CHAPTER XXVI
"This is a remarkable story, Mr. Colwyn," said the chief constable,breaking the rather lengthy silence which followed the conclusion of thedetective's reconstruction of the crime. "It has been quite entrancingto listen to your syllogistical skill. You would have made an excellentCrown Prosecutor." The chief constable's official mind could conceive nohigher compliment. "Your statements seem almost too incredible forbelief, but undoubtedly you have made out a case for the furtherinvestigation of this crime. What do you think, Galloway?"
"The question, to my mind, is what Mr. Colwyn's discoveries reallyrepresent," replied Galloway. "He has built up a very ingenious andplausible reconstruction, but let us discard mere theory, and stick tothe facts. What do they amount to? Apart from Penreath's statement inthe gaol that he saw the body carried down stairs----"
"You can leave that out of the question," said the detective curtly. "Myreconstruction of the crime is independent of Penreath's testimony,which is open to the objection that it should have been made before."
"Exactly what I was going to point out," rejoined Galloway bluntly."Well, then, let us examine the fresh facts. There are five as I seethem. The recovery of Penreath's match-box, the discovery of the doorbetween the two rooms, the wound on the innkeeper's forehead, theadditional key, and the finding of the pocket-book in the pit. Excludethe idea of conspiracy, and the recovery of the match-box becomes anadditional point against Penreath, because it strikes me as guess workto assume that he had no other matches in his possession except thatparticular box and the loose one he found in his vest pocket. Smokersfrequently carry two or three boxes of matches. The discovery of thehidden door is interesting, but has no direct bearing on the crime. Thewound on the innkeeper's head looks suspicious, but there is no proofthat it was caused by his knocking his head against the gas globe in themurdered man's room on the night of the murder. As Mr. Colwyn himselfhas pointed out, there is not much in Benson having a second key ofGlenthorpe's room. Many hotel-keepers and innkeepers keep duplicate keysof bedrooms. The significance of this discovery is that Benson keptsilence about the existence of this key. Undoubtedly he should have toldus about it, but I am not prepared to accept, offhand, that his silencewas the silence of a guilty man. He may have kept silence regarding itthrough a foolish fear of directing suspicion to himself. That theoryseems to me quite as probable as Mr. Colwyn's theory. There remains therecovery of the money in the pit. In considering that point I find itimpossible to overlook that Penreath returned to the wood after makinghis escape. That suggests, to my mind, that he hid the money in the pithimself, and took the risk of returning in order to regain possession ofit."
"You are worthier of the chief constable's compliment than I, my dearGalloway," said Colwyn genially. "Your gift of overcoming points whichtell against you by ignoring them, and your careful avoidance oftell-tale inferences, would make you an ideal Crown Prosecutor."
"I don't believe in inferences in crime," replied Galloway, flushingunder the detective's sarcasm. "I am a plain man, and I like to stick tofacts."
"What was the whole of your case against Penreath but a series ofinferences?" retorted Colwyn. "Circumstantial evidence, and thecircumstances on which you depended in this case, were never fullyestablished. Furthermore, your facts were not consistent with youroriginal hypothesis, and had to be altered when the case went to trial.Now that I have discovered other facts and inferences which areconsistent with another hypothesis, you strive to shut your eyes tothem, or draw wrong conclusions from them. Your suggestion that Penreathmust have hidden the money in the pit because he was arrested near it isa choice example of false deduction based on the wrong premise thatPenreath hid the money there on the night of the murder. He could nothave done so because he had no rope, and how was he, a stranger to theplace, to know that the inside of the pit was covered with creepingplants of sufficient strength to bear a man's weight? The choice of thepit as a hiding place for the money argues an intimate local knowledge."
"You have not yet told us how you came to deduce that the money was inthe pit," said Mr. Cromering, who had been examining the pocket-book andmoney.
"While I was examining the mouth of the pit the previous afternoon Ifound this piece of paper at the brink, trodden into the clay. Later onI recognised the peculiar watermark of waving lines as the Governmentwatermark in the first issue of Treasury war notes. From that I deducedthat the money was hidden in the pit. It was all in Treasury notes, asyou see."
"I'm afraid I don't quite follow you now," said the chief constable,with a puzzled glance at the piece of dirty paper in his hand. "Thispiece of paper is not a Treasury note."
"Not now, perhaps, but it was once," said the detective with a smile."It puzzled me at first. I could not account for the Treasury watermark,designed to prevent forgery of the notes, appearing on a piece of blankpaper. Then it came to me. The first issue of Treasury notes were verybadly printed. Ordinary black ink was used, which would disappear if thenote was immersed in water. It was an official at Somerset House whotold me this. He informed me that they had several cases of munitionworkers who, after being paid in Treasury notes, had put them into thepockets of their overalls, and forgotten about them until the overallscame back from the wash with every vestige of printing washed out fromthe notes, leaving nothing but the watermarks. It occurred to me thatthe same thing had happened in this case. The murderer, when about todescend to the pit to conceal the money, had accidentally dropped a noteand trodden it underfoot, and it had lain out in the open exposed toheavy rains and dew until every scrap of printing was obliterated."
"By Jove, that's very clever, very clever indeed!" exclaimed Galloway.He picked up a magnifying glass which was lying on the table, andclosely examined the dirty piece of white paper which Colwyn had foundat the mouth of the pit. "It was once a Treasury note, sure enough--thewatermark is unmistakable. You've scored a point there that I couldn'thave made, and I'm man enough to own up to it. You see more deeply intothings than I do, Mr. Colwyn. And I'm willing to admit that you've madesome new and interesting discoveries about this case, though in myopinion you are inclined to read too much into them. But I certainlythink they ought to be investigated further. If Penreath's statement toyou this morning is true, Benson is the murderer, and there has been amiscarriage of justice. But what makes me doubt the truth of it isPenreath's refusal to speak before. I mistrust confessions made out atthe last moment. And his explanation that he kept silence to save thegirl strikes me as rather thin. It is too quixotic."
"There is more than that in it," replied Colwyn. "He had a doublemotive. Penreath heard Sir Henry Durwood depose at the trial that hebelieved him to be suffering from epilepsy."
"How does that constitute a second motive?"
"In this way. Penreath has a highly-strung, introspective temperament.He went to the front from a high sense of duty, but he wastemperamentally unfit for the ghastly work of modern warfare, and brokedown under the strain. Men like Penreath feel it keenly when they aredischarged through shell-shock. They feel that the carefully hiddenweaknesses of their temperaments have been dragged out into the light ofday, and imagine they have been branded as cowards in the eyes of theirfellow men. I suspect that the real reason why Penreath left London andsought refuge in Norfolk under another name was because he had beendischarged from the Army through shell-shock. He wanted to get away fromLondon and hide himself from those who knew him. To his wounded spiritthe condolences of his friends would be akin to taunts and sneers. WhenSir Henry Durwood questioned him he was careful to conceal the fact thathe had been a victim of shell-shock. As a matter of fact, Penreath'sbehaviour in the breakfast room that morning was nothing more than theeffects of the air raid on his disordered nerves, but he would soonerhave died than admit that to strangers. After listening to the evidencefor the defence at the trial, he came to the conclusion that he was anepileptic as well as a neurasthenic. He might well believe that lifeheld little for him in these circumstances, and that conviction woul
dstrengthen him in his determination to sacrifice his life as a thing oflittle value for the girl he loved."
"If that is true he must be a very manly young fellow," said the chiefconstable.
"Supposing it is true, what is to be done?" asked Galloway, earnestly."Penreath has been tried and convicted for the murder."
"The conviction will be upset on appeal," replied the detectivedecisively.
"But I do not see that carries us much further forward as regardsBenson," persisted Galloway. "If he is the murderer, as you say, he willclear out as soon as he hears that Penreath is appealing."
"He will not be able to clear out if you arrest him."
"On what grounds? I cannot arrest him for a murder for which another manhas been sentenced to death."
"True. But you can arrest him as accessory after the fact, on the groundthat he carried the body downstairs and threw it into the pit."
"And suppose he denies having done so? Look here, Mr. Colwyn, I want tohelp you all I can, but if I have made one mistake, I do not want tomake a second one. Frankly, I do not know what to think of your story.It may be true, or it may not. But speaking from a police point of view,we have mighty little to go on if we arrest Benson. If he likes to bluffus we may find ourselves in an awkward position. Nobody saw him committhe murder."
"I realise the truth of what you say because I thought it all overbefore coming to see you," replied Colwyn. "If Benson denies the truthof the points I have discovered against him, or gives them a differentinterpretation, it may be difficult to prove them. But he will not--hewill confess all he knows."
"What makes you think so?"
"Because his nerve has gone. If I had confronted him that night when Isaw him in the room I would have got the whole truth from him."
"Why did you not do so?"
"Because I had not the power to detain him. I am merely a privatedetective, and can neither arrest a man nor threaten him with arrest.That is why I have come to you. You, with the powers of the law behindyou, can frighten Benson into a confession much more effectually than Icould."
"I don't half like it," grumbled Galloway. "There's a risk about it----"
"It's a risk that must be taken, nevertheless." It was Mr. Cromering whointervened in the discussion between the two, and he spoke with unusualdecision. "I agree with Mr. Colwyn that this is the best course topursue. I will go with you and take full responsibility, Galloway."
"There is no need for that," said Galloway quickly. "I am quite willingto go."
"I will accompany you and Mr. Colwyn. It has been a remarkable casethroughout, and I want to see the end--if this is the end. I feel keenlyinterested in this young man's fate."
"I should like to go also, but an engagement prevents me," said Mr.Oakham. "I am quite content to leave Penreath's interests in Mr.Colwyn's capable hands." He rose as he spoke, and held out his hand tothe detective. "We have all been in error, but you have saved us fromhaving an irreparable wrong on our consciences. I cannot forgive myselffor my blindness. Perhaps you will acquaint me with the result of yourvisit when you return. I shall be anxious to know."
"I will not fail to do so," replied Colwyn, grasping the solicitor'shand. "We had better catch the five o'clock train to Heathfield and walkacross to Flegne," he added, turning to the others. "It will be as quickas motoring across, and the sound of the car might put Benson on hisguard. We want to take him unawares."
"He'll have got wind of something already if he finds the pocket-bookgone," said Galloway. "He may have bolted while we have been talkingover things here."
"I've seen to that," replied the detective. "I tied my own pocket-bookto the fishing line in the pit, and left Queensmead watching the pit. IfBenson tries to escape with my pocket-book Queensmead will arrest himfor robbery. I've made a complaint of the loss."
"You haven't left much to chance," replied Galloway, with a grim smile.