CHAPTER IX
STAVELEY only differed from a hundred other English seaside resorts byhaving a sea front which was quite flat, the cliffs which skirted thecoastline from Ashlingsea falling away and terminating in sand dunesabout half a mile to the south of the town. At that point the cliffroad, after following the coastline for nearly twelve miles, sweptinland round the sand dunes, which had encroached on the downs morethan half a mile from the sea, but turned back again near the southernoutskirts of the town in a bold picturesque curve to the sea front.
From the sea front the town rambled back with characteristicallyEnglish irregularity of architecture to the downs. There was the usualseaside mixture of old and new houses, the newest flaunting theirred-tiled ugliness from the most beautiful slopes of the distant hills.
Crewe and Marsland drove slowly along to High Street by way of thefront after leaving the police station. A long row of boarding-housesand hotels faced the sea; and there were pleasure boats,bathing-machines, a pier and a bandstand. The season was practicallyover, but a number of visitors still remained, making the most of thelate October sunshine, decorously promenading for air and exercise. Itwas a typically English scene, except that the band was playing Germanmusic and the Kursaal still flaunted its German name.
The front was bisected about midway by the main business thoroughfareof the town, and there was a sharp distinction between the two halvesof the promenade which it divided. The upper half was the resort offashion and the mode: the hotels were bigger and more expensive; theboarding-houses were designated private hotels. All the amusements weresituated in this part of the front: the pleasure boats, the pier, theband, the goat carts, and the Bath chairs. The lower part of the frontwas practically deserted, its hotels and boarding-houses looked emptyand neglected, and its whole aspect was that of a poor relation out ofplace in fashionable surroundings.
Although Marsland did not know much about Staveley he was able to guideCrewe to Curzon Street, and once in Curzon Street they had not muchdifficulty in finding the shop kept by Mr. Grange. It was a curiouslittle white house standing back a few feet from the footpath, andtrays of second-hand books were arranged on tables outside.
Crewe, after getting out of his car, began an inspection of the bookson the trays outside the shop, and while engaged in this way he saw ayoung lady being shown out of the shop. She was a well dressed gracefulgirl, not much more than twenty. Behind her was the shopkeeper, a tallthin man past middle age, with a weak irresolute face disfigured bysome cutaneous disorder, small ferrety grey eyes, and a stragglingbeard. As he opened the door to let the young lady out Crewe's quickears heard him remark:
"Well, as I said, we didn't go because we saw the storm coming up.I'm very glad now we didn't, as things turned out. It's a dreadfulaffair--dreadful."
To Crewe's surprise Marsland stepped forward when he saw the younglady, lifted his hat and put out his hand. Crewe thought she hesitateda little before responding.
"I am glad to see you, Miss Maynard," Marsland declared. "You are thevery person I wanted to see. But this is quite an unexpected meeting."
"It is very kind of you," said the young lady with a smile.
To Crewe it was evident that she was more embarrassed than pleased atthe meeting.
Marsland walked along the street a few paces with Miss Maynard and thencame back to Crewe.
"Please excuse me for half an hour or so, Crewe. I have some things totalk over with this lady."
He rushed back to Miss Maynard's side without waiting for an answer.Crewe watched them for a moment and then he became aware that theshopkeeper standing at his doorway was watching them with a gaze ofperplexity.
"Mr. Grange, I believe?" said Crewe.
The shopkeeper produced a pair of spectacles from his pocket and putthem on before replying. With the spectacles on his small grey eyes hepeered at Crewe, and said:
"What can I do for you, sir?"
Crewe saw that the man was ill at ease, and he endeavoured to bring himback to his normal state.
"Have you a copy of a book called _Notitiae Monastica_?" asked thedetective. "It's a work on the early British religious establishments,"he explained.
"No, sir: I don't think I've ever heard of the book. But perhaps Icould get you one if you particularly want it."
"You might try and let me know. I'll leave you my address. InspectorMurchison told me that if anyone could help me you could."
"Inspector Murchison?" echoed Mr. Grange peering again at Crewe.
"He was most enthusiastic about you," continued Crewe. "He said that ifever he wanted to know anything about rare books he would come to you.You have a good friend in the inspector, Mr. Grange."
"I did not know--yes I think so--it was very good of him--very goodindeed." Mr. Grange was both relieved and pleased at being commended bythe head of the local police, for he smiled at Crewe, blinked his eyes,and rubbed his hands together.
"And about Mrs. Grange he was no less enthusiastic," continued Crewe."He told me about her extraordinary psychic powers and the recovery ofConstable Bell's watch-chain pendant. A most remarkable case. I take agreat interest in occultism, Mr. Grange, and in all forms of psychicpower--I have done so for years. Perhaps your wife would grant me thefavour of an interview? I should so much like to meet her and talk toher."
"Certainly," exclaimed Mr. Grange, who was now delighted with hisvisitor. "I am sure she would like to meet a gentleman like yourselfwho is interested in--er--occultism. Excuse me while I run upstairs toher."
He left the shop by a side-door opening on the passage leading to theprivate apartments above the shop. A few minutes later he came backwith an invitation to Crewe to follow him upstairs to the sitting-room.Crewe followed him into a room which overlooked the street. In anarm-chair beside one of the two windows sat Mrs. Grange. She rose tomeet Crewe. She was about four feet in height but her deformed figureseemed to make her look smaller. Her skin was dark and coarse and herteeth were large. On her upper lip there was a slight growth of hairand her eyebrows were very thick and shaggy. She had deep black eyes,and after her bow to Crewe she gazed at him in a fixed penetratingway--the look of an animal on the watch.
Crewe took particular note of the way in which her black hair wasdressed. He closed the door behind him and took a seat near it when thedwarf sat down in her arm-chair. Mr. Grange stood a few feet from hiswife and again rubbed his hands together to express his satisfaction.
"It is very good of you to see me," said Crewe to the dwarf. "I wasso much struck with the account Inspector Murchison gave me of yourpsychic powers that it occurred to me that you might be able to assistme in a somewhat similar way to that in which you assisted ConstableBell."
"I shall be pleased to try," said the dwarf slowly. "But success is notalways possible." She spoke in a thin high pitched voice.
"So I understood," said Crewe. "But my case is, I think, lessdifficult than that of Constable Bell. I have not lost anything. On thecontrary I have found something, which I want to restore to the owner.If I gave you this thing I have found to hold, you could describe theowner to me, could you not?"
"It is possible," said the dwarf.
Crewe produced from one of the pockets of his motor coat a brown paperparcel. He unwrapped the paper, keeping covert observation on theGranges as he did so, and displayed the old felt hat which he had foundwhile making his way down the path from the top of the cliff.
"I am anxious to restore this to its owner," he said, as he held outthe hat to the dwarf.
He intercepted the glance of angry reproach which she gave herhusband. The latter had stopped rubbing his hands and now stood gazingalternately at the hat and at Crewe, with visible trepidation on hisfeatures. The dwarf gave the hat a quick glance, and then resolutelyturned to Crewe.
"It is of no value," she said, in her high pitched voice, meeting hisglance intently.
"Of very little value--from the monetary point of view," said Crewe."But there are other reasons why the owner would like
to have itrestored to him. Do you think you could help me to find him?"
"No," she replied decisively. "I could not help you."
"Why?" asked Crewe.
"Because it does not interest me. I must feel an interest--I must feelin sympathy with the object on which I am asked to exert my powers.Without such sympathy I can do nothing, for when I close my eyes to seethe vision I become as blind as those born without sight."
"And you have no interest in helping me to restore this hat to itsowner?" asked Crewe.
"None," she replied.
"And you?" said Crewe, turning to her husband.
"I--I know nothing about it," he stammered. "It is not mine."
"This hat was lost over the cliffs near Ashlingsea. It was lost thenight that the murdered body of the owner of the Cliff Farm was found.The owner was so anxious to secure possession of it that the morningafter the murder he sent a boatman over to the scene to look for it. Isnot that correct?" asked Crewe looking searchingly at Mr. Grange.
"I know nothing about it," was the reply.
"Perhaps you would like to try it on," said Crewe, picking up the hatand holding it out to the woman's husband.
"Me?" exclaimed the man, recoiling as he spoke. "Why should I? It isnot mine."
"Come," said Crewe, "I will exchange the hat for a candid statement ofwhat happened at Cliff Farm on that fateful night."
"It is not his," declared the dwarf. "We know nothing about CliffFarm--we have never been there."