in the direction of his house, and I went off tothe office to carry out his instructions. There was nothing strange inhis giving us a holiday--it was a thing he often did in summer, on finedays when we had nothing much to do, and this was a gloriously fine dayand the proceedings in court had been so short that it was not yet noon.So I packed off the two junior clerks and the office lad, and locked up,and went away myself--and in the street outside I met Sir GilbertCarstairs. He was coming along in our direction, evidently deep inthought, and he sta
rted a little as he looked up and saw me.
"Hullo, Moneylaws!" he said in his off-hand fashion. "I was just wantingto see you. I say!" he went on, laying a hand on my arm, "you're deadcertain that you've never mentioned to a soul but myself anything aboutthat affair of yours and Crone's--you know what I mean?"
"Absolutely certain, Sir Gilbert!" I answered. "There's no living beingknows--but yourself."
"That's all right," he said, and I could see he was relieved. "I don'twant mixing up with these matters--I should very much dislike it. What'sLindsey trying to get at in his defence of this man Carter?"
"I can't think," I replied. "Unless it is that he's now inclining to thetheory of the police that Phillips was murdered by some man or men whofollowed him from Peebles, and that the same man or men murdered Crone. Ithink that must be it: there were some men--tourists--about, who haven'tbeen found yet."
He hesitated a moment, and then glanced at our office door.
"Lindsey in?" he asked.
"No, Sir Gilbert," I replied. "He's gone out of town and given usa holiday."
"Oh!" he said, looking at me with a sudden smile. "You've got a holiday,have you, Moneylaws? Look here--I'm going for a run in my bit of ayacht--come with me! How soon can you be ready?"
"As soon as I've taken my dinner, Sir Gilbert," I answered, pleasedenough at the invitation. "Would an hour do?"
"You needn't bother about your dinner," he said. "I'm having a lunchbasket packed now at the hotel, and I'll step in and tell them to put inenough for two. Go and get a good thick coat, and meet me down at thefront in half an hour."
I ran off home, told my mother where I was going, and hurried away to theriver-side. The Tweed was like a mirror flashing back the sunlight thatday, and out beyond its mouth the open sea was bright and blue as the skyabove. How could I foresee that out there, in those far-off dancingwaters, there was that awaiting me of which I can only think now, when itis long past, with fear and horror?