CHAPTER XX
Colwyn spent a couple of hours that night reading the depositions he hadobtained from Merrington, and next morning he studied them afresh with aconcentration which the incessant hum of London traffic outside waspowerless to disturb. He was well aware that a report was a poorsubstitute for original impressions, but in the typewritten documentbefore him lay the facts of the Heredith case so far as they were known.It was a clear and colourless transcription of the narrative of thewitnesses, set down with a painstaking regard for the value ofdepartmental records, and chiefly valuable to Colwyn because itcontained the expert evidence which sometimes reveals, with the pitilessaccuracy of science, what human nature endeavours to hide. In thebalance of the scales of justice it is the ascertained truth whichweighs heavier than faith, reason, or revealed religion.
When he had finished his study of the depositions, he sat awhilepondering over his own discoveries since he had been called into thecase by the husband of the dead woman. These discoveries, due apparentlyto chance, invested the murder with a complexity which stimulated allthe penetrative and analytical powers of his fine mind, because theybrought with them the realization that he was face to face with one ofthose rare crimes where the solution has to be unravelled from a tangleof false circumstances, which, by their seeming plausibility, make thetask of reaching the truth one of peculiar difficulty. As Colwyn satmotionless, with his chin resting on his hand, brooding over the sullensecretive surface of this dark mystery, the feeling grew upon him thatthe murder had been preconceived with the utmost cunning and caution,and that the facts so far brought to light, including his owndiscoveries, did not penetrate to the real design.
The one conviction in his mind at that moment was that the man he andMerrington had interviewed on the previous afternoon had some connectionwith the mystery, and that an investigation of Nepcote's actions was thefirst step towards the solution of the murder. Colwyn based that beliefon the apparently detached facts of the revolver, the patch of khaki hehad found in the woods near the moat-house, and the accident whichdisclosed that Nepcote was carrying the address of a Hatton Gardenjeweller in his pocket-book. These things, taken apart, had perhaps butslight significance, but, considered as links in a chain of events whichstarted in Philip Heredith's statement that he had first met his wife ata friend's house where Nepcote was also a guest, and finishing with theknowledge that Nepcote had not returned to France on the night of themurder, they assumed a significance which at least warranted the closestinvestigation.
Colwyn was not affected by the fact that Superintendent Merringtonlooked at the case from an entirely different point of view. He did notwant the help of Scotland Yard in solving the crime. He had too muchcontempt for the official mind in any capacity to think that assistancefrom such a source could be of value to him. He always preferred to workalone and unaided. It was the Anglo-Saxon instinct of fair play whichhad prompted him to tell Merrington about the missing necklace, so thatthere might be no unfair advantage between them. Merrington had receivedthe information with the imperviable dogmatism of the official mind,strong in the belief in its own infallibility, resentful of advice orsuggestion as an attempt to weaken its dignity. It seemed to Colwyn thatnot only had Merrington's ruffled dignity led his judgment astray in anattempt to fit the discovery of the missing necklace into his own theoryof the case, but it had caused him to commit a grave mistake in puttingNepcote on his guard at a moment when the utmost circumspection ofinvestigation was necessary.
To Colwyn, at all events, the discovery of the missing necklace was ofthe utmost importance because it substituted another motive for themurder, and a motive which carried with it the additional complicationthat the thief had some motive in trying to keep its disappearancesecret as long as possible by locking the jewel-case after the jewelshad been abstracted. If Hazel Rath had not stolen the necklace, thewhole of the facts took on new values. It was quite true that themystery of Hazel Rath's actions on the night of the murder, hersubsequent silence after the recovery of the brooch and the handkerchiefand the revolver in her mother's rooms, remained as suspicious asbefore, but the changed motive caused these points to assume a differentcomplexion, even to the extent of suggesting that she might be a lesserparticipant in the crime, perhaps keeping silence in order to shield thegreater criminal.
Merrington, stiff-necked in his officialism, had been unable to see thischanged aspect of the case, and, strong in his presumption of the girl'sguilt, had acted with impulsive indiscretion in going to see Nepcotebefore attempting to trace the missing necklace.
Colwyn's reflections were interrupted by the appearance of the porterfrom downstairs to announce a visitor. The visitor, partly obscuredbehind the burly frame of the porter in the doorway, was DetectiveCaldew, of Scotland Yard. Colwyn had met him at various times, andinvited him to enter. As Colwyn had once said, his feelings towards allthe members of the regular detective force were invariably friendly; itwas not their fault, but the fault of human nature, that they weresometimes jealous of him. So he made Caldew welcome, and offered him acigar.
Caldew accepted the cigar and the proffered seat a little nervously. Hiswas the type of temperament which is overawed in the presence of a moresuccessful practitioner in the same line of business. He had long enviedColwyn his dazzling successes, but at the same time he had sufficientintelligence to understand that many of those successes stood in a classwhich he could never hope to attain.
At the present moment, Caldew's feelings were divided between resentmentat Colwyn's action in conveying information to Scotland Yard which hadearned him a reprimand from Superintendent Merrington, and the anxiousdesire to ascertain what the famous private detective thought of theHeredith case.
"Merrington has sent me round for the copy of the depositions he lentyou yesterday." It was thus he announced the object of his visit. "Haveyou finished with it?"
It was apparent from this statement that Superintendent Merrington'sgratitude for information received might now be considered as pasthistory. Colwyn, reflecting that it had lasted as long as that feelingusually does, congratulated himself on his forethought in having made acopy of the report. He handed the copy before him to his visitor.
"I am obliged for the loan of it," he said. "It makes interestingreading. You're own share in the original investigations has someexcellent touches, if you'll permit me to say so. That trap for theowner of the brooch was a neat idea."
Caldew's resentment waned under this compliment to his professionalskill.
"The trick would have worked, too, if I hadn't been called downstairs,"he said. "The girl was quick enough to get into the room while I was outof it. Not that it mattered much, as things turned out, but it is astrange thing about this necklace, isn't it?"
"Very. Has Merrington told you all about it?"
"Yes, and he gave me a rare wigging for not discovering the loss.Between ourselves, I do not think that I was treated quite fairly aboutit. Miss Heredith never said a word to me about a jewel-case being inthe room. She took it downstairs before I arrived, and never mentionedit when I asked her if anything had been stolen. If she had told me Ishould have had the case opened. But that didn't weigh with Merrington.He's beastly unfair, and never loses a chance to put the blame on tosomebody else when anything goes wrong."
"I am sorry if you got into trouble through my action in informing him,"said Colwyn. "But of course you must realize that a discovery of suchimportance could not be kept secret."
"That's quite true," replied Caldew, in a softened voice. "Fortunately,it does not affect the issue, one way or another. Mr. Heredith believesthat Hazel Rath is innocent, and I suppose that is why he has called youinto the case. But she is guilty, right enough. I tried to make thatclear to Mr. Heredith, but he appears to be a man of fixed ideas. Thequestion is, what has become of the necklace? My own impression is thatshe has hidden it somewhere. She had no opportunity to dispose of itbefore she was arrested."
"That means that you think she has stolen it."
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"Why, of course--" Caldew's confident tone died away at the expressionof his companion's face. "Don't you?"
"I do not."
"Why not?"
"For one thing, the jewel-case was locked. How did the girl know wherethe key was kept?"
"She might have got the knowledge from her mother. Mrs. Rath, as thehousekeeper, would probably know all about the keys of the household."
"Of the ordinary keys--yes. But that knowledge was hardly likely toextend to Mrs. Heredith's private keys, unless Miss Heredith told her.Even if Hazel Rath did know where the key was kept, it is difficult tobelieve that she searched for it after committing the murder, and thenrestored it to the drawer where it was kept. That argues too muchcold-blooded deliberation even in a murderer, and more especially whenthe murderer is supposed to be a young girl."
"I am not so sure of that," responded Caldew, with a shake of the head."Murder is a cold-blooded crime."
"On the contrary, murders are almost invariably committed under theinfluence of the strongest excitement, even when the incentive is gain,and the murder has been deeply premeditated. That is a remarkable truthin the psychology of murder. But the important fact about the theft ofthe necklace is that even if Hazel Rath knew where the key of thejewel-case was kept she had not time to obtain it from the drawer on theother side of the bed, steal the necklace, restore the key to its place,and escape from the room before the guests from downstairs entered thebedroom. If Hazel Rath was indeed the murderess, time was of paramountimportance to her. She must have realized that the scream of her victimwould alarm the household downstairs, and that some of the men must havestarted upstairs before the subsequent shot was fired."
Caldew was silent for a space, cogitating over these points with atroubled look which contrasted with his previous confident expressionsof opinion about the case. His inward perturbation was made manifest inthe question:
"Do you also share Mr. Heredith's view that Hazel Rath is innocent?"
"I cannot say. The facts against her are very strong."
"Of course they are strong!" exclaimed Caldew eagerly, as thoughclutching this guarded expression of opinion as a buoy for his ownsinking conviction. "They are so strong that it is quite certain shecommitted the murder."
Colwyn remained silent. A statement which was merely an expression ofopinion did not call for words.
Caldew, always impressionable, became uneasy under his companion'ssilence, and that uneasiness was tinctured in his mind with such a dreadof the possibility of mistake that it flowed forth in impulsive words:
"I wish you would tell me what you really think of the case, Mr. Colwyn.I have been waiting for years for the chance of handling a big murderlike this, and now that it has come my way I should like to pull it off.It means a lot to me," he added simply.
Colwyn reflected that he had already given away more information aboutthe Heredith case than his judgment approved or his conscience dictated.But his kindly nature prompted him to help the anxious young man seatedin front of him, who had so much more than he to gain by success.
"I think there is more in this case than you and Merrington have yetbrought to light," he said.
"I suppose there is, if it is proved that Hazel Rath did not steal thenecklace. But have you found out anything else besides the loss of thenecklace?"
Colwyn did not directly reply. He was glancing over the depositionsagain.
"There are one or two curious points here," he remarked, as he turnedover the leaves. "In the first place, the ammunition expert who wascalled at the inquest to give evidence about the bullet extracted fromthe body testified that in weight and in length it corresponded with theseven millimetre bullet made for a pinfire revolver. The bullet hadundoubtedly been fired from the revolver which you found in Mrs. Rath'srooms. Bullets for English revolvers are not graded in millimetres, butthere appears to be sufficient demand for this size to cause Britishfirms to manufacture them. The nearest size in central-fire cartridge toseven millimetres is called the 300, which is .3 of an inch. Sevenmillimetres is .276 of an inch. The point to which I want to draw yourattention is the extreme slightness and smallness of the revolver withwhich Mrs. Heredith was killed. As Captain Nepcote told Merringtonyesterday, it is little more than a toy."
"That struck me as soon as I saw it," said Caldew. "But I do not seewhat bearing the fact has on the case, one way or another."
"Nevertheless, it is a point not without importance, when it isconsidered in conjunction with the other circumstances of the case. Theevidence of the Government pathologist is also of interest. Afterstating the cause of death to be heart failure due to haemorrhageconsequent upon the passage of the bullet through the lung, he mentionsthat there was a large scorched hole through the rest-gown andundergarment which Mrs. Heredith was wearing at the time she wasmurdered."
"I noticed that when I was examining the body."
"Was the dress-stuff smouldering when you saw the body?"
"No; but there was a smell of a burning fabric in the room."
"The Government pathologist says that the burnt hole was nearly twoinches across, but he also states that the punctured wound made by thebullet was about the size of a threepenny piece. The disparity suggeststwo facts. In the first place, the shot must have been fired at veryclose range--very close indeed, considering the smallness of therevolver and the largeness of the burnt hole. In the next place,somebody must have extinguished the burning fabric before you arrived,otherwise it would have smouldered in an ever-widening ring until thewhole of the dead woman's garments were destroyed."
"Mrs. Heredith may have extinguished it herself in her dying moments,"said Caldew, who had been following his companion's deductions with theclosest attention.
"That is unlikely, in view of the nature of her injuries. The bullet,after traversing the left lung, lodged in the spinal column. After sucha wound Mrs. Heredith was not likely to be conscious of her actions."
"It may have been extinguished by Musard, who tried to stop the flow ofblood while Mrs. Heredith was dying."
"He would have mentioned it to you. It is my intention to ask him, butmy own opinion is that we are faced with a different explanation."
"What is that?"
"The presence of another person in the room."
"Somebody who escaped through the window!" exclaimed Caldew, placing hisown interpretation on the deduction. "Do you suspect anybody?"
"Not exactly. But I intend to investigate Captain Nepcote's actions onthe night of the murder."
Caldew, who lacked some of the information possessed by his companion,found this jump too great for his mind to follow.
"For what purpose?" he asked. "Nepcote returned to France before themurder was committed."
"He did not. He stayed in London that night, and did not return toFrance until the following day. He explained that yesterday by statingthat when he reached London after leaving the moat-house he foundanother telegram from the War Office extending his leave for twenty-fourhours."
"Merrington said nothing of this to me. All he told me was that you andhe had seen Nepcote, who identified the revolver as his property, andsaid that he had left it behind at the moat-house by accident."
"Merrington is a man of fixed ideas, to use your phrase. He insisted ontrying to fit in the loss of the necklace with his own theory of HazelRath's guilt. It was his obstinacy which led him to commit the folly ofgoing to see Captain Nepcote before endeavouring to trace the missingnecklace. It is only fair to Nepcote to add that he volunteered theinformation that he did not return to France on the night of themurder."
"That does not seem like the action of a man with anything to hide,"commented Caldew thoughtfully.
"Unless he was facing a dangerous situation. In that case, franknesswould be his best course to remove Merrington's suspicions. The factthat the murder was committed with his revolver is in itself asuspicious circumstance, in spite of the apparently plausibleexplanation. I have realized that all along. I had also pre
viouslyacquainted Merrington with the fact that Nepcote did not return toFrance on the night of the murder, as was supposed. Merrington led up tothat point skilfully enough, but it struck me that Nepcote saw the trap,and took the boldest course. It gave him time, at all events."
"Time for what?"
"Time to profit by Merrington's folly in putting him on his guard. Timeto permit him to make his escape, if he is actually implicated in thecrime."
"Surely you are reading too much into this," exclaimed Caldew in aprotesting voice. "Nepcote's story seems to me quite consistent withwhat we know of his movements. Miss Heredith, when giving us the namesof the guests who had been staying at the moat-house, mentioned thatCaptain Nepcote had been recalled to France on the afternoon of themurder by a telegram from the War Office. Nepcote tells you that when hereached London he found another telegram awaiting him extending hisleave. Surely that is consistent?"
"Is it consistent that the two telegrams were sent to differentaddresses? They would have been either both sent to the moat-house, orboth sent to his London flat--that is, if they were sent by the WarOffice. Only a relative or a personal friend would take the trouble tosend to different addresses. There lies the weak point of Nepcote'sstatement."
"By Jove, there is a point in that," said Caldew, in a startled tone."But these are facts which can be ascertained," he added, as thoughseeking to reassure himself.
"They can be ascertained too late. I have already set inquiries on foot,but it takes some time to gain any information about official telegrams.Nepcote has plenty of time to take advantage of Merrington's blunder, ifthere is any occasion for him to do so. No matter what his explanationis, the fact remains that he was in England, and not in France, on thenight the murder was committed, and I propose to find out how he spentthe time. But it is of the first importance to find out what has becomeof the missing necklace, which is the really important clue. Is ScotlandYard making any investigations about it?"
"Yes. Merrington has put me on to that because I let you score the pointover him of discovering that it was missing. I am sure that he hopes Iwill fall down over the job of tracing it. I shouldn't be surprised if Idid, too. It's no easy thing to get on the track of missing jewellery,especially if it has been hidden. I have not even got a description ofthe necklace to help me."
"I can give you a description, and perhaps help you in the work oftracing it."
"Can you? That's awfully good of you." Caldew's face showed that hemeant his words. "Have you any idea where it is?"
"I have at least something to guide me in commencing thesearch--something, which, curiously enough, I owe to Merrington'sblunder in visiting Nepcote before he looked for the necklace. We willgo across to Hatton Garden, and I will put my idea to the test."