CHAPTER VI
FROM the front gate of Cliff Farm the road wound up the hill steeplyand sinuously, following the broken curves of the coastline till itdisappeared in the cutting of the hill three hundred yards from thehouse, and reappeared on the other side. As far as could be seen fromthe house, the cutting through the hill was the only place where theroad diverged from the cliff.
No other short cut on a large scale had been attempted by the makers ofthe road, which, for the most part, skirted the irregular outline ofthe bluff and rocky coast until it seemed a mere white thread in thedistant green of the spacious downs which stretched for many miles tothe waters of the Channel.
On the far side of the cutting the downs came fully into view, rollingback from the edge of the cliffs to a low range of distant woodedhills, and stretching ahead till they were merged in the town ofStaveley, nearly ten miles away. Staveley's churchspires could be seenfrom the headland near Cliff Farm on a clear day, and the road in frontof the farm ran to the town, skirting the edge of the cliffs for nearlythe whole of the way.
Crewe and Marsland walked up the road from the house for some distancein silence. Sir George Granville had gone back to Staveley in hiscar, but his nephew and Crewe had arranged to stay behind and spendthe night at Ashlingsea. Crewe desired to begin his investigationswithout delay, and Inspector Payne had asked Mr. Marsland to remainat Ashlingsea in case Detective Gillett wanted further light from himon incidental points. As they walked along, Crewe was thoughtful, andMarsland scrutinized the way-side closely, anxious to find the spotwhere his horse had swerved and stumbled on the previous night. Thuspreoccupied, they reached the highest point of the cliff, a rockyheadland which ran out from the hill-top on the other side of thecutting, forming a landmark well known to the fishermen of the district.
The headland, which was not more than a hundred yards across at thebase, jutted sharply out into the sea. Immediately beyond it, onthe Staveley side, the road ran along the edge of the cliffs forseveral hundred yards, with a light rail fence on the outside as someprotection for traffic from the danger of going over the side to therocks below. Where the grassy margin of the headland narrowed to thisdangerous pass, an ancient and faded notice board on a post which haddeparted from its perpendicular position warned drivers that the nextportion of the road was DANGEROUS, and a similar board was affixed tothe other end of the protecting fence.
Marsland stopped opposite the point where the first notice-boardconfronted them from the narrowing margin of headland.
"It was somewhere about here that my horse took fright last night,I think," he said, examining the green bank on the side of the roadfarthest from the cliff. "Yes, here is where he slipped."
Crewe examined the deep indentation of hoofmarks with interest.
"It's lucky for you your horse shied in that direction," he said. "Ifhe had sprung the other way you might have gone over the cliffs, inspite of the fence. Look here!"
Marsland followed him to the edge of the cliff and glanced over. Thetide was out, and the cliffside fell almost perpendicularly to thejagged rocks nearly 300 feet below.
"They'd be covered at high tide," said Crewe, pointing downward to therocks. "But even if one fell over at high tide there would not be muchchance of escape. The breakers must come in with terrific force on thisrocky coast."
"It's a horribly dangerous piece of road, especially at night-time,"said Marsland. "I suppose there was some bad accident here at one timeor another, which compelled the local authorities to put up that fenceand the warning notices. Even now, it's far from safe. Somebody's had anarrow escape from going over: look at that notice-board leaning downon one side. Some passing motor-car has gone too close to the edge ofthe road--probably in the dark--and bumped it half over."
"I noticed it," said Crewe. "I agree with you: this piece of roadis highly dangerous. There will be a shocking accident here some dayunless the local authorities close this portion of the road and makea detour to that point lower down where those sheep are grazing. Butlocal authorities never act wisely until they have had an accident.Still, I suppose the people of the country-side are so well used tothis cliff road that they never think of the danger. Apparently it'sthe only road between Ashlingsea and Staveley."
Crewe slowly filled his large pipe, and lit it. He smoked thoughtfully,gazing round at the scene. The high headland on which they stoodcommanded an uninterrupted view of downs, sea, and coast. It was aclear day, and the distant city of Staveley, with its towering spires,was silhouetted against the sky like an etching in grey. To the leftthe fishing village of Ashlingsea nestled on the sands, its stone-greyhouses gleaming in a silver setting, the sails of its fishing fleetflecked white on the sunlit blue of the sea.
On the Ashlingsea side the cliffs fell away quickly, and sloped down toa level beach less than a mile from the headland. About five hundredyards from the headland the cliff front was less precipitous, and afootpath showed a faint trail on its face, running down to a littlestone landing place, where a fisherman could be seen mooring a boat.Crewe pointed out the path to Marsland.
"I should like to explore that path," he said. "I should say it is notvery far from Cliff Farm. Do you think you could manage it?"
The question referred to the fact that Marsland was a wounded man.Crewe had taken a fancy to Marsland on account of his unaffected mannerand manly bearing. It was evident to him that the young man had been agood officer, a staunch comrade, and that he had been extremely popularwith the men under him. No word in reference to Marsland's militarycareer had passed between Crewe and his companion.
Crewe was anxious to respect the medical advice which forbade Marslandto discuss the war or anything relating to his experience at thefront. But in order to clear the way for candour and companionshipCrewe thought it best to give an occasional indication that Sir GeorgeGranville had confided in him about his nephew's state of health andthe cause of it. Crewe was somewhat amused at the pains taken to makeMarsland forget his past connection with the Army, when in so many wayshe betrayed to any keen observer the effects of military training anddiscipline.
"I can manage it quite easily," said Marsland with a smile, in reply toCrewe's question. "I am not such a wreck as you'd all like to make meout. Come along! I'll get to the bottom before you."
They walked along to the cliff path. When they reached it they foundit was not noticeable from the road, which at that point ran backthree hundred yards or more from the cliff to enter the hill-cutting.Cliff Farm stood in the hollow less than a quarter of a mile away. Thecommencement of the path was screened from view by the furze which grewalong the edge of the cliffs at this point. It took Crewe and Marslandsome minutes before they could find the entrance to the path, but whenthey did they found the descent by it to the rocks below tolerablyeasy, the cliff at this point not being more than seventy feet high.The track ended abruptly about fifteen feet from the bottom, but therocks afforded good foothold and handhold for the remaining distance.
The tide was out, and the coastline at the foot of the cliffs showedfor miles towards Staveley in black rocky outline, with broken reefsrunning hundreds of yards out to sea.
"It's a bad piece of coast," said Marsland, eyeing the reefs and therocky foreshore. "If a ship had run ashore anywhere between here andStaveley in last night's storm she would not have had much chance."
Crewe did not reply; his keen eyes were fixed on a line of rocks on theright about a hundred yards from where they stood. He walked rapidly tothe spot, and Marsland could see him stoop down by a pool in the rocksand pick up something. As he returned, Marsland saw that the detectivewas carrying a man's soft grey felt hat, stained and saturated withsea-water.
"I suppose somebody lost it from the cliffs last night," remarkedMarsland.
Crewe wrung the hat as dry as he could with his hands, rolled it up,and placed it in an inside pocket of his coat before replying.
"I do not think it blew off from the headland," he said. "In fact,it couldn't have done so. There may
be nothing in the find, but it'sworth a few inquiries. But look at that fisherman, Marsland. He's apicturesque touch of colour."
The fisherman who had been mooring his boat had turned to come offthe rough landing-stage. He stopped when he saw Crewe and Marsland,and stared suspiciously at them. He was an old man, but vigorous andupright, with a dark swarthy face, hooked nose, and flashing blackeyes, which contrasted strikingly with a long snow-white beard. He worea long red cloak fastened to his neck with clasps, and reaching nearlyto his feet, which were bare.
He stood for a few moments looking at the two men, his red cloakmaking a bright splash of colour against the grey stones of thelanding. Then, with a slight shrug of his shoulders, he walked quicklyoff the landing-place. Crewe nodded to him pleasantly as he approached,and asked him to where the path they had just descended led.
The old man, with a slight shake of his head, pointed to his lips andhis ears, and then, accelerating his pace, walked rapidly away alongthe rocks towards the headland.
"Deaf and dumb, poor beggar!" said Marsland, watching his retreatingfigure until it turned the headland and was lost to view. "I say,Crewe, did you ever see such an odd fish on an English foreshore?"
"Italian, I should say," said Crewe. "But he looks as if he might havestepped out of a Biblical plate. He would make an admirable model forSt. Peter, with his expressive eyes and hooked nose and patriarchalbeard. We'll have a look at his boat."
They walked along the landing-place to the boat, which had been mooredto an iron ring at the end. It was a halfdecked motor-boat about twentyfeet long, empty except for a coil of rope thrown loosely in thebottom, and a small hand fishing-net. The boat was painted white, andthe name _Zulietta_ could be seen on the stern in black letters.
They turned away, and Crewe suggested to his companion that they shouldwalk along the beach and back to Cliff Farm by the road instead ofreturning by the path they had just descended. He added that he wantedto have a good look at the approach to the farm from the village.
Marsland readily agreed, and they walked for some distance in silence.He glanced at Crewe expectantly from time to time, but the detectiveappeared to be wrapped in thought. When they had covered more than halfthe distance between the landing-place and the point where the cliffssloped down to level ground, Marsland spoke.
"Have you reached any conclusions yet, Crewe?"
"About this murder?"
"Of course."
"I have not come to many definite conclusions so far," said Crewemeditatively. "But of one thing I am certain. The unravelling of thiscrime is not going to be quite such a simple matter as Inspector Payneseems to think."
"I gathered that you were doubtful about his theory that the man whokilled Lumsden got in through the window."
"Doubtful about it?" echoed Crewe. "Doubtful is a mild word. I amabsolutely certain that he didn't get in through the window."
"But the catch was forced."
"It was forced from the inside."
Marsland looked at him in amazement.
"How did you find out that?" he asked.
"By inspecting the sash. I had a good look at it from the insideand out. Apparently it hadn't been opened for some time before lastnight, and the marks of the knife which was used to force it werevery distinct in the sash in consequence. But the marks were broaderand more distinct at the top of the sash inside than at the bottom.Therefore the knife was inserted at the top, and that could be doneonly by a man inside the house."
"But why was the window forced if the man was inside?"
"In order to mislead us."
"But the footprints led up to the window."
"No," said Crewe. "They led away from it."
"Surely you are mistaken," said Marsland. "I don't like trying to putyou right on a matter of this kind, but the marks of the boots were sodistinct; they all pointed the one way--towards the window."
"Look behind you, at our own footprints in the sand," said Crewe.
They had left the rocks behind them some time previously and for fiveminutes had been walking on a strip of sand which skirted the cliffroad--now level with the sea--and broadened into a beach nearer thevillage. Crewe pointed to the clear imprint of their footsteps in thefirm wet sand behind them.
"We'll try a little experiment," he said. "Let us walk backwards for afew yards over the ground we have just covered."
He commenced to do so, and Marsland wonderingly followed suit. Aftercovering about twenty yards in this fashion Crewe stopped.
"That will be sufficient for our purpose," he said. "Now let us comparethe two sets of footprints--the ones we have just made, and theprevious ones. Examine them for yourself, Marsland, and tell me if youcan see any difference."
Marsland did so. With the mystified air of a man performing a task hedid not understand, he first scrutinized the footprints they had madewhile walking forwards, and then examined the backward ones.
"Find any difference in them?" asked Crewe.
Marsland stood up and straightened his back with the self-consciouslook of an Englishman who feels he has been made to do somethingridiculous.
"I cannot say that I do. They look very much alike to me."
"You are not very observant," said Crewe, with a smile. "Let me explainthe difference. In ordinary walking a man puts down the heel of hisboot first, and then, as he brings his body forward, he completes theimpression of his foot. He lifts his heel first and springs off theball of his foot for the next step. But in walking backwards a man putsdown the ball of his foot first and makes but a very faint impressionwith his heel. If he walks very carefully because he is not sure of theground, or because it is dark, he may take four or five steps withoutbringing his heel to the ground. If you compare the impressions yourboots have made in the sand when we were walking forward with theothers made by walking backward, you will find that few of the lattermarks give the complete impression of your boot."
"Yes, I see now," said Marsland. "The difference is quite distinct."
"When I examined the window this afternoon, and came to the conclusionthat it had been forced from the inside, I felt certain that a murdererwho had adopted such a trick in order to mislead the police would carryit out in every detail," said Crewe. "After forcing the window hewould get out of it in order to leave footprints underneath the windowin the earth outside, and of course he would walk backwards from thewindow, in order to convey the impression that he had walked up to thewindow through the garden, forced it and then got into the house. As Iexpected, I found the footsteps leading away from the window were deepin the toe, with hardly any heel marks. It was as plain as daylightthat the man who had made them had walked backwards from the window.But even if I had not been quite sure of this from the footprintsthemselves, there was additional confirmation. The backward footstepsled straight to a fruit tree about twenty feet from the window, and onexamining that tree I found a small branch--a twig--had been broken andbent just where the footsteps were lost in the gravel walk. The man whogot out of the window had bumped into the tree. Walking backwards hecould neither see nor feel where he was going."
"I see--I see," Marsland stood silent for a moment evidently ponderingdeeply over Crewe's chain of deductions. "It seems to me," he saidat length, "that this man, clever as he was, owed a great deal toaccident."
"In what respect?"
"Because the window where you found the footprints is the only windowon that side of the house which has a bare patch of earth underneath.All the others have grass growing right up to the windows. I noticedthat when I saw the footprints. If he had got out of any of them hewould have left no footprints."
"On the contrary, he knew that and chose that window because he wantedto leave us some footprints. The fact that he selected in the dark theonly window that would serve his purpose shows that he is a man whoknows the place well. He is clever and resourceful, but that is noreason why we should not succeed in unmasking him."
"Doesn't the fact that he wore hobnailed boots indicate t
hat he is alabouring man?"
"My dear Marsland, may he not have worn boots of that kind for the samereason that he walked backwards--to mislead us all?"
"I gathered that you do not agree with Inspector Payne that the markson the stairs were caused by the intruder trying to obliterate with awet cloth the marks he made by his muddy boots."
"Outside the house he does his best to leave footprints; and inside,according to Inspector Payne, he takes special pains to remove similartraces. It is hopeless trying to reconcile the two things," said Crewe.
"Well, what do you think were the original marks on the stairs that theintruder was so anxious to remove?"
"Blood-stains."
"But why should he go to the trouble of removing blood-stains on thestairs and yet leave so much blood about in the room in which the bodywas discovered?"
"I have asked myself that question," said Crewe. "At the present stageit is very difficult to answer."
"You think it adds to the mystery?"
"For the present it does. But it may prove to be a key which will openmany closed doors in this investigation."
"Your mention of closed doors suggests another question," saidMarsland. "Why did this man get out of the window and walk backwards?If he wanted to leave misleading clues it would have been just aseasy for him to go out by the front door, walk up to the window fromthe path so as to leave footprints and then force the window from theoutside."
"Just as easy," assented Crewe. "But it would have taken longer,because it is more difficult to force the catch of a window from theoutside than the inside. I think that we must assume that he waspressed for time."
"But I understand that this man Lumsden lived alone. In that case therewould be little danger of interruption."
"A man who has just committed a murder gets into a state of nervousalarm," was Crewe's reply. "He is naturally anxious to get away fromthe scene of the crime."
"But if this man knew the place well he must have known that Lumsdenlived alone, and that the discovery of the crime would not take placeimmediately. But for the accident of my taking shelter there the bodymight have remained undiscovered for days."
"Quite true. But that does not affect my point that a murderer isalways in a hurry to get away."
"Isn't the fact that he went to the trouble of washing out blood-stainson the stairs evidence that he was not in a hurry?"
"No," said Crewe emphatically. "I should be more inclined to accept itas evidence that he expected some one to call at the farm--that eitherhe or Lumsden had an appointment with some one there."
Marsland looked very hard at Crewe as he recalled the greeting MissMaynard had given him when she opened the door to his knock.
"I did not think of that," he said.
"That supposition gives us a probable explanation why the blood-stainswere wiped off the stairs, and not off the floor of the room in whichyou saw the body. The murderer was expecting a visitor by appointment.The suspicions of this visitor would be aroused if he saw blood-stainson the stairs. But as he was not expected to go upstairs the murdererdid not trouble about the stains in the room. This is anotherindication of pressure of time."
Marsland felt that Crewe was on the track of discovering MissMaynard's presence at the farm. He began to see in the light of Crewe'sdeductions that her chief object in having asked him to keep her nameout of the affair was to shelter some one else. But having given hisword he must keep it and stand by the consequences.