CHAPTER VIII
CREWE spent two days in making investigations at Cliff Farm and atAshlingsea. He went over the farm very carefully in search of any traceof disturbed ground which might indicate where old James Lumsden hadburied the money he had obtained from the sale of his investments. Buthe found nothing to support the theory that the money had been buriedin the fields.
There were, of course, innumerable places where a few bags of moneymight be hidden, especially along the brook which ran through the farm,but though Crewe searched along both banks of the brook, as well as inthe open fields, he found no trace of disturbed ground. The garden, heascertained, had been thoroughly searched under the direction of FrankLumsden.
Crewe realized that searching for the money without the assistance ofthe mysterious plan which Marsland had seen on the staircase was almosthopeless, and he was not affected by his failure.
His inquiries at Ashlingsea concerned the character and habits of thegrandfather and the murdered man. In the course of his inquiries aboutthe grandson he went up to London and called on the former employers ofFrank Lumsden, and the firm of Messrs. Tittering & Hammings, wholesaleleather merchants, gave Frank an excellent character. He had been asober, industrious, and conscientious clerk, and they were greatlyshocked at the fate that had befallen him. They could throw no light onthe murder, for they knew of no one who had any enmity against Frank.Inquiries were also made by Crewe at the headquarters of the LondonRifle Brigade, in which the young man had enlisted. His military recordwas good, and threw no light on his tragic fate.
Crewe returned to Staveley to continue his work on the case. Sir GeorgeGranville, in his anxiety to be helpful in solving the mystery, putforward many suggestions to his guest, but they were not of a practicalkind. On points where Crewe did ask for his host's assistance, SirGeorge was unable to respond, in spite of his eagerness to play apart in the detective's investigations. For instance. Sir George wasnot able to give any information about the old boatman whom Crewe andMarsland had seen at the landing-place, at the foot of the cliffs nearthe scene of the tragedy.
Sir George had often seen the man in the scarlet cloak, and knew thathe plied for hire on the front, but he had never been in the old man'sboat, and did not know where he lived or anything about him beyond thefact that he was called Pedro by the Staveley boatmen, and was believedto be an Italian.
"I'll tell you what, Crewe," said Sir George, a bright idea occurringto him as the result of reactionary consciousness that he was not amine of information in local matters. "You go up and see InspectorMurchison. He's a rare old gossip. He has been here for a generationand knows everybody and all about them. And mention my name--I'll giveyou my card. You will find he will do anything for me. I'd go alongwith you myself, only I have promised to make a call with Mildred.But Harry will go with you--Harry knows Murchison; I introduced himyesterday on the front."
After lunch, Crewe, accompanied by Marsland, walked up to the policestation at Staveley to call on Inspector Murchison. The police stationwas a building of grey stone, standing back in a large garden. It wouldhave been taken for a comfortable middle-class residence but for theofficial notices of undiscovered crime which were displayed on a blackboard erected in the centre flower-bed. A young policeman was sittingwriting in a front room overlooking the garden, which had been turnedinto a general office.
Crewe, without disclosing his name or using Sir George's card, askedhim if he could see the inspector in charge. The young policeman,requesting him to take a seat, said he would inquire if the inspectorwas disengaged, and disappeared into an inner office. He shortlyreturned to say that Inspector Murchison would see them, and usheredthem into the inner office, where a police officer sat writing at alarge desk.
Inspector Murchison of Staveley was in every way a contrast toPolice-Sergeant Westaway of Ashlingsea. He was a large and portly manwith a good-humoured smile, twinkling blue eyes, and a protectingofficial manner which ladies who had occasion to seek his advice foundvery soothing. He had been stationed at Staveley for nearly thirtyyears, but instead of souring under his circumscribed existence likeSergeant Westaway, he had expanded with the town, and become moregenial and good-tempered as the years rolled on.
He was a popular and important figure in Staveley, taking a deep andall-embracing interest in the welfare of the town and its inhabitants.He was a leading spirit in every local movement for Staveley'sadvancement; he was an authority in its lore, traditions, vitalstatistics, and local government; he had even written a booklet inwhich the history of Staveley was set forth and its attractions as ahealth and pleasure resort were described in superlative terms. Hewas regarded by the residents as a capable mentor and safe guide inall affairs of life, and was the chosen receptacle of many domesticconfidences of a delicate and important nature. Husbands consulted himabout their wives' extravagance; wives besought him to warn husbandsagainst the folly of prolonged visits to hotels on the front becausethere happened to be a new barmaid from London.
It was striking proof of Inspector Murchison's rectitude that,although he was the repository of as many domestic histories as afamily physician or lawyer, none of the confidences given him hadever become common gossip. For all his kindly and talkative ways, hewas as secret and safe as the grave, despite the fact that he had awife and five grown-up daughters not less curious than the rest oftheir sex. He was an efficient police officer, carefully safeguardingthe public morals and private property entrusted to his charge, andStaveley shopkeepers, as they responded to his smiling salutations whenhe walked abroad, felt that they could sleep in peace in their beds,safe from murder, arson, or robbery, while his portly imposing officialpersonality guarded the town.
Inspector Murchison swung round on his office chair as Crewe andMarsland were brought in by the young policeman.
"What can I do for you, gentlemen?" he asked courteously.
"This is Mr. Crewe," said Marsland. "Mr. Crewe has been makinginquiries about the murder at Cliff Farm."
"Glad to see you both," said Inspector Murchison, extending his hand."If I can be of any assistance to Mr. Crewe he has only to say so. Ofcourse I've heard all about the murder at Cliff Farm. It was you whodiscovered the body, Mr. Marsland. A terrible affair. Poor, inoffensiveFrank Lumsden! I knew him well, and his grandfather too--a queer oldstick. Buried his money where no one can find it. And that is what isat the back of this murder, Mr Crewe, I have no doubt."
"It certainly looks like it," said Crewe.
"What is your opinion, inspector, with regard to the money?" askedMarsland. "Do you think that young Lumsden found it and refused to paythe legacies, or that it has never been found?"
"It has never been found," said Inspector Murchison in a positivetone. "I'm quite certain of that. Why, it is scarcely more than a weekago that young Lumsden and his friend Brett came to ask me if I couldthrow any light on it. They had a mysterious looking cryptogram thatyoung Lumsden had found among his grandfather's papers, and they werecertain that it referred to the hidden money. They showed it to me, butI could not make head or tail of it. I recommended them to go and seea man named Grange who keeps a second-hand book shop in Curzon Street,off High Street. He's a bibliophile, and would be able to put them onthe track of a book about cryptograms, even if he hadn't one in stockhimself."
"What was the cryptogram like?" asked Marsland. "Was it like this?" Hetook up a pen from the table and attempted to reproduce a sketch of themysterious document he had found on the stairs at Cliff Farm.
"Something like that," said the inspector. "How do you come to knowabout it?"
"I found it at the dead man's house before I discovered the body. Ileft it there, but it was stolen between the time I left the house andwhen I returned with Sergeant Westaway. At any rate it has not beenseen since."
"Ah," said the inspector, "there you have the motive for the murder."
"You spoke just now of young Lumsden's friend, Brett," said Crewe. "Whois Brett?"
"He lives in Staveley--a young fel
low with a little private means. Heand Lumsden were close friends--I have often seen them together aboutthe town. They served in the same regiment, were wounded together,taken prisoners together by the Germans, tortured together, and escapedtogether."
"Brett?" exclaimed Marsland in a tone which awakened Crewe's interest."I know no one named Brett."
"No, of course you wouldn't know him, Mr. Marsland," said the inspectorgenially. "You have not been so long in Staveley that you can expect toknow all the residents. It's not a very large place, but it takes timeto know all the people in it."
"I was thinking of something else," said Marsland.
"What sort of man was Brett to look at?" asked Crewe of the inspector.
"About the same age as Lumsden--just under thirty, I should say. Athin, slight, gentlemanly looking fellow. Rather a better class thanpoor Lumsden. I often wondered what they had in common."
Crewe, who was watching the effect of this description on Marsland,pressed for further particulars.
"Average height?" he asked.
"A little under," replied the inspector. "Dark complexion with a darkmoustache--what there was of it."
"I think you said he had been wounded and captured by the Germans?"said Marsland.
"Tortured rather than wounded," replied the inspector. "The Germansare fiends, not men. Brett and Lumsden were captured while out in alistening patrol, and because they wouldn't give their captors anyinformation they were tortured. But these brave lads refused to givethe information the Germans wanted, and ultimately they succeeded inmaking their escape during an attack. I've listened to many of theexperiences of our brave lads, but I don't think I've heard anythingworse than the treatment of Brett and this poor fellow who has beenmurdered."
"Was it at Armentieres this happened?" asked Marsland.
"I think it was," replied the inspector. "Then you've heard the story,too, Mr. Marsland?"
"No, I was thinking of something else," he answered.
"We must look up Brett," said Crewe. "Just write down his address,inspector--if you don't mind."
"He lives at No. 41 Whitethorn Gardens," said the police officer."But I don't think you will find him there to-day. His landlady, Mrs.Penfield, promised to send me word as soon as he got back. When I heardof this murder I went down to see Brett to find out when he had lastseen Lumsden, and to get a statement from him. But he had gone up toLondon or Liverpool the day before the murder. Mrs. Penfield expectshim back early next week, but it is impossible to be certain abouthis return. The fact is, Mr. Crewe, that he does some secret servicework for the Foreign Office, and naturally doesn't talk much abouthis movements. He is an excellent linguist I'm told, knows French andRussian and German--speaks these languages like a native."
"There is no hurry about seeing him," said Crewe. "I'll look him upwhen he returns. In the meantime will you write down his address forme?"
Marsland, who was nearer the inspector, took the paper on which thepolice officer wrote Brett's address, and before handing it to Crewelooked at it carefully.
"And now can you tell me anything about an old boatman who wears ascarlet coat?" asked Crewe. "A tall old man, with a hooked nose andwhite beard?"
"That's old Pedro," replied Inspector Murchison. "He's well known onthe front, although he's not been here very long, certainly not morethan twelve months. But I hope you don't think Pedro had anything to dowith the Cliff Farm murder, Mr. Crewe? We're rather proud of Pedro onthe front, he's an attraction to the place, and very popular with theladies."
"Marsland and I saw him in his boat at an old landing-place nearthe farm a few days ago," replied Crewe. "He's a man not easilyforgotten--once seen. I'd like to find out what took him over in thedirection of Ashlingsea."
"He's often over there," said the inspector. "That is his favouritetrip for his patrons--across the bay and over to the cliff landing, aswe call it. That is the landing at the foot of the cliffs near CliffFarm--I daresay you noticed it, Mr. Crewe?"
"Yes. They told me at Ashlingsea that the landing-place and boat-housebelong to Cliff Farm--that they were put up by old James Lumsden."
"That is right," said the inspector. "The old man used to do a bitof fishing--that is ten or fifteen years ago when he was an activeman, though getting on a bit--a strange thing to combine farming andfishing, wasn't it? But he was a queer sort in many ways, was JamesLumsden."
"And where is this man with the scarlet cloak to be found when he isnot on the front?" asked Crewe. "I'd like to have a little talk withhim."
"You'll find that rather difficult," said the inspector with a laugh."Old Pedro is deaf and dumb."
"Has he any friends here, or does he live alone?"
"He came here with his daughter and her husband and he lives with them.His daughter is a dwarf--a hunchback--and is supposed to be a bit of aclairvoyant or something of that kind. The husband is English, but nota very robust type of Englishman. They have a shop in Curzon Street offHigh Street--second-hand books."
"What is his name?" asked Crewe.
"Grange."
"And it was to this man you recommended young Lumsden to go for a bookon cryptograms?"
"Yes; the same man," said the inspector. "I can tell you a queer thingabout his wife. I've said she is a bit of a clairvoyant. Well, you knowthere is not much love lost between the police and clairvoyants; mostof them are shallow frauds who play on the ignorant gullible public.But Mrs. Grange is different: she isn't in the business professionally.And, being a broad-minded man, I am ready to admit that there may besomething in clairvoyance and spiritualism, in spite of the fact thatthey are usually associated with fraud. Well, one of my men, ConstableBell, lost a pendant from his watch-chain. It was not very valuable,but it had a sentimental value. He had no idea where he lost it, but hehappened to mention it to Mrs. Grange--this dwarf woman--and she toldhim she might be able to help him in finding it.
"She took him into a sitting-room above the shop, and after gettinghis watch from him held it in her hands for a few moments. She told himto keep perfectly still, and concentrate his mind on the article hehad lost. She closed her eyes and went into a sort of trance. Then ina strange far-away voice she said, 'I see water--pools of water amongthe rocks. I see a man and a woman walking near the rocks, arm in arm.I see the man take the woman in his arms to kiss her, and the pendant,caught by a button of her blouse, drops into the pool at their feet.'That was true about the kissing. Bell when off duty visited Horseleythree miles from here, with his sweetheart, and he thought the dwarfmust have seen them and was having a joke at his expense. However, hecycled over to Horseley when the tide was out next day, and much to hissurprise he found the pendant in the water--just as the dwarf had toldhim. How do you account for a thing like that, Mr. Crewe?"
"It is very difficult to account for," said Crewe. "Does this dwarfhold spiritualistic seances?"
"Not that I am aware of," replied the inspector. "If she does, it is ina private capacity, and not as a business."
"Her acquaintance is worth cultivating. We will go and see her,Marsland."
Crewe cordially thanked Inspector Murchison for the information he hadsupplied, and set out with Marsland for Mr. Grange's shop in CurzonStreet.
"A good man, Murchison; he has given us a lot of information," he saidto his companion as they drove along.
"It seemed very scrappy and incomplete to me," was Marsland's reply.
"Gossipy is the right word--not scrappy. And there is nothing morevaluable than gossipy information; it enables you to fill in so manyblanks in your theory--if you have one."
"You have formed your theory of how this tragedy occurred?" saidMarsland interrogatively.
"Part of one," replied Crewe.
Marsland accepted this reply as an intimation that the detective wasnot prepared to disclose his theory at that stage.
"That story about the pendant was remarkable," he said. "Do you believeit?"
"It is not outside the range of possibility," replied Crewe. "Someremarkable
results have been achieved by psychists who possess whatthey call mediumistic powers."
"Do you really think it possible that, by surrendering herself to someoccult influence, this woman was able to reproduce for herself thescene between Constable Bell and his sweetheart, and see the pendantdrop?"
"That is the way in which psychists would explain it, but I think itcan be accounted for in a much less improbable way. I know, from my owninvestigations into spiritualism and its claims, that some mediums arecapable, under favourable conditions, of reading a little of anotherperson's thoughts, provided the other person is sympathetic and triesto help. But even in this limited field failure is more frequent thansuccess. But let us suppose that Constable Bell was an extremelysympathetic subject on this occasion. How was this woman, after gettingBell to concentrate his thoughts on the events of the day when he lostthe pendant, able to discover it by reading Bell's thoughts?"
"Bell's thoughts would not be of much help to her, as he did notremember when or how he lost the pendant," said Marsland.
"The point I am aiming at is that sub-consciously Bell may have beenaware of the conditions under which he lost the pendant, and yetnot consciously aware of them. The human brain does not work as auniform piece of machinery; it works in sections or in compartments.Suppose part of Bell's brain became aware that the pendant had becomedetached and tried to communicate the fact to that part of Bell'sbrain where he keeps toll of his personal belongings. That would bethe normal procedure, and under normal conditions a connection betweenthese two compartments of the brain would be established, and Bellwould stoop down and pick up the pendant. But on this occasion Bellwas intoxicating himself with kisses and had put his brain into anexcitable state. Possibly that part which keeps toll of his personalpossessions was particularly excited at the prospect of adding the ladyto the list of Bell's belongings.
"Let us assume that it was too excited to hear the small warning voicewhich was crying out about the lost pendant. And when Bell's brain hadbecome normal the small voice had become too weak to be heard. It wasnever able subsequently to establish a connection between that part ofthe brain to which it belonged and that part where Bell keeps toll ofhis property--perhaps it never tried again, being under the impressionthat its first attempts had succeeded. And so when Bell was asked byMrs. Grange to concentrate his thoughts on the lost pendant he was ableto reproduce the state in which his brain was at the time, and themedium was able to hear the warning in Bell's brain which Bell himselfhad never consciously heard."
Marsland looked hard at Crewe to see whether he was speaking jestinglyor seriously, for he had been shrewd enough to discover that thedetective had a habit at times of putting forth fanciful theories themore effectually to conceal his real thoughts. It was when Crewe talkedmost that he revealed least, Marsland thought. But as Crewe's face,as usual, did not reveal any clue to his mind, the young man murmuredsomething about the explanation of the pendant being interesting, butunscientific.
"What science cannot explain, it derides," was Crewe's reply.
"Do you sympathize with the complaints of the spiritualists, thatscientists adopt an attitude of negation and derision towardsspiritualism, instead of an attitude of investigation?" continuedMarsland inquiringly.
"I think there is some truth in that complaint, though as far as Iam concerned I have not found much truth in spiritualism. However,Mrs. Grange may be able to convince me that she uses her powers toenlighten, and not to deceive. I am most anxious to see her."